For @messageforyou

[refusetofight]

“Achilles!”

“Yes, Lord Hades.”

“There are visitors at the gate. See them to the audience chamber.” Hades sets down his quill and pushes up to his intimidating height to head to the chamber in question—an austere and drafty room reserved for private conversations with his fellow gods and artfully designed to honor xenia, while still uncomfortable enough to encourage brevity. Mortal shades and house staff are rarely allowed entry. “And send my wife along as well.”

Achilles bows and strides off to do as he’s told. After his brief infusion of Hades’ power in the arena, he can well imagine the clarity with which his master sees his realm and all that stirs within it. Particularly divine guests at the threshold of his halls, toeing the invisible boundary he placed to prevent gods from entering without his approval. (Shades and other lesser creatures can more or less come and go as they please; he could care less.)

With the grinding scrape of cold iron and stone, Achilles pushes open the House’s gate to behold ...

“Lady Athena, Lord Hermes. Please, come in. Be welcome,” he says after a very brief, shocked pause. He leans on rigid formality to hide his relief at the sight of Hermes safe and well after two months and only one brief letter. This is short lived, quickly replaced by a fresh bout of apprehension; why have he and his sister come to see their uncle?

Once they’ve been ushered to the cavernous audience chamber, Achilles finds Persephone in her garden—with Zagreus—and summons her as well. She smiles, dusts the dirt from her hands, plucks clinging leaves from her peplos and asks her son to continue weeding. Zagreus looks chagrined as he works at a particularly stubborn patch of crabgrass.

After two more short detours—one to task Dusa with preparing guest chambers, another to request food and wine from the chef—and Achilles finally positions himself outside the imposing double doors, ready to receive orders and steer away would-be eavesdroppers. All while he’s desperately straining his own ears to hear snatches of conversation.

Comments

[refusetofight]

Achilles' watch is not entirely uneventful. Half-way through the siblings' tête-à-tête, Zagreus silently rounds a corner. Not a word is exchanged between mentor and protégé, they simply make eye contact: Achilles slowly shakes his head, Zagreus frowns and turns back the way he came, leaving a trail of cooling, molten footprints in his wake. (How the lad ever thinks he can be sneaky when he leaves evidence like that, Achilles doesn't know.)

He hears the telltale change in tone that signals a conversation wrapping up and feels what? Embarrassed? To hear their affectionate words, especially from Athena. It's far from the first time he's heard gods speak so candidly with one another; his duties find him ignored like any fixture of the house. Standing watch outside closed doors like these, Achilles has heard hushed, loving words between Persephone and Zagreus, or even Persephone and Hades. It leaves him with a lingering film of guilt, like he's stolen their precious words out of the air.

And then Athena emerges, chasing shadows away to the furthest reaches of the hall with her very presence. Or maybe that's just how it seems to his bleary shade's eyes.

"Ah— ... I shall take greater care in future." He blinks back the fresh shock of shame at her warning and veers back into strict formality. "It's a pleasure, Lady Athena—the chance to serve you once again, if only for a moment."

Once the goddess is well out of sight, Achilles waits another dozen breaths before he returns to the door. He's not quite ready to drop protocol—not after what just transpired with Athena, or with Zagreus skulking about—and he gives it a gentle rap with his knuckle. "Lord Hermes? Would you still like my company?"

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Athena, before she leaves, inclines her head. Her mouth doesn't move, but the corners of her eyes soften, and there's sincerity in her eyes when she says, "The pleasure is mine, Achilles. Take care of my little brother."

And then she's gone. She has work to do, after all. And whether her parting words were a command for a guard or a plea to her brother's lover to her? She hasn't made it clear.

But when Achilles finally knocks on the door, Hermes doesn't answer verbally. Instead, he just opens the door himself. His eyes are tired, his wings drooping more than usual, but he leans against the threshold with his usual confidence nonetheless.

"What do you think?" he says softly. He waits for Achilles to step inside before closing the door, sighing and leaning his back against it like he'd just had a fistfight with Kronos.

"I know it's important for appearances, but I don't like it when you call me Lord," Hermes says, rubbing his face.

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"Forgive me—" This is pronounced less like an apology, more like a quiet acknowledgement. Then, as if to make up for it, he heaps every ounce of affection he can into two syllables: "Hermes."

Achilles notes the marked change from the bubbly god happily munching on sweets, and immediately wraps an arm around Hermes' shoulders. He coaxes his exhausted weight away from the door to lean against him instead.

