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Slipping into the Underworld has become a very mundane act. Hermes has gotten used to entering and leaving whenever he feels like it, when there was a point in time that the mere idea of just going in there was anxiety-inducing. Of course, that was way before he became a psychopomp and he didn’t know what lurked in the Underworld apart from all the ghost stories he and his siblings liked to tell each other during feasts.
What is a terrifying feat for many is now just another job for Hermes, but despite having way (way) too many jobs and being already spread thin, visiting the Temple of Styx soon became less of a job and more of a leisure activity.
Of course, befriending the boatman of the Styx has a lot to do with that.
“Hello my dearest boatman,” Hermes says as he skids to a stop right in front of Charon’s towering, floating figure; his hand extended towards souls that Thanatos must have dropped by earlier. The boatman hisses softly, his own way to say hello to Hermes. “Brought a new batch for you.”
Charon sighs, nodding softly and purple smoke coming out of his teeth. The shades are pretty anxious around the boatman- they always are. It makes sense, in a way, but Hermes knows better, so he doesn’t hesitate to lean on Charon’s side as he lets the souls leave his satchel, watching as they spill over and join the line of shades.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Hermes says as the shades pay for their fare and board the skiff. He should be going- his job here is done and he has an endless list of things to do, but he never minds making space for the boatman. “It’s been a while since there has been a war or famine or anything- why not make use of that? You know- before we get too busy with our jobs.”
Charon breaks his gaze with the shades to look down at him, soft curls framing his skeletal face softly. Hermes knows he is wondering what exactly he means with that.
“Well… maybe I could bring some ambrosia- courtesy of my dearest brother, I heard his latest batch is absolutely divine. Anyways, I could bring some ambrosia, we could slip away for some minutes and enjoy it? You know, the two of us?”
He doesn’t know why his heart is beating so hard in his ribcage, but he still is anxious as the words leave his mouth and he stares up at Charon, who softly tilts his head. He groans softly, more plumes slipping out of his teeth.
As you wish.
Hermes can’t help the silly smile that is on his lips, as he jumps in the air very invigorated. “You bet, my boatman. Make space for the next time I see you, alright!”
Charon nods and Hermes wishes he could stay longer but, if he is going to already make time for the boatman later he needs to manage his tasks correctly. He waves goodbye to Charon and leaves, feeling much more energetic now that he has something to look up to.
The first time he met Charon, Hermes couldn’t understand him. The god speaks in groans and hisses, and truth to be told it was slightly unnerving. But what at first was anxiousness became almost like a challenge to Hermes. He is the god of languages anyways, and he promised himself that he would learn to communicate with Charon.
In the end, it wasn’t that difficult to understand his language. Either it be due to Hermes' affinity, or it being as any other language- he doesn’t know, but eventually Hermes was able to surprise Charon when he could understand his intention with words. What is natural to the boatman’s brothers and family now is natural to Hermes, too.
He ponders about it while he is sitting on Charon’s skiff, as the boatman slowly rows down the Styx, the red waters becoming crystalline blue, traveling down from the Temple to Elysium, a very notorious change of scenery, a very much welcome one. As used as he is to the temple, he has to admit that the green pastures of Elysium are far more familiar to him, a creature of the surface.
“Hera got mad again,” Hermes retells Charon, lying down in one of the seats of the boat, watching the ceiling of the Underworld. “You know, more than usual.”
Charon rattles out a grunt that makes Hermes smirk. Learning that Charon loves gossiping was very fun, and ever since they exchange gossip and news from their respective realms.
“We don’t know yet, actually. But it is pretty obvious, right? Must have caught Pops with some poor lass, and must be planning on ruining her life.”
Charon hisses once again, and Hermes clicks his tongue, turning his face to the boatman. “Nah. She’ll calm down eventually and then get mad again. She’ll never leave him, but she will make her marriage everybody’s problems, I guess.”
Charon chuckles softly, which brings a smile to Hermes’ lips. “And then she gets mad at me because I’m the one delivering pop’s love letters and the like. Literally blaming the messenger! It’s not my fault he can’t keep it in his chiton. She keeps chasing me down Olympus whenever she sees me.”
Charon laughs even more, surely the mental image is funny to him. “Of course, she’ll never catch me. There is no god or mortal that can!”
