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Chapter Text

"How did you let him get away, Poseidon?" Zeus laughed and slapped his brother on the back. He only grunted in response.

"I don't know. Maybe if someone..." His eyes rest on Aeolus. "...hadn't given him that bag of wind."

"The bag was supposed to be a challenge for him, not for you," laughs the goddess of the wind. "How was I supposed to know he was going to turn things around like that? They were in the sea, your territory."

"That wretch damaged what is mine! Why did you helped him?"

"He was very persuasive," she explains, casually settling her body on the cloud. "He said please and was kind, which is more than I can say for half of Olympus."

"I'll give you my 'please'..." As he says this, he tries to lean on the cloud that Aeolus is sitting on. However, he only manages to fall through it and land on the table again, which makes the other gods laugh. "Leave me alone! Next time he won't get away."

"What's stopping you from going after him now?"

"He must be waiting for me to go after him at any moment. I'll let him stew in the juice of his fear for a few years. I'll show up when he's forgotten about me; that'll make his death even sweeter."

At one of the distant tables, the goddess of war strategy rolls her eyes, resting her cheek on her hand. Her warrior helmet lies beside her. "Odysseus, I left you for just a few years and you've already made Poseidon your sworn enemy..." she murmurs bitterly. "What will become of you, child?"

"Are you talking to me?"

She looks up to find the brown-haired messenger watching her curiously.

"Oh, no, no, Hermes, don't pay too much attention to me. I'm just talking to myself."

"You don't need to talk to yourself to get my attention, dear" As he spoke, he decides to bless her with his company and take a seat at the same table. He is surprised to see no reaction; Athena only responses with a 'Mmh'. "What's the matter? Worried about your protégé again?" Well, he's not very well protected at the moment, but..."

"I've never stopped worrying about him, Hermes." She interrupted him, resting her forearms on the table and looking at him critically. "It's just that he acted irrationally and in a way that was unbecoming of a warrior. I couldn't let that pass."

"You can't expect him to act like something he's not. He's a king, a father and a husband, among other things, but a warrior? He didn't even want to go to war in the first place. Remember how he pretended to be insane?" Hermes laughs at the memory. "Something tells me he won't be the last to try that trick. It's not a bad one."

"Curiously, it was his love for his son that shattered his facade. How ironic."

"You know what else is ironic? Going to war because he didn't want to kill a baby, only to end up killing another one As they say, Zeus gives and Zeus takes away." When Athena hears Hermes's slight laugh, she raises an eyebrow at his sense of humour. "Anyway, the boy is fine now."

"Where is he?"

Using his magic, Hermes unfolds a map of the Earth's vast oceans, on which you can see an image of a small boat sailing at full speed.

"Wow, look how fast they're going," Hermes comments in amazement. "They'll reach Eea sooner than expected that way."

"Eea? The island of Helios' daughter?"

"That's the one," he says, observing the island on the map. "I've never been there. Do you know what it's like?"

"All I know is that Circe doesn't allow men there; it's just her and her nymphs."

"No men, just them?" Hermes asks incredulously. "Poor things. They must be so bored."

"I'd say they're more likely to be relaxed." He glances sideways at Poseidon, who is sitting at the other table. Would Circe let her stay there for a while? It wouldn't hurt her. "Anyway, you're supposed to go there to help him, aren't you?"

"Aha." He leans back in his chair, casually draping one arm over the back and lifting his winged cap to get a better look at his sister. "Don't worry, dear. He's in good hands."

Odysseus could never face Circe alone, so is Hermes' duty to lend him a hand. Some of that holy moly will give Odysseus the advantage he needs to avoid falling prey to the sorceress. Hermes does not know much about Circe, not even how she looks like, but he knows she is dangerous. If the mortal goes to Eea, he will inevitably encounter her. As the god of traverlers, it is his divine duty to protect Odysseus, not to mention one other small detail.

"I suppose I couldn't ask for him to be placed under the care of another god. After all, he is your great-grandson."

"Ah, how small the world really is! Greece is a handkerchief. Here we are, discussing the welfare of that little mortal as if he were our own son." He hugs Athena affectionately, hoping she will smile at his joke, but instead he meets a frown. "True, true, vow of chastity, true..." Realising that she does not tolerate such jokes, he releases the goddess from his embrace somewhat fearfully.

"Anyway, I must leave now. Ares is waiting for me for a rematch that he is sure to lose." He conjures up her spear. "Wish me luck."

"Luck is for mediocrities. I wish you success, and you will have it."

Athena smiles warmly at him. Even though Hermes gets on her nerves, she cares for him deeply and it's all in good fun.

"Please take good care of Odysseus. He doesn't need any more problems than he already has."

"You have my word, Athena."

The warrior smiles at him again before leaving him alone. Hermes therefore turns his attention to the map on the table. Odysseus's ship is sailing at high speed, possibly due to the gusts of wind coming from the bag. If his calculations are correct, it should reach Eea in...

"Hey, Hermes, there you are!" Dionysus greets him from a nearby table, raising a glass of wine. "Come and join me!"

"Drinking alone isn't as much fun," laughs the messenger, needing little persuasion; a glass of wine never hurts. "Say no more, pour me one."

Hermes heads over to his friend's table, knowing that no matter how much he drinks, he won't get drunk. It's almost impossible to get drunk when you're a god. He takes one last look at the ship on the map, takes a sip of his first glass of wine, and calculates how long it will take to reach his destination.

A glass or two won't hurt.

Using the first branch he found, Odysseus began to sketch what he could remember of his home in Ithaca — a mental exercise to ensure that he had not forgotten it. Initially, he only intended to sketch the exterior of his palace, but he was overcome by nostalgia and ended up sketching several rooms that he missed the most. Inevitably, he ended up drawing his bedroom, which he had shared with Penelope and which contained the olive branch that he had carved himself.

Realising that this was only depressing him, he erases the drawing, cursing his luck.

"Athena, why have you abandoned me?"
He complained to the air, letting himself fall onto the white sand of the island they had arrived at less than an hour ago. He had only discovered his talent for annoying the gods at the beginning of his journey, and now he wished he could make better use of it.

At least he was now on solid ground, which was a relief after the constant rocking of the ship. Moreover, for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. He inhaled and exhaled several times, breathing in the pure air. A little tranquillity was comforting.

"Captain!" Eurylochus's voice never bodes well. "Captain!"

Odysseus grunts and abandons his comfortable position, standing up to await the news.

"What's going on, Eurylochus? What happened?" He notices that there is no one behind his brother in law; the men he sent with him on the expedition are nowhere to be seen. "I can't take my eyes off you for five minutes!, can't I?"

"Hey! This wasn't my fault."

"Sure," Odysseus mutters under his breath, his voice full of resentment. "This wasn't."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, nothing." He waves his hand dismissively, not wanting for Eurylochus to think too much about it. "Give me your report."

Eurylochus begins to recount how the excursion went: how they found the stone palace in the middle of the dense vegetation; how they all fell under the spell of the beautiful sorceress who lived there; how they didn't hesitate to go inside — except him, since he is infinitely faithful to Ctimene and stayed outside — and how that led to them being turned into pigs after eating her food. Odysseus feels like he is going to get an ulcer.

"I suppose it's my fault for not reminding them not to accept food from strangers before they left." He looks up at the sky and asks for patience. "We have to help them. Come on!"

"We don't have to!" Eurylochus grabs Odysseus by the wrist as he takes a couple of steps. "There's an interesting theory that only the fittest of a species survive. Maybe that witch did us a favour by revealing the weak links in the chain."

"Don't talk like that, Eurylochus. They are our friends; we can't leave them." His second-in-command considers replying, but decides not to. "If it had been you, wouldn't you want to be saved?"

"If it had been me, I would seriously consider dying rather than living with the shame of having fallen into the most obvious trap in the book."

The King of Ithaca needs no further convincing that he will not have his help in this rescue mission.

"Take care of the others. I'll be back soon with our friends." He places special emphasis on the last word, naively hoping to change his friend's mind.

"Good luck, Captain. I'll keep an eye on everything here; you can count on me."

"Sure I can..." Odysseus mutters again, sarcastically.

At least the positive thing about this is that he can now walk on solid ground and not on a shipwreck caused by the god of the seas. He clings to the burgundy cloak covering his shoulders. It is warm on this island, and he feels a little hot, but he doesn't want to take it off. It was a farewell gift from Penelope the night before he set off on his journey, and he likes to believe that it protects him. He will need it in this case.

Eurylochus called Circe a witch. He assumes this was not meant as an insult, but rather as a description of someone who uses magic. How is he supposed to deal with someone like that? It's totally unfair.

"You know, Athena?" He calls out to her, looking up at the sky, even though he knows it is useless. "This would be a good time to make peace, don't you think?"

He stands there for several seconds, watching, but all he can see are clouds, which remind him of Aeolus, and a sun that seems to shine more brightly on this island. A heavy sigh of disappointment escapes his lips.

"I'll go alone against Circe." He plucks up his courage. "What does it matter? With or without divine help, I am still the warrior of the mind. I'll think of something."

Chapter Text

"And that leaves the score at... what?"

"We don't need to say it," growls Ares, entering the main hall of Olympus with Athena, who looks proud of herself. "We both know it's in your favour."

"Ares." The goddess stands in front of him and places a hand on his shoulder. "You're stronger than me; we both know that. If you would deign to use some strategy, I would gladly..."

"Strategy is your thing, Athena. I do things my way, and that's how it's going to stay."
Before she can ask how well that has served him so far, the god walks away in long, heavy strides, his bad mood due to his recent defeat plain to see. Athena doesn't even bother to sigh. Why should she? Ares will never change.

She searches the room for her brother — well, half-brother would be more accurate, but she has always liked to refer to Hermes as a such — and when she finds him with Dionysus, she approaches the table where they are sitting.

"Athena!" Hermes raises his glass when he sees her. "We saw Ares walk by looking rather unfriendly a little while ago. Congratulations on the obvious victory."

"Will the winner join us for a drink?"

"That's not why I came, actually, but now you mention it, it's not a bad idea. Pour me one, Dionysus."

Wine always tastes sweeter after a battle won. Athena remembers how she used to drink with Odysseus after every victory, no matter how small. They obviously had a drink when the mortal received his first kiss from the woman who would become his wife, as he considered it the most significant victory of his young life.

"Hermes, tell me," she says to the messenger once she has finished her drink. "How did it go with Odysseus? I hope he didn't hurt himself too badly by eating that thing. It has side effects even when you eat it."

"What are you talking about? I haven't gone yet, dear."

"No? I thought you would have spoken to him by now."

"I can't talk to him until he's reached the island in question." Hermes put down his wine glass and unfolded the same map on the table as before. "If my calculations are correct, he should be there in about an hour." He explained his logic confidently, without even bothering to look, having blind faith in his calculations when plotting routes. The one who pays attention to the map is Athena. She may not be a navigator, but she thinks she can read maps well.

"But isn't that the island?"

The god rolls his eyes. For someone who abandoned that mortal, Athena worries quite a lot about nonsense.

"Of course not. You must be seeing a peninsula. Beginner's mistake..." His words hang in the air as he blinks, as if this could correct what he believes to be an optical error. How had the ship arrived there so quickly? He knew the winds from the bag would accelerate its speed, but not this much. "What?"

"What's wrong, Hermes?" Dionysus asks, seeing his winged friend looking at the map with a worried expression. Athena looked the same, but there was a hint of annoyance on her face.

The herald swallowed hard. Crap! He miscalculated. He should have assumed that they would travel through faster and more dangerous waters in order to lose Poseidon. He looks at his friend and sister, trying to remain calm.

"It looks like they've just arrived," he says calmly, rising from his seat and levitating in the air. "How lucky that I was just leaving. I'll send your regards to Athena; don't worry. Goodbye."

Hermes disappears before the warrior can reply, praying to Zeus that his words are true.

Circe has always been fascinated by alchemy. As a sorceress, she sees it as the perfect fusion of magic and science, and is therefore very interested in that branch of her element. Even the chaos caused by her newest pet in her living room is not enough to distract her from the book she is reading.

"Miss Circe!"

"Yes, dear?" she replies calmly from the comfort of the sofa.

"Do you think you could help us?" one of the nymphs pleads, barely able to catch her breath. "This pig is too slippery!"

For several minutes, the pig wearing a wine-coloured cloak has managed to evade the nymphs trying to catch him. Surprisingly, he has been successful, despite the cloak giving him such an obvious disadvantage.

"Oh, but I think you have everything under control, dear."

The nymph was paying attention to the palace owner, so she did not see the pig heading towards her. She stumbled too close to some vases, but managed to catch them just in time, so they did not break.

"Miss, please!"

"All right, all right." Circe decides to stand up and stop this before any of her girls get hurt. "Stay still." Using her magic, she immobilises the animal and makes it levitate towards her. "Better, isn't it?"

The pig that was once the King of Ithaca just keeps squealing. Circe is unable to communicate with him, but she assumes that he is not saying anything nice.

"Now, stay still," murmurs one of the nymphs as she approaches the pig with the intention of removing the cloak he is wearing — the only piece of clothing he has left. But as soon as the pig notices, he begins to squeal aggressively, frightening the nymph. "What?! What did I do?"

"What's wrong with that animal? The others didn't fight so much," asks another nymph, somewhat bewildered.

"It doesn't matter, dear," Circe said, dismissing the matter as she placed the animal in her arms. "If he wants to keep the cloak, then he can keep it. It's not worth it. We don't want him to bite any of you." As if that were an open invitation, the pig bites the palace owner on the arm, taking advantage of the fact that Circe is no longer using her magic to restrain it. "Ouch! Hey, behave yourself!"

The pig only responds with more squeals and does not stay still for a second. No matter how hard it tries, though, Circe does not let go.

"With that behaviour, you should go straight into the dinner pot and not the pen," she scolds him, leading them to the pen in the backyard and leaving the nymphs to clean up the mess. "You come to my island uninvited, you attack me by throwing all my things at me without letting me recite the monologue I prepared so carefully, and now you bite me. What's wrong with you?'

The animal squeals desperately. Circe assumes that it is trying to answer her, but she cannot understand it. Even if she could, she would not care what the mortal who had brought more men to her island and put her and her nymphs in danger had to say. She finally reaches the pen in question and leaves the pig with its friends, whom she had recently turned into pigs.

"There you go. You'll be happy here, won't you?" she asks, leaning against the door of the pen. The pig looks around for a few seconds before squealing again and turning to scratch at the door with its hooves in an unsuccessful attempt to open it. "Come on, at least give it a try! Your friends have already got used to it."

The animal with the red cape continues to scratch at the door. When it gets tired of that, it starts to ram it, using all its strength to try to knock it down. Circe chooses to watch this, just to see how much energy the animal has. She is sure that, when it was human, it went for many moons without eating anything decent, so how much resistance could it have? Surprisingly, several minutes pass in which the pig continues to try to knock down the door, despite it being useless. Gradually, it begins to lose strength, with each blow becoming weaker than the last, until it finally collapses to the ground.

"Are you tired already?" Circe crouches down to the animal's height, but is surprised by what she sees. "Are you crying?"

The pig just looks at her with tears in its eyes. There isn't much expression on its face, but Circe can tell that it looks sad. The other men did not act like this. They looked scared, yes, but nothing more. What's wrong with this one?

"Oh, Zeus, don't tell me that's who I think it is!"

Circe looks up and sees a figure flying through the air. Had she been human, she would have wondered if the winged figure with short, wavy brown hair and honey-coloured eyes descending from the sky was an angel. But she immediately knows that he must be a god of Olympus because such unique beauty — masculine yet delicate — could only belong there. If she did not have the nerves of steel necessary for a minor goddess to live in a world ruled by Zeus, she would have been dazzled by the sight, but that is not the case. Yet she cannot help but let her gaze rest on his parted lips, which are visible due to his heavy breathing.

"I'm going to assume you're Hermes." She ventures, leaning back against the gate of the pen. The distraught god nods frantically without taking his eyes off the pig.

"And I assume you are the owner of this place. Listen, this is a big..." When his gaze falls upon the goddess, his words stop. "Oh, wow..."

Hermes does not need to be human to be dazzled by what he sees. That dark-skinned figure could be the most exquisite statue in all of Greece, which has come to life and taken on such vivid, genuine colour. Without a doubt, this beautiful goddess belongs here, in this fertile, vibrant land. She complements the island's liveliness perfectly, creating a perfect picture. Not even Olympus could accentuate her beauty with such justice; her beauty is so unique, transcending both mortal and divine, and could only exist in this secluded paradise, far from the gaze of mortals and the palace in the sky. It's as if she herself had decided that neither mortals nor the gods were worthy of appreciating her, and had taken refuge in this sanctuary. However, her ancestry and kinship with Helios are most evident in the golden hue of her eyes, which can only be compared to the sun itself.

"Yes?" Circe urged him to continue when she saw that he had fallen silent.

"You must be Circe." Hermes says gallantly. "I have heard of you, but words cannot do justice to your image." He takes the goddess's hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it courteously while keeping his eyes on hers. Circe would like to say that she remained expressionless, but she couldn't stop a small smile from creeping onto her lips.

"Are you here for them?" she asks, nodding towards the animals behind her. This causes the herald to look concerned again. As she suspected, he is the god of travellers after all.

"Oh yes, that's why I came!" He puts his hands to his head and knocks his cap to the ground in the process. "By any chance, was one of them Odysseus of Ithaca? He was the captain of the ship."

"I suppose he was the one who came looking for his friends — a fitting gesture for a good captain." He gestures towards the pig still lying in front of the door. "He's the one in the red cloak. He didn't have a chance to tell me his name, but I'm pretty sure it's him.'

"Oh, no, no, no." Hermes approaches the pen and kneels down to get a better look at the pig. "This shouldn't have happened to you, boy."

He murmurs with deep regret, trying to get the pig to look at him, but it just lies there. Circe, on the other hand, is paying close attention to the herald.

"It shouldn't have?"

The god sighs and levitates back into the air to explain himself better to the sorceress.

"This mortal has been travelling the seas, fleeing Poseidon, for years. From the direction of the winds and the way his crew charted their routes, I knew they would end up on your island, and it was my duty to help him once they arrived." The pig that was previously Odysseus raises its head slightly with each word, looking increasingly interested, although no one notices. "But I was delayed with some deliveries. They sped up and took shortcuts I hadn't counted on. Besides, this island is so big that I couldn't find him. You know what they say: the timing of the gods is imperfect, so..."

"You didn't make it in time?" Circe asks, somewhat amused by such a silly mistake. Hermes sighs.

"I didn't make it in time," he confesses in a defeated tone. Both gods turned their heads towards the pig as it started squealing again, this time in rage. It stared at Hermes as if it wanted to get out of the pen and attack his jugular. "What is it saying?"

"Mmh," Circe murmured, resting her chin on her hand. "He says: 'Such carelessness is to be expected from an arrogant and vain god of Olympus. You only know how to show off instead of attending to your duties properly. You should leave and stop bothering the beautiful owner of this island'. Wow! I think he's referring to me."

Circe feigns surprise, placing her hand on her chest. Hermes just looks at her, bored by her attempt to tease him.

"You don't understand these animals, do you?"

"Silly questions get silly answers," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, I'm sure it was kinder than whatever he actually said."

Hermes snorts. He has made a huge mistake, and now he must fix it. Athena is going to kill him — or maybe Zeus himself will! This was a divine task that had to be accomplished. His father is very heavy-handed and insists on doing things according to 'the will of the gods'; if they are not done that way, he says, things will not follow their proper cycle. He has heard very little about Circe; he knows that she is the daughter of Helios, but not much else. Could he change her mind? Could he use his favourite trick on her?

"Hey, beautiful," he purrs softly, tracing a path with his fingers on the goddess's arm. "Why don't you free these poor wretches? Then we could be alone together. We could have some wine and get to know each other better.'

"Seduction as a method of persuasion, Hermes?" The goddess's voice sounds as if she is holding back laughter as she moves away. "I would never fall for something like that. That's my tactic."

"Fine." He growls his reply, throwing his head back. "How much do you want? I have silver and gold coins. Well, I don't have them with me right now, but give me a moment and one of my protégés will do me the favour of...'

"I don't want jewels or gold either," she interrupts. "In fact, I don't want anything you can give me. What I want is peace of mind knowing that my island and my nymphs are safe, and that's only possible if Odysseus and his crew stay that way."

"What?" Concern and panic begin to take hold of the god — this doesn't look good.

"I am the ruler of Eea. This place is my property, and any mortal who enters it must face the consequences." She gestures towards the pig in the red cloak. "He arrived with men and entered my palace, where he began throwing my things at me. Who enters someone else's house like that?"

"Are you sure you are the Odysseus that Athena has told me so much about?" Hermes asks. Odysseus only grunts in response.

"Things will remain as they are, Hermes," Circe declares. "Odysseus and his men will remain as pigs." She walks away to pick up a wooden bucket and continue with her tasks. Hermes just watches her helplessly, cursing under his breath and shaking his head. This isn't fair! He was just a little late.

"Circe, come on. I'm an Olympian god. Isn't there anything you desire?" he asks, flying around her even though she is not paying much attention to him. "Say the word and it will be yours. Your wishes are my commands"

"Hermes," she interrupts him in a serious voice, still with her back to him. "My commands are commands. It's always been like that. I am the ruler of this place, after all. That is my final word."

Hermes does not need to see her beautiful golden eyes to know that they shine with determination. If he continues to insist, he could cause the conflict to escalate. A sigh of defeat escapes his lips. For now, he must accept the situation. He flies away from the sorceress, but not before taking one last look at the pig in the red cape. Bending down, he picks up his cap to get a better look at Odysseus.

"I'm sorry, boy," he whispers, his face bearing the purest expression of regret. The pig just looks away. "Don't worry. I'll fix this. I promise," he says, addressing her with such conviction that she turns around. "I know it's not my place to ask, but please don't hurt them."

I can't promise anything.

"I know, but I wouldn't feel satisfied if I didn't at least try." He bows to her, then puts on his cap. "See you later, Miss Circe. I hope you have a good day."

The goddess watches him fly away into the sky, assuming he is heading for Olympus. She then looks at Odysseus.

"This won't be the last time we see him, will it?" Unable to form sentences in his current state, Odysseus just grunts in reply. "Yes, I think so too."

Chapter Text

For Circe, the day starts early. As soon as the sun's rays touch the surface of her island, she uses her magic to open the palace's curtains, allowing sunlight to bathe every room. Then she opens the door to her back garden, ready to start her routine.

"Good morning!" She has the habit to greet the birds and any other animals that keep her company.

"Good morning."

"Ah!" The difference is that animals don't usually respond, so naturally hearing her greeting returned startles her. "Who is it?"

"Up here." Looking up, she sees the same face she saw yesterday. Hermes is lying peacefully on a branch of a tree. "Greetings, Miss Circe."

"Hermes." She shouldn't be surprised to see him, but she is. "This isn't Olympus, you know?"

"It isn't? I thought Aphrodite was ignoring me." He looks at one of the white doves next to him. "I just thought I'd spend some time on this island. You know, it's beautiful — like a hidden paradise."

"Uh-huh." She starts walking towards a wooden bucket. "I'm sure that's why, and not because of certain pigs, right?"

"Pigs?" Hermes pretends to be completely ignorant, then glances over at the pen where the animals in question are kept. The pig with the wine-coloured cloak is still glaring at him angrily, like yesterday. "Oh! Them? I'd completely forgotten about them. Haha! I didn't even remember them."

He gives the enchantress his brightest smile, but she just stares at him expressionlessly, so it doesn't seem to convince her.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"Excuse me?" he says indignantly as he begins to descend. "Of course not. I've perfected the art of deception over the years. When I lie, every little gesture is thought out in detail."

"Like that innocent smile you gave me?"

"That's right," he replies proudly, closing his eyes. He opens them immediately, however, when he realises what he has just admitted. "No! I mean, not that specific smile. I meant that..."

"They say that loose lips sink ships." The goddess walks away with a small smile on her lips, heading for the water well. Hermes curses himself for falling into the trap. He had been gathering information about Circe, who is not only a powerful sorceress but also very clever and loves to ensnare others with her words.

"Look, dear, these men made a mistake — that's obvious — but is all this drama necessary?" Circe doesn't even bother to look at him as he flies around her; she's busy drawing water from the well. "Can't we just pretend none of this happened? Let them go; there's no loss to mourn, right?'

"There's no loss to mourn because I intervened. I know very well what those bastards had in mind for my nymphs and me at the first opportunity."

Hermes rolls his eyes and gestures towards the pigs.

"Oh, Circe, please, look at them. They have the same lost look now as when they were humans. Dehydration, hunger, and sunstroke have left them without a thought behind those eyes. The lights are on, but there's been no one home for a long time." One of the pigs squeals angrily in response at his comentary, and Hermes doesn't need the ability to talk to animals to understand that. "I'm trying to help you!"

Circe laughs at the comical sight of the messenger arguing with the farm animals.

"See? They don't seem to want your help, Hermes. The little life they have left here will be the best of it, I assure you." She walks past the messenger slowly, still smiling. "Don't worry. There are hundreds of travellers out there you can still protect. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill."

"You don't understand. This mortal is special. He's been fleeing the god of the seas for years, enduring loss after loss. And..." Would it be wise to reveal his relationship to Odysseus?  "There are another reasons." He decides to leave that information out for now, at least.

"I thought I was very clear yesterday. I said they'll stay that way, and that's how it will be." She pours the water from the bucket into the trough in the pen. "Look, they have fresh water here, and everything. I'm sure they were drinking seawater on the ship."

"Well, I agree with you on one thing: any traveller would be happy to be in this paradise after spending so much time at sea." He looks at the tall trees on the island, marvelling at their intense green colour and the vibrancy of each flower. It is undoubtedly a very beautiful place.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, dear."

Hermes looks at her, somewhat confused. He hadn't meant for that comment to ingratiate himself with her; he was just giving his opinion. But maybe it's not such a bad idea.

"But it's clear how much care you've put into this island, Circe." He floats upside down, face-to-face with her, smiling broadly. "You've put a lot of effort into this place, although I don't understand why you don't use magic."

"Why don't you use magic to make each letter appear in its proper place instead of flying around here and there?" She gently pushes Hermes out of her way, but he still follows her, floating in the air.

"Where would the fun be in that?" he asks, clasping his hands behind his neck. "I love being the messenger. I love flying to various from place to place. Why would I want to automate the process when it's what I enjoy most?"

"Exactly." Seeing the smug smile on the goddess's face confuses him. Had he fallen for it again? Was that a trap too? No, he can't think about that now; he must focus.

"Well, now you mention it, harvesting has always been my passion. I have great respect for that work."

Circe raises an eyebrow. Hermes feeling passionate about farming? With any luck, he's touched a spade in his life.