"From what little I could hear, those words with your sister sounded fraught." He sets his spear aside yet again as he maneuvers Hermes to a seat. "Care to talk about it?"

Yes, he wants to help Hermes unburden himself, but Achilles is just as anxious to know about Zagreus' exchange with Athena. He might just have to give his student a proper reprimand.

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Hermes is all too happy to let his lover take him in his arms and guide him to sit. He heaves a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on Achilles’ shoulder.

“You know, I can fight with Ares all day and be merry as a clam after. Artemis is easy to get laughing, and Apollo doesn’t care what I do if I’m safe, and Dionysus never stays mad… but Athena just makes you feel rotten.” Hermes rubs his face again. “Because she’s almost always right, and she just wants what’s best for you, and she wants you to be better than your worst instincts and on and on—I hate it when we argue.”

It’s one of those rare situations where Hermes might be able to ‘win’ an argument and get what he wants, but he still feels terrible afterwards.

“Zagreus got under her skin. Talked about keeping secrets destroying his side of the family, and he doesn’t want to keep that tradition alive, that he has a right to make decisions about his place in the family, and he’s an adult and he can’t be sheltered forever and he’ll never come into his own if we don’t allow it—and he’s right, and she knows he’s right, but I say we should just do the wrong thing and keep him out of this so he can come into his own some other time with less risk of being vaporized.”

Also Hermes feels really weird being on the “keep the family member safe and sheltered” side against Athena’s “let them make their own choices even if we think we know better”. Usually the sides are switched.

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"Everyone wants to see the lad flourish, myself included. I know there's greatness in store for him." He reaches fingers into Persephone's cut flowers to unfurl the voluminous petals of a red peony, freeing it from where it was crushed among the surrounding blooms.

"But I agree with you. If things go to plan, there's precious little he can do to help." Achilles takes a solemn inhale as he lifts the half-empty amphora. "And if things take a turn for the worse, he's still at a grave disadvantage. He owes so much of his success to your family's generous boons.

"Yes, they've been enough to see him through the Underworld's challenges, but will he still hold his own in a war with established gods?" He pours a fresh cup of wine and offers it to Hermes. "There will be more forgiving times to cut his teeth."

Achilles settles back into his own seat, elbows on his knees, head hanging in thought. "I suppose your sister is accustomed to heroes; we need to be pushed to the brink of breaking if we hope to reach our full potential. Maybe she thinks Zagreus requires a similar trial by fire."

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"She's used to heroes. And she's used to Olympians." Hermes takes the cup of wine and drinks deeply. He takes a moment to admire the flowers, shifting close to Achilles to lean on him. "I was only two days old when I stole from my brother. If I'd been less charming or clever, it could have turned out very badly for me and my mum. Hephaestus spited Lady Hera for abandoning him by giving her a throne that forced her to stay in it until Dionysus got Hephaestus drunk and convinced him to release her, and that could have turned out very badly for him. Artemis demanded Pop's word early that he'd never force her to marry, and Apollo crossed I don't know how many gods chasing their daughters..."

Hermes flaps his hand in the air, some aborted gesture to help get his point across. "We all make legends by doing gutsy things we probably shouldn't. And the rest of us did it when we were younger and weaker than Zagreus. But even if we're being overprotective hypocrites, we've got to look out for our own skins too. You know how I feel about my Coz, but he's about as discrete as the Spartan army."

Hermes adores his baby cousin and sincerely thinks that Zagreus would take their side if he knew the full story, but Hermes also has a decent grasp of his skill set. Zagreus is best when the situation calls for interpersonal mediation or a lot of sword swinging, not when it calls for keeping his mouth shut about treason.

"We can all stop being overprotective hypocrites after we're done doing things that could land us in the depths of Tartarus, and he can make a legend picking a fight with gods that won't start a war over it."

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Achilles might feel a fatherly protectiveness for the prince, Achilles can be brought into the fold on these divine matters, but the fact remains: he's still only a tutor and a mortal servant of the House. Hermes is just a concerned cousin. "We can have opinions all we like, but the final say lies with his parents alone.

"And in this case, your uncle's stubbornness works in our favor. Lord Hades would never allow his son to become embroiled in Olympian matters, and while his disapproval has never stopped Zagreus, his mother's just might. The queen will surely have her own objections and the prince will feel their weight."