The boatman hisses out a puff of smoke, and it makes Hermes suddenly sit straight, jokingly leering at Charon. “Excuse me? What do you mean, ‘If you say so’?”
He shrugs, and it makes Hermes’ wings ruffle up in fake indignity. “Sorry, did you forget? Hermes, god of speed? Fastest than everything that has ever and will ever exist?”
The other god breathes slowly, more smoke pouring out from between his teeth and now Hermes knows that this is a challenge. “Did I hear wrong, my dear boatman? Did you just say that you could catch me? I think it’s time you ask Uncle Hades for a break, working so much must be messing your head up, my friend!”
He lets out a rattled laugh, and it makes Hermes puff his chest. “Oh, oh is that so? Well then, you just try!”
Suddenly Hermes bolts off the boat, the skiff rocks with the sudden movement from the god and Charon has to steady himself lest he falls. “Come on, Charon!” Hermes laughs, stopping suddenly in the air and throwing a glance at Charon. “Try to catch me, if you can!”
Hermes starts running again, and he hears the unmistakable sound of Charon paddling his boat, and the words that leave his skeletal teeth.
As you wish.
Hermes’ heart is on his throat as he finally reaches Erebus after doing many twists and turns in the Underworld. It’s not the first time he’s been there, but all the other handful of times he’s been in this realm he has been accompanied by Charon, and this time he arrives alone.
He remembers how excited he was that day, when Charon invited Hermes to his personal home. He knew the boatman's home was hidden deep in the belly of the Underworld, but to actually see it, to be invited- it was far more exciting than it should’ve been. The occasion hadn’t been that important, Charon just wanted to share some ambrosia, promised after he failed to catch Hermes a while ago, a promise that Hermes assured him he didn’t have to fulfill, after all, to catch the god of speed is impossible. But Charon insisted anyway, and Hermes obliged even if he was far more excited than he let on.
The next couple of visits were for similar reasons, just an excuse to rest after a hard day of work and share some food Hermes brought. He enjoyed letting the boatman discover meals, feeding him cakes, candies and other mortal delicacies that he never got to taste. He always left Erebus with his heart full.
However this time, Hermes feels only apprehension. He is intruding on Charon’s abode, even when the boatman had assured him in the past he could drop by anytime. As you wish, he told Hermes. Even so, even with Charon’s explicit permission, Hermes still feels like he is intruding, an invader not just in Charon’s home, but in the Underworld in general. When he ventured down the Styx and into Erebus he wasn’t really thinking. He just wanted to see Charon, but the boatman wasn’t in the temple of Styx, and Hermes’ first reaction was to search for him in this place. But he isn’t here either- just Hermes, an intruder in Charon's home.
Hermes curses himself under his breath, calling himself stupid for thinking the Boatman would be here. He is a very busy god and Hermes himself knows he must be delivering souls to the House of Hades. And even if he had found Charon, it’s not like the god could help him much. This was stupid, rash and-
He is about to leave when Charon basically manifests in front of him in a puff of purple smoke. It startles Hermes, jumping up in the air and staying there, chuckling anxiously at the sudden appearance of his associate.
“You gave me quite a fright, my friend” he laughs nervously. “I didn’t expect you to appear from tin air.”
Charon growls an apology, and it makes Hermes’ cheeks red. “Ah, I’m the one that should be apologizing. I’m sorry for intruding while you’re not home, I truly thought you would be around.”
Charon shakes his head, assuring Hermes that it is fine. Still, he tugs at the shoulder strap of his messenger bag. Even with Charon’s assurance, he is frazzled and it must be noticeable as the boatman groans in curiosity.
“Oh it’s…” Hermes says, eyes focused on the ground. “You know. Just feeling a little jumpy, that’s all. Things are a little bit tense back home but, heh, when is it not?”
It’s true- it’s rare when his family isn’t having spats amongst themselves, but those normally last a week or two before everything goes back to normal, but he can feel the tension growing, Zeus and Hera picking fights not only with each other but with everybody else, and Hermes can feel something coming. It wouldn’t be the first time one of their fights got out of control and it involved everybody, and Hermes doesn’t want to go through that. He rather make himself scarce before either Zeus or Hera picked a fight with him.
But really- he doesn’t know why he is so worried. These things always happen and they will continue to happen. It isn’t the first time and it will not be the last time, and yet it makes him anxious, worried, like a small mortal child.