"Well, maybe you should try it sometime," she suggests, sounding slightly annoyed, as she begins to walk away. "I'll be right back. I need to find what I need to plough the land." Her footsteps carry her away from the frustrated messenger, who turns his gaze to Odysseus lying in the distance in the corral.

"This is going to be harder than I thought, boy. That goddess is tough." Odysseus squeaks in anger, still annoyed with the god. "Yes, yes, I know, but her beauty is irrelevant; she wouldn't let me seduce her."

The pig narrows his eyes; clearly, that's not what he meant. Hermes looks at the patch of land he is floating above. He doesn't know much about it, but he recognises the yoke on the ground.

"This is used to plough the land, isn't it?" he asks, picking up the wooden tool. "Maybe if I help her with a favour or two, that will increase my chances." He notices how the pig looks at him sceptically. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Demeter has taught me a thing or two, you know?" He inspects the tool and notices that it has two rather large cavities. He can't figure out how it's supposed to be worn. "How does Circe put this on? It's too big." He tries putting it around his neck but immediately regrets it. "And it's heavy!"

Seeing him fall to his knees, Odysseus rolls his eyes. Even Odysseus, a king, had learned how to farm for himself, yet a god of Olympus is unable to understand how a yoke works? 'Blessed Athena, I am doomed,' he thinks, remembering that it is up to him whether he becomes human again.

"What are you doing?" When Hermes looks up, he sees Circe again. This time, she has brought two oxen with her.

"I was following your advice," he replies, finding it difficult to speak due to the weight of the tool around his neck. "I want to learn more about farming. I was trying to plough the land." Unable to believe her eyes, Circe looks at the red-cloaked pig as if seeking confirmation. Odysseus just nods slowly. "Hey, how do you put that on? It's too heavy."

"Did you really think I was the one putting it on?" Circe uses her magic to free the herald from the tool and place it around the necks of the animals beside her. "Hermes, this is for the oxen; they plough the land."

"They?" he asks, returning to the air. "Oh, of course. That's why it had two collars."

Hearing him deduce something that is basic knowledge to her with such surprise, Circe can't help but laugh.

"The air is definitely your territory, not the earth."

"Hey, I said I wanted to learn," he protests, trying to sound annoyed, but the sorceress's laughter is so infectious that he can't help smiling. "You're not a very good teacher, you know?"

"Well, if you're still interested tomorrow, I could teach you. But right now, I really need to plough this field." The messenger is impressed by how the oxen follow Circe without her having to use magic. With a simple gesture, she secures the yoke rope to a larger piece of wood. The animals soon begin to drag it along. Circe exerts force against the ground to help move it properly. "This piece of wood is called a plough."

"So that's where the name comes from: ploughing the earth,' he comments, flying alongside Circe as she continues her work. 'The etymology of farming terms is fascinating."

"Oh, spare me your sarcasm."

"Not everything I say is a trick! Sometimes I just want to give an opinion," Hermes replies, adopting the same amused tone as Circe.

For the rest of the afternoon, Circe continues to plough the land as usual, but she must admit that having Hermes around with his entertaining comments makes the work more enjoyable and less tedious. In fact, he makes her laugh several times that day. As a token of gratitude, she decides to give him a specific task.

"Would you like to feed the pigs?" she asks, offering him a bucket filled with a mixture of different foods. Pigs will eat anything, but she always makes sure to give them food that is in good condition.

"Me?" he asks, surprised that she has entrusted him with this task, given his intentions. "You trust me?"

"I trust your survival instinct," she replies, handing him the bucket. "You know I'll be just a few steps away, so I'm counting on you to be smart enough not to try anything funny."

"Good point." Circe smiles at him one last time before turning away to tend to the oxen that have recently ploughed the land. She gives each of them a couple of apples as a reward for their work. "Hey, this food doesn't look bad. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything this fresh in years," the herald tells the pigs as he approaches the pen. "It must be fertile land indeed if Circe can afford to give you berries that look this fresh. If that's the case, I wonder how delicious the food she and her nymphs eat must be."

As he pours the food into the huge metal dish, he notices that the pig with the red coat is the only one not eating; it is just lying by the door. This causes the god to curl his lips.

"Aren't you eating, boy?" he asks, kneeling in front of the door to get a better look. "Many travellers would kill for something in such good condition." The pig simply ignores the messenger, not even deigning to look at him. Hermes slowly rubs his hair with his winged cap, knowing that Odysseus is still angry with him and has every right to be, as he failed him as the god of sailors. He looks at the goddess, who continues to caress and pamper the oxen. "You know what I think, Ody?" The pig looks at him, seemingly annoyed by that nickname. "Circe could have killed you by now, but she didn't She listened to what you said yesterday. Do you know what that means?" The pig says nothing. "Exactly! However slim the chance, there's a possibility that she'll return you and your starving friends to your normal state. If she really wanted you dead, we would be talking in the Underworld."

Odysseus tilts his head slightly. Hermes seems to be thinking about something.

"All I have to do is prove to her that you're a good man and gain her trust, so that she sees everything is being done with good intentions. You know what that means." Odysseus wants to shout, 'No, I don't know what the hell you're talking about,' but he can only grunt. "That's right. I'll have to spend more time with her." If Odysseus still had eyebrows, he would raise one. Hermes looks unusually happy about the last condition he imposed on himself, his gaze lost in the sky and a silly smile on his face. What could he be thinking? Odysseus growls, trying to snap Hermes out of his thoughts. As always, the god gives his squeaks a totally different meaning. "Of course it's only to help you. Why else would I do it?" Odysseus just keeps looking at him. "It's like Aeolus says: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Remember that?"

'From when I was human? Yes, those were the good times, and now they're just memories.' He would have liked to answer, but of course that's impossible. Still feeling discouraged, he lies back down, reluctant to accept that this is his life now. Would he never see Penelope again? Will he ever meet his son? Hermes notices how down he is and feels guilty again.

The day continues. Hermes has stayed much longer than planned, but he must leave to make his deliveries. He bids farewell to the goddess and Odysseus before flying away from the island

"What a curious visit, wasn't it?" the sorceress asks, sitting down next to the pen. "Hermes is quite a character, isn't he?" She tries to stroke the Odysseus' back, but he moves away. Circe looks at it for a few seconds, somewhat stunned by its aggression. However, she then tells herself that this is normal; after all, she is its captor. She looks back up at the sky, thinking of Hermes. "Do you think he'll be back tomorrow? I think so." Confused by her happy tone of voice, Odysseus looks at her strangely. Circe is a clever goddess — doesn't she know what Hermes is trying to do? It seems as if she has read his mind. "Of course I know what he's up to. I'm not stupid. But what can I say? He's funny. I've been to Olympus before and met several gods there, but yesterday was the first time I spoke to him. He's interesting."

Once again, Odysseus wishes he could raise an eyebrow. He remembers the experiences of the Olympians that Athena told him about when she was still his mentor. She explained that being a goddess on Olympus required great strength because many gods believed they had the right to treat them badly simply because they were female. Since Circe is a minor goddess who does not live in that palace in the sky, she should surely have twice the strength and not wait around for an Olympian god to return the next day. Athena would certainly agree, so, on her former mentor's behalf, he shrieks as a command to bring Circe down from the clouds and make her react. This causes Circe to look at her somewhat bewilderedly.

"Oh, please, know who I'm dealing with." Well, at least Circe seems to understand him better than Hermes does. "I'll be on my guard. I know that at the first opportunity, he'll try to steal you away, and we don't want that, do we?" He is not at all pleased with the playful pinch on the nose that Circe gives him, especially because of her choice of words — 'steal' instead of 'kidnap'. A few moments later, the sorceress bids him farewell, advising him to eat something.

Odysseus just sighs to himself, remembering the comments of both gods. Not just the words, but also the looks and the tone used by each of them. He has a bad feeling. He prays to Athena that it is not what he thinks it is, because if it is, he knows he will not like being in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

Although Hermes has his own room on the Olympus, he doesn't usually spend much time there. Recently, however, he has taken to taking refuge there every time he sees Athena, so that he doesn't have to confess his little mistake to her. Hopefully, he will sort it out before she finds out, as it's clear that he still cares about the mortal.

The room is very spacious and predominantly white, with golden details that accentuate it wonderfully. Gold is a beautiful colour. A huge double bed adorns the middle of the room, surrounded by four transparent canopies that barely fulfil their function as curtains. However, he knows that they are just touches intended to make the furniture more elegant. He doesn't need such a large, ostentatious bed, but he likes walking in and knowing that such an elegant, well-kept room is his. As a wandering messenger, however, he has never tried to make it his own, it doesn't has his personal touch, he should decorate it some day.

He has a habit of bringing the odd little treasure there: a occasional coin, a curiously coloured crystal or a feather that has caught his eye. He also keeps a notebook on his bed. Every now and then, he likes to use his way with words to jot down a verse or two. He doesn't bother to make them rhyme, but he likes to think he is talented. Although the title of god of writing is reserved for his friend Thoth in Egypt, Hermes is also associated with it as the god of communication and eloquence.

But right now, writing is the last of his concerns. Ignoring the huge, comfortable bed, he lays in the air, twirling his cap on his index finger as he thinks about how he is going to help Odysseus. Circe is as stubborn as she is ingenious; she refuses to give in and does not want to free him or the rest of his crew.

He stops playing with his hat abruptly, causing it to fly across the room. His crew. He has just remembered that there were other men on the ship.

"Oh, oh..."

Eurylochus cannot remember the last time they spent so long on dry land. This is already the third day. In the captain's absence, he looks at the thirty-odd men under his command. At least this island is fertile, so they have been able to gather food without venturing far. They have also enjoyed the luxury of meat whenever a crab has come out of the water. Even so, food has been scarce lately. If Odysseus does not return soon with the rest of the men, they will have to explore the island further.

Where could Odysseus be? He did not think it would take so long.

"Is everyone here?"

Suddenly, Eurylochus's vision is blocked by a youthful face that makes him recoil. The features are so unreal that his eyes struggle to process and recognise them as a human face. However, it is clear that it is not, causing Eurylochus to experience the uncanny valley effect for a few seconds. He stumbles and lets out a cry of surprise when he notices that the figure is wearing a winged cap, much like a navigator's, and is floating in the air.

"What is it Eurylochus?"

"Oh, what a relief! It seems so!" Hermes exclaims when he sees that the entire crew is still there. "Who's in charge now that Odysseus is gone?"

"It's..."

"Wait a minute." Eurylochus stops the man who is about to answer. "Why should we answer your questions? Who are you? How do you know about our captain?" Hermes stifles a laugh when he sees the mortal threatening him with a sword, as if that could hurt him. However, he decides to answer the questions to calm things down.

"Because I'm trying to help you. I am Hermes, the god of travelers, among other things, and I know about Odysseus because I am also trying to help him against Circe. Now, if you would do me the favour of..."

"Odysseus? Is he still fighting Circe?" Eurylochus lowers his weapon. "Is he okay? Did that witch cast a spell on him?'"

'Witch?' thinks Hermes. 'I suppose it's not technically incorrect to call Circe a witch, but it still sounds a bit rude and inappropriate. I think it would be more appropriate to call her a sorceress or enchantress'

"Well, he's still alive, if that's what you're asking."

"But is he okay?"

Hermes is beginning to lose patience. The longer these men stay here, the greater the chance they will encounter Circe. The last thing he needs is more men to save, Zeus forbid. Besides, Circe will not be happy to have her palace full of pigs, the more there are, the more likely she is to kill them. He needs them to leave before things get worse.

"Yes, yes, he's fine." Well, that's not a lie, at least not entirely. "He asked me to come and talk to you."

"What did he say?" asks one of the other men, sounding very interested, although Eurylochus continues to watch Hermes.

"He said not to worry about him; he has the situation under control, although it may take longer than expected." He sugarcoats the truth only to help those travellers. "The situation with Circe is tense. She is very suspicious of her island; the fewer men there are, the better."

"Did he really say that?"

"Yes, so it's best for you to get on the ship and find a nearby safe island." He notices that Eurylochus is still looking at him suspiciously. "Don't worry. I'll stay with Odysseus. As soon as he defeats Circe, you'll be the first to know." He finishes explaining, satisfied. He had told the truth in that last part, and he does not understand why those mortals should not trust him.

"Do you really think we're going to buy that?"Eurylochus breaks the silence after a few seconds. "How convenient that the god of sailors should appear now, of all times, when we needed him so badly."

"Pardon me?"

"If this journey has taught me anything, it's that the gods cannot be trusted. You always look out for your own interests first." He points his sword at Hermes's neck. "Perhaps you are allied with Circe to get us out of her way."

"Allied with Circe?" Hermes asks, surprised. Where did he get that idea? "On the contrary, I want to help you." Hermes tries to reason with him, wanting to get closer, but the mortal prevents him.

"What's more, how do we know you're the real Hermes?" The scoundrel pulls off his cap with his sword, revealing the small wings on his head. "Aha! The wings of the god of travellers are bigger than that, and why would they be on his head?"

"Are you always this unpleasant, or is it just sunstroke?" He then turns to another of the men. "Perhaps it's a symptom of scurvy. I advise sacrificing him."

"Look! He's trying to turn us against each other!" Eurylochus points out. Hermes just looks at him, confused. "Don't mortals recognise a joke when they hear one? "The last thing you want is to help us; you're a servant of Olympus, after all!"

"Servant?!" Indignation makes that phrase come out more like a scream than a coherent word. "Listen to me carefully. I may be the protector of travelers, but that won't stop me from..." Whatever he was going to say remains a mystery, as Eurylochus throws a small stone at him. He manages to dodge it, but then comes another, followed by several more. "Will you stop that?"

"Get out of here! Whatever your trap is, we won't fall for it, servant of Zeus."

Hermes does not know when the other men started throwing stones at him too, but, finding himself under a hail of stones, he retreats to a place where he can see the men but they cannot see him. He tries not to forget his cap.

"Well, that went well," he murmurs sarcastically, putting his cap back on. "What's wrong with these mortals? They no longer respect the gods as they once did."

At least no one else saw that, or so he thought at first. However, when he tilts his head slightly, he recognises the owner of the land, who is covering her mouth to contain her laughter. Hermes watches her as if waiting for her to speak first. When that doesn't happen, he decides to speak up.

"Hello, Circe."

As if those words were the trigger, the goddess in question bursts out laughing so hard that she has to hold her stomach. Hermes just leans against the tree, waiting for her to stop, although he is slightly annoyed. The truth is, he would laugh too if he had witnessed something like that.

"Are you sure you still want to help them?" the goddess asks, once her laughter has subsided. Taking the liberty of resting her elbow on the Herald's shoulder, she produces a dagger and waves it in front of his face, as if tempting him. "I usually do things differently, but perhaps doing it this way will be therapeutic for you."

"I won't do that!" he exclaims, taking Circe's hand and pulling it away carefully. "They're just scared; they're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, please, Hermes." She pulls her hand away from his touch, still holding the dagger. "Why are you so keen to protect them?"

"Becauses it is my duty." He places a hand on his chest to emphasise that he is speaking sincerely. "I am not doing this expecting thanks in return. Travellers already face too many dangers on the high seas — especially this particular crew. I have to protect them."

Circe looks at the ground, perfectly understanding the feeling of wanting to protect something. The difference is that her nymphs are at least grateful to her. Hermes is quite noble if he is willing to take care of them despite their horrible treatment of him.

"I also have people to protect." She looks at the men, who have been on her island for several days to her dismay. "And I can't rest easy while they're here."

"I know. That's why I wanted them to leave, but you saw how that turned out." He blurts out the last part in frustration. "I don't want them to get hurt, but I also don't want them to keep bothering you"

The goddess pauses to think. They both agree that getting those men out of there is the best thing to do.

"Would you help me with an idea, then?" He gives her a suspicious look immediately. "It's totally harmless, I swear. It's just an illusion spell. They won't be in any real danger; they'll just be a little scared."

"Scared?" He looks at Eurylochus, then smiles mischievously. "Well, as my father says, a little trauma builds character. Count me in!"

"Splendid! And if that fails..."

Hermes rolls his eyes when she emphasises the dagger again.

"Put the damn knife down, woman."

Eurylochus is not at all happy when he sees the winged figure flying near them again just as they are about to set off on their expedition into the depths of the island.

"What do you want? We already said we won't fall for your tricks."

"Well, even if you don't want me to, I'm still the god in charge of protecting you, which is why I'm here."

"The witch hasn't shown her face in several days." Hermes secretly hopes that Circe was able to hear what that unpleasant mortal called her. "We're fine on our own."

"I'm not talking about Circe; she's the least of your problems right now," he said, flying around Eurylochus. "I'm talking about a greater threat."

"What is it?"

Hermes smiles maliciously as he notices the clouds in the sky darkening and gathering. The other men notice it, too. He rises higher into the air so that everyone present can hear him.

"We gods have enemies, too, you know. Circe is no exception. Many years ago, blinded by rage and jealousy, she cursed a beautiful nymph who stole a heart of her desire, transforming her into a ferocious monster with..."

"Six heads?" interrupts Eurylochus, who is familiar with the story.

"Oh, you're not as stupid as you look." Hermes doesn't miss the opportunity to insult him.

"But doesn't that monster live in its own lair? Far away from here," asks another man, his voice trembling with fear.

"That's right, but there are rumours that it's prowling these waters, thirsty for revenge and blood. It's said to take out its anger on the first mortal it sees, but of course, those are just rumours."

"What was that?" One of the men asks fearfully, thinking he hears something coming from the ocean. The waters begins to churn as if a hurricane were approaching; the black rain clouds over the island reinforce this idea. Hermes pretends not to notice, continuing to address the mortals, who turn pale when they see a huge figure emerge from the ocean behind him.

"I hope it's just a rumour for your sake, because believe me, you don't want to know what it's like to come face to face with such a monster. It makes you drown in your own blood and pain." He pauses to enjoy the look of terror on Eurylochus's face. Fortunately, neither he nor any of the other men notice the big smile on his face as he speaks. "None of you would want to face..." Feeling particularly theatrical, he pauses dramatically, spreading his arms wide knowing perfectly what is behind him. "The nightmare of every sailor: Scylla!"

The roar that follows sounds so real that, for a few seconds, even Hermes fears that he has summoned the creature. When he turns around, he sees the figure of a nymph with long hair and six fearsome heads with empty eyes rising several metres above the sea, accompanied by the screams of the mortals present.

"Run for your lives!" orders Eurylochus. "Everyone to the ship!"

"But the captain..."

"Listen to him!" Hermes intervenes as Scylla's screams still echo in the background. "I will send you to a safe island. I will protect your captain."

"But..."

"There is no time!" the herald interrupts. "As soon as he and Circe have finished arguing, you will be the first to know. He would want you to be safe."

Eurylochus watches the monster as the other men climb aboard the ship and finally nods.

"Thank you, Hermes."

"You can pay me by paying tribute to me every night." Eurylochus considers asking how the god is capable of joking in such a situation, but finds himself being carried onto the ship against his will. "Good luck."

"Her..."

With a snap of his fingers, the ship and all the crew members disappear. Hermes has set their destination to a safe island with plenty of food, so they will be fine. He looks up at the sky, which is beginning to clear.

"It went perfectly, Circe," he says with a smile, looking for her. "You were incredible, my dear!"

The fearsome creature turns to smoke and disperses into the air, descending back to its source: the sorceress standing on a rock as if it were her personal stage. She has chosen this location carefully, ensuring that she will not be seen by any mortals.

"Incredible, me?" she asks, approaching the herald, amused. "You should have seen yourself; you seemed to be enjoying the situation. "You were like a beast tamer announcing his greatest attraction."

Hermes laughs, flying around Circe, who does not take her eyes off him, sill feeling the euphoria coursing through every inch of his body. Deceiving mortals is always fun, but doing it with a partner? He had never done it before and found it twice as exciting and satisfying.

"Maybe we could put on a play together?"

"Aren't women forbidden from being actresses in those?" she asks with a smile, looking at the Herald flying overhead and feeling the ends of his cloak tickle her shoulders.

"Women, but not goddesses," he assures her with a wink, making her laugh again. Her laughter is contagious. They had both forgotten why they had agreed to collaborate, but they are both pleasantly surprised to find that they make a great team. "We'll have to do it again sometime, won't we? This time with the real Scylla."

"You'll have to invite her yoursefl; I don't think she wants to see me."

They spend several more minutes laughing together like two children who have just done something naughty. Then they remember their divine duties and why they played that particular game.

"How is Odysseus?"

"He's the only pig who isn't eating," said Circe in a defeated tone. "I don't know what else to do."

"He must still be very depressed," sighed the messenger. "I'll think of something to cheer him up. In the meantime, you can sleep peacefully; Eea and your nymphs are safe."

"And it's thanks to you." She bowed to Hermes, but then added in a playful tone, "Servant of Olympus."

"Don't make me regret not accepting the dagger. Anyway, I have to go now."

"Really?" Circe is surprised by the slight sadness in her own voice. "I mean, yes, of course. You have things to do, I imagine."

The messenger nods, knowing it's true, but part of him wishes he could stay. He hadn't realised that being in Eea could be so much fun. Still, there'll be another time to return. He must find out how to help the mortals who remain there.

"See you, Circe."

Circe waves him goodbye. Once he has left, she sets off smiling on her way to the palace. Upon entering, she sighs with relief, knowing that her nymphs are safe. She takes her notebook and pen to sketch some of the flowers that caught her eye that day.

Chapter Text

"Your Highness?"

"Yes, dear?" Penelope asks, looking up from the fabric she is working on to focus on the maid who has just spoken.

"Do you consider yourself good at sewing?"

"Well, modesty is a virtue that should always be kept in mind." She pauses, as if thinking about her words. "But yes, I'm damn good at it, even if it's wrong for me to say so."

"How curious, then."

"Curious?"

"That it's taking you years to weave that." The Queen of Ithaca stops working to focus all her attention on the girl, who seems to have realised her imprudence. "I mean, it doesn't look like a particularly complicated job, so I d-don't understand why it's taking you so long."

"Well, dear, what can I say?" Penelope approaches the servant and places a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps nostalgia and sadness have clouded my heart so much that they're preventing my hands from working properly."

She gestures for the young woman to leave, which she does immediately, looking somewhat frightened. Although the queen's words were spoken with a kind smile, the slowness and pauses in her speech were almost intimidating. Once she is sure she is alone, Penelope sighs, looking at the fabric. After so many years, this is the first time anyone has mentioned how long she is taking to finish it. She said that once she had finished it, she would choose a suitor to be the new king of Ithaca. Do they really expect her to choose so easily? Odysseus was a wonderful king and husband. Can they really expect her to turn her back on her love like that? Never. If they intend to ask her for something so brazen, she will play by their rules. She will not let them win; she will continue to unravel the fabric every night.

Before leaving the room, she gathers her dark hair into a elegant braid. If that servant noticed the time, she knows there must be others in the palace talking about it. As she walks, she encounters several of the suitors staying there. Every time one of them looks her up and down, she meets their gaze with a neutral expression, holding it until they look away. If hospitality were not so sacred, she would gladly throw out every one of those scoundrels. How dare they even think that she would be capable of betraying her Odysseus? How dare they think they could take his place on the throne or in her heart? But rules are rules, and above all, she is a queen. If she were to do that, conflict would be inevitable, as several of them are princes of other nations — and that is the last thing Ithaca needs. When Odysseus returns home, she does not want to greet him amid a brawl.

She goes to her son's room. She raises her hand to knock on the door, but thinks she hears a conversation coming from inside.

"Is Scylla as terrifying as the legends say?"

"For others, perhaps, but not for me."

She recognises her son's voice, but not the other person's. Who is he talking to? Hopefully not one of those malicious men. She knocks on the door and waits for it to be opened.

"Hello, Mum," says the twelve-year-old prince. They say that the firstborn son always resembles his father, and Telemachus is no exception. His face is so similar to Odysseus's that Penelope can see him in her son. "Thank you for knocking on the door."

"I almost forgot, but I'm learning." She enters the room. Telemachus closes the door behind her. "Were you talking to someone, dear?"

"Oh yes, I want you to meet him! He's one of dad's friend."

"Your father's?"

The boy's eyes light up as he nods, then looks up at the ceiling.

"Come out! My mum wants to meet you!" The boy looked up at the sky with a smile that slowly faded when no one appeared. "Are you there?" He considers calling him by his name, but the truth is that she has already forgotten it — it's a rather strange name.

"I think I need to control what you read."

"Hey, no, no!" Telemachus pleads. "Don't make me look like a madman! Come out already!"

"Maybe you should go out, dear," Penelope suggests. "You could make more friends."

"What more friends would a child need besides a god?" Suddenly, Penelope's dark eyes meet a youthful face in front of her, causing her to recoil in fear. "Why do all mortals react like this when they see me lately?"

"An intruder!" she exclaims. "Guards! A...!"

"No, no, mum, it's fine He's a god," Telemachus reassures her, taking her hand. "He's the god of travellers. His name is..." He looks at the god, waiting for him to remind him.

"Hermes." He bows politely to Penelope, who has just noticed that he is flying through the air. "A pleasure, Your Highness."

The queen raises an eyebrow. Why is he bowing to her? She's just a queen, and he's a god. Is this some kind of joke? Her eyes scan him suspiciously. She's been praying to Hermes every night to watch over her beloved husband. Still, his presence could be a bad omen or a trap. The gods aren't known for cursing mortals, after all.

"And what are you doing here?" She takes Telemachus by the shoulders discreetly, bringing him closer to her.

"I have news about Odysseus."

"My husband?!" When she smiles so hopefull, Hermes see that Telemachus has inherited his mother's mannerism. "Will he be back soon?"

"Well..." Hermes looks away, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. "He's in a difficult situation right now, but he's alive and well. Don't worry." He hastens to add, trying to ignore Telemachus playing with his cloak.

"Could you take us to see him, Mr Postman?" the boy asks eagerly. Hermes tries not to pay attention to how he has addressed him.

"I'm sorry, but that's beyond my capabilities." The faces of both mortals fill with sadness. "But as a heavenly messenger, I can deliver any letter you wish. Do you have one that...?"

"Oh, of course!" Penelope interrupts him. "Just a moment, I'll write one right now!"

She hurries to her room, leaving her son alone with the god she has just met. All the precautions she had planned to take have gone out the window. It could be a deception, but the idea of being able to communicate with Odysseus fills her with such excitement right now that she will worry about that later.

"I told you she would be happy."

"Why did you make me look like a liar in front of her?" The boy asks angrily, causing Hermes to roll his eyes.

"When did mortals become so boring that they can't tolerate a few simple jokes?" He ruffles the boy's brown hair. "You're just as bitter as your father."

"Am I?" Although the comment was meant to be derogatory, it lit up Telemachus's eyes and brought a smile to his lips. Hermes didn't quite understand that reaction.

"You are."

Hearing the confirmation, Telemachus spread his arms as if he had just won something.

"I am!"

Hermes blinked in confusion. Mortals are very strange.

