Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had only been a week or two that he'd been gone. He hadn't even failed to perform any of his duties! Sure, he'd been a tad bit rushed, and sure, anyone who wanted to deliver a message had to wait hours for Hermes to find time for it, but he hadn't neglected anything! 

It was for his kin. 

For his blood. 

For Odysseus. 

It was worth it. It was worth it. He was worth it. Odysseus was worth it. 

That's what he told himself as Hera greeted him at the gates to Olympus. That's what he told himself, over and over again. Odysseus was worth it. Was worth whatever greeted him inside.

Only a fool would defy Zeus himself, god king, master of the skies.

Hermes was a fool.

Hermes was an absolute idiot who was surely about to be killed. 

Gods he was stupid but Ody was worth it he was worth it he was worth it. 

If that's what had happened to Athena for asking a question then what would happen to Hermes for outright defying orders?

Athena was made for war, and yet she was still being tended to by Apollo. 

Hermes was not made for war. Hermes was made for speed and cunning. 

Maybe- maybe he wasn't in trouble. Maybe- Zeus was just telling him how much he had missed his son. 

Yeah. 

He knew that wasn't true. 

And he couldn't just run until things cooled off, either - Mount Olympus was surrounded by his father's domain. Never had he felt so trapped by his own home. 

Hera stopped him just outside the door to the throne room. “I'm not sure what he wants, but he's mad. You're not getting out of this one, so don't try.” Sighing, she opened the door, motioning for him to go through.

And he did so, slowly, cautiously, carefully.

Hera wasn’t lying. Zeus looked furious.

Eight gods watched as Hermes knelt in front of his father, head bowed. Almost all twelve were there, save for Apollo, Athena and Poseidon.

Eight gods would witness whatever was about to happen.

“Look at me, son.”

Zeus’s voice boomed across the room, and Hermes raised his head.

“Do you know why you are here?”

Hermes knew exactly why he was there. But he still shook his head. “No, father.” He resisted the urge to look at the ground, to look anywhere but his father’s harsh eyes.

“You are here because you directly refused orders.”

Hermes looked at the ground for a second, before looking back. Was this some sort of power tactic? To make him feel ashamed? Because by Olympus it was working. He diverted his gaze again, willing himself to meet Zeus’s steely, unblinking gaze.

“It won’t happen again. Sir,” he added quickly. The sleek marble tile dug into his knees, and he wanted to bow so bad but he couldn’t he wouldn’t he would not bow.

His eyes fluttered to Hera’s face, and she quickly looked away, giving the subtlest of nods.

“That’s what you said last time.”

Of course. Of course. The Moly and now this.

“Eventually, son, you need to learn.”

He was about to open his mouth to speak, to plead, to beg, when white hot pain struck him like a bullet.

His body hit the floor with a thud, trembling. Hermes pushed himself up with his hands. “I-”

Again, the pain tore through him as lightning again pierced him. He could barely see the scorched black feathers that floated down in front of him. 

He had to go. Get out.

He tried to crawl away, he tried to move. He opened his eyes just enough to glimpse the golden smears on the ground. And then he was stopped by something. Some sort of invisible barrier blocked his movement and he collapsed against it. Electricity crackled above him, bouncing around this invisible chamber.

And again.

He could smell only burnt flesh as he hit the floor again, curling into himself, a strangled gasp escaping him as again it hit him. “Please…” His voice was so quiet that he couldn’t even hear it, though maybe that was because of the ringing in his ears.

“You will learn, boy.”

Lightning hit him in the side again, his body convulsing as ichor bubbled up in his throat.

“Or you will die.”

It tore through his flesh and he could feel himself collapsing.

Everything was golden blood. Hermes didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his face. He didn’t notice anything but the pain as he hacked up thick ichor, his lungs filling and he couldn’t breathe and again- blades of electricity smeared with blood and sweat and pure, undeniable pain.

He needed to get up, out, away, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he choked on his own blood and his body was deconstructed until he was a writhing mess on the floor, in a state that no living being should ever come to as again, again, again-

“STOP!” Hermes couldn’t tell if the cry was his own, but he was incapable of making coherent words so it could not possibly have been his.

“MOVE.”

“I will not, father. You will have to strike me down first.”

Hermes heard the crack of thunder, and braced himself for another hit, but none came.

“He- he has learned his lesson. This will n-not happen again.”

