Page 40 of The Trickster's Heart

Hermes made good on his promise to keep Hercules in his sights. Although Hercules was keen to visit Mycenae, Hermes insisted they stay on Mt. Kyllini for one more day. He had been irrevocably shaken by the sight of Hercules mortally wounded and was still adjusting to the weight of his own feelings.

It’s a lot of damn trouble, falling in love like this, Hermes grumbled to himself, but then he saw Hercules walk past the open window, holding a lamb from the sheep pens outside. Hermes reversed course. Fuck, it’s worth it. So, so worth it.

“Hercules, what did I tell you about getting attached to the livestock?” Hermes yelled outside.

His property on Mt. Kyllini was modest by a god’s standards but expansive to a mortal; it consisted of the main house, one barn, a kennel, and a small building for grain storage. The air was always cool, even in the summer heat, and it was the perfect place for Hermes to escape to when everything else in his life was too…loud.

Hercules walked through the door and placed the lamb down, which promptly ran over to the hearth and curled up in front of the fire.

Hercules turned to Hermes with a pitying expression on his face. “How could you say no to that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a dog?” Hermes winced, thinking about the smell of sheep getting all over his clothing. He was otherwise so enthralled by this side of Hercules—the gentle, soft-spoken side that really had a thing for animals, despite so many of his labors involving hunting—he didn’t realize how domestic their conversation had become.

“Yes,” Hercules crossed his arms over his chest, looking petulant. “Dogs are Hecate’s thing, anyway.”

Hermes grinned when he sensed a little jealously in Hercules’s voice. He held his arm out towards Hercules, who obliged and crossed the room and settled in Hermes’s lap. Hermes was still shaken up after seeing Hercules on death’s doorstep and hadn’t calmed down enough to tamper his power. Hercules, on the other hand, was fully enjoying the sensation of being the ‘little’ one, as evidenced by how keen he was to climb into Hermes’s embrace.

“You know everything that happened between Hecate and I was a long, long time ago,” Hermes chided. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“I still don’t want a dog,” Hercules grunted, refusing to meet Hermes’s eyes.

“Fine,” he chuckled quietly, “but this is a farm, Herc, you know you shouldn’t name them.”

“Please?” Hercules kissed Hermes softly, wrapping his arms around the god’s neck. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hermes murmured against Hercules’s lips, “you can keep the fucking sheep if it means so much to you.”

“Mmm,” Hercules melted into the kiss in response, letting his body go lax in Hermes’s embrace.

Hercules pulled away before they were too worked up, letting out a long sigh then leveling his gaze at Hermes.

“You know we need to go to Mycenae,” he implored Hermes. “Cerberus has been there for two days.” Hercules tried to sound serious, but his smile gave him away. After ten years of working tirelessly for the petty king, he quite liked the idea of Eurystheus getting chased around the palace by Cerberus.

“Fine,” Hermes sighed, detangling himself from Hercules and helping him stand, “but I would like the record to reflect that I wanted to stay here with you forever.”

“Noted.” Hercules blushed in happiness, allowing himself a moment to bathe in the fact that Hermes wanted him.

The god led them outside, holding out his hand for Hercules to hold. Hermes’s magic started to spin around them in a gentle gold breeze, sparkling in the sunlight as it prepared to whisk them away to Mycenae.

“Hermes…” Hercules raised a brow, “are you always able to travel like this?”

It was Hermes’s turn to blush as he realized Hercules had caught on to the fact he’d purposefully delayed all of their travels by insisting they take the long way.

“Not always.” Hermes grinned bashfully. “Sometimes it messes with my hair…”

Hercules’s reply was drowned out on the wind, but Hermes could see that he was smiling.

* * *

When they arrived to the palace in Mycenae, it was suspiciously quiet. Hermes could see how tense being in the palace made Hercules, and he didn’t like it. He much preferred the lazy, soft Hercules that came to life when they were alone, safe on the mountain, where no one could bother them. It spurred something in Hermes to wrap up their work in Mycenae quickly.

“This is bizarre,” Hercules whispered, looking around the empty palace hallways.

“Maybe Eurystheus finally embraced his truest, most cowardly nature and split,” Hermes grunted and pushed open the doors to the throne room. They stepped inside, and their mouths dropped open in shock at the scene before them.

The great hall was in chaos—silent, terrifying chaos. Caskets of wine were overturned, scraps of clothing littered the floor, and statues had been knocked over and shattered. There were puddles surrounding the pool in the center, like something had been playing in the water.

“What the fuck happened… Oh,” Hercules broke off into laughter as his eyes landed on Eurystheus’s throne.

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