Night falls on Eea, but Odysseus didn't care about that, he didn't about anything, so it makes no difference to him. Today, Circe approached him, insisting that he should eat something. She even had the audacity to lie, saying that the men left on his ship were safe, far away from Eea. Most likely, she has already killed them. He thinks about Eurylochus. Oh! How he is going to tell Ctimene?

"Hello, boy. Wow, Eea is colder than I thought at night."  Hermes made an appearance, much to Odysseus's displeasure; he didn't even bother to lift his head. "At least you have that cloak. Circe was very kind to let you keep it.' The pig does not respond, but if he could say anything about his captor, the last word he would use to describe her is 'kind'. Hermes looks up at the starry sky.

"You have a nice view here." He notices that the pig remains lying down, indifferent to his words. "Are you still ignoring me?" More silence. He takes the letter out of his pocket. "Well, I don't expect this to make you forgive me, but hopefully it will cheer you up a little." He holds the envelope in his hands, which Odysseus observes with indifference. What could be in there that would interest him? "I went to Ithaca and spoke to your wife. This letter is from her." Upon hearing this, Odysseus's ears prick up and he stands up. "Now you're not ignoring me, huh?"

Odysseus, shocked, begins to grunt. Was Hermes in Ithaca? In his palace? Did he see Penelope? Did he see his son? How big is he now? Are they all right? Has he done anything bad to them?

"Hey, be quiet." He holds the animal's trunk to shut it up. Circe doesn't know he's there; if she sees him, she'll surely think he's trying to steal Odysseus. He pauses to make sure the pig has calmed down before releasing it. "They're fine. They're safe and sound. Tele..., your son is twelve years old now. Why did you give him that name?" Odysseus grunts. "Oh, now I understand everything."

They are both taken by surprise by a female laugh, and look towards the palace door to see who it belongs to.

"Circe." Hermes looks at the pig, knowing that things are not looking good. "Look, this is not what..."

"I heard you, Hermes. I heard everything." She speaks in a gentle voice as she approaches them. She immediately regrets leaving the warmth of her palace — it's freezing outside! How is Hermes not shivering? "I didn't know he had a wife."

"Oh yes, he has a beautiful wife and a precious child waiting for him at home." He says all this with a smile, hoping to capture the sorceress's interest and increase his chances of convincing her. "A home anyone would love to return to." Odysseus growls, feeling threatened by that statement and believing that perhaps Hermes would want to take his family away from him. "What? Everything I say is wrong for you!"

Circe laughs as she looks at the letter Hermes is holding. She knows she shouldn't, but she is too curious not to read it. What kind of husband was the pig in the red cloak when he was human? She would rather not stay here — it's too cold.

"Why don't you read it in my palace? It's warmer there."

"May I come in?" he asks, surprised. Although he hardly feels the cold, he accepts the invitation, as he is curious to see the palace. Circe nods. "Of course, let's go."

She motions for him to enter, follows him in and closes the door behind her. Still in the pen, Odysseus looks on in disbelief. Aren't gods supposed to be more intelligent than humans? A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Circe hurrying towards the pen to embrace Odysseus.

"My bad, I'm sorry." Odysseus squeals indignantly. Is this goddess really so interested in his private correspondence? "I said I'm sorry."

This time, Circe enters the palace with Odysseus in her arms. She sets him down on the floor once she has closed the door. They both welcome the change in temperature; this place is very cosy.

Hermes looks around in wonder. There are even plants on the ceiling and walls, all of which are well cared for. There is no doubt that Circe loves nature. He notices a water fountain on the wall which will certainly come in handy on hot days. He runs his hands over the window frames, which are adorned with sun and flower carvings.

"I carved them myself" Circe comments, as if she were expecting him to ask.

"They're lovely" Now that he notices, he sees that there are also suns on the goddess's abdomen. They are golden in colour. Are they painted on? Was she born with them? These questions will have to wait, as an impatient pig is squealing, eager to hear the letter.

"And who gave you permission to sit there?" Circe asks, seeing how comfortably he is sitting on the sofa. "Your cloak is dirty. Can I take it off for you?" Odysseus protests at the mere suggestion. "Fine, fine, as you wish."

'The cloak was a gift from his wife. She told me that when I went to see her. I suppose that's why he doesn't want to take it off.'

"At least he could let me wash it." The goddess takes a seat next to the animal. "All right, we're listening."

"Of course." Hermes carefully tears open the envelope and takes out two sheets of paper. He clears his throat, ready to begin reading. "My dearest..." He doesn't get any further than that before being interrupted by the animal. He waves his arms in exasperation. "Agh! Now what? Don't make me regret doing you this favour.'

With his head, Odysseus points to Circe, who fortunately is better at reading his language than the herald.

"I think he wants me to read the letter."

"Really?' As the animal nods, Hermes" jaw drops in indignation. "Fine, whatever you say, kid." He hands the letter to Circe, then sits in the air with his arms crossed.

"Are you upset?"

"The great messenger of Olympus, the highest authority on correspondence, is upset because he wasn't allowed to read a letter he offered to deliver to an ungrateful pig?" His eyes shoot daggers at the animal in question. "Not at all, dear. Go on." His voice softens on the last word, as if he just needed to vent a little.

Odysseus just snorts; the last thing he wants is to hear Penelope's words in such an annoyed voice. Although Circe is not his favorite goddess, at least her voice is more tolerable; he even finds it pretty.

Circe holds the letter up to her eyes to begin reading.

My dearest Odysseus,

I am glad to know that my prayers have been answered. I have been praying daily to Hermes to watch over you, and he has not only heard me, but has also kindly offered to deliver my message to you. The gods are more merciful than I thought. I am writing this letter quickly, so please excuse my handwriting. It's been so long since I last wrote to you that I'm feeling a little nervous. Do you remember when we used to send each other letters when we were young, while I was in Sparta? I remember how you tried to train a pigeon to be our messenger. Do you remember?

Oh, I'm sorry — I'm rambling right from the outset! Your absence does this to me. I drown myself in memories of you in the hope of quenching my thirst for you. The more time that passes, the stronger my love for you grows, as I think of all the things we will do together once you return.

I know the war is over, yet your side of the bed remains cold. What has happened to you, my darling? Uncertainty haunts me daily, but Hermes said you are well. I am aware of the deceitful nature of the gods, but this time I choose to believe one of them.

Telemachus is your spitting image and so much like you when you were young, with the same desire to make your mark on the world. He is very close to Argos — they play together every day. He can see the chimeras and minotaurs that Telemachus battles in his games every day. I wish you could see him — he is so eager to meet his father. I know he will.

Your absence has caused some inconveniences: there are people who seriously believe they are a fraction of the man you are. I pity them; they are only wasting their time. They cannot win my heart because you took it with you when you left. You must not worry — my will is not a ceramic mould to be shaped by others. Those men have no place in my life.

The kind  Mr postman — Telemachus's words, not mine — said he could deliver my letters to you from time to time to ensure you read them, even if you are unable to reply. This will put my mind at ease. This letter is just a jumble of my thoughts about you. I promise the next one will be more coherent. I will close this one with a reminder that Argos is waiting for you. Your throne is waiting for you. Telemachus is waiting for you. I am waiting for you; I always will be, and I never will stop.

Although he wouldn't say it out loud, Hermes had to admit that asking Circe to read the letter was a good idea. Her beautiful voice complemented the words perfectly, conveying a feeling that he couldn't muster himself. Looking at the pig, he thought he could see tears in its eyes.

"You're welcome, boy. It was the least I could do." He strokes the animal's head, and for the first time, it does not move away. "I'll go to Ithaca every now and then and bring you a letter from her, shall I?" The pig's small black eyes look at the messenger before nodding. Hermes smiles at the pig before looking at Circe, who is silently observing the letter. "What's the matter, dear?"

"Is this some trick of yours?" She looks at him sternly. "Because if it is..."

"A trick?" he asks, genuinely puzzled by the suggestion. "There's no trick, Circe. I just feel really bad about failing Odysseus. I wanted to do something for him."

The goddess considers herself clever enough to detect a lie, yet she hears no dishonesty in Hermes's voice. Is he telling the truth, or is it his deceitful nature? What if all this was a plan? Was he planning to get her attention so that he could read the letter in front of her? She lowers her gaze to the floor.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Hermes assures her, picking up Odysseus and setting him down on the floor so that he can sit next to Circe on the sofa. The animal glares at him for his audacity.

"Why haven't you tried to steal Odysseus or any of the men I turned? When I saw you hanging around here today, I thought you would try. But you only brought this letter. I mean, it's something you would do, as far as I know."

"For starters, I have a good survival instinct," he says, making her laugh slightly at his joke and surprised that he still remembers that conversation from a few days ago. "Besides, even if I could do it, surely only you could undo the spell — it's your magic, after all. Not to mention that we're on your island; it's your territory. That's how things should be done. It was my mistake, and I want to fix it. I must do it right by convincing you honestly."

Circe is surprised; she did not expect Hermes to be so noble. It even makes her feel bad for always expecting the worst from him.

"And why are you so fixated on this particular mortal?" she asks, looking at Odysseus, who insists on sitting on the sofa. "What is so special about him?"

'"Besides having endured Poseidon's wrath for years and being Athena's former protégé?" He debates whether to say the following, but since he is being honest, he must be completely honest. "He may or may not be my great-grandson," he says, laughing.

Both Circe and the pig look at him in surprise, Odysseus most of all. Had he heard correctly?

"Great-grandson?"

"Yes..." Looking somewhat uncomfortable, Hermes elongates the vowel in that word unnecessarily, as if he doesn't really want to have this conversation. "It's a long story."

"You slept with a mortal several nights ago. That mortal had offspring until Odysseus came into the world, and now here we are?"

"Well, it wasn't that long."

The goddess looks at the pig and then at Hermes.

"I don't see much resemblance." She looks at Odysseus for a few more seconds, tilting her head. "Although, now I look at him closely, he does look like Zeus. He must take after him more than you."

Knowing that his father would kill him for it, Hermes laughs at the comment.

"The more I get to know you, the more I understand why we don't see you much on Olympus. That sharp tongue of yours would get you into trouble."

"I'm too lively for that boring palace in the sky," she says with a sideways smile. He smiles back at her in the same way and leans slightly towards her to get closer.

"I'd rather say you're interesting"

Neither of them notices the look of disgust that the former King of Ithaca gives her. Circe turns her attention back to the letter, leaving it on the sofa next to Odysseus.

"Look, you can't expect a simple letter to change my mind. If I broke the spell so easily at the insistence of an Olympian god, what would the rest of them think? What would that say about my authority?" Hermes nods. He knows that Circe has no guarantee that he wouldn't mention any of this to the other Olympian gods, as they hardly know each other, so he understands her arguments perfectly. "But I am also a sensible goddess who can be reasoned with."

"What do you mean?"

"Call it equivalent exchange," she says, recalling the book on alchemy she had recently read. 'To get what you want, you must give something of equal value in return. The price for this mortal's freedom would be an argument as to why he deserves it and why I would not be making a mistake in releasing him."

"Are you saying it's possible?" The smiling herald asks, looking at Circe so intently that he doesn't even notice that Odysseus looks animated.

"I'm saying it's not impossible if you play your cards right."

"And if I bring more cards, right?" Circe wasn't sure if that was a joke, but she still managed to get a small laugh out of him. "I promise to play honestly."

"I hope so. And if you win, I'll admit it."

"Do we have a deal?" Hermes extends his hand, which Circe doesn't hesitate to shake.

"We have a deal." She instantly regrets it and pulls away, feeling a chill. "Your skin is freezing!"

"Is it?" he asks, looking at her hand in surprise. "Well, it's cold outside, and Olympus is cold, too."

"Another reason I don't go there. I prefer warm weather." Hermes had guessed as much. If summer were tangible, he was sure it would resemble Circe. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

"There is." He floats over to the pig  "I'll keep bringing you letters, even though you're ungrateful, boy." The pig rolls his eyes in denial. He then turns to Circe again. "And to you, Circe, thank you."

"Hey, I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"You agreed to listen to me and let me prove my point. That's not so common on Olympus, where everyone is too proud to do things like that."

"It must be exhausting being a mediator."

"You can say that again." He knows it's time to leave, even though he doesn't want to. He takes the opportunity to mention his next visit. "I'll stop by in a few days. I hope you don't mind."

"To make sure Odysseus is still alive?" Hermes nods. She then feigns distress. "Don't you trust me?"

"I can't think of a single reason why I couldn't trust you." Odysseus follows Hermes' gaze and his ears droop in fear when he sees the remains of the pig that was dinner that night on the dining table. "Was that a normal pig, or was it once a man?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what, dear?"

"Yes," she repeats, smiling angelically. Hermes rolls his eyes, unable to wipe the smile from his face. Circe is very funny. "Goodbye, Mr Postman."

He looks at her indignantly when she repeats the ridiculous nickname that Telemachus gave him. Even so, he is unable to feign annoyance.

"See you next time." He then climbs out of the nearest window and waves once more as he leaves. Circe feels a chill just thinking about how cold it is outside.

"Well, it's late. I'm going to bed." When Odysseus grunts, Circe remembers that he is still there. "Oh, right, you have to go outside..." The mere thought of opening the door makes Odysseus feel too lazy and cold. "I don't feel like it. Sleep on the sofa, but don't get used to it! It'll only be for tonight."

She says this as a warning before heading to his room. Odysseus thinks that she could have used her magic to save herself the trouble, but he won't complain. As he settles onto the soft surface, he acknowledges that Hermes has done something right: tonight, not only will he sleep on a soft surface, he will also sleep next to the calligraphy of his beloved Penelope. He closes his eyes, hoping to dream of her tonight.

Chapter Text

When Odysseus wakes up on a soft surface, he believes for a few moments that he is home and that everything he has experienced was a bizarre fever dream. However, all he has to do is blink a couple of times to recognise Circe's palace and realise that this is not the case. The situation is very real. He stretches out on the sofa and looks out of the window. It is already daylight. It is the best night's sleep he has had in years. He feels rested, as if he had slept in a bed on Mount Olympus. Athena told him that they were very comfortable. He feels his skin exposed, and this immediately alerts him. He turns around, searching for his cloak, but it is not hanging around his neck. Where is it?

"You're awake. Good morning." As soon as he sees Circe, the screams begin. Odysseus approaches her, wanting answers about the cloak's whereabouts. Circe snorts in exasperation, taking something from the laundry basket and holding it up. "Oh no, let's not start with that! Is this what has you so upset?" The pig remains silent and stares at the soaked cloak. "You were sleeping with that dirty thing on my sofa. You can't expect me not to take it off. I thought I'd wash it while you were sleeping, and that's what I did! Anyone would say that you are the owner of this place and that I am your humble and beautiful servant."

As she speaks, she walks to the backyard, where she begins to hang up the clothes she has just washed. Odysseus follows closely behind her, as if he does not trust her. Once the cloak is hanging on the washing line, the pig sits in front of it, just watching it, and this catches the sorceress's attention.

"Are you going to stay there?" she asks, continuing to hang up the rest of the clothes. Odysseus lets out a grunt that Circe assumes is a 'yes'. "Mmh."

According to Hermes, that cloak had been a gift from the mortal's wife. Who knows if the messenger is telling the truth, but if he is, it is curious how attached he is to that piece of cloth. A grimace forms on her lips, revealing the mixed feelings in her mind. Reading Odysseus' wife's letter has certainly given her a new perspective on him. He is not only the captain of the ship that came to disrupt her peace; he is also a father and a husband. Judging by the words in the letter, a a very loving one.

Circe wonders what the owner of the beautiful handwriting would think of her if she knew that she was holding her husband captive here in the form of a pig. She would surely hate her. But she has her reasons. That man broke into her palace and she is quite sure he has killed before. If he was in a war, as she has heard, that would be the least she could expect, wouldn't it? A grunt pulls her out of her thoughts. He looks at her as if to ask what she is thinking about.

"If you think that just because of last night, I'm going to apologise, you're wrong. A simple letter from your wife won't change my opinion of you, do you hear me?" Odysseus looks at her curiously. "I know what you think of me, what you and all your friend think, you think I'm a witch, don't you?"

She looks the pig in the eye, remembering how that mortal had called her a few days ago. Odysseus looks at her curiously as she continues her soliloquy directed at him.

"What angers me most about you mortals is that you don't understand something, yet you immediately attack or dismiss it as you please. You and your men arrived on my island unannounced and burst into my palace, yet I'm the bad one? If only you knew what happened the last time I received travellers..." She feels a lump in her throat at the mere memory. "You know, Poseidon really is an idiot, but he once said something that has stuck with me to this day: Ruthlesness is mercy upon our ourselves. Does that ring a bell?" Odysseus feels a chill run through him just hearing that phrase. "If he was ever right about anything in his life, it must be that. If I break the spell, what impression will I give the messenger from Olympus? That my will is easily bent. He could go and tell Zeus that I am weak. Who knows what Zeus would do to me in that case? I can't allow that. I have people to protect here. So, if you want to see me as a monster or a witch, well, so be it, Odysseus. I will gladly accept the title."

The animal watches her for a few seconds, opens its mouth, then immediately closes it, perhaps remembering that he cannot speak. It then enters the palace. Circe's golden eyes stare at the ground for several seconds, but she soon remembers that she must finish hanging up the clothes. Once she has finished, she looks towards the pen where the other pigs are watching her.

"The same goes for you. And don't think that just because Odysseus slept inside yesterday, you'll be so lucky. That was a one-time thing..." She stops when she feels something tugging at her skirt. Looking down, she sees Odysseus with a piece of paper in his mouth. Circe looks at him strangely. "What do you have there?"

She bends down to pick up the paper that the pig hands her voluntarily. As she unfolds it, she finds the handwriting she expected: careless and messy with several ink stains, and two words that were clearly written with great difficulty.

She blinks in astonishment as she reads this and looks at the pig sitting in front of her.

"You understand?" She asks, just to make sure that she's not going mad and that the words are really there. The pig nods, but she still thinks she's going insane because she could have sworn it was smiling at her.

Odysseus is no stranger to the pain and suffering endured by goddesses. Athena has told him the bloodiest tales of Olympus: of goddesses being forced and subjugated to the will of other gods; of constant harassment; and of being tricked into marriage. She told him that many lived in fear of being next and that she would not allow herself to live like that. This was one of the reasons she made that vow: it was her way of saying that she would not be anyone's victim. Circe is not an Olympian goddess. She lives on this island, perhaps of her own free will, perhaps not. She and her nymphs are alone here when suddenly a fleet of unknown men arrives with unknown intentions. From this perspective, Odysseus can understand her actions. As captain, he would never have permitted any of his men to harm her or her nymphs. But did Circe have any guarantee of that? She does not know what kind of man he is. Does Odysseus even know? He has done horrible things. She also does not know whether Hermes' intentions are trustworthy, and nor does Odysseus. Although he is not at all happy with his current situation, he can therefore understand it. He understands what it is to commit terrible acts for the greater good.

The goddess blinks again, this time in amazement that a mortal man could feel empathy for her and put himself in her position. Looking at the letter, she notices that the strokes are irregular and shaky. Odysseus must have written it using his mouth to hold the pen. This is the first time he has done something like this, so he must have really wanted to communicate with her. She is sure that there is more he wants to say, but these two words were all he could bring himself to write. He just wanted her to read them.

"Thank you."Smiling, she thanks him for his efforts in writing to her and for trying to understand her situation. She knows he hates her, yet he has made an effort to understand her. She did not expect that. He growls. Circe thinks it is the first happy growl she has heard from him. "But tell me you didn't break anything while trying to write this."

The animal's ears flatten and he shifts his gaze away. The goddess sighs and heads to the palace, knowing the mess that awaits her.

"Odysseus, I'm sure we've already walked all the way around the island. Do we really need to keep going? One grunt for yes, two for a no". A grunt was the only response. "Yesterday, you would have fainted after ten steps. Maybe I shouldn't have been so happy when you decided to eat."

Circe watches the sun set on the horizon. She's not quite sure how it happened, but she finds herself talking to Odysseus again about his crew. She assures him that they are safe and just on another island. He didn't seem to believe her, though. He grabbed her skirt with his snout and forced her to accompany him as he explored the island. He inspected every place his eyes could see, looking for his men. Circe knew he wouldn't find them; they weren't there anymore. Her patience ran out when Odysseus indicated that he wanted to go deeper into the jungle.

"Don't be stubborn. You've searched the entire shore. If they were still here, you would have seen the ship, wouldn't you?" Despite her words, she follows him; the last thing she needs is for him to get lost. "I'm not taking another step." She punctuates her sentence by leaning against a tree trunk with her arms crossed. She usually loves exploring Eea, but not when she is forced to do so by a pig. Odysseus does not take kindly to her attitude and grunts at her. "I already told you they're fine. Trust me. Have I ever let you down?" The pig grunts again. "I don't know where they are. I told you Hermes took care of that. Trust him. Has he ever let you down? Uhm, forget that last part."

The pig snorts and Circe imitates him, blowing one of the strands of hair that has escaped from her long braid and fallen onto her forehead.

"Look, if I knew where they were, I'd tell you, but only Hermes knows. He said he'd be back in a few days." She starts walking towards her palace. "When we see him again, I'll ask him..."

"Is someone talking about me? Or why are my ears ringing?" Circe lets out a sharp cry when the messenger's image appears among the branches of the tree, his face upside down and his legs holding him to the branch — even though he can fly. She stumbles and collides with the pig behind her, causing them both to end up on the ground. "Now I provoke such reaction in goddesses, too? What's going on with the world lately?"

"Hermes?" Circe asks from the ground, still somewhat dazed. The god in question can't help but laugh slightly — she looks rather amusing. Odysseus, on the other hand, is just trying to get out from under the goddess.

"At your service." Unable to suppress his chuckles, he releases the branch and straightens up to extend his hand. Circe does not notice, but some flowers behind her open their petals at the sight of the messenger's smile. "Let me help you."

Fortunately, his hand is not as cold as last night. She stands up and brushes the dust off her clothes. Odysseus, for his part, just looks at the messenger in annoyance. It was such a nice day without him.

"Hello! What a surprise to see you here today." She smiles at him, only now realising how happy she feels at his unexpected visit.

"I said I'd be back, didn't I?" He takes a bite of the apple in his hand.

"Yeah, I just didn't think it would be today."

After all, he said he would be back in a few days, not tomorrow. Hermes must admit that he surprised himself, but he wanted to come back to Eea. It's entertaining being there, although once he arrived, he could only sit in a tree and eat something. He thought he remembered this place being more fun. However, just hearing Circe arguing with Odysseus was enough to make him smile again. Of course, when he heard his name mentioned in the conversation, he took it as a sign to interfere.

"I have to take care of my great-grandson, don't I?" He approaches the pig to stroke its head, but it moves away. Hermes looks at him sadly. "I thought you'd open up to me more now that you know the truth, boy." The pig grunts angrily at him. Could that be why he has encountered so many gods on his journey? Is it because of the divine blood running through his veins? If so, there's another reason to hate Hermes. "Hey, where's your cloak? Unless Circe got the wrong piggy."

"I had to put it in the wash because it was filthy." Circe answers for him, then notices what the messenger is holding. "Is that apple from here?"

Hermes looks at the fruit in his hand, then back at the goddess. "Maybe."

"Did what I said yesterday about equivalent exchange not help? You're taking natural resources from Eea without permission," she says, indicating that she is only joking. "Does Olympus intend to expropriate my island without giving me corresponding compensation?"

"My mistake. I was not aware of the complex economic system that governed Eea." Hermes plays along. "What is the price I must pay? Are there tariffs?"

"Just because it's you, I'll let you off lightly."

"My father always said I had a talent for negotiation. I suppose it's thanks to my natural charm." Although he said the phrase with his eyes closed to emphasise his vain aura, Hermes opens his eyes at the end, secretly eager to see Circe's reaction. Seeing her laugh and not deny it brought a smile to the messenger's face. Odysseus, on the other hand, is merely nauseated by this ridiculous game.

"I suppose you heard our conversation," says the goddess, referring to herself and the pig. "Odysseus insists on looking for his crew, but I really don't know where they are, so..."

"Is that the price for the most delicious apple I've ever eaten?" The messenger finishes eating the fruit. "I think you need to learn to negotiate better, Circe dear; you're devaluing your raw material."

"And what do you know about economics?"

"I know silver coins help the dead reach the Underworld, but that's a topic for another day. Do you want to see your friends?" he asks, crouching down to the animal's height. Odysseus hesitates for a few seconds, not wanting to give Hermes the satisfaction. For some reason, he looks at Circe, and only when she nods to encourage him does he do the same. "Perfect! Let's go then."

Odysseus begins to regret his choice as soon as Hermes picks him up and carries him under his arm as if he were a wooden board.

"Comfortable, boy?" he asks, but he doesn't bother to decipher the grunt the pig makes. Instead, his amber eyes rest on Circe. "I assume you're coming too."

"I can't let you go with him, wandering all over Greece, so yes." She takes the hand that Hermes offers her and lets him pull her close to his body. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Have I ever failed any of you?" Recalling Odysseus' presence, he rephrases his question. "Have I ever failed you today?"

Before Odysseus has a chance to answer, Hermes snaps his fingers and they are taken to their desired destination. Not a second has passed before they appear on another island, not far from Eea.

"See? There's nothing to worry about." He realises he has spoken too soon when he notices that Odysseus is not under his arm and Circe is not beside him. "Boy? Circe, my dear?" She appears at that moment, but higher than he had anticipated when he teleported them. Fortunately, Hermes has quick reflexes and manages to catch her before she hits the ground. Circe takes a moment to blink and get her bearings, unconsciously hugging the messenger's neck for support.

"That was..." She pauses, feeling a little dizzy. "Very different from using my own magic."

"I'm sorry." Hermes looks at her with a mixture of concern, amusement, and tenderness. "It's the first time I've teleported someone else in a long time. Are you okay?"

"I think so," she replies, returning the Herald's smile. As soon as she gets her bearings, she looks around and notices something is missing. "What about Odysseus?"

"He's..." Synchronicity is once again on the Herald's side, and the pig who was once King of Ithaca appears at that moment. He appears higher than expected and he falls belly-first onto the ground. "There you are! Everything okay, boy? Do you have the same number of organs as you did in Eea?" The pig wastes no time standing up and yelling angrily at him, even more so when he sees Circe in his arms. What would it have cost Hermes to catch him, too? "Nothing to regret then." He carefully puts Circe down on the ground, making sure she can stand on her own. "Here we are, just as I promised."

Hermes pushes aside the vegetation with his hands. He had deliberately brought them to this secluded spot, revealing the island's beach. On the shore is the ship that Odysseus recognises instantly, as do Perimedes and Eurylochus. He feels his soul return to his body. He won't have to offer his condolences to Ctimene after all. He takes the time to look for each of the men he remembers, and he does not feel satisfied and relieved until he has located them all. Everyone is there, except for those whom Circe had enchanted, of course.