He shifts a hand to Hermes' knee and gives it an encouraging shake. "If we all make it through this, maybe you can find some legendary exploits for the lad? Something thoroughly challenging."

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"At least that's one thing Athena and I agreed on: no letting Zagreus in on this if we still want Uncle Hades to like us. As much as he likes any of his nieces and nephews, anyway."

And Hermes, while he does like to be a gadfly at times, would really like to stay in Hades' good graces at the moment.

Hermes sighs softly again, resting his chin on Achilles' shoulder. "Figuring out how to last on the surface should be legendary on its own. Then there are some minor gods drunk on power I'm sure he'd have fun convincing to behave. I'll think of something."

Hermes stretches his wings, fluffing them up and shaking them out. "She also needled me about decorum and respecting family politics and remembering I'm Olympian and what that means. That was fun, I'll tell you."

He feels like scolded child, which isn't fun when one is a grown adult god who can make his own choices, thank you, Athena.

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"Thank you." Anthesteria was one loophole for Zagreus. Achilles has to hope there's more, and he has a feeling the god clever enough to find them is sitting beside him. Otherwise, he can't imagine how restless the prince might become if he's trapped in the Underworld for all but a few nights a year. And what terrible insult to injury, to watch his cousins and aunts and uncles come and go as they please.

Achilles circles the ball of Hermes' knee with an index finger and sighs.

"I'm sorry about the feather. And the detail about your mother. I should have been more vigilant." Athena's words come back to him with a fresh twinge of embarrassment. Not for loving Hermes, no, but for being fool enough to think he could keep it from her.

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“No, don’t be sorry. It would have fooled any of my other siblings. She’s just the smartest one.” Hermes offers Achilles a wan smile. “And you did well enough that she’s not outright accusing us of anything, so I’d say it was very impressive.”

Especially for a man he knows isn’t suited for trickery. Hermes curls a finger in Achilles’ hair, sighing through his nose.

“She’s just… rigid. About class and placement and decorum and such. And love—I don’t know what it is about her, but she swore off romance and she’s had no trouble staying that way. She doesn’t really get it when the rest of us have relationships we shouldn’t.”

If he ever has to have a direct conversation with her about Achilles, it’ll be rough. ‘But the sex was amazing and then I fell in love’ doesn’t hold much weight to someone who has never been interested in either sex or love and doesn’t quite understand what the appeal is for everyone else.

*groggily emerges from the maw of the holidays*

[refusetofight]

In many ways, Athena could not be more of Zeus' opposite. But could her zealous dedication to order and her rejection of perfectly normal passions make her an equally intractable ruler? Maybe. But right now, anything seems better than Zeus' egocentric chaos.

"I would expect nothing less from the goddess of wisdom. You and I—we've discussed it enough times before: romantic love can inspire us to great deeds and acts of loyalty. Or it can turn us into fools and villains. Paris brought ruin upon Troy. I massacred the Trojans." His face wavers in the tense space between a wistful smile and a pained frown. "Love is a beautiful and terrible madness."

Achilles wonders if Athena was surprised by his wild grief at Patroclus' death. How many heroes have been completely undone by love and the loss thereof? He can't be the first she's seen.

He finally manages a weak smile and bumps his shoulder against Hermes'. "Your sister must find Lady Aphrodite completely baffling."

Same tho @_@

[messageforyou]

"Oh, they hate each other." Hermes barks a hoarse laugh, tucking his head in the crook of Achilles' shoulder. "Aphrodite can't get Athena to fall in love with a frog and Athena can't sway any mortals Aphrodite has bewitched. They're both completely ineffectual opposed to the other and it drives them mad."

Hermes is pretty sure that if it weren't for Athena's dedication to dignity and Aphrodite's savvy, the two of them would have torn each other's hair out long ago.

"Athena thinks it's all frivolous, but she's been forced to admit that even if Aphrodite's power doesn't affect her, it sure affects everyone else, so she's got to get used to it." Hermes reaches for Achilles' hand, squeezing it gently. "Once this is all over, and we're not in secret anymore, I'll take care of dealing with her. She'll come around."

Even if she doesn't understand romance, Athena does understand loving a person so much that it hurts. And Hermes can appeal to her love for him even if she thinks the relationship is categorically inappropriate.

