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Chapter Text

“Immortal shall fall

to a Titan free

Mortal shall tread

where Immortal was misled

It is the devotion between truth and lies,

That will convince the disaster

Not to strike,”

Were the words that poured from Tiresias’s lips. Again and again. 

Hermes had seen him give prophecies just…not like this. His eyes were glowing an eerie white. He was trembling, muttering like a man possessed. 

Hermes sat up in bed. He took Tiresias by the shoulder, shaking him gently. “Darling?”

His mutterings only grew faster. The glow got brighter, so bright Hermes had to avert his gaze. 

Hermes pushed the covers back and pulled Tiresias into his lap, heart racing with concern. “Darling, snap out of it.”

At once, the light from his eyes was cut, like a candle being snuffed out. Tiresias slumped against Hermes, breathing hard. 

Hermes let out a breath of relief. “There you are.”

“Hermes…?” Tiresias inquired, breathless.

“I’m here, love,” Hermes soothed, running a hand through Tiresias’s hair.

Tiresias buried his face in Hermes’s shirt, breath shuddering.

Hermes wrapped an arm around him. “Does your head hurt? Do I need to make you some tea?”

Sometimes, Tiresias got headaches after particularly strong visions.

Tiresias’s hand shot up, taking a handful of Hermes’s shirt and squeezing. Hermes would’ve chuckled if Tiresias weren’t so obviously upset. He shook his head, face still hidden.

“Alright. I’m here,” Hermes repeated. He dropped his voice a bit. “What did you see?”

“I don’t know,” Tiresias mumbled. “Ichor and…feathers.”

“Hm,” Hermes mused. That, combined with the part about the immortal falling, probably wasn’t great news for him. Still, he didn’t want to scare his darling anymore, so he smiled. “We’ll just have to be careful, won’t we?”

Tiresias didn’t say anything.

They basked in the quiet, Hermes stroking his hair, for a few more minutes until Hermes sighed. He shifted into a lying position, bringing Tiresias with him.

Tiresias nuzzled into Hermes’s neck with a soft hum of acknowledgment. Hermes smiled affectionately, then pressed a kiss to his hair. 

“We’ll worry about this in the morning, okay?” Hermes murmured.

“Okay,” Tiresias replied uncertainly. He nuzzled closer.

It took Hermes some time to fall asleep that night, his brain stuck in a loop of Tiresias’s words. 

And when he finally did drift off to sleep, relief wasn’t found there either.

Titan…Hermes knew a Titan…

~🟆~

The Titan sat against the rocks, weighed down by the chains that bound him there. Father had left some slack in the restraints, and Hermes understood why. The illusion of freedom–escape so close yet so far. Made the punishment all the more tantalizing.  

Prometheus eyed him coldly as he neared. 

“You must know why you’re here,” Hermes greeted solemnly. Gone was his friendliness, his flourish. He was here on business, business he didn’t want to perform. 

The Titan did not speak.

Hermes cleared his throat. “Zeus doesn’t take the threat of being overthrown lightly. He will treat this as treason.”

“Let him,” Prometheus rasped. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

Hermes exhaled slowly. “Would you like to know Zeus’s plans for you?”

Prometheus waited.

“He’ll send an eagle. Every day, it will feast upon your liver, and every day it will grow back.”

“Your threats don’t scare me.”

“They aren’t my threats.”

“Right,” Prometheus agreed, sounding satisfied with himself. “You’re just a mouthpiece.”

“That’s what being a messenger is, I’m afraid,” Hermes replied, crossing his arms in exasperation.

Prometheus raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want to be here, then?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“So why are you here, if not to gloat?”

“I was hoping I could talk some sense into you,” Hermes retorted sharply. “This is idiotic. Just tell him the truth and you’ll be fine.”

Prometheus eyed him for a moment, then said, “I hear what my creations call you.”

Hermes narrowed his eyes, feathers ruffling. “Do you, now?”

“Yes. And I’d say the title doesn’t match. What’s the point of loving something if you leave it to–?”

“Enough,” Hermes snapped, the wings over his eyes unfolding.

Prometheus shut his mouth.

“Yes. You’re right. I’m his messenger. And his son. And that means I’ve seen firsthand what he can do.” Hermes’s voice turned desperate, almost pleading. “So I warn you one last time–stop.”