"See? I told you they were fine, and you didn't believe me."

"The waters here are full of fish" This time it is Hermes who speaks up, pointing out that a couple of the men are fishing. "And there's plenty of fruit, too. It is a very fertile land."

"But not as fertile as Eea," adds Circe, feigning a cough and looking away. She then puts on a surprised expression, as if she had not spoken those words herself. "Who said that?"

Hermes shakes his head with a smile.

"Satisfied?" he asks the animal. "I'd be happy to bring you here from time to time, but we'd need permission from the boss."

"As long as I can come with you to make sure Odysseus won't be kidnapped, I have no problem with that." She steps closer to the messenger and rests her arm on his shoulder. "Maybe we could play another joke on them from time to time, couldn't we?"

"I like the way you think, dear." She gives the sorceress a knowing look, but is interrupted by Odysseus's growl. The gods seem to notice her concern, causing Circe to cover her mouth — she has said too much. "Oh, ignore that; it's none of your business, boy."

The pig looks at them suspiciously. What had those two done to his crew?

Back in Eea, Odysseus is sleeping peacefully on the sandy beach. Circe sits beside him and cannot resist stroking his back.

"If he finds out you did that, he'll bite you," Hermes warns, floating in the air. Circe isn't quite sure why she's still there, but she won't complain.

"It's a good thing he'll never find out, isn't it?" She brings her index finger to her lips and winks, looking for complicity.

"That's true." He agrees not to say anything and moves closer. 'This is s the most peaceful I've seen him since he arrived here."

"Reading his wife's letter helped him a lot, as did seeing his crew." She looks at Hermes with a gentle smile and says, "You're a good god; you do your job very well."

Hearing this sincere compliment, Hermes looks into Circe's eyes, but immediately looks away from her intense gaze. When he first met her, he thought her tone could only be compared to that of the sun, but now he realises he was wrong — there is no tone that can compare to hers.

"If I had done my job well, he wouldn't be like this," he says sadly, daring to stroke the animal.

"You're doing everything you can to make up for your mistake, which says a lot about your integrity, if you ask me," she assures him, smiling gently. "He won't admit it, but I think he's starting to like you."

"May Zeus hear you, dear." He pulls his hands away from the pig and interlaces his fingers behind his neck. "He's starting to like you, too."

"Me?" she laughs slightly at the idea. "I'm the one who keeps him in this form and on this island. I'm sure he's dreaming of stabbing me with a sword right now."

"You said you'd be willing to release him for the right reasons. I'm sure that changed his view of you."  Now that Hermes knows Circe can be reasoned with, it has certainly changed his view of her. He feels more confident, relaxed and enjoys talking to her more. "Besides, you act like being in that state is the worst punishment in the world. It has its good points."

"Like food?"

"And being with you." Circe was slightly shocked, though it was barely perceptible, when she noticed Hermes' eyes fixed on her. She had just noticed their colour: a beautiful shade of amber that complemented the sunset perfectly. "You're very funny to be around"

Circe couldn't remember the last god who had referred to her in that way. She smiled, feeling good about being appreciated.

"It's about time someone noticed." With a vain air, she adjusts the long braid that holds her hair in place. "You're the first person in that boring palace to say so."

"Those braggart don't know anything about fun," Hermes comments, making a dismissive gesture towards the sky.

"So they haven't told you either?"

"Told me what?"

"How funny you are." The herald's honey-coloured eyes open wide as he seeks the goddess's golden ones, and this time she does not shy away from them. "Because you are."

"Ha! Of course I am," he says, pretending to accept the compliment naturally. In truth, no one up there shares his sense of humour, so he hasn't been called that in a long time. "It's about time someone recognised me." He smiles too, enjoying being appreciated and Circe's company on this beautiful evening. He is oblivious to the way the goddess is looking at him. Eea is nice, but he now realises that what he enjoys so much and makes him want to return is the goddess in charge of the island.

Chapter Text

Once again, Hermes is holed up in his room, hiding from the goddess of strategy. He knows he cannot avoid her forever, but he is determined to find out how long he can keep it up. He has always been restless and energetic, and confining himself in this way only makes him more agitated, especially these last few days when he has felt so anxious, not in a bad way, but rather as if an electric current were constantly running through his body, making him feel charged with energy and longing, longing for something special.

In an attempt to release some of this energy, he picks up his notebook, not expecting to write anything in particular, just random phrases. He writes down the first things that come to mind: sea, air, pigs, guilt, boat... until two words in his own handwriting catch his attention.

Circe is on his mind, which is understandable, as she is part of the problem he created through his carelessness, and he has spent a long time on her island. He was there just yesterday; they talked at sunset, and she told him what she thought of him.

"She thinks I'm funny," he murmurs to himself, a smile spreading across his face.

He has always considered himself a god with a cheerful spirit, trying to share some of that energy with others. However, because he has a somewhat peculiar sense of humour, many find him simply strange. It feels good to have someone appreciate him for once without him having to do anything special other than be himself. He thinks Circe is funny, too. She has a somewhat twisted sense of humour at times, but he is the same, so it doesn't bother him. In fact, he likes it, except when she jokes about killing the sailors under his protection.

As he lies down on his bed, his mind wanders back to yesterday's conversation and the things she said to him. She had told him that he was a good god and that does a good job at his duty. Olympus does not forgive mistakes, no matter how small, which is unfair. He has provided an eternity of perfect service, and this small oversight does not change that. Circe seems to agree with him, which makes him very happy. He hates how uptight the gods are, not letting even the slightest oversight slide. Despite the silly mistake he made, she believes he fulfils his duties competently and does a good job, and she is able to recognise this, even though they are on opposite sides.

He smiles more broadly and lets out a soft laugh, not really knowing why. He feels happy; he feels that electric current filling him with energy again; he feels like flying away — he doesn't know where — but he feels it.

Starting to feel a bit claustrophobic, he opens the door, checks that Athena is not in the corridors and starts flying through them.

"Hermes!" The female voice behind him makes him fear the worst. Fortunately, when he turns around, he is met with Iris's friendly smile. "We haven't seen you around much lately."

"I've been dealing with some things." He notices the many letters Iris is carrying. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, don't be greedy. These letters are for me to deliver. They're invitations to the dance that Zeus is planning."

At the mention of such an event, Hermes rolls his eyes. He hates his father's parties; they're so boring. As his son, he clearly had to attend them. It will be a nuisance. Unless...

"Is there one for Circe, by any chance?"

"Helios' daughter?" she asks, not because she doesn't know her, but because she's surprised by how specific the question is. "Of course." Using her magic, Iris summons the letter intended for the Sun's Daughter and separates it from the others to show it to her friend, who takes it.

"Do you mind if I take care of this one? You can deliver the rest."

"Is that the least greedy you can be?" She finds it amusing that Hermes cannot seem to keep his hands off his duties as a messenger. She knows he is trustworthy, so she agrees without hesitation. "Do as you please, but that's the only one."

"It's the only one I care about," he says with a smile as he looks at the name on the envelope. "Thank you, dear."

With that, he disappears from Olympus, knowing exactly where he is going next.

Odysseus admits that, at some point in his busy life as a king, father and husband, he told himself things like 'I wish I were an animal' to escape his many duties and obligations. Now that his wish has come true, he finds it quite boring, although not in the way he expected — he always had a dog in mind when he saw Argos' relaxed lifestyle. Lying on one of the palace couches, he watches Circe, who seems very focused on her drawing. Both curiosity and boredom call him over; he had no idea that she drew.

"What's wrong?" she asks when she sees Odysseus, climbing onto the sofa with difficulty, approach her and point at the notebook with his paw. "Do you want to see? They're just doodles."

The piglet nods, prompting her to show him the notebook. Several drawings are on the page: flowers, owls, doves, snails, the sun, stars... It's as if a small part of Circe's world has been spilled onto that little sheet of paper. However, something catches Odysseus's attention: he sees a pair of eyes that are much more detailed than the other drawings. He can even make out a couple of strands of hair around them.

"I told you, they're nothing special." The goddess pulls the notebook towards her and continues to focus on the drawing of her eyes, delicately adding each stroke. She doesn't know when she started drawing them; at some point, she remembers her conversation with Hermes yesterday and thinks about his eyes again. She hadn't noticed how beautiful they were; the amber colour seemed precious to her, matching the sunset perfectly. She wished she could have framed that moment, as it seemed so unique.

When Odysseus sees Circe smiling as she looks at the ceiling, he wants to ask her what she finds so interesting, but she anticipates his question and tells him what is on her mind.

"He thinks I'm funny. Obviously I am, but it's great to know that he has good taste and can recognise it."

The mortal looks at her, confused. Who is she talking about? Hermes? If she's talking about him, why does she have that silly smile on her face? Could it be that...

'Oh, oh,' thinks Odysseus, remembering his fear from a few days ago. 'This isn't good. I have to distract her.'

He looks around, thinking about how to occupy Circe's mind and stop her from thinking nonsense. Seeing his cloak hanging on a chair, he squeals to get her attention and points to the garment.

"Do you want to wear it? You're going to get it dirty again." He doesn't care; it's the cloak that his beloved Penelope gave him — of course she wants to wear it! "All right, but don't blame me if I take it off again to wash it." As she stands up, Odysseus glimpses Hermes's figure in one of the windows. Damn! That messenger always shows up at the worst times. "Why do you look upset now? Do you want me to put it on you or not?" Circe is puzzled by the change in Odysseus' body language. A few taps on the window attract her attention and, when she looks up, she feels an electric current run through her. "Hermes!" She drops the wine-coloured cloak, covering Odysseus  who wriggles beneath it in an attempt to free himself. She opens the window and lets the winged god in.

"Good afternoon, Circe," he says, his voice sweet as honey. He sits on the windowsill. Remembering their first encounter, he takes her hand to gently kiss the back of it, all without losing sight of her beautiful golden eyes. "I hope you are having a lovely day."

"I am, yes" she murmurs, trying not to show that she is enchanted by the way he has greeted her today.

"Splendid." Once again, an electric current runs through him, but this time he feels calm. He feels as if he could stay in Eea like this for hours. He caresses the goddess's hand, which remains under his touch, with his thumb, in no hurry to let go. "I'm very glad." When Odysseus finally frees himself from the cloak, he is filled with anger at what he sees. Shouldn't Hermes be coming to Eea to ensure that Circe doesn't kill him? Why is he greeting his captor with such a smile? Odysseus is supposed to be the messenger's priority. He squeals to make his presence known. Hermes looks at him, only now noticing that he is there too. "Hello to you too, boy. What were you doing hiding there?"

'I wasn't hiding. Someone threw the cloak over me,' he thinks, glaring at Circe.

"May I come in?"

"Of course, come in." She steps aside to make room for the herald to enter. "Have you come to make sure Odysseus is still alive and kicking?"

"He looks fine to me." He moves to reach out his hand to the pig, but it won't let him, so he gives up. "Actually, I'm here for another reason."

"What reason?" Leaning elegantly against the back of one of the sofas, she asks curiously. The Herald's smile widens as he looks at Circe, not just seeing her, but observing and appreciating her. Amidst all the commotion, he had forgotten how dazzled he had been the first time he saw her, which is perfectly normal given how beautiful she is. Nevertheless, he will not let that take his breath away again. He produces his ever-reliable lyre.

"Imagine it's a heavenly trumpet, okay?" He asks his audience for their cooperation before playing a few notes, like advertising music. Then he makes the instrument disappear, replacing it with an envelope. "Dear Circe of Eea, Olympus formally extends an invitation to you to attend the next great divine event, which we hope you will accept."

"For me?" She takes the envelope that Hermes hands her. "I don't remember any other event where invitations were delivered like this. It must be very important."

"Not really." He sits down on one of the sofas near Odysseus, much to his displeasure. Circe opens the envelope and reads the invitation. "It's one of those boring parties my father sometimes organises. Fancy clothes, boring conversations – all in the name of strengthening ties between the gods."

"It seems so." The invitation perfectly conveys the pompous air that all such Olympian events tend to have. "Thank you for doing your duty, Hermes, although I doubt I'll go."

"What?" Odysseus looked at Hermes in surprise. He had used such an exaggeratedly sad tone that it genuinely baffled the mortal. "Why?"

"You said it yourself; they're too boring." She leaves the invitation on a nearby table. "They're not my style. I find the atmosphere too artificial to form bonds there."

Hermes curses himself; he hadn't done a good job of selling the event to the sorceress. Obviously, she wouldn't want to go if he announced it like that.

"The wine there is the best I've ever tasted." Odysseus looked at him strangely again. What was with this change of attitude? "Just like the view, on the nights of important events, Hera rearranges the stars to put on an unmissable show. I wouldn't want to miss it for anything."

Circe looked at him, confused. Why was he suddenly sounding so enthusiastic? Until a few seconds ago, he had seemed bored at the idea of going.

"Well, I hope you have a good time then. Let me know if anything interesting happens."

"Don't you want to see what I'll be wearing that night?" Although it was said jokingly, it managed to stop Circe in her tracks for a few microseconds. Seeing Hermes in elegant clothes? That sounds interesting — almost tempting — but she really doesn't feel like going to an event like that.

"You can come and see me after the event." She approaches Odysseus and sits next to him; he doesn't seem to mind her caressing him. "I'll be here."

For some reason, Odysseus feels victorious and proud that she has declined the invitation. He feels that she has chosen Eea over Olympus, although he knows the matter it's not that deep. Perhaps it's just the side of himself that he hates most about Hermes, and he takes this as a victory against the hateful herald. This feeling intensifies when he sees the slight sadness on Hermes's face.

"Come," he murmurs, looking down as if ashamed.

"Mmh?" Circe had not understood him. "Excuse me?"

"Please, come," he says louder this time, looking at the goddess. 'Those parties are boring. As the son of Zeus, I have to make an appearance at least for a while I thought that if you were there, it might be fun for once." Odysseus looked at Circe, horrified to see her defenceless and without her usual pride and sharp smile. "Will you come? Yes?" Seeing the change in her expression, he asks with a hint of hope.

Circe averted her gaze from his beautiful amber eyes, which looked at her as if she were his salvation. Why has the temperature in the room suddenly risen so much?

"I don't know, Hermes," she murmurs, still unsure. "I have a lot to do here. I'm very busy."

"I'll help you," he offers, moving a little closer and making her look at him again. "I really would like you to come. It'll only be for a little while, and then we can leave and do whatever you want."

Invitations to events on Olympus always seem arrogant and frivolous, but having Hermes in front of her, personally asking her to attend, feels sincere. She takes a couple of breaths to regain her composure and confident tone.

"Are all invitations like this? With the messenger from Olympus begging like that?"

"Begging? I'm not begging, am I?" He looks at Odysseus for confirmation, but he just shrugs. He looks back at Circe. "Is that what it takes to invoke your presence?"

"It won't be necessary. You said you would help me with some tasks on Eea. Are you really willing to do that?" Hermes nods without hesitation. "Then we have a deal."

"Really?"

Contrary to the hopeful tone of the herald, Odysseus looks at Circe as if she has just signed her own death warrant. He wants to shout, 'Circe, why are you giving in to the pleas of an Olympian god?' Let him keep begging if he wants to, but don't give him the satisfaction.' What would Athena think if she saw you?'

"I'll arrive elegantly late, but I'll see you there."

Hermes feels that electric shock again. He wants to shout with excitement; he wants to fly all over Eea; he wants to hug Circe. But he just smiles. "It'll be wonderful, you'll see, my dear." Adopting his confident attitude once more, Hermes leans back against the sofa nonchalantly. "With us there, that place will finally feel like a real party."

"Don't get too excited, dear." She stands up. "You'll have to start paying your share from now on."

Seeing this as an opportunity to spend more time with Circe, Hermes leaves the sofa to follow her out of the door.

"Right behind you."

As the two of them disappear from Odysseus's view, he rolls his eyes and settles back down on the sofa. Do they really expect him to follow them wherever they go? There's no way he's going to do that; he'll stay there and sleep peacefully. He'll let the two of them do whatever they want alone.

Alone.

He'll leave Circe and Hermes alone.

Reluctantly, he gets up from the sofa and follows them. Who knows what would happen if he left them alone?

"How does so much rubbish end up here?" Even with his magical powers, Hermes is tired from collecting all the rubbish that ends up in Eea.

"That's what I ask myself every day." He holds out the bag for Hermes to put the rubbish in. "Why do you think I asked you for help with this?"

"Not just me." Hermes comments as the goddess bends down so that the pig, formerly King of Ithaca, can drop whatever he is carrying into the bag. "The situation must be really bad if you're forcing pigs to work, eh?"

"I didn't force him to do anything. He saw us here, and I suppose he decided to help.' Despite his status as king, Odysseus could never get used to sitting around and letting others do the work. It felt strange, and this time was no exception. "But I appreciate his help anyway." She smiled at Odysseus, then stood up and faced the messenger. "And yours too."

"We made a deal, didn't we?"

Circe smiled at him before walking away with the full bag and leaving it next to a couple more that she would later unravel. Glancing sideways at Hermes, she noticed he was still watching her. Deciding to give him a better view, she undid her braid, letting her long, dark hair fall loose. The setting sun now caressed it, revealing beautiful golden highlights that would otherwise have been imperceptible. She surreptitiously caressed her abdomen, emphasising the patterns there which shone slightly in the sunlight. While Odysseus wonders why Circe is strutting around like that, Hermes looks at her, completely captivated.

"She's very pretty, isn't she, boy?" Odysseus looked at Hermes. Is he talking about Circe? Well, yes, she's pretty, but she's not really his type. "Pretty?" What do I mean by pretty? She's not just pretty; she's stunning, sublime, a gift to the eyes, ambrosia. Why didn't I come here sooner? I missed this sight for so long..." He gazes at the goddess, thinking about everything they could have talked and laughed about if he had known about her beautiful existence earlier.

'Ah, so that's what he was up to.' Odysseus understands everything when he sees the god's reaction. 'It's a very cheap trick, and the worst thing is that it worked.'

Odysseus does not know if Hermes is aware that he is staring at Circe, completely mesmerised. He does not like where the situation between them is heading. Athena has told him that the gods experience emotions much more intensely than humans do. When they fall in love, it can unleash chaos in more ways than one, taking the form of obsessive jealousy or, worse still, unbridled lust. He feels a chill just imagining it. Hermes needs to focus on getting Odysseus out of the situation he got him into, but he won't be able to if he keeps staring at Circe like that. He has to concentrate.

"What are you doing?" he asks, when the pig pulls on his cloak and points to the sky. "Do you want me to leave?" Miracle! For the first time, he has understood him correctly. "But we're not done here yet." Odysseus continues to pull on his cloak, hoping the pig will let go. Neither of them notices that Circe has approached them. "Let go of me!"

Hermes pulls at his cloak, trying to free himself from the pig's grip. He steps back rather abruptly, accidentally bumping into Circe and pushing her to the edge of the ravine they are in. Fortunately, it is not very high. Unable to offer her his hand in time, the goddess ends up soaked in the ocean off her island.

"Charming, no doubt," she murmurs wearily, looking at the pig and the god, who are staring at her in shock. "Good thing I'm a good swimmer."

'You live on an island, it would be ridiculous for you not to how to swim. You can't even drown — what's the danger?'

"Circe, dear, what a shame!" he murmurs, feeling embarrassed to see her in such a state. "Look what you've done," he whispers angrily at Odysseus before flying over to the sorceress. Seeing the goddess's golden eyes glare at Hermes, Odysseus thinks that this at least takes points off the herald. "I'm sorry, Circe. I really am," stammers Hermes, saddened to see her trying to rearrange the flowers in her hair, which had looked so beautiful. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Hermes," she interrupts him sharply. "Just get me out of here." She orders, extending her hand. Hermes swallowed hard. He had never heard her so upset before. Wasn't she exaggerating a little? It was only water.

"All right." He takes the goddess's hand, but realises too late that she is smiling victoriously. Circe pulls him into the water with such force that she manages to sink him. He wastes no time returning to the surface and ends up floating in the water next to her. "Hey! What was that for?"

"To get even." She laughs so loudly that all of Hermes' annoyance quickly disappears. He ends up smiling and splashing the sorceress with water. "Hey!"

"To get even," he teases, infuriating the sorceress. Even so, neither of them can stop smiling.

That day, Hermes discovered that Circe could float and fly just like him; in the water. Seeing her swim in the waters of Eea, he realised that the mermaids had nothing on her; in fact, they should send Circe, because her grace and beauty were anything but illusory.

Now, with them both on the seashore, eating the fruits of Eea and warming themselves next to a bonfire, Odysseus is cursing inwardly that things have not turned out as he had originally thought.

"Don't get too close to the fire," Hermes warns him, squeezing his cap to get rid of the excess water. "We don't want Circe to get hungry for meat."

The pig pulled the most indignant face his limited features would allow. Was Hermes now joking about the subject?

An idea crossed the messenger's mind. He looked at Circe beside him and casually stood up to take off his wet cloak, leaving it carelessly on the ground. Then he removed the top part of his clothes, exposing his torso.

Circe was paralysed for a moment when she saw this. Hermes' body is more defined than his clothes reveal. His skin could be whiter, but the sun has tanned it to perfection — a consequence of travelling far and wide. His normally perfectly messy light brown hair sticks to his forehead due to the humidity from the water. Not to mention his beautiful amber eyes. She takes in every detail of the image, knowing she will have to draw it later. To conclude his little performance, Hermes pretends to have noticed Circe's presence.

"I hope I'm not bothering you," he says, combing his hair back with his hand. "It was bothering me a little to feel my clothes sticking to my body."

'By Athena! Could you be any more obvious, Hermes? At least Circe was more discreet. The worst part is that she's so smitten she won't even notice.'

"No problem," the sorceress assures him, hoping her heart will calm down. Nudity has never bothered her much; she believes that kind of modesty should be reserved for mortals. A body is just a body, but seeing Hermes like this is certainly divine, even if he has only exposed his torso. "Allow me, I'll put them out to dry."

Hermes hands her his clothes and sits back down. As he watches her walk away, he can't help but notice how the wet clothes perfectly outline her beautiful figure and her elegant sway. Meanwhile, the animal is only concerned with eating the apple within its reach.

"Circe and I would make a nice couple, don't you think, boy?"

Odysseus almost chokes on the fruit. Perhaps he is paying for all the things he put Athena through during his years of youthful infatuation.

Chapter Text

Who would have told Odysseus of Ithaca that he would one day end up as a pet, accompanying a goddess while she shops? It's quite humiliating, but at least she hasn't put him on a leash. Circe hadn't wanted to leave him alone on Eea, but she apparently had no problem leaving the other pigs, who were formerly men, behind.

As they visit the various shops, the sorceress attracts some stares — who knows if because of her appearance or the fact that she is accompanied by a pig? Odysseus is forced to wait outside because animals are not allowed inside. He won't deny that he is tempted to run away, but what would he do next? He doesn't even know what town he's in, let alone how to get to Ithaca in his current state. Even if he did know, he couldn't abandon his men. Circe must be aware of this, which is probably why she brought him along. She is as ingenious as she is evil.

"I found what I needed," she announces as she leaves the shop. "Would you like to sit down for a while? We've been walking for a long time." Odysseus grunts softly in agreement, and they both head to the nearby park to sit on one of the benches. Circe is aware of the stares she receives because of her companion, but she doesn't care what mere mortals think of her.

"What do you think?" she asks, showing him some golden, sun-shaped earrings. "They'll look great on me, won't they?" He hates to admit it, but Odysseus has to agree. Perhaps it's because she is the daughter of Helios, but the golden tones suit her very well. "I finally got this, too." Now she is holding a large box of coloured pencils and smiling as she looks at them. If only that goddess weren't depriving him of his freedom, Odysseus would think she looks cute, like a little girl who has just received a gift. "I can't wait to get to Eea to try them out. I'll see how they pigment right now."

Not caring that they are in public, Circe materialises her sketchbook and opens it to take the amber pencil, ready to start painting. Out of sheer curiosity, Odysseus peers over her shoulder to see what she is working on, but immediately regrets it. The page is filled with various drawings of the messenger from Olympus: his face, his smile and his body. He even recognises the scene of Hermes with his torso exposed, trying to get attention, which makes him feel sick. The worst part is that it had worked.

"They're wonderful"  Circe exclaims, smiling and trying hard not to go outside the lines and ruin the drawing. She feels quite proud of her drawing of Hermes' eyes. She spends several seconds painting, losing herself in the drawing and remembering Hermes.

Hermes.

As soon as Odysseus sees a smile appear on Circe's lips, he growls angrily, causing her to look at him in confusion. "If you make me ruin the drawing, you're going to be tonight's dinner. What's wrong with you?" He points to the page of the notebook filled with drawings of the winged god. "What? They're just drawings." Despite the limited expressiveness of pigs, Circe can perceive the scepticism in his black eyes. She sighs and puts away her pencil; losing one she had just bought would be the last straw. "I just think he's handsome, okay? I have eyes like anyone else." Odysseus is still looking at her. "Allright, he's funny and charming. I admit it. I love spending time with him. So what? I don't think he wants anything with me. You know how the gods of Olympus are."

Odysseus could see her point, but Circe clearly hadn't noticed how Hermes looks at her. He didn't just want to possess her; he wanted to court her and win her heart. Much to his dismay, Hermes had fallen head over heels for the ruler of Eea — and worse still, it seemed that she reciprocated his feelings. He closes the notebook with his mouth and places his paw on the cover. Circe looked at him, trying to decipher the gesture. "Do you think he's not right for me?" He nodded to let her know that he had understood her, despite the lack of words.

He doesn't know why, but the idea of Hermes winning Circe over greatly displeases Odysseus. Perhaps it is because he is still angry with the messenger for abandoning him during his confrontation. Hermes is in Eea to rectify his mistake, not to put on a strip show for the owner; he must focus on his work. Circe, however, as the righteous ruler that she is, must not fall for such games. The gods of Olympus are known for doing whatever they please, and she cannot allow that. She must put them in their place, as Athena would say. She cannot go around making flirtatious eyes at the cheeky messenger. Besides, Circe is demure, elegant and kind when she's not turning people into pigs, she's no match for an unbearable womaniser with an irritating voice and laugh like Hermes. Please.

"You're right," she sighs after a few seconds of silence. "Thank you for bringing me back to reality, Odysseus. There's no room for love in the lives of the gods."

'What? I never said that! I just don't think Hermes is a good... Oh no, don't make that face, please.' He curses himself for having such a soft heart. He shouldn't care about seeing the goddess who has taken him and his men prisoner wearing such a sad expression. In fact, he should be glad about it, but he feels guilty. With some difficulty, he takes a pencil from the box and opens the notebook to start drawing. He even has the delicacy to check that the page he is going to use is blank. Why is he being so kind to the goddess who took away his humanity in the first place? Circe watches the little pig doing his best to draw something. Once he has finished, he shows her what he has drawn. She studies the yellow lines for a few seconds until she recognises a shape.