And so when Charon asks him if he wants to talk about it, Hermes shakes his head slightly. “I… not really, no.”
For a moment he believes Charon will scoff at him- why would he seek Charon out, if he wasn’t going to say a thing? But instead the boatman just nods and doesn’t pry. It leaves Hermes speechless, even when Charon moves from his spot and towards his one lone stone desk. Hermes moves through the air, watching as Charon unties the coin satchel from his robes, dumping the contents of his bottomless purse into the table, obols spilling into the surface.
“What are you doing, my friend?” Hermes watches as Charon sits down, shoving all the obols on one side of the table, careful to not drop a single one. Charon grunts an answer, as he picks one and drags it to the opposite side. “Ah, counting today’s earnings? How diligent of you.”
It occurs to Hermes, he watches around at the massive piles of obols stashed everywhere. “You haven’t counted all of them, have you?”
Charon lets out a raspy response, and Hermes is incredulous. “Really, all of them? And you remember? How?”
The old god taps his forehead with his finger, and Hermes lets out a sigh. Of course Charon would keep track of his hoard with nothing but his mind alone, it is so characteristic of him.
Hermes watches as he drags obols from one side to another, and suddenly he realizes he is staring. He must have made a sound, as Charon’s gaze lifts from his obols up to the god, who is still floating in front of the desk.
“Do… you mind if I stay? While you do that?” He feels silly, as if he is asking his mother for permission to go outside and play. And deep down he expects Charon to shoo him away, lest Hermes breaks his concentration. But he does the opposite, tipping his hat.
As you wish.
“Oh, uh…! Thank you, associate.” He tries to not blush, but if the boatman notices he doesn’t say a thing.
Hermes stays in place, watching as Charon drags more coins from one side to the other, at least until Charon wordlessly lifts his arm towards Hermes, an invitation. There are no other chairs in Erebus- no need for them, Charon never had visitors, at least until a certain flighty god started popping in. Hermes nods softly, letting his satchel fall off to the floor with a soft thud; accepting Charon’s invitation and sitting on his lap. Charon wraps his arm around Hermes once, squeezing him softly before he continues counting his hoard.
Hermes watches as the obols are dragged individually from one side to the other, sometimes the god picks them up between his fingers, inspecting the coins before he puts them back. He rests his head on Charon’s collar, his eyes start feeling heavy, and he feels how a ringed hand squeezes his shoulder softly before he closes his eyes and falls asleep.
Things were starting to look up in Olympus for a little while. Zeus and Hera calmed down for a moment, and after a couple of weeks of silence Hermes believed that maybe this one time, maybe now it wouldn’t end up in disaster.
How foolish of him.
What had started as a normal day ended in chaos. Hermes was on his way to deliver more messages to his father. He didn’t care about the contents of said messages- he is the messenger, and while he does snoop from time to time (only when they’re about his father, of course. The man no longer has the privilege of privacy), this time he decided to not pry. When it comes to Zeus, it isn’t difficult to guess the exact nature of his correspondence.
What he didn’t expect when he arrived at Zeus’ quarters was to find Hera there as well. Hermes even faltered for a moment, suddenly deciding that he could do this delivery later. But it was too late, his father and stepmother spotted him in the entrance, and Zeus ordered him to come forward. It was obvious they had been fighting, by the way his father stood and the way Hera's hands curled into fists. Hermes tried to excuse himself, but Hera ordered him to enter and so he did.
He knew it was hopeless when Hera yanked away his satchel and threw it at Zeus’ face, making letters and messages spill all on the floor. Lucky him Chelly had stayed in his room that day, as the bag landed roughly at their feet. Hermes didn’t leave unscathed either; his stepmother had managed to scratch his cheek before he had sense to run, and thunderbolts were thrown in his direction, one striking him in the leg. Even so, Hermes ran out of there, away from Olympus as a thunderstorm brewed in the sky.
No use staying home. Zeus didn’t want him there and he knew everybody would blame him for this. It wouldn’t be the first time- some of his siblings sympathetic but others exasperated, asking Hermes why he delivered the messages, why he helped- but it is his duty, he never scolded Ares for brewing so many wars or Apollo for plagues, and yet instead of blaming their father for his trysts they blame the him, who is just doing his godly duty.