“I won’t,” Prometheus declined, less harshly this time.

Hermes dragged his gaze away, his professional mask of indifference broken. 

“Alright. I…” he swallowed and turned away. “I’ll let him know.”

~🟆~

Tiresias woke up early the next morning, feeling like he hadn’t slept a wink. It wasn’t often he got a vision like that. They were…taxing. Both emotionally and physically, as felt by his throbbing headache.

He heard scuffling somewhere and turned his head toward it. There was a familiar click as something was buckled shut. Tiresias recognized it as the clasp on Hermes’s satchel. 

Tiresias sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Hermes? Where are you going?”

“Good morning, darling,” Hermes greeted. “I figured I’d go to Olympus. Have a chat about your prophecy.”

Tiresias opened his mouth to reply, but Hermes got to it first. Hermes took a seat beside him. “But not just yet. I made you tea.”

Hermes handed the mug to him. Tiresias blew on it, then took a long drink, the taste of peppermint coating his tongue. 

He sighed, letting his head fall onto Hermes’s shoulder. “Thanks, love.”

Hermes wrapped his arm around, pulling him closer to plant a kiss on his head. 

Tiresias took another sip, then mumbled, “I’m coming, too.”

Hermes chuckled. “I figured as much.”

After Tiresias finished his drink, he packed a few things up, and they got going. The walk to the ferry was more sullen than usual. The air felt charged in a sleepy sort of way. Tiresias kept mulling over the prophecy. Hermes seemed to pick up on his anxiety because he kept trying to start conversations about the positives of visiting Olympus—like wondering if there’d be any leftover breakfast waiting for them or showing Tiresias this new oil Hermes had been dying to do Tiresias’s hair with. Tiresias would smile and try to keep them going, but the dread would rise back up, and they’d drift back into silence.

They eventually arrived at the ferry stop and waited. Tiresias leaned against him. Hermes wrapped his arms around him in turn, tilting Tiresias’s head slightly and leaning in for a kiss. Just a quick brush of the lips.

“We’ll be alright, love,” Hermes murmured against his lips.

“I know,” Tiresias agreed softly. 

His hands found Hermes’s face, pulling him back for more. Hermes made a surprised noise of approval and leaned into it, his eyes drifting shut.

“Are you two lovebirds coming or what?” Someone called.

They both startled.

“Charon,” Hermes groaned. He started walking, holding out his arm for Tiresias to grab onto and follow. The gesture was natural at this point. 

Indignant, the ferryman called back, “What?”

“We were having a moment!”

“I’ve got a quota to fill, y’know!”

“Can’t argue with him there, Hermes,” Tiresias teased as the god helped him into the boat.

“Oh, you hush.”

Tiresias rolled his eyes affectionately. They got settled in their seats. There didn’t seem to be any other souls on board, judging by the lack of crying sounds. Perhaps Charon had just finished dropping off and was on his way back.

“Where to today?” Charon asked.

“The entrance, please,” Tiresias requested.

“You got it.” 

The boat rocked as he began rowing. Beside him, Hermes leaned back, wrapping an arm around Tiresias’s shoulders. 

The Underworld was a vast place, and rides that went upstream tended to take even longer. The steady rocking of the ferry, the swish of water against the oar, seemed to tucker Hermes out. Hermes had always been big on physical affection, but he got extra clingy when he was sleepy. That’s how Tiresias could tell. Hermes had his arms wrapped around him loosely, face pressed against his shoulder. 

“Do you want to lie down?” Tiresias offered, patting his lap.

Hermes hummed in acknowledgement. He did so without a word, shifting so his feet were up on the bench and his head was on Tiresias’s lap. A sigh of contentment melted out of him. 

Tiresias smiled and ran a hand through his hair, playing with the fluffy curls.

Still, it was rare to see Hermes in this state. He only ever seemed to tire after full days of work–racing around the world and running errands. 

Tiresias wondered if he’d had trouble sleeping, too. That maybe he was more nervous than he was letting on.

At least, Tiresias thought, as he felt the god leaning into his hand, this was something he could help with.

Perhaps twenty minutes later, the Ferry jolted slightly as it nudged the dock.