"Is that a lightning bolt? Are you trying to tell me to give Zeus a chance?" The pig nods, causing Circe to gag. "Ugh! Odysseus, what's wrong with you? That god is almost as old as the world itself; he's a disgusting old man! Why do you think I compared him to you in that state? Just because I can't be with Hermes doesn't mean I have to go to his father. Besides, he's married! Do you want Hera to curse me?"

'Well, not Zeus. Maybe it's better for Circe not to be with the god who made me kill a baby.' With more difficulty, she makes a second drawing that is harder for her to recognise: a warrior's helmet.

"Athena? She's pretty, but she's taken a vow of chastity, so..."  Odysseus denies it, not believing that his former mentor was the first person to spring to mind. He didn't know that Circe had those tastes, but well, at least that broadens the range of possibilities. "Oh! You mean Ares." He nods. Circe doesn't seem thrilled with that idea. "He's too savage for my taste, plus he's involved with Aphrodite. I don't want to mess with the goddess of love, so if you had her on your list, cross her off too."

'Blessed Athena! What a complicated goddess. I'm just trying to help.' Fortunately, the next drawing is much simpler. Thank goodness he chose the yellow pencil. It doesn't take Circe long to figure it out.

"The sun. Apollo, right? We were a thing a while ago." Odysseus is so shocked that he drops his pencil and opens his mouth, which makes Circe laugh. "He was a friend of Ra, a friend of my father's. We ended up meeting, and well, there was a spark there. We had a great time, but you know what? I always thought the attraction was due to our nature. You know — he's the sun god, and I'm the daughter of Helios. I think it was our divine instincts that pulled us together. Besides, then Hyacinth came along and Apollo no longer had eyes for anyone else. It was a beautiful romance, but it didn't work out." There's no resentment in her voice, just slight nostalgia for memories she hadn't thought about in a long time. Odysseus looks at her in disbelief. Why didn't Athena ever tell him about this? Penelope loves divine gossip. He will try to commit every detail to memory for her beloved.

"Why not Poseidon?" Circe asks after a few seconds. The pig's eyes open wide in horror and he shakes his head frantically. No, no, no! He'd rather she stayed with Hermes. She laughs at his reaction. "I was just joking. He's not my type at all." 

The pig sighs, giving up — at least for the moment. Circe looks at him tenderly, putting away the pencil he had been using.

"Thank you for trying to cheer me up, Odysseus. You are very noble." She pauses, seeming to remember something. "And you were very handsome when you were human. Wouldn't you be interested in..." Just as expected, Odysseus grwols angrily at the insinuation. Circe laughs. "Just kidding, just kidding! I know you have a wife. Maybe in another universe, we'd have to ask Tiresias."

The pig rolls his eyes and stands up to accompany the goddess back to the island. She has such a strange and twisted sense of humour sometimes.

If only he weren't there against his will, Odysseus would easily describe Eea as a paradise island. He has even found a certain pleasure in helping Circe with the chores, which make him feel closer to home and occupy his mind, despite his current condition limiting what he can do.

"That didn't take as long as I thought. Thanks for your help." He grunts softly as saying 'No problem' once they have finished harvesting the garden. "Now I have to take care of the sheep. I can do that on my own."

Darkness descends, obstructing the goddess's vision. Before she can panic at being blinded, she hears a familiar voice.

"Guess who."

Odysseus snorts in annoyance when Hermes appears behind the goddess and covers her eyes. He is greatly irritated by the fact that he feels free to come here whenever he wants, without asking permission and disrupting the peace he feels when he is in Eea. Is that how Circe felt when they arrived unannounced? Perhaps her annoyance made more sense than he initially thought.

"Hmm," She says, pretending to think, as if it were not the most obvious thing in the world. "Hermes?"

"As clever as ever." He removes his hands from her eyes, letting his cheek brush against hers. "Or did something give me away?"

"You're my most frequent visitor." She looks at him with amusement, enjoying the caress of the messenger's breath on her skin and the tickle of his wings on her head.

"I love being that." He is in a position to easily access the goddess's abdomen and is tempted to trace the patterns there with his fingers, but decides that would be moving too fast. Instead, he takes Circe's hand and kisses it, savouring the small doses of her that he can allow himself for now. "I hope you're having a lovely day."

"I am, yes." Circe fights the urge to run her fingers through that chestnut mane.

"Splendid." Unable to resist that beautiful smile, he kisses each of her knuckles between sentences, fighting the temptation to leave a trail of kisses all over the goddess's arm. "I'm very glad."

The pig makes its presence known, feeling nauseous at the scene, although only Circe deigns to look at it. He points to the sheep in the distance with his head.

"Right, the sheep." She reluctantly moves away from the messenger, who looks at her as he were a puppy in the rain who she is leaving behind. "I must take care of them."

"You're lucky to have the god of flocks and shepherds, then." He materialises his caduceus to emphasise his point. Odysseus had completely forgotten that detail. How many things is Hermes the god of? "I'll take care of that, dear."

"No need; it's my..."

"You work here all day; let someone else take care of something for once, okay?"

With Hermes flying beside her, Circe smiled foolishly, causing several flowers to bloom in her wake. This did not go unnoticed by Odysseus.

"I appreciate your help."

"It's nothing." For the first time since he arrived, Hermes deigns to look at Odysseus. "Oh, hello boy. I didn't know you were here."

The pig watches him fly away in disbelief. Is this a joke? As soon as he gets his opposable thumbs back, he promises to strangle that god.

Sitting on a rock, Circe watches in wonder and amazement as Hermes attracts the flock with only a flute. Resting her cheek on her hand, she gazes at the herald for several seconds. The wind makes his light brown hair dance so perfectly that she envies it for being able to ruffle it without a care. If Odysseus still had hands, he would slap her to bring her to her senses. What is Circe doing, watching the messenger like that? Doesn't she remember their earlier conversation? Unable to do that, he simply observes his surroundings, taking note of the clearer sky, brighter sun and abundance of flowering plants — factors that become more apparent with each visit from Hermes.

"What's wrong?" she asks when the animal catches her attention. He gestures towards the flowers that were previously closed and are now blooming. The goddess's cheeks darken as she understands the unspoken question. "Hermes has quite an influence on my mood, okay?"

So that's it. He remembers many conversations with Athena, including one in which she told him that the gods are sometimes overwhelmed by their emotions. When this happens, they must release them in some way or could be dangerous as they are such powerful beings. This is especially true if the emotions are negative or if the god in question has a bad temper. Fortunately, Circe is not bad-tempered unless provoked.

"Hey, Odysseus, don't you want to go and see how your friends are doing? Maybe they need something." Is she trying to kick him out? Ha, she wishes. Leaving those two alone is the last thing she'll do. He firmly refuses, missing Circe. "No? But..."

"Come back here!" The goddess turns at the sound of Hermes's voice and sees three sheep walking quickly towards her. "Sorry, some of them got away," he apologises sheepishly when he reaches her.

"It's okay." The animals approach her and nudge her hands, hoping she will pet them. Circe understands the hint immediately. "They just want some cuddles, that's all."

"Uh-huh..." He looks away, embarrassed. "How curious."

"Not really. I've noticed them like this lately." Hermes notices one of the sheep climbing onto the rock and makes a move to stop it. However, when the animal starts licking the goddess's face, he can only blush and look away again. "They're just more affectionate than usual, that's all."

The mortal then realises that she is not the only one overwhelmed by this feeling. After all, just as Eea is an extension of Circe, the sheep can be considered the same for Hermes — he is the god of shepherds, after all. 'Gods, this is ridiculous. Someone get me off this damn island, please.'

"Ready for the big event?" Hermes attempts conversation to hide his embarrassment. "If you don't show up, I'll come here myself and force you to attend, just so you know."

"Don't worry. I bought some earrings that I want to wear for the first time, so you'll see me there." Seeing that the sheep insist on sticking to her, Circe decides to take charge. "I hope you'll save a dance for me."

"I will." His gaze rests on the mortal. "Just to be clear, animals are not allowed, so you'll have to leave our little pig here."

Odysseus looks at him, irritated. Did Hermes just called him their pig?

"Poor Odysseus. I'm sure he was dying to go." She says sarcastically, then turns to the sheep. "Come on darlings, let's go with the others."

Seeing her leave, Hermes feels the urge to follow her and take her hand. However, when he sees one of the sheep approach Circe to be stroked, he remembers that he must control his emotions and impulses. Soon it would be the dance, when there would be no animals around and he could make a move. Perhaps he could confess his growing feelings to the goddess and, with a little luck, they could become more than friends.

"What do you say, boy? Do you think she sees me in a good light?" 'Good light? She devours you with her eyes every time she sees you, but of course you don't notice.' "Don't tell me you're still mad at me, Ody"  If he calls him that again, Odysseus swears he'll bite him. "Well, keep it up as long as you want, but I'm sure that one day we'll look back on this and laugh."

Odysseus watches him fly away, feeling anger welling up inside him. He has only one certainty in mind: 'Hermes, I swear on my life that if I ever remember this moment, I'll climb to Olympus myself and punch you.'

Chapter Text

They say that we gods know nothing of reality; that we are completely alien to it. I suppose our reality is very different from that of humans — one that they would classify as fantastical. Nevertheless, the divine fantasy I find myself immersed in every day is somewhat unsettling; it is so perfect that it seems false. This palace, every room, every face and every body part related to the divine seems to have been designed down to the last detail to perfection.

I think that's why you dazzle me so much, Circe: your beauty doesn't feel like an illusion designed to enchant the eyes. It feels genuine; it feels like you; it feels like part of your reality.

Your reality is beautiful, Circe: suns, flowers, work in the fields, animals, sunsets on the beach bathing your dark skin and reflecting in your golden eyes. It is so you; that is why I love it so much — because you shine brighter than the sun itself, and you make it feel natural. I find myself in that reality now and want to be part of it. I wonder if I will fit in. I would love to share every sunset with you, if you allow me.

I think what I'm trying to say is—

"What are you doing, writing?"

Hermes lets out a cry at the female voice beside him. "You scared me, Aphrodite."

"We're at a party, in case you hadn't noticed." Hermes seems oblivious to the event; he's just sitting at the table. She notices the notebook in his hands, however, and seems to understand the situation, smiling mischievously. "Are you writing to Helios' daughter again?"

"Does it count as writing to her if I never give them to her?" Due to his nature, he ends up dedicating writings to Circe that he is tempted to deliver — he is the heavenly messenger, after all. "I'm just feeling a little nervous, that's all." He has been feeling anxious lately, so he has started writing more often in an attempt to channel all that energy and prevent it from dispersing as it did with the sheep.

"Why are you nervous? It's obvious that she likes you too." Aphrodite cannot remember any other lover who has affected the herald in this way, not even herself. Although she will not deny that, as the goddess of love, she feels somewhat wounded in her pride, she also feels happy. Love is a sweet that is best enjoyed slowly. Hermes had never taken the time to get to know and court someone in this way; she is very happy to see him like this.

"I don't know. I think I'm just trying not to fall asleep at this boring party." He gestures to emphasise that he is referring to the whole place. He then snaps his fingers, take the notebook back to his room. "I hate these things; they're so boring."

"Ouch?" Aphrodite laughs, pretending to be offended. "I'm here, you know?"

Hermes is very fond of Aphrodite, but even she can't liven up this place. Besides, ... "You think the same way, and you're going to sneak off with Ares at the first opportunity."

"As if you and Circe aren't going to do the same thing. Speaking of whom..."

Hermes looks where Aphrodite is pointing and sees the muse of his writings talking with the sun god. By Zeus!, she looks beautiful in that white dress! Of course, the golden details are present in both the dress and her accessories. The star-shaped buckle on her belt makes the fabric fit her body perfectly, complementing the sun-shaped earrings wonderfully. Today, her hair dances freely in perfect waves that caress her back without restraint, adorned with a few yellow flowers. He will never cease to be amazed at how she always strikes the balance between sensuality and mystery.

"Do I have your blessing, goddess of love?" he asks, turning to her.

"If you don't kiss her today, you'll have my curse. I'm tired of hearing you ramble on about her."

Has he annoyed Aphrodite herself? This is serious business. He says goodbye to his friend and heads towards Circe, the goddess who has occupied his mind lately. He finds it difficult to resist approaching her; it's as if his whole body is pulling him towards Circe as soon as he sees her. He clears his throat to make his presence known. "I thought I would have to go to Eea to find you."

"I wouldn't have complained about that," she says, smiling as soon as she hears his voice, which resonates in her heart and mind. She then turns to Apollo. "We'll talk later, okay? I promised to keep Hermes company tonight."

The sun god nods without hesitation and gives Hermes a knowing look. He hadn't told him anything about his feelings for Circe. Is it that obvious?

"I'm so happy to see you." As has become customary, he takes her hand to kiss it, although he feels this small gesture is no longer enough. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I couldn't break your heart like that, dear." She caressed Hermes's hand with her thumb. "Although I feel like I'm already freezing. How can this place be so cold?"

"I hadn't really noticed until recently." Perhaps he had become accustomed to the tropical climate of Eea, but he certainly noticed how cold the palace in the sky was. "Have you been here long?"

"I arrived a few minutes ago, but I saw you talking to Aphrodite and thought you were busy." There is a barely perceptible twinkle in her voice, which amuses the herald.

"We were just talking about trivial things, like you and Apollo," he says, "or so I'd like to think." Now it's his voice that sounds slightly reproachful. He had recently found out about the past of the two of them, which made her smile.

"We were just catching up; we hadn't seen each other in a long time." She decides to spare him the details. Hermes doesn't need to know that they were talking about him and how fascinated she is by him. "I don't usually come here."

"You wouldn't have come if I hadn't asked you personally."

"Next time, you could come and find me, couldn't you?" She gives him a suggestive wink, making him smile at the subtle hint of a future outing. He loves how flirtatious she is.

"I wouldn't have a problem with that, Circe dear." They both walk through the huge hall. Olympus is the only place where Hermes feels comfortable walking. This allows him to notice that Circe is a little taller than him, which he finds cute. "How strange it is to see you without a certain little piggy around."

"Don't mention it. It seemed like he didn't even want me to come." Hermes looks at her in surprise. "He hid my shoes and earrings. He even tried to wreak havoc in the garden. I don't know what got into him.'

"How strange." Why wouldn't Odysseus want Circe to come? "Maybe I was right and he grew fond of you."

Circe couldn't help laughing at the idea.

"Of course, as they say, sometimes a woman's best friend is the mortal she turned into a pig and now keeps captive.'

"No one says that."

"Exactly."

Hermes is happy to be laughing sincerely for the first time that night. Being with Circe is like entering a parallel dimension where he doesn't have to pretend; where nothing is overly neat or proper; where he can joke and laugh.

"I'm glad you were able to get away and come here." In Eea, they could never be completely alone — Odysseus always stuck close to Circe for some reason — but here, they can talk properly.

"Me too." Without much pretence, she looks Hermes up and down, marvelling at the shades of blue in the toga he has chosen to wear. She has never seen him in that colour before and he has combined it with a star-patterned cape and gold accessories. Despite the formality of the occasion, he is still wearing his trusty cap, which somehow complements his outfit rather than clashing with it. "You look very handsome."

"Correction, dear, I am very handsome." Circe rolled her eyes with feigned annoyance. The messenger's vain and conceited attitude was charmingly unique. "I suppose seeing me like this has wreaked havoc on your vocabulary, uh?"

"You wish." If only Hermes knew that his presence lately had wreaked havoc on more than just her grammar. Perhaps he knew and enjoyed teasing her. "Besides, I have nothing to envy you for."

"Not at all; white looks beautiful on you." He takes her hand and turns her around. As she does so, he can see that the dress is open at the back, revealing the goddess's bare back and the sun's design in all its splendour. Circe is going to kill him if they continue down this path much longer. "You're more radiant than the sun itself."

"Look at that! You can even be sweet when you put your mind to it."

He shakes his head and laughs. He feels the tug-of-war they started burning him in a wonderful way. Circe's words and flirtatious glances consume him, leaving an electric current running through his body and a tingling sensation in his stomach that reaches his mind, leaving his skin burning in the process. He thinks of her at night and finds himself smiling at the memory. He is surprised by how much he longs for her at any time and in any place.

Circe finds herself in a similar situation. Although she tries to remember the caution she must exercise when dealing with an Olympian god, she cannot help letting her desire for Hermes cloud her mind. If she needed air to breathe, she would attribute the feeling of vertigo that makes her hold on to the messenger's body to the lack of oxygen and the great height. However, she knows it is the result of this seductive game. Who will be the first to give in?

For some reason, Hermes' eyes wander to another part of the room, and a look of concern appears on his face.

"Come with me." Taking her hand, he leads her through a narrow corridor that seems to belong to a different palace entirely, given how different the atmosphere is from that of the party. They stand back-to-back against opposite walls, facing each other.

"What?" Circe asks, bewildered.

"Has anyone seen Hermes?" Athena's voice gives her all the answer she needs. She smiles at him, but he just closes his eyes in embarrassment and leans his head against the wall behind him. "I haven't seen him in ages."

"With any luck, he'll be in his room with very good company," laughs Apollo, seconded by Aphrodite. Neither Hermes nor Circe dares to look at the other for more than half a second. "I lost sight of him a while ago."

"That damn messenger is avoiding me, and I think I know why." Although Hermes cannot see her, he can clearly hear the sound she makes when she materialises her spear. "If I see him..." Out of sheer habit, he brings his hand to his neck. Even though he knows he is immortal, he fears ending up with a scar on his beautiful skin. Fortunately, the conversation does not continue for much longer; he thinks he hears the warrior walking away.

"Is she gone?" he whispers to his companion, not daring to check for himself.

"Let me check." She peers into the next room, pretending not to notice how close she is getting to Hermes, leaving him mere inches from her exposed neck, adorned only by a golden necklace. He cannot help but gaze at it, feeling his fingers calling him to discover its feel, eager to trace a path to her chin with his index finger. He swallows at the thought, unconsciously closing one of his hands. "She's gone, yes."

"Blessed Zeus..." He exhales with equal relief and disappointment when the sorceress moves away, noticing the absence of her floral fragrance. "I don't know how much longer I can take this."

"Have you been hiding from her all this time?"

Hermes looks at her, confused. Hiding from her? Oh, of course, Athena. "I'm just avoiding her; it's not the same thing."

"Hermes, look at us and tell me that we're not hiding like rats."

"Oh, don't use such a horrible simile, dear." He rests her hand on the opposite wall, close to Circe's face. "I'd rather say we're hidden like two beautiful jewels."

"Will these beautiful jewels be able to shine on the dance floor?" She crossed her arms and leaned slightly towards him. "Remember that you owe me one, although it'll be hard to do without Athena seeing us."

Hermes checks his tongue. It's true; he hadn't thought of that. Damn it! When it's not Odysseus stuck to Circe, it's Athena looking for him to impale him. How could they be alone together? Fortunately, a solution quickly occurs to him. He extends his hand to Circe, who takes it without asking any questions.

"I have an idea."

Hermes had asked her to close her eyes, which she did. When she opened them again, she was surprised to find that the palace floor was no longer beneath her feet and that she could see the earth far below. Seeing her panic, Hermes instinctively held her by the waist to steady her.

"Hermes!" Before the first piece? How daring you turned out to be." She teased him when she saw the position of his hands and how close their faces were. Hermes rolled his eyes in loving exasperation. Even in a situation like this, Circe didn't miss the opportunity to flirt and tease him.

"I just wanted to give you the dance I think you deserve." He took the goddess's hand and held it in the air at shoulder height. "You won't fall, I promise."

"I know. If I did, Odysseus and the others would be stuck like pigs forever." She placed her free hand on the messenger's shoulder, causing him to raise his eyebrows in amusement.

"Are you using my great-grandson as a hostage?"

"I'm using my temporary resident as life insurance."

"You're lucky I negotiate with terrorists." He caresses the exposed skin of Circe's back with his nails before resting his hand there and whispering in her ear. "With beautiful terrorists."

The goddess shivers, both from those words and the mischievous caress on her back. At least now she can blame the vertigo for the tingling in her stomach and the dizziness that leaves her in a state of ecstasy, prompting her to cling to the well-formed body of the herald. She smiles foolishly, throwing her neck back as she laughs. Being alone at last has definitely loosened them up.

"You make my head spin, Hermes." Without thinking much about her words or the position that puts her in, she blurts it out. Hermes smiles, entranced, swaying gently from side to side with her. At first, their movements are slight and gentle, and Circe marvels at the sight of the stars. She thinks she remembers Hera arranging them, according to Hermes, and she does a good job, she thinks, but even those little diamonds in the night sky cannot distract her for long from those beautiful amber eyes. That honey-coloured tone is not a prefabricated spectacle; it is real — too real, in fact, as she can feel it sweetening her gaze. As she becomes more uninhibited and realises that she is not in any danger of falling — Hermes has enchanted her so that she can fly too — she matches his movements with equal grace. The messenger enjoys tempting her by brushing their faces together at every opportunity, challenging her to kiss him and end the game. However, Circe is just as proud as he is.

Any mortal looking up at the sky would see two lights and think they were two celestial bodies dancing in the night sky. In reality, they are two souls who have found what many seek their entire lives. A joyful, fun, carefree, creative and ingenious soul intertwining with a romantic, tender, sensitive and equally ingenious one. If you had looked up at the sky that night, you would have seen the golden glow of the sun's daughter's tattoos shining brightly.

Time becomes irrelevant and trivial for them both, as if they had torn Cronos's cloak in the midst of their stellar dance. The eternal clock could continue its course indefinitely and they would not care; they would dance until they turned to stardust.

If he were not a personal friend of Aeolus's, he would blame the wind for being the invisible force driving him to want to be close to her all the time. If she were not an expert sorceress, he would blame black magic for the constant ache in his chest whenever he thinks of her. The answer is simpler than magic or divine entities beyond their control. If you had looked up at the sky that night, you would have unwittingly witnessed the blossoming love between the two gods.

"We don't have to be here if you don't want us to be," says Hermes, opening the door to his room and letting Circe in.

"I suggested it because it doesn't bother me. I'm just curious. I didn't know you had a room here," she says, looking around the room.

"I wouldn't consider it mine, exactly. As you can see, I hardly have anything here." Having seen Circe's palace, he has a better idea of what a home should look like.

"Besides, where else could we be? If we stay at the party, we can't be sure that Athena won't show up and impale us with her spear."

"Us?" Hermes asks jokingly, careful to leave the door open for two reasons: he doesn't want to upset Circe; leaving the door open tells her that nothing inappropriate will happen. The other reason is to assure himself that he won't do anything foolish. The night has been so beautiful that he doesn't want to ruin it with a momentary impulse.

"You for failing Odysseus and me for keeping him captive." She glances sideways at Hermes as she speaks, inspecting the items on the desk: coins, feathers and crystals. "I didn't know you were a collector."

"I'm not; I just bring real wonders to my room." He smiles at the goddess, who returns the gesture. "But you know what? I think I would be the one to bear the brunt of Athena's fury. I'm sure she'd think you were just doing your job, just as I failed in mine," he adds bitterly.

"Nonsense, you just had a little slip-up." She notices a notebook on the bed and picks it up, unaware of how her words have made the herald smile. "Is it yours? Can I read it?"

Hermes feels himself blush and is grateful that Circe has the manners to ask before opening it.

"Maybe another time." He takes the notebook and puts it on a small table. Circe doesn't need to know that he's been writing about her — at least not yet. "It's nothing special."

"All right." She doesn't pay much attention to the refusal; her eyes are fixed on the bed and she notices the elegant, almost transparent curtains that adorn it. Her bed has similar ones, only they are pink. "May I?"

"May you, what?"

"I've never layed in a bed on Olympus before." She dares to sit on the bed. Hermes wonders if that's true, given her history with Apollo. "Does it bother you, Hermes?"

The god of commerce studies the beautiful figure now sitting on his bed. Circe's voice is honeyed as she says his name, the r sliding off her lips in a mischievous, daring, even venereal way. For a second, he feels the heat rise to his face as he realises how foolish he was not to have realised the situation sooner: Circe has brought him to hia room of her own accord. How could he have thought that anything would happen without her wanting it? Not only is she beautiful, she is also intelligent and knows exactly what she is doing. She has been pulling him in like a string, tangling him around her finger.

"Why would it bother me to have you in my room, dear?" He reaches for the clasp on his cloak, unfastening it and letting the cloak and his cap fall to the floor. "Only a fool would be bothered by such a thing."

"Do you think so?" With elegance, she reclines on the bed. As she watches him sit on the edge, she wonders how long this infernal game will continue and how long the messenger will deprive her of claiming those tender lips. Her mind and heart are begging her to do so. Despite their obvious attraction, neither dares to get any closer, remaining like two celestial bodies orbiting each other.

If anyone ever told Hermes that he lacked self-control, he now knows they were wrong. This beautiful, golden temptation, which has been playing with his sanity, is in his room on his bed, and yet he has not thrown himself upon her. As much as he wants to devour her lips, his divine pride is still at stake. She did not give in when they danced; will he give in now? It is difficult to resist that image: Circe lying there, looking at him with slightly flushed cheeks and eyes that are both provocative and longing. His knuckles brush against her thigh and he finds himself terribly tempted. He has always considered Olympus to be his workplace rather than his home, and he feels that doing what he desires there would be inappropriate. However, this only incites him further; he has always loved the forbidden.

"You're a bad influence, you know?" His voice comes out in a breathless whisper. His hand rests on the pillow, just inches from Circe's face. He is still sitting on the edge of the bed. She responds by placing her hand on his forearm. "You're driving me crazy, Circe."

Gold and amber meet in mutual contemplation. Circe looks at him with desire. He feels desire, too.

"Hermes!" Before anyone has a chance to send that game to Tartarus, Athena's voice echoes through the corridors and draws nearer, causing them both to freeze. "Apollo said you'd be here. Are you here?"

"Damn it!" Mentally cursing Athena in a thousand languages, he is forced to get up and close the door. "What an insistent goddess."

"You can say that again," she agrees, standing up and sounding somewhat irritated. "What do we do? Go back to the party?"

"To continue being pursued? No, thank you." Disappointed to find Circe is no longer in his bed, he picks up the cloak from the floor and puts it back on. The moment has passed. "I think we've blessed them enough with our presence. What do you want to do now?"

The sorceress places her index finger on her chin and stares at the ceiling.

"To be honest, I'm a little tired."

"Oh, of course." Once again, he cannot hide the disappointment in his voice. "I'm sure you want to sleep now."

"I imagine you do too, but you can't sleep here with Athena stalking you." They both looked at the door, knowing that the goddess in question was probably behind it. "So..."

"Yes?" he asks curiously, wondering where Circe is going with all this.

"Do you want to spend the night in Eea?"

At this, the pig who was once the ruler of Ithaca feels a chill run through his body, accompanied by an unpleasant feeling. Why does he have a feeling that a very long night awaits him?

