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1. Hermes
Odysseus tied the final beams of his sail to the raft, grateful to finally be able to leave Ogygia. The salty waves lapped at his ankles as he worked, and in the distance, he could hear Calypso's crying.
"Six hundred men / Six hundred deaths under my command / Cause I had one goal in mind," Odysseus sang. He waited for a moment, as though hoping a chorus of the dead would reply to his words. A pang went through his chest when the silence dragged for too long. "No fleet, no band / Only this raft that I made by hand / How will I reach my homeland?"
"Now, you certainly ain't the big artiste," a skeptical voice said.
Odysseus spun around, drawing his sword on the potential enemy.
The first thing Odysseus noticed about the man was his strange attire. His clothes were made up of multiple layers stacked on top of each other, unlike any chiton or himation that Odysseus had ever seen. Some of the layers were plain, while others were densely patterned, but all of them were the same hue and shine as a steel blade. There was some odd garment overtop his shoulders and arms that fell partway down the man's thighs, almost like if a cloak to protect against the wind was dreadfully ineffective. Then there was whatever was on his lower half, like two rolls of attached fabric was covering his legs, with torn pieces of fringe around the calves. His sandals concealed his entire foot and appeared to be made out of an extremely hardened animal hides.
"The only explanation for this is that I've somehow left the loop, but that's impossible," the man continued.
"You're a god," Odysseus stated, fear and determination coursing through him. Another god. Another trial. Another obstacle in the way between him and Penelope.
"I am," the man agreed easily. "Mr. Hermes, god of messengers and thieves. I work part-time as a psychopomp too. And you are?"
Odysseus could have laughed. The man before him was many things, but Hermes was not one of them. There was no thick, brown cloak, no strange eye wear, no high-pitched voice, and his face was entirely different. Odysseus knew enough to recognize his own great-grandfather. But the man was certainly an immortal, and Odysseus couldn't afford to make any mistakes ten years into his journey from Troy.
"Odysseus, King of Ithaca," he said, playing along.
"Well, King Odysseus, are you planning to leave on that?" Hermes asked, nodding to Odysseus' boat.
"I don't exactly have much else," Odysseus replied, a touch derisively. Maybe too much so considering he was in front of a god, but Odysseus was never that good at respecting the Olympians, something any one of his dead crew mates could testify.
"Why not take the train?" Hermes asked.
"I think I've done plenty of training for one lifetime," Odysseus said, gesturing to his physique. He had been stuck on the same island for seven years; almost all of what he did was train. "That doesn't change the fact that this is my only way off the island."
"Nevermind," Hermes said, looking mildly fascinated and deeply suspicious.
"If that's all, then I'd best be on my way," Odysseus said, pushing his boat into the water and rowing into the waves.
"I don't suppose you'd mind having a bit of advice before you go?" Hermes asked.
"Advice?" Odysseus repeated, eyes narrowed.
"Well, it sounds to me like your just going to go off sailing without any idea of how to get there. And I just so happen to be the god of travellers," Hermes pointed out.
"I've lived long enough to know that a god's blessing can just as easily be a curse," Odysseus said pointedly. Maybe if the Hermes that Odysseus had met on Aeaea had shown up, he'd be more receptive, but he had no interest in trusting a stranger.
"If you think you can make it all the way back to your home without any guidance, then be my guest," Hermes said.
Odysseus paddled for a few seconds, before loudly groaning and turning back to face Hermes, who for some reason flinched at the action. "Fine! I don't know where I am, and I don't know how I'm supposed to find any recognizable landmarks, let alone my island! What advice do you have for me?"
"I'm glad you asked," Hermes said, flashing a brilliant smile.
"I wish I didn't have to."
"How to get to Hadestown - " Hermes began.
" - Ithaca - " Odysseus interrupted.