Tiresias gently shook Hermes awake. 

He stirred groggily. “Hm…?”

“This is your stop, lads,” Charon said. 

Hermes sat up. They both thanked Charon and got moving. They pushed past all the souls waiting to board and made their way up a long set of stairs. 

“I’m too old for this,” Tiresias panted, clinging to the railing.

“Darling, I’m 4,000 years old,” Hermes replied.

“You’re the god of speed, too.”

Hermes chuckled. The god slipped a hand beneath his knees and another behind his back and, before Tiresias knew what was happening, lifted him. 

“Hermes!” Tiresias complained. “I can walk!”

“But I can run,” Hermes retorted proudly. “Hold on tight, my dear.”

Tiresias wrapped his arms around Hermes’s neck with a grumble. Truthfully, he liked it when Hermes carried him. It was like…snuggling on the go. “Just don’t drop me.”

Hermes chuckled and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Never, darling.”

Tiresias flushed. Four months of marriage, and the nickname still gave him butterflies.

Hermes took off. Wind rushed past them. It was a smooth ride, Hermes also being the god of grace. 

Once they reached the top, Hermes set him down.

They weren’t out yet. There was one more chamber before the exit.

“Where’s—?”

A three-chorus of barks interrupted Tiresias, answering his question for him. Before he knew it, they were both getting barreled over by a giant ball of three-headed fluff.

Hermes chuckled beside him. “Oh, hello, darlings.”

Tiresias squeezed his eyes shut as one of Cerberus’s heads planted a wet, slobbery kiss on his face. 

“Good dog,” he said, awkwardly patting his head. 

Cerberus backed up, allowing them both to get up. Tiresias could hear the rapid swish swish swish as he wagged his tail.

They each gave him a few more pets before moving on.

After a short walk through a corridor, they stepped into the grass. 

It wasn’t the first time Tiresias had left the Underworld, but it still felt strange every time. The sudden breeze, the sun….  

Tiresias smoothed his hair back. It was summertime up here, much warmer than what he was used to. Tiresias unclipped his cloak and held it. 

“Ready?” Hermes asked, holding out his arms.

Tiresias begrudgingly nodded. Here came his least favorite part. 

~🟆~

Hermes flew through the air, winged sandals flapping. He kept his head wings curved above his eyes, blocking them from the wind. He could just see Olympus in the distance, the peak concealed by a thick circle of clouds. Light reflected off the golden entry gates, flashing in Hermes’s vision and making him squint.

Tiresias was curled up in his arms, eyes clamped shut (as if it made a difference) and face pressed into his neck. The wind whipped his long hair around, tangling it. 

Hermes smiled, amused. “You alright, darling?”

“No!”

Hermes laughed. 

They landed on Hermes’s balcony not long after. Hermes set his darling down, and they both headed inside.

“Remember,” Hermes teased as they set their bags down on his bed. “No fighting with your father-in-law this time.”

Tiresias sighed. “Yes, yes…”

They made their way out of Hermes’s room, down the hall, and up a winding staircase. 

They arrived at the peak–Olympus’s throne room. They were arranged in a sort of U-shape, with Zeus and Hera being at the center. Their thrones were far larger than the rest, encrusted with crystals and marble. They had to alter their sizes to fit into them. 

Zeus sat upon his throne, speaking to a few of his harpies. 

Hermes took a knee, tugging on Tiresias’s sleeve to get to do the same. They waited. 

Zeus finished speaking with the creatures and dismissed them. Then he turned to Hermes. “Speak.”

“I request a meeting,” Hermes said, not taking his eyes off the floor. He glanced at Tiresias and found a scowl on his face. 

“What for?” Zeus questioned.

“We’ve reason to believe the Titans are stirring.”

“Hm…” There was an audible shift in the god king’s tone. “Very well.”

Without warning, he threw a lightning bolt straight over their heads, hitting the bell they used to call meetings. Hermes and Tiresias flinched. 

Within the next few minutes, Gods were filing into the room. Hermes and Tiresias stood in the center of the thrones, waiting for everyone to take their seats. Hermes spotted nymph servants in the doorway, peeking behind the wall and shushing each other. Even Artemis and Dionysus, who spent most of their time away with their followings, had attended. Dionysus, though, didn’t seem to know what he was attending, based on the way he staggered in. 