Chapter Text

"I'm just saying that if miss Circe and the other gods outside Olympus wanted to, they could overthrow Zeus and everyone else who lives there," says a nymph, brushing her hair.

"Are you saying they could defeat Zeus, the god of thunder?" asks a more sceptical nymph, braiding the hair of one of her sisters.

"Well, with Tiresias the prophet on their side, they would certainly be at an advantage."

Odysseus had thought that, now he would be spending his days in female company, the conversations would revolve around how handsome the gods are. Instead, he often hears the palace inhabitants wondering what it would take to overthrow Zeus or the gods of Olympus in general. He leaves the room, walking aimlessly. The truth is that he did not want Circe to attend the blessed event. Who knows what she and Hermes will do without him watching over them? On the bright side, though, maybe it's a good thing. If those two become a couple, perhaps it will be easier to convince Circe to release them. Maybe all of this is part of Hermes's meticulous, well-planned strategy.

He looks at the front door. Circe left several hours ago and it's already night-time. She didn't say when she planned to return or how long she would be out, but who does she think she is? She's the owner of this place, which is fine, but she could still let them know what time she plans to return. Her nymphs might worry. She can't just do whatever she wants.

He hears the door open and prepares to scold the goddess for returning at such a late hour, but the irritating voice he hears makes him change his mind.

"See? I told you he'd be here. I told you he'd already taken a liking to you."

"Or he's waiting for his chance to escape," suggests Circe, closing the door behind her and noticing the animal's bewildered gaze on Hermes. "He'll spend the night here." The animal feels his eye twitch. What? Hermes is going to do what?

"Circe kindly offered me a place to spend the night in her palace," he interjects. "You have a very sweet hostess, boy."

'Hostess? Is that what we call captors now?'

Seeing them share a sparking glance, Odysseus knows that nothing happened at the party. If the two of them had crossed the line from a strange romantic friendship to something more, it would surely be noticeable in more than just a glance. He doesn't know whether to be happy or sad about that.

The nymphs approach to greet them both, but Circe immediately notices Odysseus's disapproving look. She gestures for them to go to another room.

"I'll be back in a moment, Hermes," she announces, before leaving. "Girls, please take care of him."

"I'll wait for you here, dear."

Circe smiles at him before disappearing from view. He continues to stare in the direction she left.

"Ask him"

"No, you ask him"

Whispers behind him catch his attention. When he turns around, he startles the nymphs, who remain paralysed until one of them steps forward and dares to speak.

"Do you think Circe could beat your father in a fight?"

In the next room, the pig is piercing Circe's ears.

"If you'll let me speak..." Odysseus continues to grunt and squeal, clearly annoyed. "I just invited to sleep here; it's no big deal." The animal's squeals increase. Does Circe think he's an idiot? She crouches down and grabs his snout to stop him. She sighs tiredly. "Odysseus, is it really that bad? You're acting like it's the end of the world."

The animal breaks free from her grip and glares at her. Why does he keep talking to her if she's going to do what she wants anyway? Hermes is a god of Olympus! Circe must stand her ground!

"Don't you dare turn your back on me like that!" she warns, seeing him turn to leave. Odysseus just glances at her before walking away. The goddess stares at the ceiling, her hands tense. "By Eea, you're impossible!"
Why on earth is she explaining herself to a pig in the first place?

As his paws carry him back to the hall, Odysseus grumbles in frustration. Circe does whatever she pleases. She invited Hermes to sleep over without even consulting him. Who does she think she is? Right now, he's probably trying to seduce the nymphs. His steps come to a sudden halt. That's it! If she catches him, she'll certainly kick him out.

"Have you come to apologise?" she asks when she sees him return. She didn't expect him to stand behind her and push her. "What are you doing?"

He keeps pushing until Circe realises that he wants to take her to the hall, where she will discover the truth about the messenger and accept that he was right all along.

"But you can't beat Zeus; it's impossible." When they arrive, they find him talking to one of the nymphs while the others watch attentively, like spectators at a school debate. That damn messenger must have known what Odysseus was planning and got there first.

"What if you help them?"

"Even that wouldn't work. He..." Hermes notices Circe standing in the doorway and approaches her with a smile, without wasting any time. "Circe, my dear, you're back! Why are your nymphs pestering me with questions about how to defeat my father? What are you teaching them?"

"Um..." Nervously clearing her throat, she changes the subject. "We haven't eaten anything. Aren't you hungry?'

"Certainly." His index and middle fingers moved up the goddess's arm, tracing a path on her skin. "The events of tonight have left me hungry." She feels her cloak being pulled back and is not surprised to see Odysseus standing there. "Hey, be careful! This is my fancy cloak!"

"Forgive him; he's not keen on the idea of you staying tonight." As she speaks, she heads to the kitchen, thinking about what she could prepare for herself and Hermes to eat. She had taken care of her nymphs before leaving.

"I figured as much..." He snaps his fingers in the air and an envelope appears. "Then I suppose he won't want this letter from his wife in Ithaca?" What shall I do with it now?" The animal dropped the cloak to look at the envelope. A letter from Penelope? At last! Hermes said he would go to Ithaca from time to time to deliver one to her, but lately his mind had been on other things and Odysseus had come to think that he had forgotten about it.

"I'm sure she wrote it with so much love. It's a shame you have to leave to avoid bothering Odysseus."

"You're absolutely right, Circe dear. I'll go and tell this poor woman that her husband rejected her letter. I hope she survives such cruelty," Hermes added in the same tone of false sadness as he flew towards the door. Exasperated and defeated, Odysseus pulls at the messenger's cloak again, this time to stop him leaving. The god looks at him, smiling. "Do we have a deal, then?" He nods. "Perfect! I'll give it to you after dinner, Circe dear, do you need any help?"

As he watches him walk away towards the kitchen, Odysseus mentally curses Hermes. The gods never play fair.

Since you left, I've found myself repeating your name more often, trying to give it meaning. Before, when you were here, your gentle face embodied the meaning of the name. Now, without it, I think about what the name evokes in me. I think of tenderness, kindness, sweetness, strength and integrity. It's curious how a word that I didn't really know before has now come to mean so much. You were the first man named Odysseus that I met. At the time, I thought it was an unusual name, but now I can't think of a more appropriate name for you. Your face perfectly evokes your name. Sometimes, I whisper your name so often at night that it starts to feel strange.

Things are still quiet around here. The suitors continue to harbour the foolish hope of one day taking your throne. They don't care about my heart; they only care about that position. I'll tell you a secret: I promised to choose one of them when I've finished weaving, but they don't know that I undo it every time the sun goes down. It seems fair to me. They forced me to play their game, but I'll play by my own rules.

Telemachus went hunting for the first time today with some friends. He looked very proud and wanted to show you his trophy. Recently, I've noticed an owl hovering around him. Could it be an omen? A guardian? I remember seeing you with an owl on many occasions, too. I like to think that you're protecting our little boy. One day, he'll grow up to be a great man, and I'm sure that you'll be by his side, teaching him everything he needs to know to become a good person.

I look at the moon every night and pray to Hermes to keep protecting you. He's been rather vague about your current situation, but he's promised me that you're well and that your letters are reaching you, so I'll take his word for it.

I wish this letter were longer, but I must attend to my royal duties. I promise to write to you again soon.

"She dedicated an entire paragraph to your name, boy. Wow..." Hermes gives him a playful nudge. Odysseus rolls his eyes. Was it really necessary for him to be there when she read it out? It was Circe who read the letter again. "What spell did you cast on her? You've driven her crazy."

"I don't think even a spell could evoke such beautiful yet sincere words." She folded the letter and left it on the table. Odysseus examined the calligraphy as if it were an ancestral treasure. "Such an achievement should be attributed to Aphrodite."

"One of her best works, no doubt." Using the bread, he scoops up the remains of the sauce on his plate and brings it to his mouth. "And this pasta must be yours, dear; it's exquisite."

"It's easy when you have the best ingredients."

"Don't take credit away from yourself."

"I'm not. Clearly, the best ingredients come from Eea."

"Yes, Eea is undoubtedly full of beautiful wonders."

During this routine flirting, Odysseus chooses to dissociate himself, thinking about the owl his wife mentioned in the letter. Although he had told Penelope about his bond with Athena, he was sure that he had never mentioned her animal form. How did he miss that? Now an owl is haunting his son. Could it be just a coincidence? If not, what could Athena possibly want with Telemachus? Hopefully, she isn't so angry with Odysseus that she wants to take it out on his son. No, she would never do that, would she?

"A wonderful dinner, without a doubt." By the time Odysseus comes to his senses, the plates will already be clean. How long has he been mentally wandering? "But the truth is, I'm having trouble even flying straight. Sleep is getting the better of me."

Odysseus looks at him sceptically. Sleep, Hermes? Athena told him that you always have too much energy.

"Let me show you to your room," says Circe, guiding him through the corridors. Of course, sleep is the last thing the god needs right now. Odysseus follows them, of course. The sorceress's tone becomes serious. "Look, Hermes, we may be friends, and I may enjoy your company, but I want to make one thing very clear: if you dare to..."

"Your nymphs are out of danger." He stands in front of her, placing his hand on his chest for emphasis. "I swear by my divine work. If it makes you feel more comfortable, cast a spell on my hands so that they fall off if I try to lay a finger on you."

"That won't be necessary." Odysseus feels like applauding. At last, Circe is acting like the righteous ruler she should be! "If you do anything against them, I'll know. It's my palace, after all."

"You can rest assured, Circe." Hermes leans back against the wall and looks at the goddess slyly. "They're cute, but they're not the ones who interest me. I can't talk and laugh with them for hours."

And that was the end of the righteous ruler. She melted like ice in the sun the moment he smiled at her like that.

"Well, you'll sleep here," she said, opening the door to one of the many rooms in the building. "I hope you like it."

"I do, don't worry," he says, not really looking at the room. His eyes travel to Odysseus. He hadn't realised he was following them, but he's not surprised to see him there. "Will he sleep here too?"

"Odysseus? He usually sleeps wherever he wants." Saying this makes her realise that he has been sleeping in the palace when it was only supposed to be for one night.

"You mean in your room?" he ventures, causing Odysseus to look at him angrily. What kind of man does he think he is?

"He hasn't dared set foot in there since he arrived. I don't know if it's out of fear or respect. By the way, my room is over there." She points to the door at the end of the corridor, which Hermes looks at with great interest. "In case you need anything."

"Noted." Odysseus narrows his eyes at this exchange of knowing glances, knowing full well what they are both thinking and disliking it intensely. "Rest, dear. I'll see you in the morning."

"Of course, in the morning." She adds the last part as if trying to stifle a laugh, then turns to go to her room. Hermes doesn't take his eyes off her until she closes the door.

Hermes let a couple of hours pass. During this time, he changed into his usual clothes for comfort. When he enters the room, he notices that some of the nymphs are still awake. Hopefully, they will all be asleep by now.

To pass the time, he has been writing in his trusty notebook. He cannot stop thinking about the brunette with the deadly lips and longs for her warm touch. His fingers tingle with anticipation at the thought of discovering every inch of her. Will he burn himself in the attempt? Would it be like trying to touch the sun? It must feel like holding summer in his arms. Oh, what has Circe done to him? Now, whenever he thinks of summer, he imagines her beautiful face and her skirt fluttering in the breeze. He lets out an involuntary sigh, realising that he can't take it anymore.

He flies to the door and opens it carefully, checking that no one else is in the corridor. Once he is sure, he sets off for the room at the end of the corridor.

"What the hell...?" He feels his cloak being pulled and, when he looks down, comes face to face with the most nosy pig in all of Greece. "Ah, of course, it's you."

Odysseus is surprised when the god offers no resistance to being pulled back into the room. He enters with him and closes the door with his hind legs.

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you don't like me." He says this with his arms crossed as he sits on the bed again. "I was just going to ask Circe for a glass of water. Since when is that a crime?" The animal looks at him with narrowed eyes. Do gods even feel thirsty? Hermes seems to notice his scepticism and ends up sighing. "Look, Odi, I'm going to be..." He stops talking when he feels teeth on his leg. He swallows back a scream of pain, not wanting to wake any nymphs. "What's wrong with you, little beast? If you don't like the nickname, just say so!"

He levitates the animal with his magic, setting it down on the bed while he rubs the bite mark, hoping it won't become infected.

"To be honest, I know you'll be surprised to hear this, but I think I'm falling in love with Circe." The animal stares at him. "I know. I didn't expect it either when I arrived. I mean, I knew she was beautiful, but I didn't expect her to be so much fun to talk to. Well, things just happened."

Odysseus rolls his eyes as if he needed to hear that. He has witnessed it first-hand.

"Listen, I know what they say about the gods, but I promise you nothing will happen without her consent." 'The problem is, she wants it.' "I won't do anything to make her uncomfortable. And if, for some reason, she loses her excellent taste and rejects me, I'll come back here, I swear." The pig continues to look at him with annoyance. "Oh, please! What's wrong with you? Do you think I'm not good enough for her?"

To tell the truth, no, but Odysseus' problem is something else. He leaves the room and goes to the living room for a drink. When he returns, Hermes notices that he is holding a piece of paper in his mouth. Reaching out to take it, he recognises it as the letter he had delivered only a few hours ago and thinks he understands what it means.

"You miss home, don't you?" The animal nods, allowing himself to appear sad in front of Hermes for the first time in a long time. "And every day here is another day that delays your arrival."

Odysseus nods, grateful that Hermes has understood him correctly for once. Hermes studies the letter while reviewing the last few weeks in his mind. Although he initially came to Eea strictly for work, lately he has been distracted by Circe — how could he not be? She is the most beautiful distraction. But it was Hermes who didn't arrive on time, putting Odysseus in this predicament. It must be very frustrating for the mortal. Perhaps he thinks that Hermes doesn't care when, in truth, the god feels as guilty as he did on the first day.

"Well, maybe I lost sight of my priorities. It's not fair on you, to be honest. I think I let my emotions get the better of me." He pauses to look at the animal. "Starting tomorrow, I promise that my number one priority will be to help you, boy. No more distractions. Is that okay with you?"

For the first time, Odysseus wishes he could smile at the god of travellers. He nods happily.

"Perfect! Now, if you'll let me out of here..." The joy is short-lived. Odysseus pulls at his cloak again. "Oh, come on! We haven't even kissed yet! We can never be alone, because if you're not here, Athena is up there chasing me for answers about your whereabouts. I had her in my bed today, and even then, we couldn't have any privacy. That goddess is destroying my blessed sanity. Odysseus, can you put yourself in my shoes?" Odysseus screams in anger. So now Hermes is the victim of circumstances here?' The cheeky herald rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever! I won't leave, but if she comes looking for me, you can't complain, hear?"

Realising that he won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night, he takes out his notebook again and tries to write a few rhyming verses. Still distrustful of the herald, Odysseus decides to sleep outside his door. Is this what Athena had to go through? He should apologise to her and thank her for interrupting the two of them at today's event.

In the middle of the night, the animal senses a presence and wakes up. It is not at all surprised to see Circe trying to open the door to the room.

"Oh, Odysseus, I didn't mean to wake you," she says apologetically. "Is Hermes asleep? I just wanted to come in and ask if you needed anything."

He could nod and tell the truth, but does he want to do his captor a favour? More importantly, does he want to let her in, knowing what will happen between the two gods who are responsible for his continued presence here?

"Is he asleep already?" Odysseus nods. Disappointment is evident in her golden gaze. "Well, I didn't think that..." 'That he really wanted to sleep? I had to take care of that. I know that wasn't his plan, and it wasn't yours either.' "I won't bother you anymore. Good night."

Had she misread the signs? Could it be that Hermes doesn't want things to move so fast? Does he want to prioritise his duty? Disappointed, she returned to her room, unaware that Hermes had spent the whole time reciting verses to her behind that door.

Chapter Text

Penelope never expected a god to visit her palace so frequently, yet there he is, Hermes, reclining in mid-air with his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling. He is strangely silent today; usually, he talks a mile a minute.

"You seem quiet today, Hermes. Is something wrong?"

"You are very observant, Your Highness." He would not normally address a mere queen so formally, but he is compelled to do so by guilt. "The truth is..."

"Is something on your mind?" she asked with a smile. "A lover, perhaps?"

"Lover?" On any other day, she would have been right, more or less. Does Circe count as a lover if they haven't even kissed? But, at that moment, the truth was that he was thinking about how to help Odysseus. "What makes you think that?"

"The last time you came, I noticed you were smiling a lot. The same smile that my Ody had when we were young." Hearing this, Hermes realised that his genes were stronger than he thought. "I know it's not my place, but divine gossip is my weakness."

"Oh, when Odysseus returns, he'll have a lot to tell you." Penelope laughs sweetly and folds the letter once she has checked that the ink has dried. "Well, there is a certain someone who has captured my affections lately..."

"I wish you the best of luck then, dear. I know you're a god, but a man's true nature comes to light when he loves, and I saw a tender smile in you. At least that's how I see my Odysseus; I see his true self more clearly when he is with me or Telemachus." Once she has placed the letter in the envelope, she hands it to the messenger. She lets out a nostalgic sigh. "Tell him to read it alone That letter is private."

Oh well, it seems that Circe will not be able to read that one; they will be left wanting to know what it says. Hopefully Odysseus can read it in his state.

"Of course, I'll take care of it..." Taking the letter, he recalls the queen's words. The true nature of a man... "That's it!"

"What?" she asks, somewhat taken aback by the god's sudden exclamation.

"Your Highness, you are a genius!"

"I know, dear." Penelope gladly accepts the compliment and turns to put away the inkwell. "But tell me, what exactly makes you say that?"

When she turns back to the herald, she realises he has left.

"Is this okay?" Odysseus grunts disapprovingly. "What is it? The posture? The way I'm holding it? What am I doing wrong?"

The truth is, it's everything, but even if he could speak, he wouldn't be cruel enough to say so. He had found a perfectly functional bow that Circe kept purely for decoration, and he could not allow that. He practically forced the goddess to go out into the garden so that he could teach her how to use it.

"Will you remember me why I agreed to do this?" she asked, trying to pull back the string and keep the arrow in place. Odysseus shook his head. She was using much more force than necessary — someone was going to get hurt if she kept it up. "I don't even need to hunt, so..."

"Circe, dear!" The voice behind her caused her to release the string, sending the arrow flying off. Due to the divine force she had used, it travelled so far that the three pairs of eyes lost sight of it.

"Oops." She doesn't seem very concerned, as all her nymphs are in the palace and there's no chance of them getting hurt. She turns to look at the newcomer. "Good to see you, Hermes.!"

"Likewise." The situation must be serious because he doesn't greet Circe as he usually does. "Today, I have a proposal for you that will surely convince you to release Odysseus. Speaking of whom..." He hands him the letter written just a few minutes ago. "This letter is special, boy. Your wife said to read it in private, so I hope you still have that ability." Odysseus receives the letter in his mouth, wondering how he is supposed to open it.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Pigs are quite intelligent, after all. But tell me, what proposal are you talking about?" She asks, showing great interest and leaving the bow to Odysseus as if he could take care of it.

The herald looked at the pig, which was staring at him curiously. Whatever he was going to say, he chose to whisper it in the goddess's ear. Just what he needed! Now they're whispering in front of him — how cheeky! Circe thinks about what she has just heard for a few seconds and then nods.

"Odysseus, I'm going out for a while." She conjures up a pen and a sheet of paper. "You're in charge. Write down the names of anyone who misbehaves."

With the letter Hermes had given him in his mouth and the bow around his neck, the animal looks at the pen and paper on the floor, then at the two smiling gods. Is this a joke?

"See you later, boy." Hermes greets him as he hugs the goddess by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "Don't do anything weird. I promise I'll be back with good news." And with a simple snap, both divine entities disappear. They hadn't even told him where they were going. Damn, how he hates those two, especially Hermes.

"Mortals are very curious," remarks Circe as she walks alongside Hermes. "I just heard someone using the story of Ares' trial to explain why women have no say in politics."

"Ignore them; we're almost there."  To go unnoticed among the crowds, Hermes chooses to walk with his cap covering his wings, allowing him to pass for a mortal. Circe notices how the messenger attracts the gaze of many mortals, both men and women. She cannot blame them; he truly is a sight to behold. However, Hermes himself does not notice this time. He is too busy noticing the looks that many of the men in the place are giving Circe — and even a few women. But could mortal women be attracted to female goddesses?

"You say that a tour of Odysseus' palace will convince me to release him?"  she asks once they have found the palace.

"And why not?" he shrugs nonchalantly.
"Perhaps when you see for yourself the place he longs to return to, you will understand his eagerness to go home."

"I doubt it, but okay, I'll give you a chance, dear."

"It's because of my irresistible charm, isn't it?" He steps forward, extending his hand to her as he climbs the steps. He said that freeing Odysseus would be his priority, yet even amidst that, he could afford these little gestures with Circe.

"It's because I've grown fond of you," she replies, accepting his hand.

'Fond'... that sounds curious. Does that mean her feelings go beyond physical attraction? Hopefully so. As soon as this whole problem is over, Hermes wants to hear from her own lips how she feels.

They manage to get in without much trouble — perhaps Hermes used a spell to do so — but Circe is surprised by the number of men in the place. Wasn't this the home of Odysseus and his family?

"They are suitors," he clarifies, as if he has read her mind. "With Odysseus away for so long, many nobles have seized the opportunity to court the queen."

"All of them? And they're all staying here?"

"Hospitality is very important to mortals. My father taught me that," he adds, nodding his head.

"Being hospitable is one thing, but letting people take advantage of it is quite another." Circe curls her lips in disgust, unable to comprehend how Penelope can tolerate so many strangers in her home. Circe almost lost her mind when she saw the fleet of almost fifty men arrive, and now there must be a hundred of them here. In one of the corridors, something catches her attention.

"Their rules are different from ours. We can do as we please, but they cannot." He tries to remember where the queen's bedroom is. Perhaps they should have brought Odysseus. He didn't want to tell him where they were going because it would be too cruel for him to know that they were going to his home without him. Moreover, if they took him, Poseidon might find out that the mortal victim of his fury had reached his destination. Who knows if he would take his anger out on all of Ithaca? Hermes didn't want to take any chances. "Well, follow me. This way, we'll get to...dear?" He looked around for the goddess. Where had she gone? After a few agonising seconds, he found her in one of the corridors with some agitated children. He recognises one of them as Telemachus, but the other, who has dark skin and an unfriendly look, is a stranger to him.

"Would you mind calming down?" said the sorceress, separating the two boys. Out of sheer curiosity, Hermes chose to watch the event from a safe distance. "Why are you fighting?"

"What do you care, old witch?" replied the taller of the two, his angry gaze reminding Hermes of Ares.

"Witch?" Circe asked, almost screaming in panic. Both children looked at her strangely. "Who told you that? How did you...?" Seeing that the boys are taken aback by her reaction, she remembers that many mortals use the word 'witch' as an mere insult, which calms her down. "I mean, you shouldn't talk to your elders like that. May I know your names?"

"He's Telegraph," says the taller boy, prompting the other to glare at him.

"I'm Telemachus," he corrects him immediately. Circe immediately realises that she recognises his face. After all, it's unlikely that there are two children in this palace with that name. "And he's Antonio"

"Antinous! My name is Antinous, you idiot prince. Engrave it in stone." The goddess cannot help but smile, touched by the childish spat between the two of them as they invent nicknames using words that don't even exist. Although she dislikes mortal men, she has a soft spot for children.

"And why were you fighting?"

"This idiot won't stop saying stupid nonsenses about my family!" the prince exclaims angrily.

"They are not nonsense; they are the truth," he assures, shrugging his shoulders. "His father has been missing for almost thirteen years. The only explanation is that..."

"He's still alive!" Telemachus doesn't even let him finish his sentence. "He's alive, and he'll be home soon." Circe notices his clenched fists and the trembling in his hands, and sees him swallow with difficulty. "When he comes back, he'll make scum like you eat those words." Seeing the boy's tearful eyes, she feels genuine relief for the first time at having kept Odysseus alive. She doesn't know if she could have coped with the guilt of taking that child's father away from him. "Hermes comes from time to time and says that he is..."

"There he goes talking nonsense again!" Antinous interrupts him with a dismissive gesture. "Why would a god bother to come here just to tell you that?" Nothing makes Telemachus angrier than telling the truth and being called a liar. "Life would be easier if you accepted that your father..."

"...is alive." This time it is Circe who says it, drawing both pairs of eyes to her. "He is alive and well, Telemachus." The young prince looked at the beautiful young lady with shining eyes. She spoke with such confidence that all his doubts have now disappeared. Antinous, on the other hand, looks at her angrily for saying those condescending, empty words just to stop Telemachus from crying.

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"You said it yourself: I am a witch, and witches know things." Her tone then becomes serious. "For example, this witch knows that you should stop disrespecting the Prince of Ithaca in his own palace. Don't you think that would be the smart thing to do?'

'This palace will be mine one day!" he asserts, his confidence unsettling the goddess. "One day, I will be king of this place." Circe and Telemachus exchange sceptical glances. It is curious that he should say that with the direct heir to the throne standing before him.

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"By marrying the queen, obviously," he replies to the prince's question, which makes the prince feel uneasy at the thought. "Give me a couple of years and you'll see."

The goddess exchanges another glance with Telemachus, who shrugs.

"Well, even if your crazy plan works, Telemachus is still the heir to the throne," she says so sweetly that Hermes thinks she could be a good mother. "So I think you owe him some respect."

"I'm not going to respect a prince who refuses to open his eyes to reality, nor a witch who tells sweet lies just because she feels sorry for him!" He walks away with too much anger for someone so young, causing Telemachus to sigh and Circe to clench her fists in rage. Where do these rude mortal children come from nowadays?

"Thank you, miss, but some people simply turn a deaf ear to reason." The young nobleman smiles at her, then walks away in the same direction. Circe is amazed by his maturity. Penelope is doing a good job of raising this child on her own, but she is not satisfied, especially when he disrespects her.

"What will you do now, beautiful?" Hermes asks himself, enjoying this more than he should. When Circe snaps her fingers to signal that she has thought of something, he watches her expectantly. However, the ichor drains from his body to his feet when she materialises an apple that he knows is more than just a snack. Perhaps being a good mother was an overestimate.

"Antinous, sweetheart, are you hun-?"

"Circe, no, stop that!" he exclaims, approaching her. "It's not a good idea."

"You're right; he probably won't want fruit," she says thoughtfully. "Maybe some sweets would be better, don't you think?"

"Can we spend five minutes among mortals without you trying to turn them into pigs?"

"Oh, right," she says, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "Odysseus kills a baby and nothing happens, but when I want to..."

"Did you know about that?"

"I know many things." Despite having this knowledge, he is surprised that she has given him the opportunity to plead in defence of Odysseus. "He's not a traveler Hermes. Come on! Besides, that boy gives me a bad feeling." Only she would consider that sufficient justification for turning a young mortal into a pig.

