Chapter Text
“You got it?” Ody asked.
The Dryad stood on his shoulders. It was the only way they could reach the antler.
“Mhm,” she replied, gingerly taking hold. She gave Hermes a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” the god replied, chipper as if this were a usual day.
There was a wet, tearing noise as she pulled the antler out.
Hermes landed, stumbled once, and, when he straightened, his wings were folded again.
“Here we go, my dear,” Hermes said, helping the Dryad down. Then he introduced them both. “Glykin, Ody. Ody, Glykin.”
“Hello,” Glykin greeted, looking just as shaken as he still was.
“Hi,” Ody replied stiffly.
They all collected their missing weapons and got going. Glykin hastily said her goodbyes and went ahead to find the nymph from earlier. As they walked back to the raft, Hermes explained all that had happened beforehand—Artemis, what the creature was.
He seemed to remember something. “Can I see your hand?”
“Yeah?” Ody lifted it for him to see. His palm and fingertips were angry red and blistered. The burns stung and throbbed uncomfortably.
Hermes studied them for a moment (he could somehow see through his wings), a thoughtful expression crossing his face.
“Some things just aren’t meant for mortals,” Hermes explained, toying with the Caduceus. “Only a select few can handle this.”
“Olympians?”
Hermes nodded. “Those of the sort.”
They walked in silence for a few moments more. Ody stole a few glances at Hermes’s shoulder. There was a fine tear in his cloak, and it had ichor staining both the front and the back of his clothes.
“I can feel you staring,” Hermes teased.
“Does it…hurt?”
Hermes chuckled. “No, Ody. I’m okay.”
“Can gods feel pain at all?” Ody asked.
“We can,” Hermes answered. “My job just gets a little…messier than others. Give it a couple thousand years and you get used to it.”
He said it lightheartedly, but there was…something in his voice. Not pain, exactly, but something more reminiscent.
Ody gave him a look. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
Hermes laughed again.
⚚
They didn’t make it far before Ody began to slow down.
“Are you alright, darling?” Hermes asked, glancing back at him.
“Fine,” Ody replied, breathless. “Just…tired.”
Hermes frowned at him. He looked pale, and his breathing was more labored than Hermes would’ve liked. “What’s wrong?”
“I may have…,” Ody admitted sheepishly, rubbing his arm. “Landed…on my arm funny.”
“Ah.” Hermes walked to his side. “Let me see.”
Ody pulled up his sleeve reluctantly. His arm didn’t look great. Swollen and bruised.
Hermes hissed softly, concern and sympathy tightening in his chest. “Okay. Can you…move it?”
“I can, it just…” Ody flexed his arm, expression twisting in a grimace. “Hurts.”
“This is broken,” Hermes said slowly. “You didn’t…notice?”
“I…,” Ody sighed.
Hermes stared at him. “You did notice.”
“Yes,” Ody admitted, avoiding his gaze.
Hermes took a sharp breath. A sudden spark of anger. His wings puffed up, making to unfold. “Ody, you cannot just–”
Ody took a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst, and Hermes cut himself off, the frustration immediately giving away.
“I’m sorry,” Ody apologized. A blank sort of look had fallen over his expression like a curtain, one that was all too familiar.
“N-no, darling. I’m not mad.” Hermes shrugged off his cloak, trying to change the subject. “Here. We’ll make a sling.”
They worked together to make it. Ody seemed hesitant the whole time. That only drove the stake of guilt deeper. When they were done, Ody leaned against a tree, shutting his eyes and trying to catch his breath.
“Are you okay?” Hermes inquired gently.
Ody nodded, but didn’t open his eyes or make any attempt to keep going.
Hermes hummed, doubtful.
It was late. Ody was tired and in pain. He needed real sleep. In a bed, not on the floor of a hastily built raft.
Hermes wasn’t in top shape either. The whole thing had…rattled him. More than he’d like to admit.
They couldn’t sail like this.