Hammered at nine in the morning. Good ole’ Dionysus.

When they were ready, Hermes cleared his throat. 

They all quieted and looked at him.

“What’s goin’ on, Swiper?” Apollo asked.

“Yeah, what gives? Me and Aphrodite were in the middle of…” Ares trailed off, glancing at Hephaestus. “Uh…”

Aphrodite muffled a sigh, and a few gods snickered. Hephaestus did not. 

“My husband received a prophecy,” Hermes spoke up.

“What did it say?” Athena inquired. 

Tiresias recounted it for them.

When he finished, murmurs ran through the crowd. Hera narrowed her eyes. Apollo and Arty shared a tense look. Ares leaned forward, excited by the prospect of fighting. Dionysus hiccuped.

Hermes looked at Zeus, waiting for his response. The god king stood, shrinking down to size, and pulled Athena aside. Hermes watched them, his attention only drawn when Tiresias took his hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. Hermes gave him a small smile, heart swelling with both affection and trepidation. He lifted his darling’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it.

Zeus and Athena took their seats again. 

“Quiet,” Zeus ordered, and the chatter ceased. “Listen for your jobs.”

Athena nodded her agreement. That was usually how things went. Athena came up with the ideas. Zeus enforced them like they were his own.

He began listing names: 

Poseidon would be in charge of Oceanus. 

Ares would keep an eye on Atlas.

Hermes, being the only god with free access to the Underworld, had been assigned the Titans in Tartarus.

Apollo would stay, in case his healing abilities were needed. 

Artemis would stay as well. They needed her safe in case she needed to track someone.

Hephaestus would work overtime on weapons in the event they needed an army.

Athena, as always, would stay close to Zeus in case their plan needed to be modified. 

With Hermes occupied, Iris would go to alert the minor gods of what was happening. 

The other gods would be on standby.

There were more Titans, but they weren’t areas of concern. 

“Those who are leaving, you’re expected to be in your posts by sunrise tomorrow. Make sure no one’s gone. Make sure no one gets out,” Zeus finished. “Meeting dismissed.” 

Chapter Text

Tiresias lay in bed, the blankets feeling like weights. He could hear Hermes moving through the room, packing his bag for the morning. There was a soft whoosh as he blew out a candle. 

Usually, Hermes’s quarters felt like a safety cocoon, a shelter from all the overwhelming luxuries and the towering, godly figures of Mount Olympus. Now it just felt as imposing as any room there. Amongst all the gods, Tiresias often found himself feeling helpless. Tiny. Those feelings were amplified now. Even if he wasn’t mortal, he’d still have to bend to the God King’s demands. Still had to let Hermes leave. 

The mattress dipped as Hermes crawled into bed beside him. Tiresias was quick to pull him close, one arm wrapping around his back, the other burying itself in his hair and pushing his head down. Hermes chuckled, the noise muffled by Tiresias’s shirt. 

Tiresias was having none of it.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said, his voice softened by the night.

“I have to…,”

“Then let me come.”

Hermes scoffed in amusement. “Darling, Tartarus is the last place I’d bring you.”

Tiresias frowned. His grip on Hermes tightened.

The god sighed. He tilted his head up, pressing a kiss to Tiresias’s jaw. “Try to get some rest, love.”

They lay in silence for some time, but neither could sleep.

“What will they do?” Tiresias inquired tensely. “If they get out? What will they do to you?”

“Tiresias…” 

”Hermes.” 

“I don’t know what they’ll do, alright? Because they’ve never won before, and they won’t win this time either.”

Tiresias nodded slowly, though the words didn’t do much to diminish his dread. 

Resigned, he let his head fall back onto the pillow.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Tiresias inquired softly, tracing patterns on Hermes’s back.

Hermes hummed sleepily, nuzzling into Tiresias’s chest again. “Early.”

“Wake me up first?” Tiresias requested sheepishly. 

Hermes chuckled sleepily. “Always.”

~🟆~

As planned, Hermes rose before the sun did. He sat up, yawning and stretching his arms over his head, before carefully pulling the covers back and getting out of bed. 