"Ithaca," Hermes corrected, face twitching. "How to get to Ithaca: / You have to take the long way down / Through the underground, under cover of night / Laying low, staying out of sight / Ain't no compass, brother, ain't no map / Just a telephone wire and a railroad track / Keep on walking and don't look back / Til you get to the bottomland."
Half of the words he sang didn't even make sense. Odysseus briefly contemplated stabbing him, but reconsidered. If he were to stab any of the gods, he would probably pick Poseidon, as vengeance for what the sea god did to most of his fleet.
"This is when Orpheus always responds. I suppose you'll have to do," Hermes said.
Oh, okay, so this was a duet.
"Ithaca's waiting / My kingdom is waiting / Penelope's waiting / So full speed ahead," Odysseus sang, lyrics from a time long past.
Hermes grinned at him, joining him on his raft. "The River Styx is high and wide / Cinder bricks and razor wire / Walls of iron and concrete / Hound dogs howling at the gate / Those dogs'll lay down and play dead / If you got the bones, if you got the bread / But if all you got is your own two legs / Just be glad you got them."
"I am now the monster / I will deal the blow / I've become a monster / Like none they've ever known," Odysseus added when Hermes gestured for him to sing.
"You're on the lam, you're on the run / Don't give your name, you don't have one," Hermes sang. Odysseus snorted bitterly at the idea of having no name. Things would have been much easier if he kept up that ruse. "And don't look no one in the eye / That town'll try to suck you dry / They'll suck your brain, they'll suck your breath / They'll pluck the heart right out your chest / They'll truss you up in your Sunday best / And stuff your mouth with cotton!"
Suddenly, the wind picked up, carrying his boat faster and farther. It began to steer itself, turning and shifting to bring Odysseus along his journey.
"I'm gonna use ruthlessness / Every trick, every skill put to use for this / I plan to put an end to all this foolishness / I have to get home put it all on the line / I'll be dangerous," Odysseus sang, grabbing the ropes and holding on for dear life with a smile on his face. Hermes easily remained standing, as though he was used to walking when the floor beneath him spun and moved.
"For the first time, I'm doing something different!" Hermes shouted, thrilled.
"Hermes," Odysseus said as the boat slowed to an smoother pace. Odysseus grabbed his oar and began to continue in the direction magic had been taking him. "Thank you."
"Helping lovestruck travellers is what I do," Hermes replied, unusually modest for a god.
"Either way, it's greatly appreciated. I'll be able to see my wife again," Odysseus said.
At that, Hermes' face became stone-like, and his voice turned grave. "This is another old song, King Odysseus. Don't let the loop repeat itself."
"I'll…I'll try," Odysseus offered, unsure as to what he meant.
"They always do. Best of luck," Hermes said with a bone-deep exhaustion, before vanishing.
Then the whirlpool with teeth showed up, and Odysseus became too preoccupied to contemplate the god's strange words.
2. Hermes
Orpheus ran down the stairs of the railroad station, guitar slung over his shoulder. He had to find Eurydice, he had to tell her that he discovered why the world was out of tune. The gods had forgotten the song of their love, and that was what made summers so hot and short while the winters were bitterly long.
Suddenly, a voice rang out as a man entered through the station doors. "Not yours, kid."
Orpheus was taken aback by the stranger before him. He was wearing odd clothing - swaths of greyish blue fabric with a hood built in and a zipper down the middle, along with normal labourer's denim pants, and a pair of basketball player's shoes. Around his chest was a satchel of some sort, with the strap made of buckles and even more zippers holding the pockets shut. His hair was slicked back with something that looked less brittle than the hair gels Orpheus had seen some wealthy men use, and he had a goatee.
"You're not Percy Jackson," the man said confusedly, finally looking at Orpheus.
"No," Orpheus agreed. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who that is."
"This is interesting. Last I was aware, I was on a beach," the man mused.
"Right. Well, I'm sure that's very interesting, but I have to find my wife, Eurydice, and - " Orpheus began.
