Excellent In All The Tricks

Chapter 2

Hermes soon became accepted among the gods, with more ease than he had ever expected, but he still felt somewhat on the outside at first. It was nothing that could be helped, and he'd been expecting it; even with Apollo's fast friendship, and Hera's surprising support, and none of the other gods completely shunning him, he had been mortal until only recently. He had not been around long, and the other gods had been gods for a very, very long time.

Breaking into an established friend group could be hard. This was on a whole different level.

It didn't quite help, he realized before many weeks had passed, that as messenger of the gods and specifically Zeus's messenger, the other gods were treating him more like... well, like humans might treat an intern, or the kid whose entire purpose seemed to be to fetch coffee. He was around and they didn't mind him, but he wasn't exactly on their level.

Apollo didn't treat him like that, and he did sympathize -- to some extent, though he couldn't exactly relate. Oddly, the one who most seemed to understand was the goddess Trivia, who was up on Olympus an awful lot for someone who wasn't an Olympian.

Hermes didn't ask. She wasn't exactly bad company, even with the random factoids, and it didn't take him long to figure out that she didn't disapprove of him, at least, and was used to being kind of brushed aside by the other gods.

"Crossroads and trivial information don't often impress," was how she'd put it, in that dry voice of hers. "And, unfortunately, don't carry a very strong theme."

"I know what you mean," Hermes had agreed. "I'm the resident messenger, trickster, and bovine expert."

But that had gotten Hermes to thinking. It was true that his domains -- well, besides trickster -- weren't very impressive, and he was done thieving for a while. And it seemed to him that a good way to entrench himself deeper into the pantheon... and maybe keep Zeus from changing his mind, if that was even possible, which Hermes was starting to doubt... was to find other aspects to take on. To even his own surprise, it wasn't like his current three domains were giving him any trouble; he was keeping up with them just fine.

It also seemed to him that a good way to start getting accepted by the other gods was also a good way to start finding more domains: Just by offering his help.

The first that he approached in this manner was Athena. Not because he had anything in mind, really, or because they were exceptionally close. They weren't; she was less combative than Ares, but more... snooty. Very aware of her own intellectual superiority. She didn't seem to close or especially warm to anyone other than Nike, really.

But Nike wasn't present, currently, and Athena was slouched in a chair summoned up from godstuff, leaning over a scroll and scowling. That was unusual, since her posture was pretty much always perfect, and Hermes flitted over, hovering nearby in a way that he was already starting to get used to. (The flying? That was a definite godly perk.)

"Hey, Athena, babe -- why the long face?"

"Hermes," she said, something between greeting and acknowledgement, not looking up and pulling out a long quill pen to scribble a bit at the scroll. "Can this wait? Unless it's a message from Zeus--"

"No, no," he assured. "Not a message at all. Just saw that you were looking fed up. Anything I can help with?"

"Doubtful," Athena replied, but sat back with a frustrated sigh. "It's the agora," she admitted after a moment. "Specifically its commerce. Of course, I'm pleased that Athens is growing so quickly, but trade is increasing at an exponential rate. Overseeing the agora alone is taking up so much of my time!"

"Well, hey... You mind if I take a look at that? I've found myself with free time lately," Hermes offered, "and I wouldn't mind lending a hand."

"Hmmph." Athena sounded uncertain, looking him up and down. "How good are you at detail work?"

Hermes looked at her over the top of his glasses. "Athena, babe, I am great at fine detail. I won't miss a thing, I give you my word -- you can leave it to me."

"Well..." Athena handed over the scroll reluctantly, but with a trace of visible relief. "I suppose it can't do any harm, just this once. Besides, I just find commerce so boring."

It didn't end up being 'just this once'. Hermes looked over the scroll, marking things that seemed off or particular traders to bless, and ones that seemed like they were trying to get one over on the city or their customers. When he handed it back over to Athena, she gave it a cursory scan, and expressed unguarded approval for the first time -- and for the second, when he came to her the week after and volunteered his help again.

Thus the agora and the domain of trade and commerce came to Hermes, and he was god of the market as well as of tricksters and thieves, and of cattle and herdsmen, and messenger to the gods. And Hermes thought: Well, that's a good start.