And now he is here, arriving at the Underworld. His feet took him there without thinking, running through the skies and past the doors of the Temple of Styx without thinking it twice. The boatman is on his post, waiting for more souls to come, spotting Hermes surely thinking the god is there for his psychopomp duties, but he can see the glow of his eyes flicker once he sees the state of him, once Hermes stops to a halt in front of the god.
“Sorry, no souls today,” Hermes apologizes, being a professional at heart. He straightens his chiton. “Hey, can I-”
He is interrupted when a strong ringed hand tilts his chin up, and it is difficult for Hermes to talk as his face is gently being handled, a rough thumb pressing near the cuts on his cheek. Charon lets out a worried warble, and Hermes sputters for a moment.
“Ah- yes. It’s no big deal, truly.” He tries to lighten the mood, as much as it twists his insides. “Got on the bad end of my dear stepmother’s wrath and-”
It shocks him when Charon kneels in front of Hermes, leaving him wordless once again. Rough fingers trace the electric burn in his leg, fingernails tracing the scarred tree that his father’s lightning bolt left on its wake. But mostly, he is shocked to see Charon kneeling- the image of such an ancient and powerful god, kneeling for Hermes-
“Charon, it’s fine,” he whispers, hand resting on Charon’s shoulders. “Not the worst thing that has happened to me. It’s-”
Charon stands up once again, taking Hermes’ hands on his own. In the blink of an eye they’re transported to Erebus, and Hermes has to put his feet on the floor lest he lose his balance from the sudden shifting. Charon hands move, one softly holding on Hermes’ shoulder and the other one scooping the damaged cheek, thumb caressing near the wound. It stings a little, but Hermes doesn’t register it as he has to stare up to meet the boatman's eyes now that he is fully grounded.
What happened? he asks, and Hermes has to divert his gaze from his associate’s eyes for a moment, as staring deep into them feels like too much now, too intimate- way too overwhelming.
“Ah, remember I’ve mentioned that Lord Zeus and Lady Hera were mad at each other? Well,” he chuckles, exhausted. “It reached a boiling point, and as always they blamed me, the messenger. Normally I can get out of it unscathed- but it seems I got caught in the crossfire again.”
He regrets saying that as soon as the words leave his mouth. He shouldn’t have said “again”- it's the truth, it isn't the first time he has been physically harmed by his father, but Charon whines in such a pitiful way that it makes Hermes’ heart clench. “I am okay, truly.”
Now it is Charon the one that looks away, as if it pains him too much to look at Hermes in this state, making excuses for it. It makes him wish he hadn’t come here, feeling guilty that he is causing so much pain to his dearest friend.
“I’m sorry for keeping you busy,” he says. He hadn’t even considered just how busy Charon must be when he arrived practically crashing to the Underworld.
What is he doing? He has so many things to do, so many messages to send and he is here, distracting Charon and procrastinating in his own godly duties. Squabbles between his family members are not new, and him being blamed for them is also a common occurrence. But instead he comes here, wasting both their time and making Charon worry over nothing.
“I should leave, I’m sure you have many things to do-” he tries to fly away but Charon takes his hand, keeping him in place.
He could yank his hand away and leave. But why would he do that? That’s unnecessarily cruel, a cruelness Charon doesn’t deserve.
You don’t wish to go back Charon says, matter of factly and it probably should piss Hermes’ off that Charon can read him so easily, but he doesn’t have the energy to be petty.
“No, not really. Everybody is blaming me right now.” he sighs with a sad smile on his lips. “They always blame me first, you know? ‘Why did you deliver those messages?’ ‘Couldn’t you have stopped this?’ ‘You should be ashamed!’”
Hermes barks out a bitter laugh.
“I’m not in the mood to be their scapegoat.”
Charon says nothing. Hermes slips out of his grasp, tucking his hands under his arms, looking away. His cheek is stinging and his leg… it pulsates with pain- he is just floating in place, but the flesh is raw and painful. He isn’t sure what to do with himself now.
Do you wish to stay?
Hermes hadn’t noticed just how burrowed his brow was until he softenshis gaze towards his associate, locking eyes with the boatman. “What- here? In the Underworld?”
