Father and Son
By Clara Fonteyn
Summary: A painful coincidence that happened to Hermes and one of his sons. Drabble/one-shot. Written for PowerofWords12's First Annual Percy Jackson and the Olympians Writing Olympics.
Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
***
Hermes sat on his high throne, staring at the large map, mesmerized. It had been a long time since he had used the road system in America. He hadn't realized when it had gotten to be so...big.
"Hermes!" thundered Zeus. "What on earth are you ogling at with that foolish expression on your face?"
Hermes suppressed a sigh. Although he knew that Zeus was always like this at the winter council (he didn't want to see his brother Hades) and not to snap back...the fishy smell coming from Poseidon mixed with the smell of pomegranates, mixed with Demeter's fruity smell, mixed with Aphrodite's beauty products were just too much.
"Why do you ask, father?" replied Hermes coldly. "It's not that anyone in this messed up family cares about each other anyway." The others gaped, and he could see a bit of hurt on Zeus's face, if only for an instant, and he was ashamed.
"Then why don't you leave, Hermes?" Zeus replied icily, his face closely resembling a tomato. "Your presence is no longer required at this council."
The gasp that came from everyone was audible this time. Hermes could see Aphrodite slide her phone open under the table and start to text someone...probably one of her attendants. For some reason, this annoyed him to no extent.
"Alright. See if I care," he added childishly. Getting up in a smooth motion, he streaked out the door. He barely felt the smoothness of the elaborate doorknob under his fingers, barely noticed Zeus's frozen expression. "See if I care, dad."
And then the lavish, golden room was behind him, gone...but in his hand was still the map. He opened it again and stared down at the roads...his roads, all his. He was, after all, the god of travel.
He sat down under an old oak tree, scarred by intertwined names of couples of the past...and maybe a few yet to be. Peering again at the map, he smiled. "The traveler is always at mercy of the road, yes?" he chuckled. "And yet a son is not always at mercy of his father."
***
Hermes was not to know what would happen in only a decade or so; perhaps it was destiny, perhaps karma. The gods, in their customary, immortal way, had forgotten that they had dissolved Hermes from their group; indeed, he himself had forgotten all about it.
This year, as usual, there was the same nonsense--some stupidity about cheating husbands, lying wives, illegal children...wait, what was the last bit?
Hermes never found out, because right then, Zeus caused the uproar about his Bolt.
He never knew that his son had been there.
Hermes hadn't seen his son, aided with an invisibility only Kronos could produce, sneak into the throne room silently. He hadn't noticed when the Bolt disappeared from besides Zeus's throne.
He hadn't seen the bitterness, the anger, the pain, and the tiny bit of regret on his son's face.
He never knew what his son had said, escaping quietly out the door.
"See if I care, dad," he had muttered. "See if I care." Saying so, the lithe form had darted out the door, in a fashion similar to his father's. He had stolen a festive orange convertible for the very purpose of the larger crime-the stealing of the bolt.
Somewhere in the desert in America, out on the wide, free roads, with the sinking sun's warmth at crossroads with the drenching rain falling in his face, had he spoken; his voice had a passion second only to insanity. Luke had cried into the radiant landscape, "I may be at mercy of the road...but I'm not at the mercy of my father!"
Words used: Fishy, tomato, doorknob, frozen, destiny, immortal, lithe, festive, warmth, rain, radiant, passion and lavish.