Work Text:
This summer at Camp Half-Blood wasn’t different from the dozens of them before. The weather was clear and perfect as always. And better yet, not the sound of demigod brats around. To Dionysus, the god of wine, that was all he needed for now.
He sat on one of a pair of wicker chairs on the front porch of the Big House. He was always here whenever he needed to take a breather from babysitting overpowered babies, which was often. He took a sip from his Diet Coke as he relaxed. On a day as lovely as this, he would’ve preferred something like sangria, but considering he was grounded at the moment, it’s better to be sober than burnt to a crisp a la holy lightning bolt. And the last thing he wanted to try was a non-alcoholic sangria. He was the god of wine and all, but one thing he wasn’t was desperate. Blegh.
From his spot, he could see a couple of campers making their way to the archery field. What was it, a Friday? Apollo cabin would be hosting archery lessons for the day. Not that he cared or anything. Dionysus had been doing this job as a camp director against his will for the last couple of decades. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to learn the weekly schedules of all the campers. Archery lessons, capture-the-flag, origami monsters, Greek lessons, the whole sha-bang. What a bore.
And so, because of his diligence and hard work, Dionysus felt it his duty to take a much-needed nap. Snapping his fingers, the can of Diet Coke had disappeared from the table, as if it had never existed. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Viewing black, he could only hear the sound of birds chirping, distant laughter, annoying beeping and… the sound of wings?
“Well, this is the first,” Dionysus said, eyes still closed. “You could’ve IM-ed me, Lord Hermes.”
In front of the lounging god stood a man dressed in an expensive cashmere suit and spotless leather shoes, which from them flapped the familiar sound of moving feathers. He wore a sly smirk on his face as he nodded in apology. “I’ve just been so used to using a beeper for a while,” Hermes motioned with his hand, which carried a small black device, “that, forgive me Lady Iris, I can never go back.” With his free hand, he gestured to the empty chair in front of Dionysus. “May I, brother?”
“Hm.” The god of wine stayed still as Hermes shuffled into his seat. He placed his pager down, but his eyes always seemed to hover over the screen as if he were expecting a message. Dionysus spoke, “care for a drink?” His hand was raised, ready to procure any type of beverage if needed.
Hermes shook his head. “I am fine, thank you. I appreciate your well-meaning hospitality.”
“Hm,” Dionysus replied. He crossed his arms again. “May I ask why you’ve graced our humble little camp today?”
“Dear brother-” The god’s words were shortly interrupted by the pager’s beeps. Dionysus’s eyes flitted open, revealing a view of barely-contained red-shot irritation. Hermes chuckled, waving his free hand as he used his other to deactivate the pager. “My apologies, Lord Dionysus, I forgot to silence this before I arrived.” He placed the pager back on the table. Even still, he appeared to have been hesitant in doing so, still peering over to the device every so often.
Dionysus sighed. He begrudgingly sat up in his chair. “Welp, there goes my lovely, quiet afternoon.” He looked over to Hermes, who appeared unbothered by Dionysus’ irritation. “Once again, I’m very curious as to why you’ve appeared today. Here of all places.”
Hermes’ crossed hands lay on the table. Despite the seemingly relaxed posture, there was a strange look in the god’s eyes. A look that Dionysus was all too familiar with. Yet, with that disgustingly bright smile, he tried to ward off his suspicion. “Lord Dionysus,” Hermes said. “You know, that I ask you for nothing. There are rarely times I ever come to you with a request.”
“Uh-huh,” Dionysus grunted. “So you’re asking me for a favor, then.”
His laughter was as bright as his smile. “I’m afraid so, brother.” His eyes grew dark. “It is quite the heavy favor as well. And I suppose it should come as no surprise to you.”
Dionysus’ expression remained unwavered. “Yes, I am. Excuse me for a moment.” Snapping his fingers, he summoned a can of Diet Coke out of thin air. He pulled the silver tab, emitting a satisfying hiss into the air, and took a sip. “That’s better,” Dionysus sighed with content. He placed it down on the table, and took a hard glance at Hermes. “I am sorry to say so, but that is a situation that I cannot help you with.”
Hermes’ smile never faltered, yet the flames of desperation and frustration grew behind his facade. His laughter grew more forced, more unsure. The sound of flapping wings became beating. “But you deal in madness, don’t you? How can this be out of your expertise, Lord Dionysus?”
“Because I don’t deal in PROPHETIC madness, Lord Hermes,” Dionysus affirmed. Was Hermes mad? Now THAT he could handle. Manias, self-inflicted altered states, mental ailments - THESE were within his range. Regular ol’ madness was easy-peasy. But, prophetic madness? Oh no. Even if he could handle that, he’d be… well, MAD for lack of a better term. No god was able to cure it, not even Lord Apollo himself. Dionysus took another sip. “Prophetic madness is a result of the contract made between the signee and the spirit of the Oracle. It is a consequence of failing to be accepted. And as it is a consequence of the contract, it cannot be cured. I’m sorry.”