He came to the goddess Demeter, as well, and volunteered to help her with the fertility of crops -- since, as he said, he was already blessing the farmers' cattle, he might as well bless their land while he was there. And while she didn't hand the fertility of land completely over to him, as Athena had done with commerce and the agora, she was glad to have his help, and allowed him to ease the strain by claiming it as an aspect of his simultaneous with her. It wasn't unheard of for the gods to double up, after all.

Things were going well. He hadn't gotten any farther than that, though, in his efforts, when Hephaestus called him out.

It was on a visit to his forge, which in all honesty Hermes hadn't specifically been intending to turn into an offer to help. He wasn't really sure he was cut out for the stuff that Hephaestus covered, anyway. So it was a surprise when the blacksmith asked, in between blows of his hammer, "I hear you're going around collecting domains. Is that why the sudden visit?"

Hermes was surprised, and was at least able to answer honestly when he said, "You wound me, babe. I'm not here to ask for anything from you."

"Then why are you here?"

Hermes propped his chin in his hand -- quite a feat for someone in midair, with nothing to prop his elbow on, but he managed it. "Just trying to be friendly," he said dryly.

Hephaestus looked slightly surprised, which sort of surprised Hermes, honestly. Then he grunted, and kept working, and for a few minutes there was silence. At least it was a somewhat comfortable one.

"Then I'll ask another question," Hephaestus spoke up again, unexpectedly, just when Hermes had started to consider excusing himself and taking his leave. "One with, I hope, a less obvious answer."

Hermes smiled. That wasn't a rebuff of his offer of friendship, and he liked it when people had a sense of humor about themselves. It wasn't something he'd been expecting from the gruff blacksmith, but it was charming, maybe because he was still so straight-faced. "Shoot, babe."

"Why are you helping the others, and taking on so many new aspects?"

Hermes considered his answer, and Hephaestus waited patiently, not urging him on. He said slowly, "Part of it is? I'm fascinated. Your domains are all interesting, and lending a hand lets me get involved with it."

Hephaestus nodded, not looking away from his work. "And another part?"

Fair enough. He'd made it clear that wasn't the only reason. "I do want to be friends. I know I haven't exactly been a god long, and none of you really know me. I also know I'm not impressive -- too green, babe. The best way to make a friend is to lend a hand, and hey, the sooner I put down roots among the gods, the sooner I'll start fitting in."

"And the easier it will be," Hephaestus acknowledged. "You're more practical than I thought you were, at first. But are those your only reasons?"

Not exactly, but Hermes didn't really know if he wanted to say that he was uncertain about maybe getting kicked out of the pantheon somehow. Zeus had seemed pleased by the idea of making him messenger -- as pleased as if the idea had been his own, even though it had come from Hera -- but Hermes couldn't help remembering how he'd tried to get out of their deal, even (apparently) knowing that there was no way out of it.

But there was one other reason, a new one that had cropped up, that Hermes didn't mind sharing, at least. "Actually... I want to see how much I can handle."

"Hmm?" Hephaestus did glance over then, not missing a strike, raising his eyebrows.

"I mean, it's a little nutty, don't you think -- Apollo was worried that I might not be able to handle having two aspects, at first, and Zeus himself seemed to think I'd have trouble with three, and here I am with half a dozen and I'm not even feeling winded, y'know, metaphorically." Hermes tapped his staff -- a gift from Apollo, a simple rod with wings at the top -- against his own shoulder thoughtfully. "Athena was getting frustrated about all the time the agora was taking up, but I haven't had a problem juggling."

Hephaestus snorted. "Don't test yourself until you fail," he cautioned. "Apollo could tell you the same, as the god of athletics. You need to know your limits, and not by crashing into them."

"I know, babe," Hermes assured. "But I don't feel like I'm nearing a wall yet."

Hephaestus made a considering sound. When he'd finished his work, the silence seemed almost as loud as the hammer blows had been, and after he'd put everything away, he turned to face Hermes, finally. "Since you are looking for more work," he said, "I do have something I could give you."

Hermes was astounded, and he knew it showed on his face. Hephaestus politely ignored it. "I mean -- if there's something you think I can handle, shoot, babe."