Hermes let out a deep breath, trying not to sound stressed. “Okay, Ody. Can you walk?”
“Back to the raft?” he inquired, re-opening his eyes. They had a dazed quality to them.
“Mm-mm,” Hermes shook his head. He held out his hand. “C’mon, darling. We’ll stay with Arty tonight.”
⚚
“No,” Artemis answered harshly, crossing her arms.
“Darling, please,” Hermes pleaded. “I swear he’s not an asshole. I wouldn’t be helping him if he was.”
“I can hear you,” Ody grumbled beside him.
Artemis quirked an eyebrow at him, studying his dazed, heavy-lidded look and slouched shoulders. “Can you?”
Hermes sighed. “We only need one night.”
“Fine,” Artemis gave in. “But only because Glykin put in a good word.”
“Thank you, Arty.” Hermes gave Ody a pointed look, and he thanked her begrudgingly.
Artemis gathered the supplies to build a tent and set them up on the outskirts of camp. Ody kept trying to help, but Hermes made him sit out. He eventually retreated to a tree at the edge of the clearing, sitting and watching them work grumpily.
“You know the huntress? Syn?” Hermes asked his sister as they worked.
“Synnefo? Yeah,” Arty replied. “What about her?”
“She used my staff. Is she…?”
“One of us?” she finished. “Yeah.”
Hermes hesitated. “And…her mother?”
“Hera got her. Syn was little, though. Still don’t know how she escaped.”
“Ah.”
Silence hung for a while.
“How about Glykin?” Hermes inquired, his voice softer now. “How’d she end up here?”
Typically, those who joined the hunters weren’t there because they were satisfied with their old lives. It served as a second chance, a beacon for ladies getting married off too soon or for little girls who lost their homes.
“Oof,” Artemis muttered. “Her family froze during Aunt Demeter’s winter. Poor girl had to burn the bodies to stay warm.”
Hermes felt his stomach lurch at the thought. “Gods…”
Arty didn’t say anything. Her eyes narrowed a little, and Hermes could almost feel the bitterness radiating off of her. She’d seen firsthand what sorts of things the gods could do, how they tested and stretched mortal limits time and time again.
Hermes decided to drop the subject.
They finished up with the tent. Artemis gave them each a bedroll and a blanket. Hermes didn’t plan on sleeping, so he rolled up his blanket and left it on Ody’s bed for a pillow. Arty left and disappeared into the campsite.
Hermes found Ody asleep against his tree. He crouched down beside him and gently shook him awake. “Ody.”
He stirred and looked around in a daze. “Hm…?”
“Come on,” Hermes said, helping him up. “Just come inside, and you can go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, stumbling after him.
Hermes helped him into bed. “Sweet dreams, darling.”
“You too,” he murmured.
Hermes left him to rest. He wandered toward camp in hopes of finding someone to chat with, but didn’t make it far before he sensed something.
Hermes stopped. Energy. Olympian energy somewhere above.
“Is there a reason you’re spying on me?” He inquired, glancing up at the tree to his right.
Syn sat on the edge, her features hidden by shadows. She narrowed her eyes at him, eyes flashing white.
“Mind if I join you?” Hermes asked.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and sighing irritably. “Go for it.”
Hermes hopped into the air, winged sandals flapping. He landed on the branch beside her and took a seat. Syn didn’t look at him.
Hermes watched her, trying to gauge her emotions. She didn’t seem angry. Not exactly.
“I haven’t thanked you yet for saving us. So thank you.”
“I wasn’t saving you,” she grumbled. “I was saving Glykin.”
“Ah.”
He paused.
“I saw what you did with my staff,” Hermes said casually. “Guess that makes us siblings, huh?”
She huffed in amusement. “No.”
“No?”
“Not by choice,” she agreed. “You talk too much.”
Hermes chuckled. “Fair enough. But that’s not why you’re upset, is it?”
“Why’s it matter anyways?” Syn countered. “Haven’t you got Hera’s divorce letters to deliver or something?”