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Achilles gives a short, breathy laugh when his suspicions are confirmed. He feels like he's been in equal thrall to both goddesses—his deep love for Patroclus on the one hand and his call to heroism and war-forged glory on the other—even as the sisters stood on opposite sides of the battle that devoured his life.

"I'm not opposed to explaining this to her myself." He looks down at their clasped hands and gives Hermes an answering squeeze. Athena's earlier fussing over her baby brother is top of mind. "Maybe it's easier to hear from the party she didn't raise from a babe."

Achilles can say this, but his stomach will still twist as he stands before Athena and tries to assemble a thoughtful, reasoned statement as to how and why Hermes has become so important to him. First as a god who shook him out of his vengeful cruelty. Then as a friend who delivered brightness to his afterlife—with smiles and jokes, conversation and stories from beyond the Underworld. Then as a trusted confidant with whom he could share his heart—with all the fears and ugliness it contains. And finally, as a lover to cherish and protect, even if it means defying the very Lord of Olympus.

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Hermes gives Achilles a painfully in love look, the sort of look that would make Apollo fake retch, and he presses a kiss to his lover's knuckles. "Somehow, that seems braver than hunting me down in the land of dreams."

But trust his hero to do what's brave, even if that's explaining to his patron goddess that he's in love with her beloved little brother.

"We'll talk about how we'll play our cards and explain things to people after Olympus has settled." Hermes makes a tsk noise, his smile returning with more sincere cheeky humor. "Not looking forward to that conversation with Coz, I can tell you. Though I'm sure his reaction will be very funny."

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"That journey through dreams might as well be a leisurely stroll." A jaunty smile tugs at one corner of his lips as he drops his voice, "And Apollo nothing more than a blustering goose compared to Athena.

"But Zagreus ..." Achilles smears a hand over his face, wiping away his smile. "Funny? To you maybe.

"It was difficult enough when he ran across Pat." And with him, all of Achilles' buried grief and shame. "It turned out to be for the best, like lancing a festering wound, but by the Styx, if it didn't sting."

At least his history with Hermes isn't so fraught. Achilles shakes his head and clasps his hand tighter. "It's as you say, though. One step at a time. Keep your focus firmly on this next one. You need to be sure-footed. There's no room to stumble, love."

Another wan smile pulls his lips and he bumps his head against Hermes'. "And after it's done? All of this other business will seem trifling."

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Hermes hums in agreement. He turns his head up, brushing their noses together as he gives Achilles a slow kiss.

"Mmm. You bet it will." Hermes hums again, nuzzling his nose against Achilles' neck. "Or I'll be in Tartarus full time and you'll be my handsome jailer. Either way, it'll seem like no trouble at all."

Hermes presses a playful kiss to Achilles' neck. "I could always just drop it in conversation during a security check. 'By the way, Coz, you know how you have a thing with a fury and my coworker? Well Achilles has a thing with two people too, and I'm one of them. Now what boon would you like this time?' I'm sure he won't have any followup questions."

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"At least there's that. The lad's more like his Olympian family—no stranger to the idea of multiple loves." And it's not something he was surprised to learn; the prince isn't exactly miserly with his affections. Though Achilles was very impressed that Zagreus managed to win the hearts of two of the House's most forbidding residents.

Achilles' fingers graze against Hermes' feathers, bright and vital. He can't imagine how hiding must chafe at the god, what with his constant urge to go and do and see. What would imprisonment do to him?

"I don't want to see you caged, magpie." As much as he tries to keep his tone light, there's an underlying note of pleading sincerity. "Not an hour would pass before you'd go mad."

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Hermes sobers somewhat. Achilles is entirely right. Zeus wouldn't need to think of any creative tortures to torment Hermes for the rest of existence--all he'd need is to be trapped in one boring place, unable to exercise or explore or learn. And as much as Hermes is just as much of the Underworld as he is of the surface, being trapped below forevermore would be crushing. He'd get so bored he'd start chewing on the walls.

"Well, if it were to happen, you'd just have to smuggle me some good books, hmm?"

Hermes squeezes Achilles' hand. His feathers fluff at the light contact, spreading out to invite some preening. Really, Achilles has been in this room for so long, and no preening? "But luckily, it won't happen, because I happen to be very good at what I do. And what I do is get people stuck in messes of their own making until they do what I want them to."

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"Even if I brought Lady Athena's entire library to your cell, I doubt books would satisfy the likes of you." Achilles is sure Hermes would beg Hypnos to put him down for another extended nap; at least there's a certain freedom in dreams.