"You may be able to handle it better than I can," Hephaestus said, and sighed. "I've never been the greatest at fine detail work," he admitted. "I prefer things that are simple and useful. I do like sculptures, but craftsmen... I help them whenever they ask, as much as I can, but I don't have much understanding or interest in what they're actually going on about."

"It doesn't cause any trouble, but you don't enjoy it," Hermes summed up. Hephaestus nodded.

"So if you'd take craftsmen and inventors from my sphere, I could focus on blacksmiths, metallurgy, masons, volcanoes... The things I do best. I wouldn't normally ask, but you've been dependable so far, according to everything I've heard. And you seem clever enough for it -- I've heard about the lyre from Apollo."

Hermes was grinning, by that point, and held out a hand to shake. "I am honored, Hephaestus, man. I'd be glad to."

They shook on it, Hephaestus's grip much more careful than one might expect from someone who worked in the forge all day and had just confessed a weakness at fine detail work. And so, in the first few months, Hermes's divine aspects grew from three to eight, and there, for quite a while, it stayed.

And then something he never would have expected happened, and things started to snowball fast.

It had been just over three years since Hermes had first come to Olympus, and he felt that he was starting to settle in; things with the gods were going more smoothly. There was still some distance there between most of them, though now he counted Trivia and Hephaestus, as well as Apollo, as his friends. And Hera was always a real sweetheart, not at all pompous or snooty or controlling despite being their queen, and seemed legitimately pleased by and grateful for his accomplishments and assistance.

Zeus was more difficult. He was brash and loud, his humor and good moods big, his bad moods and anger just as big. He had a temper, and fits of petulance, an occasional uncomfortable resemblance to a human teenager in his maturity, and Hermes was noticing that he wasn't the only one nervous around the big guy. The other gods looked troubled during his rages, and made excuses to leave, and Apollo occasionally winced or changed what he was about to say around him. The only one other than Hera who ever dared argue with Zeus was Hephaestus, who was stubborn as an ox and was the one who made Zeus's lightning bolts, besides, so maybe he had some small degree of immunity.

But it was completely doable, especially the busier Hermes made himself. And things were going smoothly when it came to humanity, too; he hadn't been sure how people would react to there being a new, unheard-of Olympian, and he still wasn't sure how various peoples like the nymphs and the minotaurs and the gorgons thought of the proceedings, but after a bit of surprise humans just seemed to work him into their world view... albeit usually with some odd stories surrounding him. They seemed to disagree on whether he'd always been there from the beginning or if he'd become a god only recently, but even the latter group apparently agreed that he'd always been a demigod, at least, and that he'd just... ascended.

He let it be. It would be impractical to go around trying to tell people what had happened himself, and the other gods seemed satisfied to have the humans not have confirmation that it was possible for a human to become a god. No need to rock the boat when it was just getting settled in the water, so to speak.

Still, there were two who knew, at least, and while Hermes's visits had become slightly more infrequent as he became busier and slightly more distracted, he still made the trip back home -- telling himself he'd be sure to make it every six months, or once a year at least -- to make absolutely certain that his mother and Crocus were doing well. He was doing his best to bless them personally, of course, in what areas he had power over, but doing it from a distance was just not the same thing as checking in to see how they were doing, and talk to them.

It was on one of his visits to Crocus, who lived closer to town than Maia did, that he heard a commotion in the nearby town, screams and cries for help.

He certainly hadn't been god long enough not to want to interfere when he heard people he had known and been friendly with before in fear and pain. He was out the door in a flash, before Crocus could even finish his own exclamation of alarm, and skidding to a stop in the air beside the local baker, a woman who he had known for years, who had been the baker here before he'd even been born.

"What's happening here?" he asked, sharply, and Euthymia looked to him in alarm, then did a double-take.

"Hermes! Then you are the same as--"

"Later, babe," Hermes assured. "Why all the screaming?"

"Snakes," she explained. "One of the local boys was raising vipers, to make them fight in a pit for entertainment. Two of them escaped."

"Has anyone been bit?"

"Thankfully not. People have taken their children inside, and are keeping well away."