The flames in the god’s eyes transformed to anger. The beating of wings grew more violent. Hermes’ unchanged posture emanated an aura of fury, his skin glowing slightly.
“Careful, brother,” Dionysus murmured cautiously. “I could probably replace that chair, but I’d rather not try with the kids.” He pointed to the group of campers returning from their lessons. They made their way across the grass, but stopped slightly when they noticed the two gods chatting on the Big House’s front porch. Some bowed slightly, some waved, and some seemed unsure of how to greet them. Dionysus haphazardly regarded them with a curt nod, while Hermes straightened up and waved at them with a smile. The light wavered, and with that too dissipated the risk of legal repercussions. The campers walked away, leaving the gods alone once again.
After they left, Hermes’ expression hardened. “Please, brother. You were the only one I could come to for some semblance of a solution. This cannot be all. I couldn’t stop her from attempting to contact the Oracle, and I cannot bear to see her end up like this. There must be SOMETHING I can do.”
“But there isn’t,” Dionysus asserted. “This isn’t something you can fix, nor should you try. She knew what she was getting into. Believe me, I would do something if I could, but it is just a part of the risks when you offer your mind and body to the Oracle. She knew this, you knew this.”
“And I couldn’t stop her.”
“And it’s not like you could have. She’s a mortal who believed she could do more than she was capable of. Free will and all that. What she did was still commendable, but it didn’t work in her favor.” Dionysus flicked his can around. It was nearly empty. “Even as gods, there is only so much we can try to do. I’m afraid that, in this case, there IS nothing we can do. May must live on with her mistake.”
The wicker chair thumped onto the floor. The god of thieves had stood up, furiously. The wings on his Oxford shoes frantically whipped around, trying their best to pull free. Hermes’ face was unreadable - a strange fusion of neutrality and pure desperation. “How dare you say her name, after th-the nonsense that spilled out of your mouth?”
Dionysus studied his brother, and sighed. He placed the can down. “I respect the care you have for the woman. I do. I understand.” He leaned in. “Despite her affliction, you must remember that she made this choice. It is a miracle that she hasn’t died from the experience. She is still ALIVE. She might never be the same person before the incident, but you cannot take pity on her. Don’t treat her like she’s broken.”
It was definitely a sight to see the god’s head hung with such disappointment. Dionysus felt almost compelled to shield him from the view of any snooping persons around. The god uttered quietly, which made it difficult for Dionysus to hear him clearly. “My son…”
Dionysus’ eyes narrowed slightly. There was something more to this, but he didn’t pry. He would know, eventually. “It’s not going to be easy. But, luckily, there is a way to make this a whole lot easier.” Dionysus gestured to the open pavilion. “We’ll always have space for another lovely little shoot here at Camp Half-Blood.” He nodded. “Truly, brother, I am sorry about May. And, I’m sorry about the circumstances surrounding your son.”
Hermes stood quietly, his face filled with grief. His eyes flitted across the floor, lost in thought. With all the pity he felt for his family, Dionysus was becoming concerned with the approach of more campers. By now, the campers would start congregating and making their way for dinner. Not to mention, if Chiron came by, he’d want to know everything, and Dionysus wasn’t in the mood to talk for longer than five minutes. Not after all this.
Eventually, Hermes’ face cleared a bit, that smile once again returning on his face, though not as potent as it originally was. He fixed the collar of his suit, and plucked the pager off the table. Dionysus watched as he pressed and clicked his pager, which activated a flurry of beeps and dings. The god chuckled, holding up his phone for the disinterested Dionysus to see. “Oh, would you look at that? 300 unread messages, that is a new record! I must get going, brother. Thank you for your time.”
Dionysus nodded. “You’re welcome anytime, Lord Hermes. And, can you please not leave-” He was interrupted by the flash of godly light beaming out from Hermes’ body. Dionysus squinted through the bright beam - a deadly event for mortals and demigods, but a slight inconvenience to those above. “-like that… here..?” He groaned. He leaned back in his chair all ready in a napping position.They really needed to build some kind of private teleporting room for visiting gods or something. But, thinking about it, it’s not like he would use it either. It would be nice, though, just to ease the worries of parents and especially Chiron.
He sat up in his chair. His eyes widened. Wait, WHY should he care about this? MAN, Chiron’s prudence was really rubbing off on him. Next time, he’d be VERY vocal in refraining from conducting any safety meetings for a while, yeesh. He needed a drink.