He moved through the room quietly, changing out of his nightgown and into a chiton and his favorite cloak–green and gold and ruffled to look like feathers. He also threw on some armor–nothing more than vambraces, pauldrons, and a helmet. They were all painted gold and decorated with fake wings. In battle, Hermes typically relied on his speed and his wits, so he kept his armor light.

Hermes slung his satchel, already packed, over his shoulder. He was proud of the way he’d decorated it–with patches, pins, and keychains. Some he made himself, others were gifts. Some were symbols of favorite places he’d traveled to, others were just things he liked. 

He pulled his shoes on, then returned to Tiresias’s side. His darling was curled up under the covers. A few strands of hair covered his face. He gently brushed them away. Tiresias stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent. Hermes chuckled softly, heart swelling with endearment. 

“Darling,” Hermes called softly, shaking him gently. “I need to leave now.”

A frown pulled at Tiresias’s lips, and his eyes slowly opened. 

“Hermes…,” Tiresias murmured. His hand reached up. Hermes took Tiresias’s hand, guiding it to his face. This ritual wasn’t new to them. It was Tiresias’s way of ‘seeing’ him.

“You’ve got your helmet on,” Tiresias noticed.

“Just a precaution, my dear.”

Tiresias hummed, his thumb running up and down Hermes’s cheek. His free hand found Hermes’s other cheek, pulling him down into a long, tender kiss. Hermes shut his eyes, relaxing into the feel of Tiresias’s warm hands on his face. When it was done, Hermes smiled against his lips, heart fluttering. 

“Be careful,” Tiresias told him quietly.

Hermes took Tiresias’s hands, gently pulling them away from his face, holding them in his own. “I’ll be back soon, my dear.”

Then he slowly, hesitantly, pulled away. Hermes couldn’t help but notice how empty his hands felt without Tiresias’s in them.

~🟆~

Hermes found some others waiting at the door. Ares was packed up and ready, arms wrapped around Aphrodite in a silent hug. Iris waited, tapping her foot impatiently. His cousin was bubbly, energetic, and just about as patient as he was—and Hermes was the god of speed. Poseidon had likely left the night before, eager to get back to his underwater palace.

“Hey, Swiper,” Apollo greeted. Artemis stood beside him, looking half awake. She had never been a morning person. Apollo was a different story, and Hermes could imagine him dragging his twin out of bed that morning.

Hermes smiled at them. “Good morning, darlings.”

“You be careful, you hear?”

“I hear,” Hermes replied with an affectionate eyeroll. 

A thought came to him, and he let his smile fall. “Apollo, um…”

“Yeah?” his older brother pressed, quirking an eyebrow.

“You’ll be sure to take care of Tiresias, right? If…,” Hermes trailed off, his throat swelling with panic at the thought. “If the Titans–”

Apollo set a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. “You have my word.”

Hermes nodded tensely, his eyes on the ground. He moved suddenly, giving his brother a quick, tight hug. “Thank you.”

Apollo blinked in surprise, then hugged back.

“Any time, Swiper,” he said warmly. 

“Are you guys ready or what?” Iris demanded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ares grumbled. “Don’t get your rainbows in a twist.”

They said a few more goodbyes and were on their way. 

Hermes, Ares, and Iris walked together for a short while before they had to part ways

“Later, pipsqueaks,” Ares called as he left.

“Guess I’d better go, too,” Iris said. She hopped into the air, the rainbow butterfly wings on her sandals flapping. “See you, speedy!”

“Safe travels!” Hermes called after them. 

The forest suddenly felt quiet.

Hermes let out a breath, watching it fog up in front of him. Dawn was just beginning to stretch her rose-colored fingers across the sky. The forest around him was dark, the only noise being the steady chirp of crickets.

Hermes turned and broke into a run, using his super speed. The forest whizzed by, broken up by small towns. To mortals, he looked like nothing but a blur—a shadow darting across the walls. Water splashed underfoot as he sprinted across a lake. The world around him began to change, the green blur of trees turning into the black of dead ones, the ground turning from grass to foul-smelling muck. 

Hermes slowed to a stop in front of a stone gate, smoothing his wind-tossed hair. There was a symbol embedded into the rock—the caduceus. He put his palm over it, and it flashed gold. There was a grinding noise, then the gates opened with a screech. They closed after he’d gone in, cutting out the light.