Hermes asked where the snakes had been seen last, and the baker told him without hesitation, far less concerned than she would have been if he hadn't been a god.

The snakes were, unfortunately, closer to the center of town than the outskirts, and even more unfortunately, didn't seem interested in escaping any further than they had. Instead, they were fighting, not the twisting and 'tussling' that sometimes got mistaken for fighting, but the sort where they kept a distance from one another, mouths open and hissing, lifted up slightly off the ground, and would occasionally dart forward to try and bite before rearing back again.

It was the body language of fear, of a snake who felt that it was being threatened and would do whatever it could to make the intruder either go away or cease to be a threat. And of course they were both being threatened, because they were both threatening each other, but Hermes had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on.

He didn't know exactly how to stop it, though. Snakes weren't exactly his domain. But he had to do something to get them out of here, and even as an immortal deity the thought of getting bitten repeatedly as he scooped them up and deposited them elsewhere did not appeal. He just hoped that this would work...

Both snakes reared back again, and one tried to wind backwards, as Hermes darted forward and stuck the tip of his staff in the ground between them. That had only been meant to break their concentration on each other, to place them a little more on the defensive than on the offensive, and it worked, if only for the moment.

"Whoa, hey," he said, and hopefully the snakes could understand him, because he'd heard stories about the gods speaking with animals before but hadn't heard a single animal talk since he'd been made a god, and had been a little too embarrassed to ask if it was really a thing. "Cool it, cats, cool it."

Neither snake spoke, but they didn't try lunging again, either. They stayed, still in that wired-up-fearful stance but unmoving, both their little slitted eyes locked on him.

Hermes wasn't really sure what else he was going to say to them. Talking to animals actually felt a little more awkward when they seemed like they were listening. But he knew what was happening here, and if they really could understand him, it wouldn't hurt.

"You're scared, I get that," he soothed, only the faintest whisper of awkwardness in his voice. He looked from one coiled snake to the other, and each held their ground, just watching. "You probably went through an awful lot, too, to make sure you'd fight each other. Now you're in some strange place, confused, and here's an enemy... But there is no reason for you two to fight, believe me."

The two snakes had escaped from the pit, and had tried to escape from whatever running, screaming people had been around, and they hadn't gotten far when hey, here was something they'd been trained to see as a threat. They'd been and still were terrified and disoriented. Why else would they stop flat in the middle of town and start fighting in a way he'd never seen snakes fight before?

Still no response came, and a touch more awkwardness crept in. "...What I mean is, you're both in the same boat -- you've got a lot in common and you don't need to feel afraid of each other. That other guy's just as scared as you, neither of you really want to fight. You can get out of here without getting attacked, it's okay."

He was amazed to see the snakes' postures gradually settling, out of their threatened, defensive rearing, amazement turning ridiculously pleased (and, to be completely honest, pretty damn proud of himself) when one snake slithered over to the other and tasted for safety, then wound itself around its companion.

But he was pretty taken aback when, still completely wordless, the two snakes untangled from one another and lifted up into the air, and over to him, only to tangle around each other again -- twined, as well, up and around the length of his staff, and after a moment they turned its same golden color, and stopped moving entirely.

That honestly left Hermes pretty speechless himself. He was still turning his staff in his hands and looking it over a minute later, when Crocus came running up.

"Euthymia told me you'd come this way," Crocus said urgently. Hermes hadn't been wrong about saying he could be an athlete; he wasn't even that out of breath having run all that way. "What happened?"

"Uh..." Hermes held up the staff, and gave a confused little laugh. "Snakes, apparently."

"I heard about the s--" Crocus stopped. "When did your staff get a design?"

"Just now. I don't get it either, babe," he assured. "Look, can you let people know the snakes are gone and there's not any danger? I need to take a rain check on this visit." He had some questions he really wanted to ask.

Crocus smiled, a bit weakly. "Any time. But you'll have to come back soon; you need to tell me exactly what happened."

"Good deal, babe." He kissed Crocus on the cheek, then took off.

It was Apollo he sought out, and Apollo he asked, only partially because Apollo was his closest friend -- honestly! -- and partially because snakes were one of Apollo's many sacred animals, and he might be able to give the clearest explanation. And Apollo laughed at him.