He nods, and Hermes feels flustered. “What- what about Uncle Hades? If he finds out-”
Let him seethe Charon replies immediately. I’ll take the blame for whatever he grieves about.
“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers low. “Not for me.”
Let me.
Hermes feels something deep in his belly, but he doesn’t know what. He feels topsy-turvy, overwhelmed by exhaustion, anger and surprise all at the same time. “You would do that for me?”
If you wish.
It’s too much. He presses his knuckles onto his eyes, trying to stop the tears from spilling. Charon just places a heavy comforting hand on his shoulder, allowing Hermes to thank him with a cracked and very small voice.
“Thank you.”
Hermes’ presence in Erebus has started to change the realm, little by little. It is Charon’s home, designed specifically for his tastes and preferences- the first time Hermes came, it was more of a storage room than a living place. After the few first times Hermes came by, Charon added one singular chair for the god to sit, something that amused Hermes endlessly.
“Aw, for me? You shouldn’t have!” He replied back then, and Charon just grumbled and turned away, surely the god would have rolled his eyes if he could.
This time the change is more notorious however. Hermes is a creature of speed, one of the busiests gods of Olympus- it is in his nature to move and run. Yet, despite his divinity, he too needs to sleep once in a while, not as much as mortals but he knows what happens when he runs on exhaustion. And what a great time to catch up on sleep, now that he is practically hiding from Olympus while everything sorts itself out.
After Charon allowed him to stay and he tended to his wounds (something Hermes remarked was not necessary, yet Charon insisted), unfortunately he had to leave to continue his work- Hermes may be taking a break from working but Charon isn’t, and Thanatos is still a psychopomp. Despite Hermes’ absence, there was still work to do.
And at first Charon didn’t want to leave, but Hermes insisted. He felt pretty guilty already for taking so much of his time and by basically now being an indefinite guest at his home. It isn’t until Charon leaves and Hermes decides to take a nap, that he realizes that the god owns not a bed, not even a chaise. It makes perfect sense- Charon is the one god he knows that needs absolute no rest whatsoever, unlike Hermes and his kin; sometimes Hermes wondered if it was due to how he was born, him being so vastly different from his siblings. Nevertheless- there is no place where Hermes can lay down for a moment.
Normally he would complain, or try to create his own bed out of Charon’s expensive fabrics and items. But he is exhausted, and he has practically barged into Charon’s home- he doesn’t have the right to mess with the place at all- at least not for now. He sighs, sitting down on the one chair Charon obtained for him, curling himself on it. It’s comfortable at first and he does fall asleep, but wakes when Charon worriedly warbles at him. His back hurts and so does his tailbone, and he doesn’t feel rested at all.
“Sorry my good associate, you don’t exactly own any beds.”
Charon thinks for a moment, and the light on his eyes suddenly flickers, as if deep in thought. But first he urges Hermes off the chair and he obliges, but it hurts a little to move not only from his burnt leg but from sleeping for who knows how many hours on that chair. Charon leads him to a corner in the room, where expensive fabrics, silks and linens lay. Hermes knows of these- He personally brought them to Charon for him to trade in the Underworld.
His eyes go wide when Charon starts throwing the silks on the floor, expensive pieces of cloth being haphazardly thrown at their feet. “What are you doing?” he asks, but it doesn’t stop Charon as he keeps throwing everything textile he can find onto it, until it eventually forms a small mound. The boatman grabs his hand, and directs him to the pile of cloth he just created.
“Charon, these are very expensive,” Hermes says, with a small worried frown. “I would know, I brought them here. I’m not going to ruin them by sleeping on them.”
But Charon pats the back of his hand, assuring him that it is fine. He lowers Hermes to the ground, gently shoving him towards the pile. “Alright, alright. You win, my friend.”
It’s not as good as a bed, but much better than the chair he was sleeping on. The fabrics are soft and silky, and maybe it’s his mental and physical state but the moment he lays down he feels his eyes starting to droop and before he can register it, he falls deeply asleep.
The sound of something shifting wakes him up suddenly, and Hermes sucks air through his teeth, realizing just how there was drool spilling from his lips. He wipes it dry with the back of his palm, opening his eyes and lifting his head from his makeshift nest to see Charon with his back to Hermes, looking down at… something he can’t make out yet in his grogginess.
He silently gets up, floating towards where Charon is standing and makes out the shape in front of them.
