Page 35 of The Trickster's Heart

“Hermes does what he wants. You should know that better than all of us.”

Zeus shuddered and sat back down without a response, Dionysus giving him a solitary nod as if to say, ‘Don’t try me.’ The god of wine sank into his seat and poured himself another cup, his expression jovial once more.

“Hercules.” Hermes was now sitting cross-legged at Zeus’s feet, his elbows propped up on his knees while he cradled his face in his hands. “Hercules,” he repeated over and over, singing it to himself in a myriad of voices. “Hercules, Hercules…H-hercules!”

“Get the fuck on with it,” Zeus muttered, staring down at the besotted deity. “If you weren’t drunk off your wings, I’d assume you were in love with the man.”

“In love!” Hermes cried exuberantly, his wings propelling him into the air again. “I’m in love!” Hermes went off in another round of giggles, Dionysus watching him with an amused expression on his face. “Did you hear that, Dionysus?” Hermes flew over to him and playfully pulled on the god’s hair. “I’m in love!”

“The message!” Zeus roared, stomping his foot like a child. A flash of lightning cut through the great hall as thunder rolled outside, effectively stripping the room of any frivolity. There were a few moments of silence as Hermes and Dionysus both stared at Zeus with unamused, bored expressions.

Hermes started floating over to Zeus, still hiccupping erratically.

“The only thing you’ve effectively been able to kill is the mood, Zeus.” Hermes rolled his eyes and stopped midair a few feet away. “Here’s your m-message,” he burped again, and Zeus grimaced. “Perseus sent me.”

“Oh, Perseus.” Zeus grinned in paternal familiarity—or as close as Zeus was capable. “What does my beloved son have to say?”

Hermes flinched internally, and part of him sobered up at the sharp words; he was technically a son of Zeus, too, but Zeus had never extended any familial goodwill towards him. Hermes knew a cutting remark when he heard one, but before it struck too deep, the image of Hercules’s warm, pleasant smile invaded his thoughts and pushed back against the insecurities Zeus attempted to dredge up.

“Perseus, the rapist,” Hermes continued, still mimicking wild drunkenness, “which is the only legacy you’re able to impart,” Zeus growled but Hermes kept speaking over it, “wants you to know that Hercules is not your s-son.” Hermes included another loud belch at the end.

The next few moments stretched on like an eternity as Hermes desperately searched Zeus’s face. Hermes sobered up rapidly as each second passed, a cold chill going down his spine and settling in his stomach. His fingers and wings twitched in anxious movements, waiting to see if Zeus would disregard him.

“Hmm.” Zeus stroked his beard mindlessly before letting out a long, arduous sigh. “I never can trust anything you say, fucking trickster.”

Oh, please, please don’t. Hermes’s chest tightened with a dangerous rush of hope.

“However,” Zeus shrugged, “I suppose it’s better to err on the side of caution. It’s easy enough to replace Hercules with another mortal plaything. I’d forgotten he was puttering around, working for that immortality,” Zeus chuckled as if this was endlessly amusing to him.

The anxiety in Hermes’s stomach started to churn and morph, turning into something even more alive and dangerous—fury.

“You forgot?” Hermes’s voice was full of a deathly calm, all of the drunkenness scrubbed from his tone. Zeus eyed him with suspicion and surprise as he noticed how quickly Hermes sobered up.

“Yes,” Zeus leaned back on his throne, spreading his legs a little wider, “Would-be heroes like Hercules are cheap and easily found in Greece.” Zeus’s face morphed into a taunting expression as he raised one hand. “It’s probably best to just start over.”

Hermes’s entire body went taut with tension, his wings fluttering faster as his staff reappeared in his hand. His mind was plagued with rapid-fire images of Hercules, from his laugh to his tendency to protect him, even his shock and awe every time he met a new god. Hermes didn’t care anymore that his affection for Hercules was apparent; the ruse was up.

Zeus studied Hermes and scoffed, staring him dead in the eye as he snapped his fingers. The sound echoed in the great hall as a wave of Zeus’s power rippled over the room. Hermes hissed. Zeus couldn’t leave Mt. Olympus, so whatever he had just unleashed wouldn’t be good.

“You’re fond of snakes,” Zeus smiled sardonically, and Hermes’s heart stopped. “It would be a shame if one was on its way now to your dear, beloved hero… And my snakes, you mischievous waste of a deity…” Zeus’s voice dropped into a growl. “They bite.”

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Hermes’s vision blacked out as Zeus’s words sunk in. His entire existence was limited to a singular point of interest…and that was Hercules. The strength of his feelings for him, no matter how rapidly they may have developed, consumed him. The weight of his affection was suddenly the force behind his beating heart, the way he lived for teasing Hercules became the reason he breathed.

Hermes had never felt more powerful, and he surrendered to the sensation. He began to glow, a bright, golden aura encircling his body. The wings on his helmet and feet moved faster, pushing him higher as he shed any pretext of a mortal form. Hermes grew larger, taller, until he rivaled both Zeus and Dionysus in size. Massive, feathered wings ripped free from his back, causing Zeus’s jaw to drop in surprise. They looked like swan’s wings, elegant and deadly, nearly spanning the width of the great hall. Hermes’s eyes glowed entirely white, and his staff nearly doubled in size. The snakes wrapped around the top of the scepter came alive with a terrifying hiss, undulating around the rod as if they were begging to be released.

When Hermes spoke, his voice seemed to come from two places at once, as if he was both the sound and the echo.

“You know the thing that’s so dangerous about a trickster,” Hermes sneered the word and moved closer to Zeus.

“Now, listen to me…” Zeus paled, holding his hands up in front of his face. Hermes didn’t acknowledge him and kept creeping closer.

“The problem is…” Hermes grinned and leaned over Zeus until he was only a hair’s breadth away from his face. Zeus’s eyes were wide, and his breath was shallow. Hermes chuckled internally at how little it took to spook him.

“Please,” Zeus made a pathetic sound and squeezed his eyes shut.

“…you never know what they’re hiding.”

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