Page 37 of Song of Memories

Pan refused to sleep for the rest of the night. He wouldn't miss a single moment of the sensation of having a sleeping, satisfied Eurydice in his arms.

Especially if it was only for one night.

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When Pan blinked his eyes slowly open, he immediately started cursing. He was mortified to realize he had fallen asleep, which was the last thing he wanted to do. Eurydice had been sleeping in his arms, and he didn't want to miss a single moment of that bliss. He sat up and quickly looked around, his melancholy going bone-deep when he saw Eurydice was no longer next to him. Pan was sitting on the edge of the clearing, between some trees where he’d hauled Eurydice the previous night to achieve only a modicum of privacy. All around him, the ground was covered with fresh baby's breath. It was as thick as wool, woven like a heavy carpet across the ground. Pan blushed furiously when he noticed a fully grown oak tree had sprung up from the ground near his feet.

"Oh god," Pan grunted, running his hand through his thick curls. He slowly stood up and stretched out his arms, relishing the soreness in his shoulders from clutching Eurydice to him all night long.

I can't believe she left. Pan's heart was collapsing inside of his chest. He knew that last night wasn't going to go anywhere...but he at least expected to see Eurydice's face in the morning to soften the blow. Creatures of the forest weren't often prudish when it came to sex; everyone ended up getting into bed with their friends at one point or another. It happened eventually when you gathered with each other to celebrate the god of wine and the god of fertility. The nymphs and dryads, belonging to Pan, had adopted a culture of ‘what happens at the banquet, stays at the banquet.’

Sex wasn't anything to be ashamed of; it was the most natural part of themselves. The fact that Eurydice had left Pan the morning after cut deeper knowing that whatever she was thinking when she woke up, it superseded that long-held mentality of Dionysian devotees.

If I made her feel ashamed or uncomfortable... The thought sat in Pan's stomach like sour wine.

"That is the most depressing look I've ever seen on anyone's face, ever."

"Fuck!" Pan nearly jumped out of his skin when Hermes's voice suddenly cut through the empty clearing. "Are you always hellbent on greeting people in the most chaotic way possible?" Pan crossed his arms over his chest and mustered his best attempt at a glare aimed at his father.

Hermes was looking cherubic as always, his golden hair forming a nearly perfect crown around his head. He was dressed casually, without his staff or winged sandals, the impish grin always present on his face.

"Chaos is what I do, my child, and don't act like it doesn't run in your blood too," Hermes scoffed playfully.

"Knock it off with the 'my child' nonsense. You may be my father, but we're both as old as Greece itself at this point."

"You should never remind a lady of her age." Hermes clutched at his chest dramatically.

"I don't see Hercules around," Pan quipped back, and Hermes nearly fell over with laughter.

"Ha! I have taught you a thing or two." Hermes suddenly looked wistful. "He is pretty though, isn't he?"

"Yes," Pan rolled his eyes, "your husband is very pretty, father dearest. Did you come here for a reason or just to torment me specifically?"

"Touchy, touchy!" Hermes's brows raised. "What's got your horns in a twist? I heard you were celebrating the full moon in Greece last night, and then you suddenly whisked away to the Underworld without a word."

"I'm allowed to celebrate the full moon wherever I choose. It's my celebrations after all, next to Dionysus."

Hermes held up his hands in mock surrender. "I never said that you weren't allowed to." Hermes's face contorted into a softer expression. "I can tell that something happened. You're being pricklier than usual, and you're half goat."

"Fuck off," Pan grunted, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"The only thing that has ever gotten you this worked up is... Oh my god!" Hermes sucked in a sharp breath. "Eurydice! Did something happen?" Hermes crossed the small clearing to get closer to his son, gossiping like one of the Fates.

Pan dropped dramatically back down into the field of baby's breath, resting his chin on his knees. A few of the flowers started to wilt in a perfect circle around him.

"Gods," Hermes whistled in a low tone. "You are upset." Hermes studied the flowers that were rapidly decaying around Pan's presence. "I'm assuming you saw her with Orpheus, or..."

"Don't mention that shit musician's name in my presence," Pan growled. A wave of angry, powerful green power rippled over Pan as his satyr form broke free. His beard lengthened, and the hair over his body turned coarser, even his horns stretched out further as he shifted.

"I can see that." Hermes raised a brow. "So nothing happened at all with that darling muse?"

Pan said nothing for a few moments, not knowing how much he wanted to divulge to Hermes. He trusted Hermes unlike most deities, not only because Hermes was his father, but because he knew the gossip around Hermes's reputation was just that—gossip. He could keep a secret for millennia if it was required of him. Finally, the heaviness on Pan's heart outweighed his hesitations.

"She called for me last night," Pan muttered, looking anywhere but at Hermes's face.

"Oh." Hermes did an excellent job at keeping the emotion out of his voice. "She called to you during...during a full moon celebration?"

Pan looked up at Hermes, mortified when a few tears sprung free. He nodded.

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