"We're not here to cause trouble. He's just a child. Don't be so dramatic."

She lets out a small groan of disappointment, which, in another context, he might have found endearing. However, his expression hardens when she replaces the apple with a dagger.

"Then can I...?"

"Circe, put the damn knife down," he whispers through clenched teeth, making sure the other men can't see them. "You know, when I met you, I didn't think I'd say that so many times."

"You've only said it twice."

"That's two more times than it should be necessary."

"Can I at least give it to Telemachus? I feel like he'll need it at some point in his life if his home is going to look like this." He looks at her sternly. "Fine," she replies listlessly, drawing out the vowel sound unnecessarily as she disappears with her weapon.

"Come on, we have to find the queen."

"Sometimes you're such a killjoy dear."

"And sometimes you scare me, darling."

Even in this atmosphere, they can't resist teasing each other with that loving weariness. As they follow the messenger, Circe notices the young prince's gaze on her. She smiles at him, making him blush and look back at the ground.

"Hermes, I'm so glad you're here again," Penelope says, greeting the herald as he arrives in her room — the only place where she truly has privacy. He responds with a bow, which Circe finds slightly strange; it's unusual to see a god show such genuine respect to a ruler. "You've brought company this time."

Circe is disarmed by that beautiful smile, which contrasts with her dark hair and the moles on her porcelain complexion. She feels her cheeks flush, now understanding a little better why Odysseus is so eager to return home.

"My name is Circe. It's a pleasure to meet you." She curtsies, feeling her heart beat faster than usual. She has always found female beauty more captivating than male beauty.

"Is she the one you told me about this morning?" The goddess looks at her friend with some concern. What exactly had he told her? But Hermes just clears his throat nervously.

"Yes, that's right," he replies. Penelope looks at her and smiles. She is very beautiful, now she understands why the messenger was smiling like a fool.

"I'm going to assume you're a goddess. That golden hue in your eyes is not very common among mortals."

"Oh, she is a very powerful goddess, Your Highness. In fact, I would say she could help your husband escape the difficult situation he finds himself in."

"Really?" Circe feels somewhat suffocated by the hopeful gaze of those beautiful dark eyes. She looked at Hermes with murderous intent before clearing her throat.

"I admit it could be possible, but I want to make sure I'm not making a mistake by helping him." The queen looks at her, confused.

"Why would that be a mistake?"

"Well..."

"You would be helping a great father, husband and king to return home." She looked at the olive tree. "He did this for me, you know?"

"What he did?" Penelope gestures towards the bed. Circe is speechless. "That bed?"

"It's from the olive tree where we met all those years ago." She runs her hands over the furniture, letting the beautiful scent of wood that greets her every morning flood her nostrils. "He polished it with bronze and carefully removed the thick, leafy branches full of vegetation. This tree has been my inspiration all these years, in the absence of my beloved husband." Circe looks at her, somewhat confused. 'The olive tree is a symbol of wisdom, spiritual light and endurance. Whenever I feel confused, I lie down here, close my eyes, and picture my Odysseus. I feel his touch and warmth, and I know that simply remembering him gives me the strength to continue ruling. Like this olive tree, I endure and resist through the years."

Circe recalls the comment she heard earlier from that man: mortals have a very derogatory view of women; they have no voice or vote; and it is a miracle that this mortal woman has remained on the throne for so long.

"Your Highness, please answer me this: how can you sleep peacefully with so many unknown men in your home? I couldn't."

"That's easy. Sleeping is easy when it's the only way I can see my husband again." At that moment, Circe feels like the story's worst villain, and for the first time, she is not proud of that title. "When I sleep, I know that another day has ended and that I am one day closer to seeing him again. Until then, I will continue to wait: Telemachus, Argos and I will continue to wait."

Circe looks to the corner where she is pointing and sees a dog that must be over ten years old. She presses her lips together, feeling a lump in her throat. She also thinks of the child she met just a few minutes ago, and feels guilty.

Seeing her looking so melancholy, Hermes looks concerned. Had he gone too far? Was this a bad idea?

The queen can see the doubt in his golden eyes. Taking both gods by surprise, she kneels in front of Circe.

"I don't know how divine judgement works. I know your criteria for judging mortals must be very complicated, but my husband is a good man." Seeing the sincerity in her gaze, Circe felt her lower lip tremble. "If it is in your power, my family and I would be eternally grateful, Goddess Circe."

Circe looked at Hermes, who seemed almost as surprised as she was. She turns her gaze back to the mortal woman. The woman's reverence feels both respectful and honest; no man has ever bowed before her with such sincerity. Circe places her hand on the woman's shoulder and crouches down in front of her.

"Odysseus is very fortunate. I see a very beautiful soul in you, Your Highness." They both share a smile. "But I must ask you to stand up. If those vermin see you kneeling, they will consider you weak or easy to subdue. I would not be so arrogant, but for the sake of your family and authority, it would be best to maintain your composure." She offers her hand to the queen, who takes it, and they both stand up. "I believe I have heard everything I needed to hear."

Penelope would like to ask if this means that she will help Odysseus, but she decides to remain silent. She can see from his golden gaze that the gods have their own burdens to bear, too.

They both leave the room and, a few steps later, Circe is surprised by Telemachus, who hands her a bouquet of assorted flowers.

"They're for you,"  says the prince, somewhat nervously. "For wanting to help me."

"Oh, you're so sweet." Circe feels her heart squeeze even more. She caresses the boy's cheek, acting like a mother would. Seeing her smile, Telemachus knows that any trouble he gets into for picking the flowers of the garden will be worth it. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're such a gentleman."

"And no flowers for me?" asks Hermes, putting his arms on his hips and feigning indignation.

"You steal coins from the palace fountains; consider my silence your gift."

"Hey, that's not what I do! Don't twist things around, kid!" He doesn't steal coins; he just takes the rarest ones that those ignorant mortals carelessly throw away. "Besides, it's not stealing if they throw them there themselves."

Telemachus and Circe laugh, and then both gods head for the exit. The prince watches them leave, feeling disgusted by the way the suitors look at Circe. They are supposed to be here to court his mother, yet they are so brazen as to cast those disgusting glances at a goddess. He draws his mother's attention to the two divine beings bidding farewell alongside them.

"The gods are more merciful than I thought, son."

The prince nods before asking a question that completely takes the queen by surprise.

"Do you think I could marry her one day?"

Since leaving the palace, Circe has remained silent. Hermes watches her sitting next to him on the beach, both of them contemplating the sunset. She looks somewhat melancholic. Maybe he had gone too far. Hopefully she doesn't think it was an attempt at emotional manipulation — he just believed Penelope was right about what she said in the morning.

"The sand here isn't as white as the sand on Eea," he says by way of observation — the first thing he has said in several minutes.

"Mmh," is all she replies.

"Hey, I'm sorry for putting you in an awkward position. I didn't think she was going to get so sentimental." She looks at him sceptically. Did he really not expect it? Hermes seems to read the question in her eyes. "You can't blame me. Mortals are..."

"Strange, I know." She sighs, playing with one of the flowers that Telemachus had given her. "Coming here for the first time made me wonder if what I'm doing is wrong." How many other families as beautiful as this one have been deprived of their fathers and husbands?'

"Circe, even we gods don't know everything." Hermes places his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "I mean, look at me. I'm trying to help a man who killed a baby. What does that say about my divine morality? By that logic, I'm the villain."

She lets out a soft laugh. Hermes always finds a way to cheer her up. She puts some flowers in her hair, then looks back at the sunset.

"I said I would know when I lost, and that's what I'm going to do."

He looks at her with a radiant smile.

"You mean...?"

"When we return, Odysseus will be freed." She extends her hand to the messenger; his amber eyes radiate such joy that she feels dazzled. "Well played, Hermes."

He shakes her hand. He is happy not only because he has achieved his goal, but also because Circe has admitted defeat without throwing a tantrum or cursing him. She is undoubtedly a unique goddess. He has finally fixed his stupid mistake — he can't wait to see Odysseus's reaction! He will be so happy!

"You were also a worthy opponent, my dear"

The goddess smiles at him wistfully. Hermes puts this down to her wounded pride, but there is another reason.

"It will be strange not to have you around Eea anymore." She hugs her knees as Hermes looks at her, confused. "I mean, you were always there for Odysseus. When I release him, you won't have a reason to go back there so often, will you?"

Hermes hadn't thought of that, and it's true. Initially, he only went to Eea to help Odysseus, but over time, Circe also became a powerful incentive to go there.

"I'd like to go back there from time to time. I wouldn't want to lose contact with you, if that's okay with you."

"I'd be delighted." She interlaces her fingers and stretches them above her head. She doesn't sound so happy because she knows that, even if he says that, the visits won't be daily anymore. "We have to go back. We made a deal: you've done your part; now I have to do mine."

"How did you call it that night?" He stands up and offers her his hand. As he caresses her skin, he realises that he doesn't want to spend a single day without that heavenly touch.

"Equivalent exchange. To get what you want, you have to give something of equal value in return."

"Mmh," he murmurs thoughtfully. "And does it work if I give something of greater value than what I desire?"

"I think so," she replies hesitantly. The book didn't mention that. "But why would you want to do something like that?"

Hermes just shrugs, exuding an air of mystery, making Circe wonder what is going through his mind.

Chapter Text

Odysseus is pretty sure he could kill someone right now. He spent about an hour trying to remove the bow that Circe had left around his neck. Then he spent several minutes trying to open the envelope containing the letter from his beloved wife. Finally, he had to stop his men — well, pigs — from attempting to escape. It's not that he loved staying here; it's just that if they ran away, they would be condemned to that form forever. It's a resounding no.

He wouldn't be so frustrated if he knew where Hermes and Circe had gone, but the gods do as they please, especially the two of them together.

Suddenly, he hears a chorus of female voices in the hall. They must be nymphs greeting the gods, but Odysseus doesn't care. He doesn't want to hear those names, not even in ancient legends. He wants to be alone. He takes Penelope's letter to read again at his leisure and looks for a secluded corner of the palace. Not wanting to be disturbed, he hides under a divan that Circe hardly ever uses.

"Odysseus?"

"Boy, come out of wherever you are!"

He can hear the gods calling him, but he doesn't come out, even when he sees Circe's feet from under his hiding place.

"Did you find him? I can't even hear his little pawn walking on the floor."

"I had no luck either, dear." He hears Hermes' voice, but cannot see him because he is staying in the air as always. "Where could he have gone?. I hope he hasn't jumped into the sea."

Jumping into the sea doesn't sound so bad.

After a few seconds of silence, there are whispers and laughter. What are they talking about now?

"Well, since he's not here now..." Suddenly, he feels Circe's weight on the furniture. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you, dear."

'Oh, for... This has got to be a joke.'

"What a coincidence." Hermes' weight has now been added to the furniture. "I wanted to talk to you about something, too."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh..." Odysseus comes out of his hiding place, fearing how the situation might end, and starts scolding them with screams. Can't they spend five minutes alone together like normal people? "See? I told you."

"You were right." To his surprise, the two gods are sitting side by side on the sofa. It seems he has fallen into a trap. "Come with me, Odysseus." He tries to escape, but it's too late; now he's in Circe's arms, struggling to get free. "Look at this. Like when you got here, doesn't it bring back memories? I'm going to miss this. I mean it, and I don't know what that says about me."

The animal freezes in place, 'miss this'? What does she mean? Oh, Athena! Is it finally happening? Will Circe make him the dinner tonight?

"I found hus clothes. Luckily, you hadn't thrown them away," says Hermes, holding up the clothes that he was wearing before all this mess started. "Maybe you always wanted to free him, huh?" He pauses to observe the pig's stunned reaction. "Why do you look so surprised? I said I'd get you out of this, didn't I?"

Odysseus blinks, unable to believe his ears. Does this mean what he thinks it means? He looks at Circe for confirmation and she nods with a smile.

"You have a good god on your side, Odysseus."

They head to the room where Circe has left the animal on the floor. Once there, Hermes approaches Odysseus and, with some difficulty, puts on the clothes he was wearing before being enchanted, including the red cloak belonging to his beloved wife.

"Is this how it's supposed to be worn?"
Once he has finished, he steps back to check, but all he sees is an animal wearing clothes that look like rags and are too big for him. Hermes and Circe exchange a glance before laughing at the sight, which makes her realise how much she will miss these moments now that he will not be visiting the island as often.

The pig closes his eyes, eager to return to his normal form, yet also afraid to open them and realise that this is just another dream, like so many he has had before. He feels liquid splashing him, followed by an uncomfortable tingling sensation spreading throughout his body. It is not painful, just strange. A few seconds later, he feels his hair tickling his neck, his fingers and toes, and his knees touching the floor. Even though this curious metamorphosis is over, he keeps his eyes closed, afraid to open them and find that Circe has transformed him into something horrible.

"Look at yourself."

Despite his fear, he opens his eyes. Circe has brought a mirror that shows him the same blurred image he used to see when he went to drink water. He sees the same dark eyes that Penelope loves so much. The strands of hair that Telemachus loves to pull are much longer. He sees the birthmark on his arm that his mother loves so much. His clothes are ill-fitting, but they fit him almost as perfectly as before, including his beloved red cloak. He swallows, then hesitantly brings a hand to his face. He feels his beard, which is already in need of a shave, and his skin.

"It's me." These are the first words he has spoken in weeks. He was afraid that he had forgotten how to speak, or that he no longer had a voice. But he recognises himself perfectly. It is him. He has returned.

Circe and Hermes exchange warm smiles. She put the mirror aside to watch Odysseus stand up with some difficulty — after all, he had been walking on all fours for weeks. Once he is sure that he will not fall, he looks at his hands and closes and opens them a couple of times. When he looks up, all the peace and serenity vanish from his face, replaced by fury.

"You..." he whispers angrily to the deity in front of him. He feels his heavy breathing and his hands tingling with rage.

The smile disappears from Circe's face. She takes a step back, not out of fear, but because she is confused by hearing Odysseus like this — angrier than ever. Is he really so foolish as to attack her now that she has returned him to his normal state? He thought he would be smarter than that. Although Hermes knows that the goddess at his side needs no protection, his protective instincts kick in and he steps forward slightly, speaking sternly.

"Circe was only doing her duty; she had to protect her nin..." Taking them both by surprise, Odysseus lunges at the herald, covering his neck with both hands in an attempt to deprive him of air.

"And where were you doing yours?! Huh?!" he shouts hoarsely, spitting out each word with fury. "The only god who was supposed to be on my side and he came late! Late!"

The shouting attracts several of the nymphs, who are horrified by what they see.

"Miss, shall we separate them?"

"No need; he just needs to let off steam," she replies calmly, crossing her arms. "Give him a minute; he'll tire himself out." Circe waits exactly one minute. During this time, Odysseus shows no sign of letting go of Hermes. A minute in which his attacks become increasingly violent. A minute in which her face gradually loses its calm and becomes one of concern. "Well, maybe not. Odysseus, enough!"

Using her magic, she pulls him away from the messenger and kneels beside him. Hermes puts his hand to his neck, feeling the nail marks that his great-grandson has left behind.

"I—I think I saw Hades for a second," he stammers to Circe once he has found his voice. The following sentences come out much more clearly. "He was with Persephone; they both send their regards. I didn't know they knew each other."

"I'll give you mine!" Odysseus tries to lunge at him again, but is stopped by magic once more, leaving him sitting on the floor.

"Enough already! Ichor and blood don't come off easily," Circe scolds him. She stands up, looks at him sternly with her hands on her hips.

'Is this how you thank me, boy?' asks Hermes angrily, returning to stand next to Circe. "After everything I've done for you?"

"Everything you..." He laughs half-heartedly. "You've been fooling around in Eea, trying to seduce Circe, for weeks!"

"That's not...'" Hermes tries to defend himself, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. It's true, but he shouldn't have said it.

"If you had done your duty in the first place, none of this would have happened!" he roars furiously, finally voicing his long-held opinion. "I bet you were late because you were drinking wine, counting coins, or seducing mortals! You can't hold me forever. When I break free, I'm going to..."

"Shut up, Odysseus!" Circe's strict voice silences him, and he feels a slight tremor in the ground. "I'm sure Hermes was late for a very good reason, not one of the silly things you suggested."

"Actually, he got it right the first time," he confesses sheepishly. "I stayed drinking wine with Dionysus. Ha ha."

Circe looks at him, blinking in disbelief. She looks at Odysseus, who just shrugs, looking like he's saying 'I told you so'.

"Regardless of the reason..." The mortal rolls his eyes and looks away in boredom. "He did everything he could to correct his mistake. He spent weeks here trying to convince me. Not all gods would be so considerate — many are too proud to admit they're wrong. You should be grateful to Hermes for being stubborn enough not to give up."

Hearing this, the mortal turns back to Circe, looking indignant.

"Me, grateful to that...?" Looking at the palace owner's unfriendly face, he remembers that she could turn him back into a pig if she wanted to. It would be best to do as she says. He clicks his tongue. "Thank you, Hermes," he mutters through clenched teeth, as if the words weigh heavily on him.

"Come on, don't be so effusive; you're making me blush," he says sarcastically, crossing his arms. "As Athena said when she left you, it had to be a man."

"That's not what she said." Circe sighs and gives the mortal her hand to help him to his feet. "I assume my men are fine and alive, right?"

"They were when we fed them to the Hydra. She likes them better that way." The King of Ithaca paled at the Goddess's comment. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm just joking."

"Blessed Athena..." he sighed, sitting down on the sofa wearily.

"I promised to go and look for them as soon as Odysseus was ready, and I'll do that right now."

"We'll wait for you here," she said, sitting down on the sofa. Hermes nodded before disappearing. Circe looked at the mortal, who was sitting with his back hunched, his elbows on his knees, still staring at his hands as if he couldn't believe he had them back. "You can take a bath if you want. It may be your last chance for a while."

The man blinks a couple of times. Could it be a trap? It well might be, but the truth is that the idea of a bath is very tempting right now.

"All right." He slowly leaves the sofa and heads for the room in question.

"There are razors if you want to shave."

"Thank you." Still somewhat disoriented, he disappears from the palace owner's view.

He exits the bathroom fully dressed, his clothes neatly arranged this time, with a towel covering his wet hair. He notices that his clothes are immaculate — much cleaner than when he arrived in Eea. Could Circe have washed them? Hermes does not seem to have returned yet, so he sits on the sofa to wait. As soon as he sits down, he feels a hand on his head.

"Hey, what the...?"

"Stay still," Circe's voice demands from behind him. "If you move, the cut will be worse."

"Cut?" he asks fearfully. Is she going to cut his throat?

"I'm talking about your hair, genius," she clarifies, wondering what on earth that mortal was thinking. "I can't let you leave my island looking like that."

"A matter of divine pride?"

"Let's call it that, yes."

Surprisingly, Odysseus does not object, allowing her to cut his hair without resistance. Only the sound of the scissors can be heard, along with the footsteps of some passing nymphs.

"You went to Ithaca, didn't you?" he suddenly asks, causing her to almost cut his ear in surprise. How did he know that? This time, it seems as if he can read her mind. "The flowers in your hair are the same as those in the garden of my palace. I am glad to see that Penelope still has them."

Circe instinctively brings her hands to the flowers he mentioned. She did not think Odysseus would recognise them; he has been away from home for so long.

"You have a good memory."

"I do for certain things." Out of mere curiosity, Circe wonders if he would remember the flowers of Eea. If he did, would he remember them with hatred? "Yoy could have taken me with you, couldn't you?" Hatred crept into his voice as he asked that question.

"And what if Poseidon found out you were at home after years of chasing you? How would that end?" The man opens his mouth to reply, but says nothing, reluctant to admit that Circe is right. Perhaps the god of seas would have attacked Ithaca in its entirety in that case.

"How are they?" He doesn't need to specify who he's talking about.

"Very well.  Telemachus is already fighting on behalf of his family name. He got angry with one of them because they were saying nonsense about you being dead."

"Ha! That brat doesn't know me at all. I'm resistant to everything"

"Like a cockroach?"

"Yes, like a..." He pauses for a second. He turns to look at Circe, annoyed. "Hey!" She laughs, making him turn back to follow the cut.

"Penelope is fine too. She remains loyal to you and isn't intimidated by the hundreds of strangers who prowl around her home. I don't know how she stays sane. I felt like having you here was driving me crazy." Odysseus smiles, knowing that his Penelope is fine. "I knew she would be beautiful, but wow! I mean... wow! Odysseus, you are a lucky mortal."

"What?" Suddenly, he feels the scissors' edge inches from his throat.

"If something were to happen to you right now, I'd have to go and offer my condolences, wouldn't I?" He smiles maliciously. "And if that were the case, perhaps her grief would throw her into my arms too..."

"Your jokes aren't funny at all, you know that?" He grabs her wrist, moving the scissors away. Not even his anger can stop her from laughing. Damn, that goddess is crazy. What did Hermes see in her?

"But you did manage to recognise that it was a joke this time. We're improving."

"Athena, give me patience."

Several seconds of tense silence follow that sigh. Circe would like to ask Odysseus if he hates her for what she put him through. However, she decides against it, as she doesn't want to admit that the obvious answer would hurt her a little. Damn it! She had ended up growing fond of that mortal.

"Seeing you convinced me that you deserved your freedom. And although I cannot take you home, I can introduce you to an acquaintance of mine in the Underworld — a prophet who will be able to guide you better than I can."

Odysseus nods. Under different circumstances, he would either have been happier to receive help from a goddess or have expressed scepticism about going to the underworld. But this time, he has only one thing on his mind.

"I wish I could have seen them, even just once," he says sadly. Circe presses her lips together, unable to find the words. After a few minutes, when she has finished cutting, Odysseus stands up and goes to a mirror. At least he will leave here looking more presentable than when he arrived. He has also noticed that he has gained weight. He hates to admit it, but Circe has been feeding him well.

"I sense a ship approaching. It must be Hermes and your friends. Would you like to wait outside and greet them?"

"I would like to, but..."

"But?"

'I came here to help my men in the first place, remember?"

"Oh, them! Right, I completely forgot about them!" She picked up the bottle that she had sprayed Odysseus with a moment ago. "I'll transform them right away. You can wait outside if you want.'

"Do you have their clothes?"

"I'll take some of my dirty sheets and they'll have to make do with those."

"Land ho!"

"Why do you keep saying that? We landed half an hour ago," Eurylochus asks the winged god irritably, having caught sight of the palace. "This better not be a trick."

"Of course not. You're too clever to fall for something like that."

"Finally, something coherent."

Hermes has to stifle a laugh, but something catches his attention.

"What happened to your knee?" he asks, pointing to the bandage.

"I don't know. I was fishing peacefully when suddenly an arrow hit me there. We don't even have bows or arrows. I don't know where it came from..." He notices the god's expression. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Huh?" he says, clearing his throat to stifle his laughter. "I'm going to go and talk to Ody." Under Eurilochus's confused gaze, Hermes flies to reach the captain outside the palace. "Hello, boy!. I've brought your men. They're all here. You can count them forwards, backwards and sideways if you like," he explains proudly, before noticing that Odysseus is alone, which seems strange. "Where is Circe?"

"In her room, still recovering, I suppose. I left her exhausted and unable to feel her legs." He laughs at his own joke, but the heavy hand on his shoulder makes it clear that the god did not find it funny.

"You did what?" Hermes asks in a sombre tone. The normally cheerful smile on his face now looks empty.

"She's turning the others back, damn it!" he hastens to clarify. Hermes looks at him, confused. "Oh, don't look at me like that. She can make her horrible, tasteless jokes all she wants, but when I..."

"Captain!" Odysseus never expected to hear those words from Eurylochus. He pushes Hermes aside to speak to his brother-in-law.

"Eurylochus!"

The god smiled as he watched his strange great-grandson embrace his friend, and soon the entire crew joined in. The palace door opens to reveal the men who were previously pigs.

"Would you like some food for your journey?" Circe asks innocently, holding an apple. The men look at each other in terror before running off with the others. "I suppose that's a no, then." She says this last to Hermes, who laughs in response.

"Um..." To their surprise, one of the men taps Circe on the shoulder to get her attention. "I wouldn't mind staying, even as a pig. I can't remember the last time I ate so much."

The gods look at each other, confused. Hermes feels compelled to ask a question.

"You know her idea was to fatten you up and eat you, don't you?" From the way he turned pale, he clearly hadn't known.

"Captain, let's get out of here as soon as possible!" he pleads, addressing his friends.

Hermes smiles again, happy to see that Odysseus is surrounded by so many people who love him. He wishes he could do more for him, but as the god of sailors, his power is limited to this. The rest of the journey depends on Odysseus, at least for now.

"Forty-one, forty-two, forty-three..." Circe stops counting and mutters thoughtfully.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Odysseus said he had forty-three men with him when he arrived, but there are forty-three here including him, so one must be..." The sound of something hitting the floor is heard. Both gods turn pale when they look behind them and see the body of a man who is clearly no longer alive. They look at the palace ceiling, knowing it could only have fallen from there. The wine cup lying next to the body seems to support that theory: it was full of wine, and now the wine is spilled on the floor. He must have been very drunk. Circe and Hermes look at each other in panic.

"I think we're ready to go!" Odysseus's happy voice makes them react. Circe snaps her fingers and some bushes appear over the body, blocking his view.

"Excellent, Odysseus!"

"Have a good trip, boy!" he says, saluting with his index and middle fingers to his forehead, trying to hide his feelings. They both smile innocently and put their hands behind their backs. Perhaps it's best that he doesn't notice, at least for now. While Hermes checks if the unfortunate man has any silver coins to pay for his journey to the Underworld, Circe remembers something.

"Odysseus, wait!" He turns when he hears her call. She hands him a folded sheet of paper that he recognises as being from his sketchbook, urging him to open it. Tears well up in his eyes as he does so. "I'm sorry if the lines are messy. Even with the help of my magic, I had to hurry, or I wouldn't have made it in time. I wanted to give this to you before you left."

"Telemachus..." He barely recognises the boy in the drawing, and this hurts him. He runs his hand over the sheet, feeling the texture of the drawing. "He's so big. And my Peny is so beautiful."

"I hope I've done them justice. I'm no goddess of art, but..." Odysseus wraps his arms around her neck, not to strangle her as Hermes did a moment ago, but to pull her close in a hug.

"Thank you, Circe," he whispers, tears streaming down his cheeks. She smiles back, never expecting to hear him say that. She is sure that he will deny everything later. Mortals really are strange.

"Ah, how lovely. I arrived a little late and got a chokehold, while your captor gets a hug." Odysseus lets go of the goddess to look at the indignant messenger. "How unfair mortals are."

"Maybe it's because Circe isn't annoying."

Hermes puts his hand to his chest, offended.

"Is that how you thank me for the exchange I made for your freedom?"

"Exchange?" ask Circe and Odysseus. What exchange is Hermes talking about? The conversation attracts the attention of the other men waiting for their captain.