Hermes knew he should recognize the voice, but his brain was too scrambled to form a clear thought.

“Very well.”

That was his father. Of course it was. But- oh. It was- it had to be Apollo. It was Apollo.

Minutes passed.

“Dionysus, get your ass over here and-”

“Okay!”

Hermes didn’t move as gentle, trembling hands wrapped around him, lifting him up. He let out a cry as a finger grazed one of his numerous burns.

His body was broken, and he could do nothing but wait and beg Hypnos to allow him the sweet release of sleep.

As pain took control of his body and his brother’s salty tears seeped into his wounds, finally, finally, darkness overcame him.

Everything went black.

*** *** ***

“-ave done something!” Gentle hands pushed Hermes’ hair out of his face. “I cannot believe you just… sat there. If that had been you out there, he would not have hesitated to defend you.”

“I’m sorry, I just- I- no one else was doing anything, I was…” The voice, though Hermes could not process who the speaker was, sounded mournful.

“I do not care, Dionysus. He is your brother. You should- you are supposed to care about him. You could have at least went and gotten me, instead of sitting there and watching him-”

A third voice near Hermes’ head murmured something and the other two shut up.

He hissed in pain as one of them laid a hand on the raw skin on his forehead.

“Hermes, goodness, I- I would hug you, but I do not think you would appreciate it.”

“Pollo.” Hermes rasped, not opening his eyes for fear of what he might see.

And then everything hit him, sending him reeling, unaware of the voices around him.

Everything burned, searing hot. Nothing but painfully bright darkness surrounded him, and he tried to move, to say something, anything, but his body couldn’t, wouldn’t move, wouldn’t respond.

The worst part, he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t just try harder, be faster, smarter, better.

He was trapped.

Trapped, blind, and injured. He ached to break free.

His mind jolted as everything fell, leaving behind only the faintest of melodies.

And yet, he was awake. Hermes did personally know Hypnos to be terrible at timing. Truly unfortunate, because at that moment, Hermes told himself that either Hypnos would save him of his own accord, or Hermes would suck it up.

Or Apollo would drug him. That was always a possibility.

So he laid there, awake, with nothing but crushing pain and a song that could have only come from his brother.

All of his senses were numb, leaving him alone in his mind, murky pain snapping at him from below, the music being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Hermes eventually settled into a state that was less sleep like than a blind, throbbing, terrifying nothingness.

Chapter Text

This time, when he fell, the pain was the first thing to hit him.

It charged him like a bull, leaving him panting, sprinting to catch up.

A weight on his chest had his eyes flying open, his body scrambling to push himself up.

“Easy.” A firm hand pushed him back down. “You just had half your guts blasted out of you by our id- by five trillion volts of literal lightning.”

“Wow, really? I d-didn’t notice.” Hermes squinted, trying to make out his brother’s features.

Apollo held his gaze for a few seconds, then sighed, turning away. “You are an idiot.”

“Am I?” Hermes propped himself up onto one elbow. That lasted for about two seconds before he crumpled back onto the bed in a coughing fit.

“Fucking - yes, you are, I swear-” Apollo’s palms glowed as he inspected Hermes. The latter groaned in pain.

Hermes laid back, forcing down the whimpers of agony. He figured it was best to let his brother do his job than to argue and resist; if he hadn’t stepped in back there, Hermes would still be a sobbing heap on the tiled floor. He would at least let Apollo work in peace, not being nagged at by the patient that he was so dutifully trying to heal.

Hermes let his eyes lazily focus on an area over Apollo’s shoulder. It took his mind a good few seconds to realize that maybe it was weird that Dionysus was here. After all, he wasn’t injured- at least as far as Hermes knew, he wasn’t. He had seemed perfectly fine sitting in his chair as Hermes was being beat up by lightning, besides the fact that he had been turned away from the likely gruesome sight.

“Hey, Pollo?” Hermes asked, his voice small and his eyes squeezed shut as water from a rag dripped into his wounds.

“Hm?” This mildly interested sound was the only motion Apollo made to acknowledge that Hermes had spoken.

“H-how come Dio’s here?”

“Oh. That. I was… mad at him, so he’s helping.” Apollo didn’t elaborate, and Hermes couldn’t muster up enough energy to ask.

*** *** ***

Everything fell.

And yet he waited.

Bright flashes and cracks.

And he waited.

He was frozen.