"You played peacemaker with two animals sacred to me," Apollo explained, amused. "And, as a god, the universe rewarded you. Aren't you experienced enough to check on your own domains yet?"

"I didn't exactly get a manual, y'know," Hermes pointed out, glancing at him pointedly over his glasses. Apollo chuckled again.

"You should learn how to do it yourself," he said, instead of just explaining what had been so funny, despite Hermes's protests and continued queries. "It will come in handy. Here, I'll show you."

It took some practice, and Hermes was distracted from his efforts because he wanted a quick answer, not to have to learn how to figure things out for himself by slowly learning a new skill, handy or not. But when he finally managed it, irritation ceded to confusion -- and then, finally, he laughed, too.

How could he not? He'd just gotten three new domains out of nowhere, without them being given over to him by any god.

"I didn't even know that was possible, babe," Hermes admitted to Apollo, who 'hmph'd with fond amusement.

"There have been a lot of questions you haven't been asking," he surmised, and Hermes actually blushed, faintly. That was all the confirmation he really needed. "I understand why, but I don't expect you to know everything immediately. You can always ask me things." He paused, a moment. "'Cat'."

Hermes grinned. "Ooh, that was awkward. I appreciate the effort, though, very sweet. So, now that you've had your fun, mind telling me what all this means?"

"You'll be able to keep track of your individual domains in time," Apollo allowed. "Simple form, what happened is that you acted as a diplomat, and it must have given you new aspects over intercession, social intercourse, and wit. I doubt it was out of nowhere; you have to be witty and convincing to be a trickster, and of course you are also our messenger."

"So it wasn't just what I pulled with the snakes, but because of all my other stuff too?" Hermes guessed. "That is just nutty. I would never have guessed that could happen -- but hey, it does make sense. So..." He grinned, a bit awkwardly, and waved his caduceus slightly. "Are these two a permanent fixture?"

"Looks like it."

The next two domains that fell into Hermes's sphere were also not the result of a favor to any gods, but nor were they accidents, as with the snakes. In a way, they resembled his connection to cattle and their fertility, as it had always been far less about Hermes's favor to Apollo, and far more of a gift to a friend.

Hermes had met many of the gods by the time five years had passed, though those of the Underworld were still a complete mystery to him. The more 'minor' gods and goddesses were not often up on Olympus (except for Trivia; Hermes was certain by now that she knew some secret entrance and was sneaking in, because no one would admit to having invited her, but he wasn't going to give her away), and so Hermes hadn't had much of a chance to interact with them on anything other than a quick, professional basis, as they were often busy with their own affairs. And the Muses were some of the busiest of them all.

Hermes liked them, though, from a distance. He had always been a big fan of music, and they were all quite connected to music and song, though each of them had another specialization. And they were friendly, a real pleasure to work with whenever Zeus sent him to deliver a quick message. None of the other gods were quite as warm or immediately accepting, immediately treating him like an equal and a new friend -- other than Apollo, once they'd gotten over that initial, uh, awkwardness.

But during one of the parties that occasionally got thrown on Olympus, relaxed shindigs that Zeus always tried to encourage to be more energetic than they were (but were still very pleasant, maybe even more pleasant, the way they shook out naturally), Clio waved in his direction as he passed by, calling out, "Hey, Hermes!"

Hermes immediately changed course and veered over. "Hey, yourself," he greeted, smiling at her, then the rest of them. "What can I do for you ladies?"

"We're just checkin' in with you," Melpomene said, amused, her own frowning mask slung over her shoulder in about the same way that Hermes's staff was.

"Yeah, we wanna see how you're fitting in," Thalia agreed. "We heard you been busy."

"Like a bee, babe," Hermes agreed. "It's a busy job, very fast paced, but I do love having variety."

"Congrats again, by the way," Calliope said. They'd congratulated him a couple years before, too, not long after the thing with the snakes, when he'd stopped by to request them to inspire a local playwright in coming up with something for Zeus to present Hera with on their anniversary (apparently he'd forgotten the last one).

"Thank you, again."

"But... I'll admit, that wasn't what we called you over here for," Terpsichore admitted. "Well, not entirely."

