Chapter Text
“Do you want payment? Is that it? Because that’s an easy fix, I know exactly what a big, strong warrior like you would want.” The kid tried for a convincing trader’s smile, but it was getting less and less convincing the closer they got to their destination.
The pipsqueak piped up again,” Ever heard of dragon scale armor? Sounds interesting, doesn’t it? Well, you are in luck, Sir, because I know exactly where to get you a whole bunch, if we go now, I can- I can get you a quality deal! Just let me go and Il show you where! “
Ares tightened his grip on the thin, wiry arm of the son of Maia and hoped he would give up the bit soon. The kid had no idea how badly Ares wanted to agree, Yes lets go looking for whatever the latest deal the kid had for him and go far, far away from here.
But no. That wasn’t going to happen. Never mind that he would be disobeying direct orders from the high council of Olympus, but he could feel the unsettling still coldness that surrounded the gigantic crack splitting the ground very close by. The screeches of creatures rose up through the mist, the hair on the back of Ares’s neck rose in warning. Every instinct he had screamed at him to move away, to draw his sword.
It’s not the first time they’ve been audible, though it was getting impossible to ignore or dismiss to a different source. Hermes couldn’t merely claim that it was most likely a funny species of bird, these were unmistakenly not from the mortal world.
A particularly loud screech made them both stiffen. Ares looked over at the kid, it was getting too difficult for Hermes to keep the tears from falling. It almost made him regret calling for retribution.
Almost.
It wasn’t his fault the kid stole from the wrong person. He had to learn that actions had consequences, it was just a bit unfortunate Ares would have to be the one to teach him.
Still, this situation put him at a much too familiar setting from another exile.
It made Ares’ stomach twist with a slight twinge of old bubbling guilt, but as he kept mentally reminding himself it was not his fault. The boy should have considered the consequences of his actions. Yes, it was Hermes’s own fault he was about to be taking the plunge to a dark world with glass shards covering the ground like painful, cutting blades of grass.
The brown-haired boy’s gaze darted back and forth between the mist and Ares’s calloused hand dragging him closer to the discomforting sight. Quickly losing his remaining hope he lifted his head again,” Please, I gave back what I could! And gave you that nice instrument! You can’t do this! ” He begged with a wavering voice.
“I have my orders, and I don’t care for instruments.” Ares rested his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword and replied, steel in his tone. “For the theft and slaughter of several of my sacred boars, you have been brought before the council and charged with exile to Tartarus.”
Privately, extremely privately. He could not afford to look weak or, ugh, sympathetic right now. Ares did not think the kid deserved this. He only meant to teach the kid a lesson about stealing from him. In hindsight Ares should have seen his mother eagerly jumping on the situation coming.
Bitterly, he thought, if Queen Hera could get back at that nymph and rid Olympus of living proof of another one of her husband’s affairs, she would take that opportunity with an enthusiastic smile.
Hermes turned his red-rimmed eyes back to the large drop, and Ares could practically feel the sob build up as the kid’s mouth wobbled “Well? I don’t have all day. You better get climbing- or falling. Either is fine, though falling would be much more entertaining.”
Ares took a step closer, the kid scrambled back like he thought Ares may just decide to push him. Hermes nodded unsteadily,” Climbing. I’ll climb.” He sat down and scooted over the edge, gripping a crevice in the hard rock so tightly his little knuckles turned a pale white.
“Alright then, looks like I’m going to be here a while.” Ares mumbled to himself; at this rate he was going to miss the afternoon chariot races. He reached for his knife, a wonderful gift from his love, Aphrodite, the knife had a boar’s head etched into the top of the hilt and fluttering doves across the blade. At least he could sharpen it while he waited for the kid to be past the point of easy return. His hand, however, closed around empty air instead of a knife hilt.
Ares frowned and checked his belt again.
“What’s wrong?” a mocking tone came from below, “looking for this?” Holding on as tightly as he could, Hermes produced a familiar knife from his tunic.
“How did you- Where did you get that?” Ares roughly yanked his precious knife back out of the brat’s hands. The nerve of this boy-
Quickly scanning for damage to the weapon, he felt anger storm through him as his vision turned blindingly red. Should push him of this stupid wall!
Make him taste rocks for this.
Hermes simply smiled at him, droplets dripping down his eyelashes. The little wings extending from behind elfish ears flapped furiously in response to the sudden altitude, “From a talking bear- where do you think I got it?”
“Oh, look at Snarky over here, trying to get his last word in before tumbling to his doom!” The booming voice of an angry general, or likewise a drill sergeant, proved too much for the son of Maia and straining fingers met relief as a startled flinch caused him to lose his grip on the cavern wall.
Oh no, Ares wasn’t quite done with the brat yet. His hand shot down, gripping the light blue tunic with a furious fist. “What do you care! It’s not like you don’t have plenty more!” the first spark of defiance shone in Hermes’s light brown eyes.
For a moment blue replaced brown, ‘What do you care? You could have tried to make her see reason.’ The melodic voice chuckled bitingly ,’ You could have not gone after my pregnant mother in the first place. So, brighten up, I’m sure your mother will be oh so proud.’ Eyes full of fire glared into his very essence.
Ares felt a stabbing sense of guilt and nausea stirring in his stomach as he came back to dangling a kid over the edge of Tartarus, a home and prison to the most dangerous creatures of their world. This was unnecessary. Entirely too much punishment to fit the crime.
He carefully released his grip on his suddenly very young brother’s tunic, giving him the chance to reestablish his shaky hold. Hermes nervously glanced at him all out of deals, making the unsettling feeling bubble up even further. “Please, I’m sorry,” He pleaded.
Ares’s mind quietly noted that this may still be a tactic but much louder it told him that it didn’t matter if he swung his sword at Hermes’s fragile hold and sent him falling through the mist clouding the rest of the distance till the eventual dangerous landing near the shores of the Phlegethon. Because the outcome would be the same, a horrible end in the Pit.
It was too late for old apologies and too late to try and change a council decided sentence. Ares allowed another brother to be sent away to attempt to survive alone in a place designed to destroy him, among kinds that would wish his head on an engraved silver platter.
Hermes had about a week’s worth of ambrosia, exactly one small leather waterskin, only the tunic he was already wearing, and his own resourcefulness to protect himself with. He might, possibly, make it through the first opportunistic monster’s attack, but a second would tip the scales completely.
Ares hesitated, turning his beloved knife over in his hand. Admiring the workmanship one last time before finally reaching down, stopping as Hermes scrambled back as far as he could, “Hold on kid,” he held the knife, hilt first, toward his suspicious little brother, “Take it, it’s your best chance of survival.”
Hermes slowly closed his hand around the hilt that looked almost comically large (and wasn’t that upsetting, since he probably wasn’t even taught to use so much as a knife properly) in the kid’s fist.
Brown curls bobbed up and down in a grateful nod, recognizing that this was the best he would get.
The knife slipped into the kids’ belt and Hermes looked back up at him and whispered in a shaky voice, “Thanks.”
Ares nodded back before purposefully meeting his eyes, “Don’t lose it.”
Tear-stained eyes widened, and Hermes determinedly shook his head,” I won’t, I promise.”
As his brother’s real descent started, Ares found himself thinking about how he would explain the absence of his favorite gift to Aphrodite when he inevitably saw her in a few hours. He wasn’t too concerned; she likely wouldn’t judge him too harshly for this show of undeniable weakness to a criminal he himself dragged to court.
She might even gift him a new one, but Ares wasn’t sure he would be able to look at the dove dotted blade without seeing teary chestnut brown eyes next to irises of furious blue staring back.