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.