Page 15 of The Trickster's Heart

“I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it all,” Hermes quipped, his face flushing red up to the tips of his ears. Hercules laughed again, and Hermes felt it rumble in Hercules’s chest under his palms. Hercules leaned down and bit at Hermes’s jaw.

“Oh, you pretty thing,” he growled, “for a god, you have so, so much to learn if you think that’s all I have in store for you.” Hercules bit down harder and broke the skin. Hermes moaned, letting his head fall back.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone. Hercules placed Hermes back on his feet. The shocking departure of Hercules’s body made him feel cold. Hercules sat down next to the fire as if nothing happened, pulling some fruit out of a pack nearby. Hermes touched the sore spot on his neck and let out a low hiss at the sting, which wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Hermes nearly fell over. Hercules wasn’t playing with him to be cruel. No. He hadn’t known the hero for very long, but what he did know was that Hercules didn’t mince words—or actions. It left Hermes in a confused puddle of attraction and emotional overload.

I think… I think Hercules just… Did he just mark his territory?!

7

The next morning, Hercules and Hermes were uncharacteristically quiet. Well, Hermes was. Hercules could go seemingly for hours without saying a word—a talent which both annoyed and intrigued Hermes. In reality, Hercules could hold a conversation just fine, but it amused him to no end to hear Hermes’s voice filling the silence.

Hermes was walking, or more accurately, floating a few steps in front of Hercules. It had been four days since Hercules washed the remnants of Eumolpos’s ritual off; he emerged from the water with an additional goal in mind… Hermes.

Just Hermes.

Hercules’s life was a carefully constructed web, and he never stepped a toe out of line. Whether he was listening to Eurystheus or getting council from another immortal, Hercules was formidably stoic. It took a lot to get him riled up, which was something he took great pride over. Now, faced with an angelic looking god—and Hercules knew he had a mouth made for sinning—he was ready to throw all of his plans out the window. The urge to abandon his white-knuckle grip on his own life made him pause, chastising himself for losing sight of his goals.

Yet, Hercules was nothing if not ambitious…so he created two separate tasks in his head and began meticulously carving out his path to achievement. The first one required getting Cerberus out of the Underworld; the second required convincing Hermes to give them a chance together.

He hadn’t told Hermes of this plan.

Hercules got the sense that Hermes didn’t expect people, mortal or immortal, to want to stick around for long.

It’s probably best not to spook him. I don’t really have the answers as to where this could go, honestly…but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

Hercules’s nerves were building as they began their last descent, the cavernous tunnel getting smaller as the scent of sulfur got stronger. Hercules coughed, covering his mouth and nose with an elbow as they marched on. Hermes turned around, pulling a strip of clean linen out of thin air and handing it to him.

“Use this.” Hermes motioned to Hercules’s face. “It’ll make the air sweet.” Hercules nodded, quickly grabbing the cloth and securing it. Hermes paused, tilting his head to the side as if he were deep in thought.

“Now, normally, I’m more than willing to be the one sporting a gag...but it does look good on you, pet.”

Hercules laughed, the sound coming out muffled. He was used to Hermes’s whiplash flirting by now and sensed a certain wall around Hermes every time he said something suggestive.

If you think you can deflect from your feelings by shocking me with innuendos, you’ll have to keep trying.

Hercules prepared to respond, but they rounded a tight corner, and every retort vanished from his mind. The tunnel opened up to a massive underground cave, revealing one of the entrances to the Underworld.

In the very center were two doors, taller than any building Hercules had ever seen. They were made of solid obsidian and intricately carved with the faces of the Underworld’s inhabitants. Hades and Persephone were at the very top, larger than life, and Hercules scanned over the faces and identified the rest of the chthonic gods. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling while black marble columns rose up to meet them. The doors were flanked by two lit torches, each of them bigger than Hercules himself.

The effect was ominous and consuming, the great power of the Underworld etched into the earth, and Hercules’s stomach turned.

“Fuck,” Hercules cursed under his breath, hating himself at the slightest hint of weakness. He pulled his hands into fists and hoped Hermes didn’t see them shaking.

“You know,” Hermes gossiped, “Hades originally put up such a fuss about adding Persephone’s face.” He nodded towards the doors.

“Huh.” Hercules furrowed his brow. “I thought he fell in love pretty quickly with Persephone. That’s what the stories say.”

“He did.” Hermes rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “You have no idea. He was unbelievably morose to be around, and he’s already pretty fucking gloomy to begin with. I don’t know why he caused a fight about it. This isn’t even the main entrance to the Underworld.”

Hercules shrugged, taking a few more steps towards the door, his anxiety evaporating. “I don’t know. Maybe he just… If things went wrong, he didn’t want to have to look at her face for all eternity, you know? If he lost her.”

“Oh.” Hermes’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Have you ever felt that way?” Hercules asked wistfully, staring up at the stone faces above him.

“No,” Hermes sighed, “I haven’t.”

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