Gateways like this appeared all over the world, in places where death was most prominent. This place had once been a war zone, though that had been long ago. 

The land around this entrance was cold and barren, the dead trees creating a barrier against the sun. Fungi covered each tree like an infection. Bones protruded from the earth where animals and people had sunk into the mud. Centipedes crawled up tree trunks. Flies droned in the distance. 

The Underworld wasn’t an evil place, as mortals seemed to think. But it was a dead one. And the land around it reflected that.

Hermes said a quick hello to Cerberus and continued. Cerberus had the ability to travel to different gateways whenever needed. Shadow travel, it was called. He made his way down the staircase, illuminated by torchlights, and through a short corridor before stepping into open space. 

The Underworld.

The air here was stale and cold. Hermes pulled his cloak tighter around himself. Dry soil crunched under his feet as he walked. He could’ve taken the ferry, but he was faster. 

Hermes sighed and took off again. Forests went by, filled with the green, blue, and purple glow of bioluminescent fungi. He passed by his uncle’s palace, the wind he created blowing out candles and causing the windows to shudder. 

The Underworld was a big place. Tartarus was located as far from the entrances as possible. 

It took him maybe half an hour to arrive. 

Tartarus was situated in a dense forest. He had to fight through the undergrowth, thistles and splinters catching his cloak. The trees creaked overhead, threatening to collapse at any moment. He often had to climb over logs of ones that already had. 

Finally, the trees broke into a large clearing.

The dirt was replaced with an expanse of smooth, black rock. At the center, a pit.

Hermes stepped up to the edge and looked down.

The darkness below was so complete it appeared solid. The forest around was deathly silent and deathly still. The rodents, crows, and insects that resided here knew to stay away. They could sense it, somehow. The animosity that radiated from beneath the surface, the prisoners’ hatred for their captors, so strong it had become an essence. 

Hermes could sense it too.

He fixed his helmet, then stepped right over the ledge. For a good fifty feet, he free-fell through the dark, the only sound being the wind ruffling his cloak. A moment before he hit the floor, his winged sandals started flapping, catching him, and then he landed. 

Hermes found himself in a great chamber, nearly as grand as Olympus’s throne room. Only, instead of marble and tapestry-covered walls, there was black rock.

At the other end was a long corridor. There was a gate here, too, marked with a thunderbolt to show any Olympian could open it, but it wasn’t closed. No one ever wanted to go in. 

Hermes went down it. His footsteps made clicking noises against the stone, echoing off the torch-lit walls. The flames flickered, making his shadow jump and writhe as if it were in pain. 

Finally, he stepped into another cavern.

There were large nooks in the walls here, closed off with celestial bronze bars. Inside each was a titan, their wrists chained for precaution. On the opposite wall was the largest cell of all—Kronos. Hermes couldn’t see his great-grandfather. He was hidden in the shadows.

“Oh, my, a visitor!” Epimetheus greeted in his oddly shrill voice. “Hello, Apollo.”

The one in the cell beside him, Coecus, glanced at Hermes. “That’s not Apollo.”

“Hello, Aphrodite.”

“Try again.”

Epimetheus gave the other Titan a helpless look. “What other ones are there?”

Coecus sighed. 

Hyperion, titan god of observation, regarded him coldly, the eyes all over his body following him. “Well, messenger?”

“No message,” Hermes replied, scanning the cells. “I’m here to make sure you…”

He trailed off, noticing something. “Ah...where’s Meoetius?”

Snickers ran through the prison.

“Now, that would be snitching,” Crius, the constellation god, told him.

Hermes felt his ichor run cold. To a Titan Free…

He hurried over to Meoetius’s cell, grasping the bars, eyes scanning the shadows.

Suddenly, a giant, scarred hand shot out of the darkness. It closed around his torso, lifted him, and slammed him against the bars. Hard. Hermes’s head knocked against it. The impact sent a loud ringing noise through his ears. 

It took him a moment to realize he was on the ground, his body bent in an uncomfortable position. There was an odd buzzing feeling in his limbs, like they were asleep. Black specks danced in his vision. He could hear the titans laughing, hooting, but their voices were muffled. There was another noise, too. Quiet groaning. Was it coming from him?