"Eurydice? What's next, your name is Orpheus?" the man interrupted, snorting.
Orpheus blinked. "How'd you know my name?"
"Oh, you're funny. You happened to be named Orpheus and you're married to a woman named Eurydice. And then what? She died and you went into the Underworld to go get her back?" the man asked with a laugh.
"What?" Orpheus asked, heart plummeting. "Eurydice's dead?"
"Did - did you not know that, kiddo? That's, like, a really big part of the story," the man said, looking at Orpheus peculiarly.
"Wherever she is, is where I'll go!" Orpheus declared in song.
"Jeez, Orphy, would you seriously go into the Underworld for her?" the man asked, concerned.
"To the end of time / To the end of the earth," Orpheus sang.
"Oh, okay. Okay," the man said, pinching his nose. "Guess I'm gonna help another dumb kid walk into certain death. Two times in two years isn't great for my track record, but, hey, if Percy Jackson and his friends got out just fine, who says this guy can't too?"
"You can help me?" Orpheus asked hopefully.
"Is there anything I can do to change your mind? I mean, how badly do you really want to go?" he asked.
"With all my heart," Orpheus replied.
"Of course. Well then, lets get to it. Around the time of the original Orpheus, the entrance to the Underworld was just…dig down a lot. We didn't exactly have a crack security squad in Ancient Greece, you know? And no one really wanted to go into the place where all the dead people were, so the only person who counted as a guard was Charon," the man explained.
"How…how do you know all this?" Orpheus asked.
The man shot him a wry grin, mischief twinkling in his eyes. "Haven't you noticed by now, Orphy? I'm Hermes."
Orpheus' immediate response was to refute him. Mr. Hermes had taken him underneath his wing when he was young, making the man practically his father, so Orpheus was fairly confident in saying that the man before him was not Hermes. Yet there was something about the assuredness the man walked with and the powerful knowledge he wielded so casually that could only belong to a god.
"Then be my psychopomp, and guide me to the realm of the dead," Orpheus said, rather than arguing.
"You bet. And you know what? You're not the only musically inclined one around here. I can give you your instructions in song too," Hermes said.
"You don't have to, sir. The Hermes I know can sing, but if it's easier then you can just tell me - "
"Yo!" Hermes shouted, tapping his foot and moving to a rhythm of his own creation. "You say you trying to get to the Underworld / Well Orphy old pal be prepared to get whirled / Cause I've got the plan / Yeah I am your man / And I can do whatever you think that I can / See the world of dead lies way far down / It's the scariest place that there is around / There's no map saying where to go / Just follow the stench of death and the crows / Keep going forwards, please don't look back / If you do, then you know, it's a critical attack / Find the River Styx and cross over the water / Sing like a poet and feel like a lover / Hwhat!"
Hermes finished his verse by pumping his fist into the air.
"That was…fascinating," Orpheus said, torn between horror and awe. "You sing faster than any song I've ever heard, and you pack the rhymes in each line so thickly together. And that's not even mentioning the way that you change the way you stress syllables to alter the meter. It's unlike any music I've ever heard before."
"It's not just any music, kid, it's rap. Or at least, the author's poor attempt at creating a rap. They aren't very good at poetry and all that, let alone trying to mimic something out of Hamilton, so this was their best shot. Haha, get it? Shot, like the song from Hamilton? Gods, I'm hilarious," Hermes chuckled.
"Rap?" Orpheus asked, ignoring how most of what Hermes said went over his head.
"Yup. Have you ever heard of it?" Hermes asked.
"Not once in my life," Orpheus said with a shake of his head.
"Really? Well, it originated in the 1970s and 80s, with African-American groups in New York. It's pretty iconic," Hermes explained.
"It's…it's only the 1930s," Orpheus said slowly.
Hermes looked at him with wide, panicked eyes. "Right. I knew that. Well, godly magic you see. I can look into the future."
