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Hermes was, for once, happy that he had so much work to do to maintain his domains.
If he was constantly working, then he didn’t have time to think. And if he didn’t have time to think, then he couldn’t think about all the things he really didn’t want to think about.
But for some reason, even though his workload had increased significantly with demigod communications opening back up, he found himself thinking a lot more than he wanted to, to his immense frustration.
The thing he was thinking about- the thing he didn’t want to be thinking about- was Apollo, of course. That was all anyone on Olympus was thinking about, he was sure. It was certainly all they were talking about.
Apollo wasn’t acting right, was the thing. He wasn’t acting at all like himself. He wasn’t acting like himself, and no one seemed to know what to make of it, much less what to do about it.
They’d all thought they knew what would happen when Apollo came back to Olympus- because of course he would come back. There was never really any doubt, even when the odds had seemed impossible to beat, even when they had all been betting against him- there was no way Father would ever actually let him die. He was the favorite son. The golden boy, as Ares liked to call him. Father loved him too much to actually let him die. And Athena had bet in his favor, and though he would never say it to her face, she was hardly ever wrong about anything, even if she was annoying about it. So there was never really any doubt.
Regardless, Apollo had come back like they’d known he would, and they’d all been waiting for him to put himself right back into the spotlight where he belonged. To light up Olympus like he always had.
The last two times he had been mortal, he hadn’t waited a day before throwing himself back into the swing of things. The celebrations held to welcome him back had been so massive people still talked about them so many centuries later. They’d all been waiting for the third one, for the stories and the concerts and the complaining sessions.
None of that had happened. Any attempts to figure out what he was planning or offers to set something up for him were dismissed with Apollo’s signature poetic skills, talking in circles until whoever had asked completely forgot about asking. Normally, that would be a sign he had something big in the works, but it had been months since his ascension and he had been practically radio silent.
He hadn’t even said anything about the fight with Python. They’d missed the end of it, so they had no idea what had happened, but Hermes had been sure they’d know soon enough. No way Apollo could resist bragging about it, even if he’d embarrassed himself a little in the beginning. Surely they’d be serenaded with a ballad or seven by the end of the week.
They hadn’t even gotten a haiku. Anytime someone asked about the fight, Apollo changed the topic so fast it gave them whiplash and then talked himself out of the conversation entirely.
But then, that was only when he was actually on Olympus, which these days, he almost never was. Hermes could count on one hand the times he’d seen Apollo around, and two of those were for council meetings- which he hadn’t been acting like himself at, either, arriving exactly on time and seemingly paying attention, though he had said next to nothing. Other than that, and the few times Hermes had stumbled into him, it seemed like Apollo was avoiding Olympus. It was so ridiculously unlike him it was worrying.
He’d also, possibly, been avoiding Hermes. All of his bids at reconnecting, or even apologizing for the betting ring, went unanswered. It would have hurt more if it hadn’t been clear Apollo was also mostly ignoring the other Olympians.
He had been hanging out with Dionysus, which did make some sense. The two of them had always been close, and they’d both been stuck with the mortals for their punishments. Though if Hermes were Dio, he probably wouldn’t be thrilled to see his brother, when Apollo was welcomed right back to Olympus after a year of fucking around and he was still stuck with the kids for another few decades. He supposed Dio didn’t care, if he was letting Pollo stick around. Hermes figured it was a good thing he had some company other than the demigods.
He had, apparently, also been hanging out with Athena, which was a little bit hurtful. Since when was their no-fun, no-nonsense, no-nothing sister more fun to be around than Hermes? She had been the only one to bet in his favor, though, so perhaps that got her some points in Apollo’s books. He wondered what they even did together. Apollo did have that massive library in his palace, which Hermes always got lost in, but the idea of him actually reading anything other than his own terrible poetry was as hard to picture as Athena at any concert that wasn’t classical.
He’d also been spending time with Hera, which was far more than a little bit hurtful. Seriously, Apollo would rather be with their awful stepmother than his favorite brother? Didn’t he remember what she had done to Leto? To everyone who’d ever dared put their hands on her husband and the bastards that came out of it? Unless, of course, the bastard was her dearest darlingest perfect little prince Jason Grace. Some half-blood son of Jupiter had somehow earned more of her affection than any of the stepchildren she’d known for millennia, because that made so much sense. Hermes didn’t hold it against the kid- he had helped save Olympus after all- but he would admit to delighting in Hera’s pain, just a little. He didn’t understand why Apollo would willingly go out of his way to be with her, especially when she was, somehow, being more insufferable than she normally was.
Maybe it was about the Grace kid? He’d helped Apollo out in California, hadn’t he? And he’d even stood up to Father at the Acropolis for him, though Hermes didn’t know how Apollo would know about that. And he didn’t know why he would care enough to put up with Hera for him. He hadn’t even known the kid.
Whatever his reasons, Apollo was spending his time with Hera. And with Athena and Dionysus, and probably Artemis- though that might have been because he was hanging out with her Hunters and she happened to be there. He’d been spending the rest of his time with mortals, after all.
Hermes knew Apollo had never followed the Ancient Laws anywhere near as closely as he was supposed to, but he had been stepping far too far over the line, lately. Hermes got wanting to see his children, but half the kids Apollo was seen with weren’t even his. He knew his brother had always gotten attached to mortals much more easily than the rest of them, but it was getting ridiculous, and Hermes probably didn’t even know the half of it.
Apollo was acting wrong. He was acting like Olympus wasn’t worth his time. Like six months as a mortal had somehow actually made him one of them. Like he was better off with them instead of with his real family.
He was acting like he wasn’t one of them, but he was. He was an Olympian, and he always would be. He would always be a god. That would never change.
Apollo couldn’t keep this up forever. He would go back to the way he used to be. The way he always had been. He would.
Gods didn’t change. They didn’t. Their history repeated as much as it rhymed.
Apollo couldn’t betray his nature any more than Hermes could. If he could-
If he could, that would mean that gods did change. Which they didn’t. Father had told him that, so many centuries ago, and Hermes had seen all of them prove him right over and over again. Father couldn’t be wrong about that. Hermes couldn’t be wrong about that.
Too much of his worldview- too much of his world- was built on that belief. He couldn’t be wrong about it. Apollo couldn’t prove him wrong.
He would go back to the way he used to be. Apollo wouldn’t betray his nature. He wouldn’t betray Hermes. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Hermes had to believe that.