It’s a bed, and a rather big one. Expensive looking silks and fabrics decorate the bed, alongside the fluffiest pillows Hermes has ever seen. It’s probably the most luxurious bed to ever exist.
“Whoa, where did you get this?” Hermes asks, one hand sinking into the soft sheets and it feels very plush. Charon lets out a groan, and Hermes chuckles at his answer.
“Hypnos? You commissioned a bed from Hypnos?” Now it makes sense, of course the god of sleep is an expert when it comes to making the most luxurious beds. “Maybe I should commission a bed for my room in Olympus-”
Charon picks up Hermes by the waist, carefully depositing him in the bed. He wants to complain, but he lets him instead, sinking into the blissfully comfortable sheets, letting out a sigh as he can feel his body relax instantly; for a moment, Hermes wonders if Hypnos has infused it with a divine boon of his, the effect on his body being that instant.
“Thanks,” Hermes whispers, groggy already even when only seconds have passed. Charon tips his hat and makes his way out, but Hermes reaches out a hand at him, calling out for the god. “Wait,”
Charon immediately turns to face him, and Hermes can feel sleep clinging to his bones. “Join me?”
A plume of smoke seeps out of his teeth, and Hermes can swear it is pinker than normal.
As you wish.
Hermes smiles victorious as Charon sits down next to Hermes, but that won’t do. He grabs at his robes, dragging him down with him, his weight sinking into the fabrics too, dipping Hermes along with him. Hermes chuckles, patting Charon’s arm as he finally allows himself to drift to sleep.
“Thank you”.
He wakes to soft touches on his calf. Erebus is completely dark, devoid of any light. Night and day are simply not a concept in the Underworld- this must have been Charon’s doing to allow Hermes his sleep. In the darkness, he opens his eyes and sees Charon’s looming figure at Hermes’ feet, his eyes glowing purple, and his smoke doing so too. The rings of his fingers reflect the light from his eyes, as they trace the patterns in Hermes’ burnt skin carefully.
It wasn’t a direct hit. The lightning bolt bounced off the walls, electrifying everything at its wake. It reached Hermes’ leg and crawled up his calf, dying just at his knee. Not as bad as it could have been, but it hurts. It hurts. His leg is scarred, red lines resembling frost crawled up his skin, blooming red, leaving his tan skin pink and raw.
What hurts most is the way Charon traces his skin, not because he is hurting him, but because his smoke is now heavier, darker, a mix of emotions that Hermes can’t comprehend- at least not now.
Hermes reaches out to Charon, touches him softly and those burning bright eyes are now watching him. “Please, my friend. It’s okay.” Charon lowers his gaze to the sheets under them. Hermes loops his fingers on the arm touching Hermes’ leg, drags him away, drags him towards himself once more, gently guiding Charon’s hulking figure to bed once again. “I promise. I will heal and they will fade. Please- it kills me to see you like this. Promise me? That you will not fret?”
Charon groans, unsure. But Hermes touches his shoulder. They’re so close together now.
“Promise me, please?” He repeats. Charon’s smoke spills out softly from his mouth, floating up in the air, silky, pinkish.
As you wish.
Hermes smiles, brushing a strand of stray hair off his associate’s face. Erebus glows pink.
The passage of time is vastly different in the Underworld than it is on the surface. Hermes isn’t sure how much time has truly passed since he absconded to the Underworld, but he knows it is safe to leave now- at least, according to Thanatos.
“I asked Lord Ares about the situation,” Thanatos said, arms across his chest, completely rigid and stiff as he stared at Hermes with annoyance. He accidentally stumbled upon Hermes one day when he teleported to Erebus looking for Charon, and promised to not say a thing- after Charon practically gave him a lecture. It had been quite cute to be honest, watching Charon pulling his “big brother” privileges on the god of Death. “He said the King and Queen have forgotten about you and your… ‘involvement’. Currently Lord Zeus is collecting the most precious gifts for Lady Hera. It seems everybody agrees it is all their fault.”
“No war this time,” Hermes whispered under his breath. Good- the last thing they all needed was for this to keep dragging on. “Ares told you all of this…?”
Thanatos’ brow harshened. “Your brother seems insistent in courting me. I just had to ask, and he replied. Tell him to back off, I do not desire to consort with him.”