Something fastened around his ankle and dragged him over the stone. But it felt far away somehow. Not real. 

 His eyes landed on something gold beside him. 

Ichor. 

Ichor on the rocks…

~🟆~

The Titan sat against the rocks, weighed down by the chains that bound him there. He didn’t look proud anymore, just tired. His skin had taken on a pallid hue, and his breathing was heavy. Sweat plastered his brown hair to his forehead, the strands that had come loose from his bun. Ichor poured from a gash below his ribs, streaming between the cracked rocks and forming rivulets of gold. 

Hermes didn’t speak. Just sat upon the flat boulder across from him.

“You have…” Prometheus’s voice was a rasp. His eyes opened, bleary with blood loss. “A message?”

“No.”

“You’ve come to gloat, then.”

“No,” Hermes repeated. He sighed, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the rock and leaning back. “I find Father’s punishments easier to endure when there’s someone to chat with.”

Prometheus tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. 

He let his head rest against the rock. “You’d better run on back to Olympus, kid. Hate to get you in trouble with your old man.”

Hermes rolled his eyes at the nickname, but it wasn’t exactly false. Compared to Prometheus, Hermes was a kid. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Prometheus shrugged. “It’s your call.”

They sat in silence for some time.

“This has been a great chat,” Prometheus grumbled.

Hermes grinned, amused. “Hush, I’m thinking.”

After a pause, he asked, “You’re Atlas’s brother, yes?”

“Yes?” Prometheus agreed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, he’s my grandpa,” Hermes pointed out. “I guess that makes you my great-uncle.”

Then the dream shifted, in the way dreams do. As Hermes came closer to consciousness, he could feel the throb of his head, and, strangely, of his arm.

This memory took place months later, after visiting Prometheus became more of a habit.

The eagle took his liver at about noon every day. Hermes couldn’t help much, but he could be there to distract. 

The truth was, he’d always looked up to the Titan. There was something so…simple about the kindness humans seemed to possess. Nothing like the Gods of Olympus. Hermes loved his family, but there was something about immortality that just turned people…well, evil, at times. The way a lot of them saw it, life was fleeting and therefore pointless. Why should they feel remorse over the ending of it? All the vanity, the hypocrisy, immortals seemed to have was exactly what made mortality so beautiful. Their mercy. Their unwavering commitment to doing the right thing, not because they had to, but simply because it made them feel happy. Hermes had come to love them for it. And when you love something, you protect it as best you can. It was always…disheartening, being the divine guide. As said, mortal life was fleeting, and Hermes couldn’t save everyone. But he tried, and the mortals recognized him for it. That was how he’d earned that title—the divine guide. The lover of humanity.

And it had been Prometheus who created that. 

That was why Hermes refused to miss a visit. Even after he’d just received a punishment from Zeus.

His hand throbbed and ached, the burns from Zeus’s lightning spreading up to his elbow, like white, blistering vines. He would need to see Apollo when he got back.

Prometheus raised an eyebrow as he walked over. “You alright there, kid?”

“Yeah.” Hermes sat down beside him, stifling a hiss of pain. He gave Prometheus a forced smile. “You’re the one with a missing liver.”

“Har—“ Prometheus coughed a wad of ichor into his hand. “Har.”

Usually, it was Hermes who did most of the talking, considering Prometheus was in too much pain. With him in pain as well, they sat in silence.

The Titan seemed uncomfortable, sending glances at Herme,s then looking away before he finally spoke up.

“It wasn’t because of, y’know, this, was it?”

“You mean our talks?”

He nodded.

Hermes smiled, a more genuine one this time, and shook his head. “No. I just skipped work a few too many times, is all.”

Prometheus cleared his throat and looked away, trying to play it cool. “Good.”

Hermes scoffed softly in amusement, but was too tired to tease him. He rested his head against the rock and let his eyes drift shut.

~🟆~

Hermes blinked slowly. The ceiling twisted and spun above him. There was a terrible pounding in his head. So much for his helmet. 

Prometheus wasn’t here to worry over him, to share his pain. He was free now, living amongst his creations. 