The expectantly spread wings remind Achilles of cormorants drying their wet feathers, waterlogged after long dives. Apropos, he thinks, after his months with Poseidon. "I suppose the least I can do is make certain your feathers look their best, hm? And find any loose down that might give you away."

With both hands, he sets about the process with extra—almost solemn—care, touching each of his feathers: the graceful primaries, the short secondaries, the shorter coverts. It might be the last time he does this, a grim part of him warns. If Zeus catches Hermes again, he won't make the same mistake—he'll surely tear these wings off with his own hands.

"It won't happen," he repeats under his breath, like a spell to counter his creeping pessimism.

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Hermes shifts to lie his head down in Achilles' lap, giving him more space to comfortably preen the bright orange wings. He lets his eyes drift closed, relaxing once more and just focusing on the feeling of his lover's fingers tenderly straightening his feathers.

"It won't happen," Hermes sleepily confirms. "I'm very good at what I do, my love. I've yet to find trouble I can't wiggle out of."

And any trouble he's still in... well, that's just trouble he hasn't been in long enough to wiggle out of.

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"I know it," he says fondly. This must be how a wife feels when her husband is off to war: helpless to do anything but believe in his skill and offer prayers for his safe return. But who does one pray to for a god's safety?

He pauses preening to shimmy over and help Hermes get cozy. Once he's settled, Achilles bows to press a kiss to his forehead. "Yes. Relax. You'll need a well-rested mind to negotiate with your lord uncle."

As he resumes his work, Achilles begins humming a tune and after a few measures, sings the accompanying words—soft and low in case there are listening ears.

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This is what Hermes fights for. Moments like this, listening to his lover sing a soft love song as he preens him. This--more than sex, more than adventures, more than playful flirting and spars--this is what he wants to save the most.

Hermes keeps his wings spread so Achilles can work, but they relax in his hands. Hermes dozes lightly with a smile on his face, practically liquid in his lover's lap. Hermes rarely gets this comfortable unless he's a cat, but a cat can't be preened so nicely.

Hovering halfway between wakefulness and sleep, Hermes murmurs softly, "I love you."

And he'll tell the world one day, when they can both guarantee no one can come between them.

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As much as he enjoys his youthful energy, Achilles cherishes these precious times when Hermes utterly surrenders to stillness. When he can stop his constant effort—to please his father, to keep the place that he fought so hard for. A place on Olympus that he still risks losing. Wiggling out of trouble.

Achilles once doubted the shade of a hero had anything worthy to give a god, but now he knows exactly what he can provide: a moment's quiet sanctuary in the midst of a restless existence. Didn't Achilles find himself in need of the same during the chaos of his own life? Hermes is no different.

"And I love you, too." Bracketing a genuine smile, the lines of his face look less weary, more contented. He smooths a palm over Hermes' hair and whispers, "Now, sleep. I'll wake you if you're needed."

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Hermes is not a god that sleeps often. He usually only sleeps when something's wrong and he needs space to turn off and process it--and unfortunately, that's happened more and more recently ever since his misstep with his rain god cousin.

But here, instead of 'turning off', dozing feels instead like a welcome respite. Like actual rest, rather than shutting down.

Hermes sleeps with a smile on his face, chest rising and falling with soft breathing, his wings spread and relaxed in his lover's hands.

It'll be okay. When Hermes promises it to Achilles, he believes it.

[refusetofight]

Years of standing guard have cultivated a deep well of patience, and an appreciation for small things: how the scratch of Hades' quill telegraphs his mood, how Dusa will practice singing when she thinks no one is listening, or the way Cerberus twitches in his sleep as he has three separate dreams.

In this same way, Achilles watches Hermes' breath grow even with sleep, noting how many of his heartbeats count an inhale and an exhale. He feels his wings slowly lose their constant tension—no longer fluffing and flapping, or pressing against his head in a moment's worry. Hermes looks very much like the delicate, trusting hummingbird he held sleeping in his hands.

Achilles is lost in the moment until distant stirring in the House jars him back to vigilance; reminded that even this quiet arrangement is a risk. Gently, he gathers Hermes up, carries him to bed, and hazards a kiss on the forehead before retreating back to an adjacent chair. Left to his thoughts, Achilles staves off painful memories of the last time a lover embarked on a daring plot.

It won't happen again, he tells himself.