"As soon as I get back with Eurydice, I'm asking more questions about that. And I want to see your songwriting process! I'm actually working on a song right now, to bring the world back into tune. I think your perspective could be quite valuable," Orpheus said excitedly.
"Aw, shucks, kid. I'd love to help you out," Hermes replied, beaming at him.
"If that's all, I think I'm going to go save my wife now," Orpheus said, before hightailing it out of the railroad station.
"Good luck!" Hermes called out.
"Wait for me, I'm coming / Wait, I'm coming with you / Wait for me, I'm coming too / I'm coming too," Orpheus sang, prettier than the bird up on a line.
3. Hermes
"Please," Percy murmured, the tips of his fingers brushing along the water's surface. "Tell me if I have your blessing to do this."
In the distance, he could hear footsteps crunching against the gravelly sand slowly getting closer. Percy squinted through the dense fog, noticing a shadow in the distance. Hope blossomed in his chest, a smile working its way onto his face despite his nervousness.
"Dad?" Percy asked.
"All you have to do is not open this bag ~" a voice sang out.
Suddenly, a fluffy, bear-looking thing appeared before him. A half dozen more showed up right behind it, one with a pink dress and tiara on for some reason, each of them giggling maniacally. Without wasting a second, Percy grabbed his pen and uncapped into a sword, slashing at the monsters. They dodged easily, like they were being carried by the wind itself, flying out of reach and towards the source of the voice.
For a second, Percy could hear what sounded like a British Sponge Bob laugh as the figure became visible. "Hello, old friend."
The stranger had curly brown hair and a close-shaven beard, with a fur jacket the same shade draped over his shoulders. Chunky, tinted sunglasses adorned his face, concealing his eyes and making the uncanny joy of his grin all the more noticeable. But the thing that drew Percy's attention the most was his shoes. They were sandals with wings, almost like the magic red Converse Luke had given Percy last year before his quest. The same shoes that tried to drag Grover into Tartarus, the shoes that had been intended for him. The man was flying around on the shoes, hovering a few feet into the air with an elegance that Grover had never managed whenever he wore them.
"Who are you?" Percy asked, blue eyes narrowed and standing with his sword at the ready.
"Uh, who are you, dawling?" the man asked, looking down at Percy snootily. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Last I checked, Odysseus and Calypso were the only two people on this island."
Oh, okay. This man was genuinely insane, then. That was great.
"I asked you first," Percy said, like a five-year-old.
"And I am a god, so I asked you better," the man - the god - replied.
The balls of grey fluff each nodded at that, speaking to each other in high-pitched gibberish.
"How can you be a god and have those winged shoes? Those belong to Hermes only," Percy demanded.
Gods couldn't steal each other's symbols of power - that was literally the whole reason why he had to go on the quest last year. The only was another god could have a symbol of power was if a demigod stole it, and Annabeth had proved that it was impossible to take something from the God of Thieves without him knowing, even if you had an invisibility cap.
"Bravo, dawling, you figured out who I am," the god drawled, giving Percy a slow clap for good measure.
So this was supposed to be Hermes? Percy was confused for a moment before he remembered all of the stories his mom used to tell him about the Greek gods when he was younger. The gods all had the ability to shapeshift, from Zeus turning into a shower of gold in the myth of the original Perseus, to Hera turning into an old woman in the origin story of the argonaut Jason.
This man was either a demigod that managed to get the drop on Hermes, or he was Hermes and had just chosen a different appearance for funsies. Okay. Whatever.
"Right," Percy said slowly. "Well, since you're here, I'm assuming I have the gods' blessing to go on this quest?"
"Oooh, a quest? Wait, are you a hero?" Hermes asked excitedly, the wings on his feet fluttering twice as fast.
Percy debated internally if this guy was just shitting him, before deciding that he had better things to worry about. "Yeah. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. I just need to know if I have the all-clear to go to the Sea of Monsters and save Grover."