Hermes was on his own.

He turned his head, trying to orient himself. The movement sent a wave of nausea through him, and he shut his eyes until it passed.

When he opened them, he found a pile of something shiny beside him. His armor. There was a fine dent in his helmet.

“You know, for the god of tricks, you’re easy to fool,” someone said. Hermes recognized the voice as Coecus’s. The Titan sounded awfully proud of himself. 

Hermes turned his head to face the other direction. The bronze bars pulsed in time with his heart. He was on the other side of them, now.

“I thought…,” Hermes sat up, wincing, “these cages contained your powers.”

“Oh, Meoetius?” Crius replied. He had his hands wrapped around the bars of his own cell, leaning forward like this was a show. “He’s not using his powers.”

Meoetius, the Titan of violence, loomed above him silently. His skin was pale, along with most of the titans who’d been locked away in the dark for so long. His black hair was carefully tied back. He’d kept his appearance more tidy than most of the others. 

That wasn’t the only difference. Every God, every Titan had something inhuman about them. It was a trend Hermes noticed, a way immortals showed pride over their domains. 

Hyperion had dozens of eyes. 

Crius’s skin was pitch black, his skin dotted with white glowing freckles to represent constellations. 

Epithemius’s eyes were unnaturally bright, his smile stretching wider than mortal lips were capable of. 

Coecus had mandibles, antennae, and four pairs of double-jointed, spiny arms. 

Hermes had wings, Persephone’s hair and eyelashes were made of flower petals, Ares had boar tusks, Artemis had antlers, Poseidon had octopus legs, and the list went on. 

Meoetius had nothing like that. Other than his size and muscle mass, he was perfectly human. 

A human, with no humanity. 

Hermes noticed a weight on his wrist. He found what was once a giant handcuff twisted to fit him. It was linked to the wall with huge chains. Meoetius must’ve managed to break them.

He gave it a small tug, then sighed. “May I ask why you have me chained up like this?”

“You see that big cell in the back?” Coecus pointed out. 

“The one with uncle Kronos!” Epithemius chimed in.

“Quiet,” Hyperion scolded, then looked at Hermes expectantly. “You’re going to open it.”

“And the rest of ours, too,” Coecus added.

“Hm.” Hermes glanced at Kronos’s cell, pretending to consider. “It’s an awfully tempting offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.” 

“You’re in a cell with the god of violence,” Crius reminded. 

“Yes,” Hermes agreed. “But I’ve also had to sew my father’s tendons back into him, thanks to your mother, so I think I’ll manage.”

“Ew,” Epithemius said.

They all ignored him. 

Crius eyed him for a moment, his eyes flashing white in the dark. “Meoetius?”

The Titan, who had stood coiled like a spring, lunged. His hand was half as tall as Hermes. Meoetius lifted him and shoved him into the wall like he was little more than a feather. 

In his other hand, he lifted a sharpened stone.

Hermes tilted his head, the smile never leaving his lips.

Meoetius stared back at him. There was a glint in his eye, one that sent shivers racing up Hermes’s spine. 

Without a word, Meoetius brought the stone down. 

There was a wet noise as it tore into his eye.

Hermes bit back the scream of pain that rose in his throat. Kept it trapped behind grinning teeth. 

The Titan leaned his weight into it, slowly, agonizingly forcing the stone deeper. Ichor ran down his face, and he tasted it.

Hermes’s muscles ached with the effort of keeping still. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of a struggle. He knew Meoetius wasn’t the only one enjoying this—seeing a son of Zeus brought down. 

Finally, Meoetius drew back. There was a splattering noise as the ichor-coated rock hit the floor. 

Hermes collapsed to his hands and knees, hand leaping to his face. Ichor leaked from between his fingers and dripped to the floor. His breath came in uneven gasps, his limbs shaking under his own weight.

“I’m not…,” he managed, “going to open it.”

No one spoke. Hermes could feel their eyes boring into him, hungry.

Meoetius reached out again. In the corner of his eye, Hermes spotted something. A pile of mutilated animals—nearly unrecognizable. Blood-crusted rats and crows that had been foolish enough to venture down there. 

Limbs twisted.

Ribs poking through rotting flesh.

And their eyes stuffed with stones.