The pitiful thing crumpled to the floor.

And he waited.

He didn’t, couldn’t notice the goddess striding towards him.

Not until she cupped his cheek in her hand, tilting his head towards her, away from the throne room below. Her thumb delicately brushed away a tear.

He fell into her embrace as wings the same shade of gray as her eyes folded around him. “You are strong, adelphόs.You are strong.”

*** *** ***

Hermes woke again to a firm hand shaking his shoulder. He groaned, squinting. All the lamps and lightbulbs were off, but somewhere there must have been a window or something open, because natural light flooded the room. He slowly eased his eyes fully open, blinking up at the figure above him.

“Apollo said it was unhealthy for you to be asleep for three days straight.” The voice was distinctly Athena’s, even if he couldn’t recognize her in his half dead state.

Hermes didn’t dare move any more than was necessary to breathe and blink. Being a god, he didn’t strictly need to do either of those things to survive, but it naturally happened without him thinking about it, just as it did for mortals.

So he laid still, knowing that it wouldn’t hurt until he moved. He watched Athena doing something with her hands that his brain didn’t register.

Three days. That meant… ugh, he wasn’t going to math. He tilted his head just slightly, the movement stinging but not much else. “How long…?”

Athena set down whatever she was doing. It looked soft, a blanket or something that she had been weaving or crocheting or knitting- he didn’t know the difference.

She looked at him, and he could tell she was thinking. She looked to somewhere on the other side of the room, somewhere Hermes couldn’t see. “Look, I could lie to you and say it has been a few days. But I’m not going to.” Athena paused, looking at him. He looked back, confused. And worried. “It’s been… almost two weeks.”

Hermes bolted upright, ignoring the pain that exploded in his chest. “I-I have to- have to-” He was trembling, whimpering. He grabbed a chunk of the blanket that covered him with one hand, twisting it around his fingers as he tried not to think about the pain that he had just thrust himself into.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders. “Hey, look at me, Hermes.” Apollo was strong. Hermes had always thought of him as lithe and pretty and graceful. But his grip was surprisingly sturdy.

Hermes kept his gaze fixed on his hands, studying the burn marks that criss crossed his skin like veins.

One of Apollo’s hands left Hermes’ shoulder and tilted his chin up so that he was looking into his brother’s eyes.

The sun god looked worried. There were dark bags under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept the entire two weeks. His eyes were riddled with guilt and concern and sadness, and Hermes hated that he was the one who brought this upon Apollo. 

“Everything is under control, okay? You do not need to worry. All we need you to do is rest and get better. Do you understand?” Apollo didn't move until Hermes nodded. Then he relaxed, placing pillows behind Hermes so he could much more comfortably sit up and observe his brother. Apollo obviously knew that Hermes was too stubborn to not stay awake. 

“Now, I have another idiot who needs tending to.” He said that last part loudly. A grunt from somewhere across the room followed. “Athena, Dionysus, if he needs anything…” He trailed off as he stepped to the side. Hermes’ gaze fell on the figure sitting on a bed a few meters away. 

It was someone that he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Poseidon.

His torso was completely wrapped in bandages, part of which was stained with ichor. Other than his obvious injuries, he looked terrible. His long, black mane-like hair was a mess, and Poseidon seemed to be accepting Apollo’s help. The prideful sea god, needing help? Unheard of.

Hermes turned away as Apollo began to unwrap Poseidon’s bandages, deciding that what lay beneath was none of his business.

“Hey.” Hermes rasped as Dionysus sat down on the end of the bed. The youngest Olympian ignored him, seemingly enthralled by his own palm.

“What happened?” Hermes murmured, motioning to Poseidon, talking to no one in particular but really to Athena because she was the only one who would answer that question.

“A mortal,” Athena replied, not taking her eyes off her project.

A mortal? How could a mere mortal wound one of the most powerful gods so badly that they were sentenced to bed rest by Apollo?

“Which? H-how?” He shifted back a bit, wincing.

“The same one that got me and you both in here.” It took him a moment to realize what she meant because Zeus sure as hell wasn’t a mortal. “And how did he do it? You.”

“Me?” Hermes raised his eyebrows.

“Mhm. Ask Poseidon, I wasn’t there.” Hermes didn’t press because he felt like if he spoke any more he was going to puke.

He laid his head back onto the wall. It still hurt, but he let it.