"We were thinking of livening this party up. You wanna help, Hermes, baby?" Thalia asked.

Admittedly the party was currently nice, Hermes was enjoying it, but he was intrigued. The Muses seemed fun, weren't irresponsible or reckless, and Thalia especially had a mischievous streak that he already thoroughly approved of. "Any time, Thalia, babe," he assured. "What do you cats have in mind?"

"Well, what we need is some music, of course," Calliope said, as if it were self evident and, Hermes had to admit, it wasn't exactly a surprise.

"And you ladies want my help?" As the goddesses of the arts, accomplished and instinctual singers, and music buffs, that was quite a compliment.

"We heard about the lyre, we know you're a fan," Terpsichore said.

"But if you want to play strings, we were thinking maybe something a little more... wild," Melpomene said.

"Danceable," Terpsichore agreed.

"Well, I do play a few stringed instruments, pipes, trumpet--"

Thalia's interjection was enthused. "Hey, I play trumpet!"

"Can you play piano?" Clio asked.

"Do we have one?"

The Muses exchanged grins. "Honey, you ever made stuff outta cloud up here before?" Thalia asked him.

"Oh, yeah, a few times..." Simple things, really, and he'd gotten better at it over the years and didn't even really think about it much anymore, but he trailed off, then, and grinned. "Hey, that is right. Think I can pull off a fully functioning piano, ladies?"

Calliope laughed. "I think we can teach you how. For right now, you leave the piano to us."

"Speaking of that piano, though," Clio said. "I think we can make something even more interesting for you..."

Hermes had never played a keyboard before -- or ever seen one, actually, even with his five year stint as messenger of the gods and general divinity that people called upon, and his two years as intercessor. There hadn't been anything like that in his small town, and he just hadn't happened to run into anyone who owned one since he'd left. But he tested it out and his face lit up with a grin at the difference in sound, and he could see the potential there, for sure.

"I think," he told the Muses, "you've got yourself a keyboardist whenever you want one, ladies."

They worked together to liven up the party, that day, and they worked together well, getting all the other (attendant) gods up and dancing; Apollo even played along for a while on the lyre, which, despite Melpomene and Terpsichore's teasing, definitely added yet another 'danceable' element to their sound. And after it was over, and the keyboard had been dissolved back down into cloud stuff, Thalia laughed and said, "Alright, I definitely like this guy."

Clio, Terpsichore, and Melpomene nodded in agreement. Calliope looked around at them all, then smiled at Hermes, who only had a moment to be confused before she asked, "How would you like to be an honorary muse?"

Hermes was actually speechless for a moment, smiling back. "Heh, wow, you mean that? That is such a big compliment coming from you all. I couldn't turn something like that down."

"It'd mean a couple more aspects," Clio cautioned. "You'd be up to a baker's dozen. You all right with that?"

"Believe me, I like being busy," Hermes assured her. "Besides, getting to work with you ladies? I doubt this one will feel much like a job."

"Do what you love," Terpsichore agreed.

"All right, then," Calliope said, decisively. Her voice was firm but gentle, and she seemed genuinely pleased to be proclaiming, "We hereby grant you official influence over literature and poetry. You're not totally taking it over, so you're right, you'll be working with us on this one."

Hermes gave her a slight bow. "And I am genuinely looking forward to it, babe."

"I'm lookin' forward to when I get to play trumpets with you," Thalia said with a grin. "Duet or dueling banjos style, doesn't matter to me!"

Hermes laughed, and promised that the next time he came to see them, he'd be sure to make time for it. Which might prove a challenge, but he was getting very good at juggling all his varied jobs, really learning how to prioritize and what he could leave on the back burner or let run itself, and shuffle things around so that he could make time to relax...

Which quickly turned out to be very important, because new influences and aspects and domains came with surprising regularity after that, and with very little fanfare. It just seemed to be a thing that was happening, now, and Hermes was getting better at reading himself and knowing exactly what he had influence over, and noticing new power -- not power as in 'he was becoming more powerful', but that he was able to affect more and more spheres.

