Chapter Text
Geocentrism
The disproved astronomical theory that places the Earth at the center of the universe, with the Sun, Moon, planets, and stars revolving around it in circular orbits.
The Minotaur was a monster of legend. The son of the Cretan Bull was a nightmare even before he was let loose with his death at the hand of Theseus, and the mortal world allowing him to run wild has done no favors for any demigods. Of course, various gods and fellow monsters summoning him to do their dirty work hasn't helped the problem either.
Hermes makes it a point to keep up with the more… violent monsters, especially ones as notable as Asterion. It never hurts to at least keep their general location within his purview, even if he's forbidden from interfering if any of his children were truly in danger. A cold comfort, sure, but still one he allows himself.
It's not difficult to understand why a decent chunk of mortal deaths are raked in by the bull's appetite every year. With accursed strength and horns sharp enough to gore anything in its path, even if you killed it, many wouldn't survive the beating it gave you in turn. Asterion is certainly intelligent enough to remember who you are when he comes back for round two. And the collateral damage itself is a pain. Olympus knows that he's had to submit more than a number of complaints to Hades about damaged property from the bull's unwieldy aim. A non-insignificant amount of said collateral has to be ferried to the other side by Hermes personally.
Perhaps that's why his death this time around had caught Hermes' attention.
Asterion didn't last long. He barely had enough time to heave over before he crumbled into dust, covering the poor boy at his calves with grime. Asterion had taken the boy's mother with him. An expected casualty, but still tragic. The mortal woman looked rather frail to begin with, and the bull wasn't known for playing nice. A shame he wasn't able to ferry her himself.
The boy, Perseus, heaved, clearly winded and more than a little teary. His hands latched onto the horn he had just driven through the bull, trembling and weak. It was shocking that he was still standing and relatively healthy. Perseus looked on the verge of passing out regardless.
A beast that even the 'legendary' Theseus had struggled against, felled by a child! It sounded like a joke Dionysus would toss out on one of his worse days. But the beast lays felled at Perseus Jackson's feet.
Merely twelve and already killing his first monster, Hermes is sure his late mother would be proud, the poor soul.
It's strange then, with that in mind, that Perseus Jackson was not claimed the second he stepped into the bounds of Camp Half-Blood. It's not every day a fresh fighter can bring down a hundred-ton bull beast, let alone with the minute causalities he'd managed to scrape by with.
A claiming is a personal thing for every god, and Hermes certainly wouldn't think to tell his relatives how to handle their own children, that was a recipe for disaster! But, he'd expect that the felling of an ancient beast, no matter how temporary, would be enough to catch the attention of whoever was lucky enough to sire Perseus Jackson.
Even stranger yet is that Perseus absolutely reeks of sea-foam and salt. Ocean gods are known to guard their own jealously, at times even violating the oaths to ensure their safety. They rarely last a day before being claimed, and he knows well that the ocean gods keep a close eye on their children. They couldn't have missed Perseus's slaughter of the beast, nor his entrance into camp grounds.
Not a single god steps forward to claim him.
Something wells up in his chest. Something warm, decidedly ungodlike, more mortal than Hermes is willing to admit.
Maybe, however unlikely, his godly parent simply hadn't wanted Perseus Jackson. Maybe it was the death of his mother, blaming a child for something he couldn't control. Maybe it was the fact that there were already too many eyes on him, and there was no cabin they could provide for him to retreat to.
Regardless of the reason, Perseus Jackson remains unclaimed.
Ah, Hermes realizes with a start, pity. He had never felt pity for a mortal before. What a novel thing to experience in the face of a demigod child. Unwanted and unclaimed, the boy would likely spend his entire youth within the confines of Hermes' cabin. Despite that, there were certainly children who had it worse than him, and Hermes had never pitied them. How strange.
Despite the unfamiliar emotions brewing within his chest, Perseus Jackson is not Hermes' child. Hermes is so busy he hardly even has the time to remember the names and numbers of his own children. He certainly has no time to pity a boy like this.
Hermes has no business with him, and certainly nothing left to justify his continued monitoring. All he has to do is return back to his work, and eventually the boy will fade from his mind entirely. Another start-up hero that he'll never see again.
… Hermes does not last long.
It's to his own bewilderment that he finds himself observing again, watching the boy's day to day life with an almost enraptured focus. Perseus is surprisingly funny, quick-witted and as sharp as a whip. Hermes wonders if he got the attitude from his mother. Talking back to Dionysus, how bold!
He's completely and utterly fascinating, and Hermes truly has no clue as to why.
Hermes watches Perseus stumble through the motions, learning what he can and cannot do. The boy's strengths only serve to cement in his mind that this boy belongs to the sea. He takes to the canoes and lakes like a duck to water. The nymphs adore him, circling around him closer than they dare to do with any other child.
It's still amusing to rule out any potential parents. The boy's "talent" with archery proves that he is far from a child of Apollo. Hermes didn't even know an arrow could curve like that. He also didn't know that anyone could make Chiron yelp.