“We could be brothers in law, you know?” Hermes joked, but Thanatos just frowned.
“Your presence is noted and missed between them. No one to deliver their correspondence. Do hurry up, I can only stand Ares whining about it so much.”
As harsh as he had been, Thanatos is right. It is time for Hermes to leave. Despite the fact that Charon can teleport them instantly to the Temple of Styx, they take the long route, rowing through the Styx as if Hermes is just another shade in the Underworld.
Hermes sits on one of the benches as he watches the transition of Asphodel to Elysium. It’s been a while since he was on the surface, so it will be a nice change of pace. It’s not that he doesn’t like the Underworld- but he has been cooped up for too long. His leg and cheek have completely healed long ago and Hermes is itching to run again- he couldn’t just run in the Underworld, trying to hide from his uncle. As much as he appreciates the stay, he cannot be still for so long.
“Glad that got resolved,” Hermes says as Charon keeps on rowing. “Only a matter of time until it happens again, you know? Ha.” he barks out a bitter laugh, and Charon hisses between his teeth.
“I don’t believe I’ve thanked you enough for your help, my dear boatman.” Hermes turns his face to Charon, who is staring straight ahead, still rowing. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you. Whatever you need, say the word and I’ll help, alright?”
Charon shakes his head, telling Hermes that there was no need. He was content just helping.
“Ah, ever so the gentleman, you. Well, I want to repay you. I could say, hey, you have a home in Olympus, but I have the feeling you would rather not like that”
Charon laughs at this, knowing that no, no he would not like that. Hermes knows that Charon has been in Olympus only once, long before Hermes was born, when the pantheon was still young and new. He told him the story once, about how stuffy it was, how his father treated him like just a piece of furniture and how Hera stared at him like he was vermin. It had not been a good time.
“Would you come, though? If I asked you to?” Hermes pushes the joke, gaze fixated on the shades in the horizon, too far away to be anything more than just dots. “Would you?”
It’s a joke to him. Of course Charon is going to say no, and Hermes will push him more about it, and they will start bantering at each other, because that’s what they do. It’s the routine they’ve set.
And yet Charon hisses an answer, and it makes Hermes whip his head towards the boatman in surprise.
“What?”
As you wish.
“You…” Hermes tries to gauge Charon’s words, his tone. “You would come to Olympus, if I asked you to?”
Charon nods solemnly and repeats himself.
As you wish.
It isn’t a joke. Hermes knows Charon enough to know when he is joking, and it isn’t a joke to follow Hermes’ taunt. He would come if Hermes asked him to, even if he hates Olympus and its kings. Even if the air is too stuffy and difficult for him to breathe. Even if the gods look down at him, even if it’s uncomfortable and horrible to him-
He would come to Olympus, because Hermes asked him to.
The green pastures of Elysium change to the glowing redness of the Temple of Styx. The red flames illuminate the skiff as Hermes watches over a silent Charon.
That moment, he is amazed to discover that when he was saying “As you wish”,
What he meant was “I love you”.
The rest of the trip is met with silence. Neither Hermes or Charon mutter a word as the boat parks at the dock, and Hermes keeps quiet as he floats up in the air, but makes no attempt to move at all. Charon stays silent, watching him curiously, holding his oar with a strong grip. The sound of the Styx lapping on the boat and the stones drown his mind.
“Charon,” he says suddenly, still rooted in place in the air, his divine scarf trailing behind him despite there being no wind.
The boat creaks underneath them, being gently rocked back and forth by the red waters of the river.
Ringed hands reach out to him, oar forgotten by Charon’s side. He holds Hermes’ small hand between his big calloused palms. It’s difficult to really tell him what is going through his head, through his heart. He doesn’t know how to put into words the realization he just made, how he is now going back to all their interactions, all the times Charon has been there for him. The thought of saying it makes him dizzy, far too much. He is the god of languages and he cannot come up with the words.
He turns to Charon, closing the gap between them. They’re inches away from each other and Hermes closes his eyes, closing the gap between them, pressing his lips on cold teeth.
He can’t speak, but he can act. He can hold Charon there, hands threading through his soft hair as the Boatman wraps him in his strong arms, fingers pressing against the small of his back, his other hand curling on Hermes' nape.
Even more amazing is that moment, when Hermes realizes, he truly loves him back.