To be short, he had his fingers in a lot of pies, more than he even had fingers. And a lot of it just seemed to come naturally. As he acted as messenger and intercessor, going anywhere and pretty much everywhere, people prayed to him for other things, and that actually seemed to be a way to make something officially his, too. Travelers and wayfarers prayed to him. People prayed to him for guidance, and to guard them on the road, and then just to guard them in general -- people prayed to him when they lost things, for some reason, so that they might find them again. And all these things were just... passed to him, as if it were only natural that he have them.

(Except for edible roots. That was really specific, he knew, but since travelers and wayfarers and people who needed a guide did pray to him, he went ahead and swung around to see Artemis, and requested something small from her own aspects that he could use to help them out if they were really in dire straits. Being able to find at least something to eat if they couldn't find anything else would come in handy, he was pretty sure.)

It was certainly more than a little awe-inspiring, but Hermes couldn't say he minded it. He hadn't been stuck with anything he wasn't happy to take, yet. Even when Zeus noticed the way things were going and decided to go with the flow and introduce Hermes to Morpheus, Phantasos, and Icelos -- the Oneiroi, the gods of dreams -- assigning him to help them deliver prophetic dreams to mortals on his, Zeus's, behalf, Hermes didn't actually mind that. It was just one more thing, but it wasn't even going out of his way, really; he was already delivering messages for Zeus and already acting as a guide, and this could easily just be an extension of that. At this point, his domains did have kind of a theme, and that, oddly, seemed to make them easier to handle.

Even though there were a whole lot more of them. Like, nearly twenty by this point. Which seemed ludicrous even to him, but in an amusing way.

And it had worked. That was the thing; he'd almost forgotten why he'd started doing this, because it had worked so well. Hermes was firmly entrenched in the pantheon at this point; mortals prayed to him as a matter of course, like he'd always been there; more of the gods were friendly with him, and accepted him as an equal, with even Ares being a bit less standoffish (which, to be fair, Hermes had also realized he was just that grumpy all the time, to everyone). And he was feeling more at home on Olympus -- even though he also felt, nostalgically, at home during his visits home as well, and was overwhelmingly proud to have his mother's pride, and was still quite close with Crocus even though they had grown slightly apart.

It was ten years on and he had grown up a fair bit; he was no longer a teenager, and felt he had come into his own pretty well by this point. He was still learning, but so what? He had eternity to learn. And he was a lot more mature now, these days, he thought. He wasn't making the same impetuous decisions anymore that had gotten him into -- as he put it to Apollo, both of them amused -- "this wonderful mess."

And then he met Hades.

There was another party, but something closer to a get together this time, and one that conflicted with the Muse's schedules at that. Things were more reserved because of that, though there was talking and some laughing -- more like an office party, the standing around with drinks kind, while Zeus mingled and roared with laughter at the jokes he shared with whatever gods were, at that moment, hanging off his words.

Hermes had done that for a while, then excused himself to check up on a few things. Which he had, and then when he was done, he went off to find Apollo for a chat that didn't feel so much like, well, hanging off his boss's every word and grinning at jokes that weren't really all that funny, especially not when told dozens of times. He sympathized that anyone would have a hard time finding new material once they'd been around for centuries, probably, but that still did not actually make them funnier.

He was discussing sports with Apollo, something that had first come up between them not long after they'd first met, and he'd explained that he wasn't an athlete himself but he was a fan, and had talked about Crocus. Now they discussed the games that they had seen, and Apollo had floated the idea, not long before, of having Hermes help him out with athletics -- making him a part of the games, too, so that they could work together on it. Hermes hadn't been certain if he should be an athlete for that, but he was highly considering it.

The god standing quietly by one of the pillars caught his eye, at first, simply because Hermes had never seen him before. That was a lot rarer these days than it had been for the first five or six years, but he was well aware that he hadn't met all of them yet, and that especially the gods associated with the Underworld were a mystery to him. He knew about Hades, and Charon, and Thanatos way back from when he'd been human, of course, and had heard of Hecate from Trivia, who was her sister... But he'd been starting to think he'd never actually meet any of them.