“Well, I’m not a huge fan of seeing my sibs unhappy.”
“We are not siblings,” Syn snapped. “And why do you keep smiling like that?”
Hermes pointed at his grin. “Oh, this? I find it alleviates stress. Puts folks at ease, if you may.”
Syn scowled and looked away. “Well, it’s not working.”
“Mm,” Hermes replied. He sat forward and let his smile drop. “So that’s what it is.”
“What?”
“You’re afraid.”
She scoffed. “Of the messenger boy?”
“No,” Hermes responded carefully. “Of the Olympian.”
Silence.
“I can’t blame you, really,” he went on quietly. “Arty told me of your mother.”
That got her attention.
She glared at him, her voice low and dangerous. “What do you want?”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t play stupid, errand boy. We both know Hera would love to get her hands on me.”
Hermes frowned a little. “I’m not here for you, Syn.”
“Maybe not now. But who’s to say you won’t report me to dear old dad?” She countered, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’ll have you know, Zeus is my least favorite parent,” Hermes said, only half joking.
“Really?” she asked, unconvinced. “The Typhoonmachy?”
Oh. Arty really did talk about them a lot.
Hermes’s voice took on an edge. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Y’know, for the god of lying, you’re pretty bad at it,” Syn retorted. “You didn’t have to help him. If you hadn’t, he could’ve–”
“Some benefits outweigh the costs, Syn,” Hermes interrupted, harsher than he’d intended. That had been a hard day. “That thing would’ve killed us all. Not just Father.”
Silence hung for a few moments.
Hermes shook his head. He needed to stop doing that. “I’m…sorry, darling. You’re right to be suspicious.”
“Uh-uh,” Syn agreed coldly.
They sat in silence for a while longer.
“You’re not gonna tell her?” Syn inquired. Her tone was challenging, almost daring, but there was a hint of pleading beneath it. “About me?”
Hermes held up his hand. “From one bastard child to another, I swear to keep you a secret.”
⚚
Hermes spent the rest of the night chatting with Glykin. That sat back and away from the campfire. Hermes pretended not to notice. They talked about various topics—Syn’s rock collection (that was getting increasingly harder to transport), an exchange of tea recipes, then they took turns telling adventure stories.
Hermes was just beginning a story when someone chimed in.
“That the one where Ares got stuck in a jar?”
They both startled and found Artemis sitting beside them, gazing at the fire as if she hadn’t just shown up out of nowhere.
Glykin’s eyes widened. “A jar?”
“Yeah.” Arty chuckled and elbowed Hermes. “Tell her.”
“She went ahead to distract the giants, and I snuck around the back,” Hermes explained, grinning and making hand motions while he spoke. He glanced at Arty. “Darling, didn’t one of them have a crush on you?”
Arty rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
“Did you kill him?” Glykin asked, intrigued.
“Better than that,” Hermes went on. “She got them to kill each other.”
Arty snorted in amusement. “Yeah. Meanwhile, you were just standing there laughing at Ares.”
Hermes laughed. “Oh, good times.”
They sat for a moment, watching the flames crackle. Glykin had a bowl of stew she was drinking. Neither Hermes nor Artemis needed any.
“Oh, Hermes,” Arty spoke up, remembering something. She reached into one of the pouches on her belt, pulling out a few sprigs of leaves. She handed them to Hermes.
“Ah,” Hermes replied uncertainly. “Thank you.”
“They're painkiller leaves,” Glykin explained. She pointed at his hip. “We put them on your cut.”
“Why, that’s thoughtful of you, Arty,” Hermes teased.
Artemis rolled her eyes. “It was Gly’s idea. I wanted to save them.”
“I thought Odysseus might need some, too,” the nymph replied, giving him a small, bashful sort of smile.
Hermes’s expression softened at that.
“Oh, darling, thank you.” He tucked them into his pocket carefully. “I’ll make sure he gets these.”
Glykin smiled at that. A real one.
Arty reached over and ruffled the girl’s hair.