"You don't seriously believe that Circe would have freed you just because you have a wife and son. After all, she is an evil witch," he says in an exaggerated tone, gesturing as if he is talking about a sea monster. "I had to give her something else in return."

"What did you give?" asks Eurylochus, intrigued.

Hermes looks at Circe, who looks as beautiful as she is bewildered.

"It's very simple, actually." He shrugs, pushing Odysseus aside to stand in front of the goddess. "The freedom of these poor mortals in exchange for the will of the god of travellers."

"What?!" cry out all the voices, except for Hermes, who does not wipe the carefree smile from his face and seems oblivious to what he has just said.

"Call it an equivalent exchange, boy. It's logical: you are travellers, so it's only right that I, as your protector, should make a sacrifice. Every god has their price, and Circe was extremely kind to offer one for you and your crew."

"Really?" The mortal frowns. The will of a god in exchange for a few mere mortals? That doesn't sound equivalent at all, and it doesn't sound like something that Hermes would say. What on earth is he talking about? He didn't mention any of this before, nor did Circe. The herald looks at the sorceress, who continues to look at him, still not fully understanding.

"She was so merciful as to let me continue as the heavenly messenger. However, once I have finished my daily tasks, I must come to Eea to accompany her wherever she wishes, and so it will be for the rest of my life." Circe blushes as she finally understands his words. Hermes takes her hand, looks into her eyes and places it on his chest so she can feel his heart beating with excitement at the idea. "That was the deal, wasn't it?"

There are a few brief seconds of silent complicity between them before she nods.

"Right, that's how it was." He notices how she is struggling not to jump into his arms, which makes him smile tenderly. "It's just as Hermes says."

Their amber and gold eyes meet again in mutual contemplation. Circe's gaze is full of tenderness, while Hermes's is full of the purest and most complete happiness. Odysseus feels that familiar urge to vomit again. How can they be so unpleasant?

"For the rest of your life, you say?" Eurylochus asks in horror. "But you're immortal."

"Yes, well..." he sighs, smiling without taking his eyes off Circe. "What else can be done?"

All the men except Odysseus look at each other. Is Hermes really willing to submit to that evil witch in exchange for his freedom? First she saved them from Scylla, and now from the witch of Eea. Eurylochus feels terrible about how rude and unpleasant he was to Hermes.

"Let's get out of here," orders Odysseus. Being a prisoner of a goddess on her island certainly hasn't been pleasant, but the chances of it happening again are very low, if not nil.

"Good luck!" he hears Hermes say, as he walks away. "Remember, follow the North Star!"

"We will! We swear!" promises Eurylochus, on the verge of tears as he walks backwards, determined not to lose sight of the god. "We will pay tribute to you every night, Hermes! Thank you for your sacrifice!"

"Shut up! You're going to boost his ego even more."

Eurylochus looks at his captain in bewilderment. How could he be so heartless? Perhaps Odysseus could explain the reality of the situation, but he is too tired to do so now.

Once they have lost sight of the mortals, Circe gestures for Hermes to enter the palace, and he obeys immediately. The goddess closes the door behind him as he gazes at the palace, seemingly seeing it for the first time. The evening light filtering through the window has painted the room in shades of orange.

"So this is my new prison. What will become of me?" he adds, feigning terror as he unbuttoned his cloak and hung it on one of the chairs.

"You knew what you were getting into when you came here." She locks the door, determined not to be interrupted this time.

"To be honest, dear, I didn't know," he confesses softly, turning to look at her. "I mean, obviously I saw that you were beautiful — I have eyes, damn it! — but wow, I didn't expect to feel so..."

"Enchanted?"

"I couldn't have chosen a better word myself."

She smiles as she unties her long braid, feeling her heart pound against her chest.

"You know, the first thing I thought was that you were very handsome." She takes a step closer to the messenger, who watches the sorceress's long hair dance against her skin. "But I told myself I shouldn't let myself be dazzled by that."

"And what happened?"

"With that? Nothing. It wasn't your physical appearance that captivated me; it was your personality." He can't help but laugh slightly at the thought that more than one person wouldn't believe him. "But hey, your physical appearance also played its part. After all, it was your image that I ended up portraying."

"What are you talking about?" His one of confusion made her realise she had said too much. She hadn't meant to mention it, but was there any point in hiding it now? She uses her magic to bring his sketchbook closer and placed it in Hermes' hands.

"See for yourself." She opens the sketchbook to a specific page, trying hard not to die of embarrassment on the spot. To distract herself, she contemplates the herald's exposed shoulders, now that he has discarded his cloak. It is strange to see him like this, without a garment so emblematic of him. Lost in thought, she fails to notice the gasp of surprise he lets out when he sees the page full of drawings of himself, studying each one. He didn't think it was possible to make him look more beautiful than he really is, but Circe has achieved just that.

"This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me," he confesses, blushing slightly. "Well, since we're being honest, I think you deserve to read something, too."

"Didn't you mean see?"

"I know what I said, dear." He materialises his notebook and hands it to Circe, opening it to a special page: the one with the writing he did at his father's party. As Circe reads each word with her golden eyes, her cheeks burn with an increasingly intense blush. Unlike her, Hermes doesn't want to miss a single detail, studying her reaction to his words closely.

"Wow..." she gasps, looking up and approaching him with soft steps. Now she understands why he hadn't let her read it before. Hermes carefully puts the notebook aside and flies backwards just to see her reaction. He smiles, biting his lower lip, as he watches her advance and corner him against the sofa. She is just as impatient as he is. Alone. At last, they are alone. "Hermes, I..."

"You mustn't say anything." He places one hand on her hip and the other on her face, cradling her cheek and causing her to drop the notebook. His heart races as he watches her tilt her head back and part her lips. He no longer cares about anything, not even his divine pride. "Circe, my love."

"There you are, Hermes!'" Athena's voice echoes as she appears in the room, almost giving the two gods a heart attack as they freeze in their tracks. "You weren't going to be able to hide forever..."

"What the hell do you want, Athena?!" The goddess of war was assaulted by that question from the gods, who had lost all patience. It was one thing for her to interrupt them on Olympus to ask about her former protégé, but it was quite another for her to have the nerve to come to Eea and enter the palace uninvited when the whole affair was already over.

"I..." For a few brief seconds, she looks almost intimidated. She had not expected such an aggressive welcome, least of all from the daughter of Helios, whom she had never spoken to. She quickly regains her composure. "I want answers! Tell me what happened to Odysseus. Sometimes I hear him praying, but all I can make out are grunts. I know you were late that time. Where is he?"

The gods look at each other for a moment before reluctantly separating and rolling their eyes. This must be a bloody joke.

"Gods of Olympus, you are insufferable!"

"Excuse me?" Before she can respond to this gratuitous personal attack, Hermes grabs her wrist.

"Come with me." He snaps his fingers, but to Athena's confusion, they return to the same place. Hermes had forgotten to tell the palace owner something else. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

With that, they disappear for real this time. Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Circe can't help but laugh slightly.

"Where else would I go, Hermes? This is my home," she replies, even though she knows he can't hear her.

I didn't know the gods could be so noble."

"You can say that again! Now I have no doubt that Hermes is the god who is most committed to his work."

Odysseus experiences a strange mixture of emotions, feeling both like laughing and crying at the same time. Those poor men are so naive, so far from the truth. He sighs, resting his elbows on the edge of the boat. He never thought he would miss being on the high seas or something as simple as the feel of his hands. Smiling, he looks at the drawing of his family that Circe had kindly made for him. But even that will not be enough to make him forgive her. She may be more tolerable than Hermes, but she is certainly mad. And he does not mean that just because of her tendency to turn men into pigs — strange as that may sound, he has come to understand that — he means it because of her strange sense of humour.

"See? He's okay, I told you so."

Odysseus blinks in confusion. Looking up at the sky, he sees nothing. Good grief! That event left him so traumatised that he is already hallucinating. He could have sworn he heard Hermes's annoying voice. Thankfully, that was not the case.

Near the ship, unseen by any of the men, Hermes is standing in mid-air alongside Athena in her animal form.

"Are you happy now?"

Athena flys over to a rock, transforms into her goddess form, and sits down.

"I think so, yes."

"So much trouble for this." The goddess raises an eyebrow at Hermes' unusually grumpy tone as he rubs his hair in frustration. What's wrong with him? He's usually so cheerful; why does he look so upset now? Had she done something wrong? No, she had just asked about her former student and he had refused to answer. "I would be happy to hear, 'I'm sorry I doubted you, oh great and powerful Hermes. It will never happen again.'"

She laughs at the joke, now aware of how much she appreciates Hermes' sense of humour, even if it is a little strange.

"Me apologising to you? When pigs fly, Hermes."

"Don't even mention those animals," he retorts, glaring at the ship. He combs his hair back and takes a deep breath. "Do you needanything else?"

"I don't think..."

"Perfect. Give my regards to everyone up there. See you later." Before she can finish her sentence, Hermes disappears, leaving her alone. She quickly took the form of an owl and flew away, not wanting to run into Poseidon. Where could he have gone in such a hurry?

When he returns to the palace, the first person he looks for is the owner.

"Circe?"

"I'm here." He finds her sitting on the sofa in the living room with her legs bent as she reads a book resting on her thighs. He sighs with relief. "Did you think I left?"

"I don't know what to expect anymore." He lets out another sigh and falls onto the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Circe laughs softly, but her expression turns serious. Without changing position, she puts the book aside.

"I'm sorry, Hermes."

"Why are you apologising?"

"We haven't stopped having problems just to be alone." She rests her forearms on her knees and looks at him intently. "You must be tired."

"I am, in part, but..." He laughs softly. "You know what? I've never had so much fun."

"Really?'"

"I wasn't joking when I said you were fun. It's not just your personality; being here with you is fun, too. Maybe I'm going crazy, but even these interruptions have their charm; they're like a very heavy joke." She laughs again, a little more cheerfully. "Everything about you is so unique."

"Is it?" she asks, lowering her legs from the sofa. Hermes nods and moves a little closer to her. "You're unique, too. I've never been interrupted by a goddess from Olympus looking for her protégé before, although I suppose, in a way, it's only fair."

"Is it?"

"If Odysseus hadn't come here, we wouldn't have met. What's more, if you hadn't arrived late..."

"...I wouldn't have spent so much time here with you." He finishes her sentence in a tone of understanding. Circe nods. "Ha! Did I tell you or not? The timing of the gods isn't always perfect, but everything happens for a reason."

"I suppose you're right." She places his hand on the sofa, tentatively brushing against Hermes'. "You know, at one point I thought you weren't really interested in me that way."

"How dare you insult my good taste by thinking such blasphemy?" Hermes places his hand on the goddess'. He the tingling sensation in his stomach when their eyes meet.

"What other reason could there be for inviting you to sleep here, yet not paying a night-time visit to my room?" She brings the Herald's hand to her lips and kisses the back of it, causing him to sigh.

"You can blame the most meddlesome pig in the world for that." His breathing quickens slightly as Circe leaves a trail of kisses up his arm. "I intended to go, but he forbade me until you freed him."

"I should have guessed he had something to do with it." The messenger's hands rest on her back, caressing her with his fingertips. "I wanted to come to your room, too, but he wouldn't let me. I asked him if you were asleep and he nodded."

"I couldn't sleep at all that night." He sighs as he feels the sorceress's lips leave a trail from his shoulder to the base of his neck. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back slightly. "I was too busy thinking about how beautiful you look when you're jealous."

"I never get jealous," she assures him, stopping abruptly and facing the smiling messenger.

"Uh-huh..." The tip of his nose caresses her cheek as he speaks, kissing it occasionally, his fingers stroking her arms. "That look you gave me when you saw me talking to Aphrodite wasn't jealousy, was it, sweetheart?"

"The same look you gave me when you saw me with Apollo?" she asks, smiling and resting her forehead on his. This makes him roll his eyes. "That's what I thought."

"You're so..." Realising that nothing would interrupt them now, they join their impatient lips in a much-desired kiss that makes the goddess sigh as she feels his arms around her waist and his body pressed against hers. "So mine, at last."

Once again, Cronos' cloak is torn as the gods mock him for enclosing eternity in a simple kiss. They enter a dimension as idyllic as the taste of that nectar, which seemed to be the best-kept ambrosia of Olympus because they had been denied it until now. Circe enjoys how the messenger's lips leave no free space for hers, as if he wants to imprison her mouth after the torturous wait. He refuses to let her taste freedom until his thirst is quenched, begging — no, demanding — more until he is satisfied and his thirst for her is quenched. She feels her body tingle in time with the dance of his lips with such force that, for a moment, she fears losing the physical form that binds her to this plane, and becoming lost in an unknown dimension. Is that possible, or is she delirious? If so, she has the selfish desire to take Hermes with her to experience it.

At that moment, Hermes could only describe Circe with one word: infinite. He feels he could go on and on claiming her lips, but it would never be enough. He has lost himself in them and does not want to be found. As a god, he has the power to remain in that sweet labyrinth for all eternity. Only a god could love her as she deserves; a mortal life would never suffice. He feels her hands sink into his neck and hair, making him gasp. What is this wonderful feeling of vertigo that leaves him in such ecstasy? Having flown through the sky so many times, he believed he could touch the sun with his fingers. He covered it with his hand so many times, pretending to eclipse it for mere amusement. Now, with Circe in his arms, he wonders if this is what he was meant for. Is this the touch of the sun he has longed for all along?

"Darling..." He didn't know when it had happened, but he realised that he was lying with his back against the sofa and Circe was on top of him. He could feel her warmth all over his body; it was so different from anything he had ever felt before and comparable only to the sensation of the sun's rays caressing his skin. He looked at her, marvelling at their synchrony and feeling tempted to do the same. He smiled at the perfection that went beyond the divine and Olympus — that perfection was Circe's reality.

"I don't know what happened to me." She had also just realised their position. She felt herself blushing, feeling extremely embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"Don't even think about moving." Before she could pull away, he took her face in his hands and traced her spine with his fingers, making her curve her back slightly. Now that he finally has her to himself, the last thing he would want is for her to walk away, for her to deprive him of the warmth of her beautiful body. "You're going to lose yourself in me so many times that you won't know how to return to your life before you knew my touch."

When he brings his thumb to her lips and traces them, she smiles. Feeling the desire to monopolise his entire existence, like the morning dew covers the leaves every morning.

"And you're going to consume me until there's nothing left of me for anyone else." Hermes nods, bringing his hands to her waist. "Do we have a deal, love?"

"We have a deal."He punctuates this by throwing his cap to one side and letting Circe claim his lips in a kiss, while he takes her by the nape of her neck and sinks his fingers into her long chestnut hair, the golden highlights of which are visible thanks to the light filtering through the window.

Hermes smiles in the middle of the kiss as he feels the impatient hands of the goddess start to undo his clothes at the back. She's so eager that she'd start at the bottom part. Well, he can't blame her; his own hands have also moved strategically to unfasten her skirt. Despite his eagerness, he chooses to do everything slowly, wanting to memorise every sensation of this beautiful moment that he knows he will relive in his mind a thousand times over. He feels a little overwhelmed; he has longed for this moment, settling for small doses of the sorceress, and now she is all his. There is so much he wants to do that he doesn't know where to begin.

Circe not only feels desired, she feels happy — so happy that she cannot help but giggle with every kiss and touch. She is enjoying every new inch of exposed skin. Her chest tingles every time she kisses Hermes and he responds with little laughs; he feels as fulfilled as she does. She has never found herself giggling foolishly as their clothes fall away; this is a new experience for her. She lets herself be enveloped by his heavenly lips, fully immersing herself in the experience and savouring the essence of the winged messenger. Enjoying him. Loving him.

Love.

"Gods, stop torturing me. Come here" Hermes pleads, looking dishevelled and almost disappointed when those sun-kissed lips are cruelly snatched out of his reach. He knows something is wrong when the sorceress hides her face in his neck. "What's wrong?" There are almost no clothes left to remove and she suddenly looks strangely self-conscious. Their agitated breathing mingles as their hearts beat so hard in their chests that it's as if they're struggling to find each other. Hermes swallows. She remains silent, her hands pressed against her chest, her gaze lowered. Did he do something wrong?

"I have a problem, Hermes." Now it is her turn to swallow hard. She does not know if it is wise to say this now; perhaps it is too soon. But she has never liked lying, and not saying this would feel like lying. Gathering her courage, she looks him in the eyes. "I'm in love with you."

When it seemed impossible, the messenger god's pupils dilated even further, the blackness consuming almost all the amber in his gaze. But she couldn't see this because she had looked down at the ground. That goddess would never cease to amaze him. He thought nothing could surpass the adrenaline rush he felt when soaring through the skies, going as high as possible before letting himself fall and flying again. Circe was able to triple that feeling with just a few words. He cradled her cheek so that she looked at him and, for the first time since he had met her, he glimpsed vulnerability in her countenance.

"Why would that be a problem, sweetheart? You have just made this messenger who came into your life by chance the most fulfilled being in all of existence by reciprocating his feelings." She looked at him with shining eyes. Just so there can be no doubt, and because he wants to say it himself, the next words to come out of his mouth are... "I love you."

They let themselves be consumed by the fire they had started themselves. They ceased to be gods and simply became two souls in love, revelling in each other.

Over the past few days, Odysseus has been surprised at how fortunate they have been as travellers. The winds have been favourable, there has been plenty of food, and the ship has not been damaged. Everything is going well.

"The god of travellers must be in a good mood," Eurylochus theorises, considering the favourable conditions. "Perhaps he managed to escape from the witch of Eea."

Odysseus wishes he hadn't mentioned those two, as he has already forgotten that the gods' mood influences their power, and only one thing could put Hermes in such a good mood.

"At least I'm not there to see it."

"See what, captain?" Odysseus does not answer, leaving Eurylochus somewhat confused and suspicious that he has missed something.

Chapter Text

Dear? Circe and Hermes too, I guess, I assume he will be there too.

Circe, it has been several years since we last met, but it was not so long ago that I had the misfortune of seeing Hermes again after being freed from Ogiga. What's with the goddesses always make me a prisoner on their islands? It's happened twice. I'll call it a coincidence, but if it happens a third time, I'll consider it a worrying trend. Calypso was so terrible that even as a human, I came to think that you weren't so bad; at least you respected the fact that I had a wife.

On the other hand, the prophet you told me about didn't help at all. I had to find a way to Ithaca by myself. You might as well have told me about Scylla's lair, since it's your fault it exists. What did my men tell you about seeing her in Eea? I think I would remember that. They also mentioned Hermes bravely fighting her. What on earth were they talking about? I wish I could ask them, but sadly that won't be possible.

Returning to the subject of Hermes, it was an unpleasant surprise to see him again, especially with that windbag who still gives me nightmares to this day. I thought he was just unpleasant, but then I realised that he has the same twisted sense of humour as you. You two really are a match made in the Tartarus. I'm not going to be grateful for what he did. He himself said he wasn't the one who fought for me, so I have no reason for it.

Telemachus told me about the time you came to the palace and helped him against a boy who claimed that I was dead. He told me how he saw you with a dagger, pretending to hurt him. I would scold you, but you know what? I think that boy grew up to be the first of the suitors I killed — the bastard who had the nerve to lead an attack against my family. Perhaps Hermes should have allowed you to kill him.

I don't know what kind of performance you and Hermes put on for my family, but my wife seems to think you're two kind, sensible gods. You dazzled my poor son, too. Even now, he still talks about you sometimes. If he knew how crazy you really are, he would certainly lose his infatuation, but I feel a little sorry for shattering his illusion. If only they knew! If only everyone knew! You've managed to fool everyone but me. I know what you are. Don't think that just because you gave me that drawing — which I only keep because Penelope loved it — I've forgiven you, you evil sorceress.

I am writing this letter, which I know will never reach you, out of anger and; Athena forgive me, nostalgia. I think it's the trauma that Calypso left me with — or maybe it's some kind of Stockholm syndrome — but sometimes I wonder how you and Hermes are, and if they're still together as you two desired so much. It must be something you put in the food, you manipulative sorceress! You're too evil, making me care about you, despite everything you put me through — you and that winged bastard you call your boyfriend. The worst part of that twenty-year journey was undoubtedly that I brought you two together.

I really don't know why I'm wasting ink on a letter that I'm not even going to send. I should go back to bed with my beloved wife instead of wasting time thinking about the two gods who made me suffer so much. Perhaps it's my mind trying to process some of the suffering I've experienced, a cry for help. I bid you farewell, even though I know that no one but me will read this letter.

P.S. Please don't have children; the world won't survive if you do.

Circe bats her eyelashes, somewhat confused by what she has just read.

"What did the letter say, sweetheart?" asks Hermes, kissing her cheek numerous time and making her smile.

"Are you sure this is a letter?" Hermes rests his chin on her shoulder and looks at her curiously. "It looks more like a bunch of thoughts from a lunatic at midnight, put down on paper."

Hermes shrugs and takes the letter.

"You know how I work. If it's in an envelope and has an addressee, I deliver it."

Circe curls up against the herald's chest. Since he has been spending more time in Eea, his skin has become warmer. She takes advantage of every bit of warmth; even the comfortable sheets of Olympus feel cold compared to those of her bed in Eea. She smiles as she feels Hermes's arm wrap around her shoulders as he reads the letter.

"So it did have a recipient," she laughs at the revelation. "Don't tell me he intended to send it somehow."

"I'm sure that was the case. How lucky that I visit Ithaca every now and then to make sure that Ody is all right. My great-grandson is such a lucky man."

"From what you've told me, I don't know if I'd call him lucky." She looked at the empty ceiling of the room. "You should put a mirror here."

"A mirror?" he asks, looking at her curiously.

"A huge mirror on the ceiling." She points to the spot with her hand. "It could provide some interesting views, don't you think?"

Hermes smiles lasciviously, putting the letter aside and placing one hand on his beloved's waist while caressing one of her thighs with the other. He brings his face close to hers and brushes her lips with his.

"Little by little, you want to turn Olympus into your personal fantasy palace, uh?"

"This stupid, frivolous palace has to be good for something, doesn't it?" Her hands trace the familiar path from Hermes' shoulders to his neck, intertwining her fingers behind it.

"You shouldn't talk like that. My workplace is sacred, you know."

"If it's so sacred, why we keep doing this here?"

"Because you awakened that fantasy when you seduced me here that night, and I intend to fulfil it at every opportunity."

"Ha! Look who's talking about using Olympus to fulfil their fantasies now." The goddess laughed, looking at him with dilated pupils. "Very unprofessional of you."

"Gods..." he sighs, oscillating between exasperation and desire — that unique combination awakened only by Circe. "You drive me crazy, woman." He brings his face to her neck, intending to tickle her with his lips. After each encounter, Circe is more susceptible to his touch, and he loves taking advantage of it.

"Stop!" she orders, smiling. Hermes bites his lower lip in compliance, but doesn't move away.

"I will," he says, kissing the hollow of her neck. "When you apologise for your impudence."

"Apologise, me? I think that's more your job."

"Why me?" he asks, puzzled, raising his torso to sit up on the mattress and taking most of the sheet with him. Circe inspects him with her gaze for a few seconds before answering.

"Because you were the one who said I shouldn't kill that obnoxious boy when we went to Odysseus' palace, remember?" She picks up Hermes' cap from the headboard with her index finger and puts it on. "But, judging by what he said in the letter, if I had killed him, it would have saved me a couple of problems. My instincts are never wrong, Hermes."

The god rolls his eyes, trying not to be seduced by the suggestive image of Circe wearing only his cap.

"You just wanted to kill him because he was rude. The fact that the boy turned out to be a psychopath is just a coincidence; you can't..."

"Sorry, what did you say?" she asks, putting her hand to her ear to hear better. "I only heard, 'You were absolutely right, my beautiful and perfect Circe. I will never doubt your good judgement again'."

"I've had enough!" He lunges at her and starts tickling her abdomen, tracing the drawings on it with his hands. "You're such a cheeky goddess. I thought you'd make a good mother someday. And here you are, regretting not taking the life of a mortal child.'

"Odysseus explicitly asked in his letter that we shouldn't have children." Her laughter mingles with sighs of happiness as her partner kisses her softly in random places.

"And since when do the gods take orders from mortals?" She looks at him, somewhat surprised, when the tickling stops. "I mean, can you imagine? Your beauty plus mine, your intelligence plus mine, your wit plus mine. Oh, maybe they'll take your beautiful eyes and your wings. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

She lets out a soft laugh, causing the cap on her head to slide slightly to one side.

"I'd like it to be a girl."

"I know." He gives her a soft kiss, then rests his forehead on hers. "Are you feeling lucky now? We could try."

"I think I have enough on my plate with the pigs waiting for me in Eea." They had never discussed this topic before, and although the idea of pregnancy does not appeal to her not even a little, there is no need to talk about it right now. They could talk about it more seriously later.

"You mean those travellers under my protection who I dissuade you not to kill with my charms every day,"  he corrected, smiling as the goddess pulled him close and cuddled him against her chest. "Well, for now, just practise, then, shall we?"

"Just practise"  she confirmed. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal." As could only be expected, they seal the agreement with a kiss. "We mustn't forget to reply to Odysseus's letter."

"Do you know what you're going to say?" she asks, running her fingers through his wavy hair. "Because I know what I'm going to say."

"I think we're on the same page."

Where had he left that blasted letter? He was sure that he had left it on the living room table when he went to bed last night, but now it was gone. Had the wind blown it away?

"Are you looking for something, Ody?"

"Oh, nothing important, my love. Just a letter I wrote in a fit of nostalgia last night." He smiled as he felt his wife's arms wrap around his neck from behind. How had he survived twenty years without those hugs? "I wasn't going to send it anyway, never mind."

"Speaking of letters, this one arrived for you today. It's rather curious; look at the sender."

Odysseus raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope that Penelope handed him. His stomach sinks as he reads it:

To: Odysseus of Ithaca

From: Your favourite hosts.

"This must be a bloody..." He tears open the envelope. As he reads the contents, his eye twitches with rage.

Dear Odysseus,

Thank you.

"Well?"

The king sighs and throws the paper aside, taking his wife by the waist and sitting her on his lap. He rests his forehead on her shoulder.

"Dad, have you seen my...?" Telemachus is surprised by what he sees. He has always liked knowing that his parents adore each other, and that their love for each other has endured over the years. It would be best to give them some privacy — they deserve it after twenty years apart. "Sorry to interrupt. I'll be back..."

The prince feels his father pull him into an embrace. Telemachus looks at his mother, hoping she will explain this effusive gesture, but she looks just as confused.

"Ody, what did the letter say?"

Odysseus looks at the letter lying on the floor. He remembers Hermes's irritating comments, Circe's loud laughter and their endless flirting. He can't help but feel grateful that he hasn't heard such sounds in years. However, he also admits, somewhat displeased, that he was happy to receive a reply and to know that the two of them are still together.

"That there's nothing like being home."