"The Sea of Monsters? I have no idea what you're talking about, dawling, but it sounds like you could use this," Hermes said, snapping his fingers.
Three of the fluff balls carried a bag that was as large as their bodies, holding it up for Percy to examine. It was a pale brown, and Percy would have said that it looked like it was made of leather or some kind of animal hide, if not for the vibrant blue clouds that drifted across the surface.
"What is this?" Percy asked cautiously, keeping the bag in his line of sight in case it exploded at him or something.
"Wait, wait, let me get back into the song," Hermes said, clearing his throat. "First stop, uncharted waters / When lost, look towards the sky / Follow the north star, no matter how far / You keep on going, you keep rowing."
"Are…are you fucking singing at me now?"
"No interrupting!" Hermes snapped before recollecting himself. "When strangers lurk around the isle / When danger greets you with a smile - "
" - Where are you getting these background vocals from? And are those instrumentals? How are you doing this? - "
" - Fight your way through, do what you must do / But no matter what keep moving," Hermes sang.
"What the actual shit is wrong with you?" Percy demanded, frustrated.
"It's gonna be dangerous my friend / You'll need a mindset change for this / You cannot get away with playing safe for this / You wanna get home? Put it all on the line / Be dangerous!" Hermes continued unbothered, striking an anime pose as soon as he was done with what Percy assumed was the chorus of this weird song he prepared.
"I'm not even going home, though. I'm leaving home on a rescue mission! And why would I even follow the north star in the first place? I'm in Long Island trying to get off the Florida coast, for the gods sake! I have to go south!" Percy exclaimed, his distress evident in each word.
But it seemed like Hermes had given up on listening to him.
"And lastly the wind bag / We went through so much to get this / Keep this bag closed if wanna get home, sir," he sang, slowing the tempo. The instrumentals that came from nowhere also lessened.
"You won't get another time to try," the floating fluff creatures sang.
Oh gods, they could sing to. Was this his punishment for going on a quest that he wasn't permitted to go on? Was this because Zeus still hated him for being alive?
"Please stop," Percy begged, feeling as though he was on the verge of tears. He had never thought that Hermes would ever sing at him. If he did, maybe it would have been a very intense rap about the Founding Fathers or something. Not some 80s synth about magic wind.
"The raging storm inside won't let you get closer," Hermes continued. He actually had a pretty nice singing voice, if not for the fact that it so wasn't the time for this kind of shit. Whoever Tantalus had put on patrol could hear him, and orders dictated that anyone violating Camp rules could be killed.
"It was meant to stop you by design," the fluffy things chorused.
"Cause no mortal can pass Poseidon's storm / Open this bag and you'll never make it home / You'll never make it home," Hermes sang, oddly solemn all of a sudden.
"Wait, Poseidon? Like my dad? Did he give you that bag to give to me?" Percy asked, eyes wide.
"This is the part where you sing too, dawling," Hermes stage-whispered to him instead of answering his damn question.
"What the fuck? No, just give me that bag. I'm going to swim to Florida," Percy said, snatching the bag away from the furry gremlin creatures and walking into the water. He had a best friend to rescue and a Camp to save.
"Swim? No, don't do that, take this instead," Hermes said. He snapped his fingers again, and a small boat floated towards the shore. Well, maybe boat was a strong term. It was a raft with a sail and a singular oar, really. But it was better than nothing.
Percy climbed onto the raft, shaking the water out of his curls. He stood up, hands tying knots and adjusting the sail instinctively. Huh. New Poseidon power unlocked, he supposed.
"Goodbye, dawling!" Hermes called, waving at them.
"Thanks, Hermes!" Percy called back, creating a wave to sail away on.
Even from a distance, Percy could hear Hermes' voice sing out. "Don't thank me friend / I'm not the one who fought for you ~"
Hermes laughed that British Sponge Bob ass laugh once more, before flying off into the distance with his fur ball demons on his winged heels.