It was no big leap to guess that this god was one of the Underworld gods. He had grey-blue skin, he was on fire -- he seemed to have some bright blue flame instead of hair, that's what it was -- and he was wearing a gray chiton with a slightly lighter gray undershirt that suggested funereal garb. His feet, too, seemed to... well, not exist, as the end of his chiton actually just seemed to curl out into formless smoke.

That was why Hermes did a double-take. Especially the fire part. But what really caught his attention was that, well... while all that would have been visually arresting and impressive anyway, this god was...

This god was tall, with a long, thin face, a classical chin and a classic Greek nose, and dark lips -- Hermes couldn't tell from here if they were painted or not, nor could he tell if the god was wearing eye makeup or if he was just that tired or if it was just... a god thing, possibly. He had sharp cheekbones, too, and incredibly long, thin fingers, that currently held a still-full wine glass with a disinterest that was clear even from the distance Hermes was at. And he stood there with a posture that was somewhere between poised up-straight and relaxed back, not quite leaning against the cloud pillar, and watching the party with no smile on his face.

He didn't look very happy to be there. Hermes realized that even as he took a deep breath, knowing that he absolutely had to go talk to him.

"Uh, Apollo, babe, who is that?"

Apollo looked at Hermes. Hermes was only fleetingly glancing at him, a strangely stunned look on his face, and Apollo followed his gaze to where his gaze was mostly fixed and startled visibly.

Hades glanced over to them, and Apollo grabbed Hermes's arm, and steered him a bit further away, obviously alarmed. Hermes was a little alarmed too, to be honest, startled himself by the sudden movement, Apollo as agitated as he'd ever seen him. "Whoa, wait, what's up?"

Apollo turned both their backs to Hades and lowered his voice. "Hermes, no."

"'No' what?" Hermes looked fogged. "I'm not following this one, man, sorry."

"Hermes, that is Hades. Zeus's brother, and Lord of the Dead."

Realization dawned, and Apollo seemed slightly relieved, until what Hermes said was, "That's Hades? Wow. I wouldn't have thought of, y'know, that whole look when I thought Hades, before, but I have to say it works."

"That isn't the point!" Apollo lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "There's too much bad blood between Hades and Zeus for you to be looking at him like that."

Hermes was really, really good at keeping a straight face and looking innocent by this point. But there were some things that were way too much of a giveaway anyway -- he actually blushed. "Like what, babe?"

"I know you know what I mean."

Hermes didn't acknowledge that, continuing to play dumb, sort of, while still prying for some more information; he didn't quite understand what Apollo meant by bad blood, what that actually came down to. "You think Zeus would really punish me for just going over and saying 'hi' to his brother? I mean, he was obviously invited to the party..."

"That... No, he probably wouldn't," Apollo had to allow.

"You think Hades would get mad? I'll admit, he does not look like a big fan of this party."

"It's very possible..." Apollo gave up, then, and sighed, realizing he really would have to explain at least a bit more. "Hades hates the Underworld. And he deeply resents Zeus for giving him that position. They see one another as enemies, now, and Zeus has... made it very clear that we are not to be on Hades's side. Hades is not a popular god."

Hermes was starting to get it at that point, and he didn't really like what he was hearing. Zeus had given Hades a job in the Underworld that he hated, and now lines were getting drawn in the sand, and no one was supposed to get too friendly with Hades? And Apollo was warning him that he was going to ruin the inroads he'd built within the pantheon, with the other gods, if he tried. That was completely cutting Hades off, and Hermes didn't like the sound of that. That was high school bully tactics.

And ones that worked, apparently. The gods were intimidated by Zeus, that much was obvious, and Hermes couldn't say he wasn't. Zeus's temper was quick and explosive, and if he was drawing lines in the sand, he would not be happy to have them crossed. But... he glanced back at Hades again, who was finally downing his wine, and was suddenly arrested anew by him, watching him for a moment before turning back to Apollo. He didn't want to go over there any less. Possibly more, now, actually, now that he'd heard about how cut off he was.

"Look, babe, I'm the messenger, I'm the mediator and diplomat, I'm definitely going to meet Hades eventually. I might as well introduce myself, ask if he's enjoying himself, maybe top up his glass. Gotta jet, babe," he added quickly, before Apollo could protest, and darted away.