Page 34 of The Trickster's Heart

Dionysus spent most of his time in the mortal world, drinking and sleeping his way through his own temple festivals. Hermes liked Dionysus; the god of wine was a victim of his own reputation, much like Hermes. Hermes knew firsthand that Dionysus had a habit of cutting the cocks off men who tried to sleep with inebriated women or he gave their names to Hecate.

Dionysus was sitting at the long table, his curly grey and black hair going past his shoulders. His skin glowed like dark bronze, and he held two cups in one hand.

“What am I doing?” Dionysus chuffed, looking around at the mess. “I’m fucking up Zeus’s pristine hall, of course. You know what a neat freak he is.”

Hermes’s eyes zeroed in on the spilled wine all over the floor, and finally, something in his mind clicked into place. The trickster came alive in front of Dionysus, his smile widening and some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders.

I have an idea.

“My friend,” Hermes floated over to Dionysus and sat down next to him, “I have an idea, and I need your help.”

“Oh?” Dionysus matched Hermes’s mischievous grin. “And what does it entail?”

“I need you to get me disastrously drunk.” Hermes picked up a cup and held it out towards Dionysus in a toast. The god nearly fell over in laughter, letting out a victorious shout.

“Hermes, my dear boy, I thought you’d never ask!”

* * *

Hermes sensed Zeus’s arrival before he saw him, but it was a miracle he could see anything. Dionysus had done his job, and he’d done it well. Hermes was barely sitting upright in his chair. Dionysus only laughed harder. He flushed a happy, healthy color while Hermes knew he was red from head to toe.

When he had seen Dionysus and the wine, Hermes finally came up with a plan—a delicious trick—to ensure he’d keep Hercules’s secret.

Zeus couldn’t possibly believe me if I’m spitting drunk. Hermes smiled in relief at the mere possibility he wouldn’t betray Hercules.

A gust of wind blew through the hall, and a pair of doors from behind the throne burst open. Zeus stormed in, the ground shaking with each monstrous step, looking furious. His hair was wildly unkempt, and his eyes were red, while small lightning bolts flashed around his knuckles. Dionysus and Hermes exchanged a quick look before burying themselves in their cups.

Zeus stomped his way up the short dais and collapsed into the throne with a grunt, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice the two gods helping themselves to the banquet in front of him, shooing away the serving girl with one hand.

“What have you been caught doing this time, our dear fearless leader?” Dionysus smirked, his tone full of mockery. Zeus snapped to attention, sitting up straighter and narrowing his eyes as he zeroed in on Dionysus and Hermes.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” Zeus growled but didn’t get up. Hermes only hiccuped in response while Dionysus raised his wine and gave Zeus a mock-salute.

“Hermes has a message for you.” Dionysus pointed a finger in Zeus’s direction. He swayed slightly, and it was the only mannerism that betrayed his drunkenness. Dionysus was remarkably adept at holding his liquor, which was to be expected, and he faked his own inebriation more often than not.

Hermes was now lying across his chair, his head and feet dangling off either side. He hiccupped again and poked his head up, resting his chin on the table. Zeus let out a disgusted groan at Hermes’s appearance—his eyes were half-closed, and there was a dopey smile on his face, his cherubic features flushed with the effects of the wine.

“He doesn’t look like he’s able to get a message from his brain to his cock right now,” Zeus scoffed, refusing to hold back any of his contempt before letting out a great sigh. “All right, Hermes, what is it? What is the great message that I must know?”

“Oh! The message!” Hermes jumped to his feet and immediately fell back into his chair, belching loudly. Dionysus chortled pleasantly and refilled Hermes’s cup as Zeus rolled his eyes. “The message!” Hermes squeaked again, the wings at his ankles flapping rapidly. They propelled him upwards, and he swayed dangerously through the air, zig-zagging a few inches off the ground until he landed rather unceremoniously in a heap at Zeus’s feet.

As soon as he hit the ground, Hermes exploded in another round of giggles, wrapping his arms around his midsection as he rocked back and forth. He stopped and rolled to his side, suddenly engrossed with the tile designs on the floor. Hermes started tracing the design of a Greek soldier, dragging his finger down its painted face.

“Hercules,” he muttered into the floor, feeling warm and giddy all over when he thought about the hero.

“What about Hercules?” Zeus snapped, narrowing his eyes as he studied Hermes.

Fuck, Hermes cursed mentally, I didn’t think he’d hear that. Oh. I said it out loud.

The only downfall to Hermes’s plan was that getting drunk involved…well, getting drunk.

“Hercules!” Hermes let out a victory shout and rolled over to his back, spreading his arms out wide. “I have a message about Hercules.”

Zeus groaned. “Do you have to tell me while you’re on the floor?”

“Yes,” Hermes yelped as if this was an offensive suggestion. “I love the floor.” Zeus turned to look at Dionysus.

“Did you really feel like this was necessary if he had a message to give me?” His tone was threatening, and Dionysus’s countenance pivoted rapidly, a stormy, dark look taking over his face. He stood up to his full height and a wicked harpe sword appeared in his hand; the long blade had a sickle protrusion at one end, ideal for either harvesting grapes or castrations. You never could be quite sure with Dionysus.

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