Perseus gets himself banned from the inner forges within the day, although they take pity on him and allow him to sit near the entrances and soak up the warmth. Not one of Hephaestus's children. While the boy is pretty enough, he's not pretty enough to be one of Aphrodite's. While he has a temper, it's not the same agitation that curls within the chests of Ares' brood. He's a child of the sea through and through. Hermes can only make his guesses as to which one.
He watches, and watches, and watches, until eventually two entire days have slipped through his clever fingers. Work is piling up, and still, he cannot wrench himself away from this new delight.
Perseus Jackson might just be the most endearing thing that Hermes has ever laid his eyes on. It's the most infuriating thing he's ever felt. Hermes has half the mind to smite the boy on the spot for having the audacity to fill up his mind like this.
He truly hates it more than anything. Because one day, his godly parent might finally decide to claim him. One day, Perseus will not belong to his cabin in full. One day, Perseus will no longer have to rely on his mercy, because he will have another parent to return his calls. The jealousy is a thick, cloying thing, familiar but unwelcome.
He watches Perseus curl around Luke like he was always meant to slot to his side. Something delighted and possessive swells in his chest at the sight of the two smiling at each other. Percy acts like he was meant to be there, circling the members of his cabin with a practiced ease that most don't pick up until well into their stay.
He hates it. He hates it. Hermes hates it all.
Perseus does not belong to him. Hermes hardly has the time to claim the children he already has. Hermes is a busy, busy man who shouldn't be wasting his time here watching a mortal boy and wishing with everything he has that he was Perseus Jackson's sire.
George and Martha curl around his wrists. He's sure he has hundreds, if not thousands of notifications, but the world could wait for a moment. It had to wait. Perseus Jackson doesn't even realize the anguish he's caused a god. He goes about his silly mortal life, with his silly mortal cabin-mates, and remains blissfully unaware of the problems he's caused just by existing when Hermes happened to be looking.
Hermes is used to taking, but Hermes cannot take this. He knows better than anyone the dire consequences of lying about a claim. Most never even think of it, considering the weight of it. Wars have started over less.
But Hermes still wants and desires more than anything. His tricky fingers granted him godhood to begin with, all the way back with the cows and his silly lyre.
Hermes isn't used to being denied much of anything.
… Could anyone fault him for returning to his old ways?
He sits and wallows for another day yet, ignoring the calls of his relatives. They will simply have to wait. Helen could handle the worst of it.
None of the gods have ever cared for his claim over their children before. They place all the unclaimed into his cabin, and all of the minor gods alongside them. There's more than a few wayward children that will always be under his care by pure technicality. Perseus would have stayed within his cabin regardless if his guess on his lineage is correct. Would it truly be so bad? Would anyone even notice?
Would anyone notice a single abandoned child unwanted by the sea? Would anyone care enough to protest? Would anyone even believe them if they did?
Perhaps it's a whim that finally propels him to act, or maybe he had convinced himself to do this days ago. Maybe he had convinced himself at first sight. Maybe it was the easy way Luke wrapped his arms around Perseus's shoulders that morning, or maybe it was the way he watched them chatter and gossip around lunch. It doesn't matter.
What truly matters is that with nothing more than the wave of his hand, Hermes' symbol appears above Perseus Jackson's head like a funeral shroud. Everyone stops, hands pausing over their dinner and sacrifices. The camp goes dead quiet. There is no room for doubt, no question of parentage, not when everyone at camp sees the proof of his claim. Perseus Jackson is the son of Hermes.
Chiron stills, eyeing the symbol above his new boy like a bomb waiting to go off.
His brother sighs. Dionysus takes a long, long drink of his Diet Coke before standing with the same apathetic flourish he's had since his banishment.
Thankfully, the reaction of Perseus's new siblings is much brighter. They cheer and crowd Percy, overwhelming him with questions and bright beams. Luke wraps his arms around him with a smile, shaking him slightly and muttering something under his breath that has Perseus grinning.
Something warm blooms within him, and Hermes wants nothing more than to scoop up all of his children, his newest fledgling included, and coddle them senseless. He croons quietly, watching with a sweet smile despite the rolling of clouds over the horizon.
When mere minutes later, a sudden typhoon rolls in from the east coast to befuddle meteorologists and weather analysts alike, Hermes is more than content to ignore it.
The flooded coastline cities and drowned valleys truly are of no consequence to him, and, well, if his most volatile uncle truly had any complaints, then he'd simply have to approach Hermes personally.
Whichever minor deity under his uncle's purview he had slighted by taking what had been left behind would simply have to silence themselves. He was there first, after all. Hermes certainly had no intentions of returning his greatest heist in millennia. If Triton truly cared about this child he had left behind, then he should have been smart enough to claim him.
But that was a problem for another time. Hermes had plenty of work to get back to, after all. And if he pushed anything to do with the ocean to the back of the line, well… no one could prove a thing.
The Magician
"In a reading, the Magician implies that the primal forces of creativity are yours if you can claim your power and act with awareness and concentration. This card is a signal to act and act now, provided you understand exactly what you want and are committed to getting it."