"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives." -Richard Bach

Chapter 7: Regret and Comfort

Hermes thought it was ironic how tragedies could occur on such beautiful days. On this particular day, the sun was high in the sky and the sky was a clear blue. A slight breeze propelled him forward as he soared through the sky, returning from a delivery. The sea seemed to be within his reach. That was when he caught sight of two figures standing on the sandy shore – one with blonde hair rippling in the wind, and the other a brunette. Both were holding bow-and-arrows. Artemis and Apollo, he thought, and decided to see what they were doing.

His feet touched the ground just as Artemis dove into the sea, swimming furiously. Apollo ran after her, calling out her name, but she was already several yards from shore. "What's going on?" Hermes asked, confused. Apollo didn't answer. His blue eyes were fixed on the small form of his twin, who was now swimming for shore. She was dragging with her what appeared to be – "A body?" Hermes exclaimed, now alarmed. When the huntress swam closer, the two gods on shore were able to see the trail of blood-stained water that she left behind her. Hermes ran forward to assist her, grabbing the corpse underneath the arms and pulling it into the sand. Instead of climbing to her feet, Artemis crawled towards the lifeless man, tears dripping down her face with the water of the ocean. She laid her head on his chest and wept quietly.

The man, who had been beautiful in life, now had a silver arrow embedded in his head. Automatically, Hermes' eyes lifted to Apollo in accusation. The god was staring at the corpse in stony silence. Then Artemis lifted her head. "How could you do this?!" she shouted at Apollo, who seemed to break out of his trance. He lifted his head and looked at his sister.

"How could I not do this?" was the heated response. "He wasn't good for you, Artemis. You are a chaste huntress – a goddess—and he is just a mortal. How could you love a mortal?"

"Who are you to decide what is good for me?" she demanded. "I can take care of myself!" And with that, she grabbed the lifeless body by the arms and dragged him into the forest, leaving Hermes and Apollo alone.

After several moments of silence, Hermes asked, "Who was he?"

"His name was Orion," Apollo muttered. "I – I tricked her into killing him." The truth spilled from his lips, and he looked down, shamefaced. Hermes stared at his bowed head in shock.

"How could you do that?" the messenger finally whispered.

"He was a mortal. He didn't deserve her."

Hermes opted not to answer, knowing that it would be pointless to argue with one of the most stubborn gods.

After a moment, Apollo fell to his knees. His hair spilled forward, hiding his face, but Hermes could see that his body was shaking. Moments later, the sounds of bitter sobbing could be heard. Regret was not an emotion that this god, normally so sure of himself, was used to. Now he was feeling the full force of it.

Hermes didn't speak, but crawled forward until he was sitting by the other. He leaned into the archer's side, offering comfort in the only way he could think of. Apollo didn't look up, but he wrapped his arms around the messenger's slender body, holding him close.

"Apollon," Hermes whispered after several moments. "Why did you do it?"

"I didn't want to lose my sister. I love her too much for that to happen."

Hermes lifted his head and stared into those blue eyes seriously. "Do you really think that she would have loved you less? Nobody could come between the celestial twins." Hermes smiled playfully.

Apollo pursed his lips and Hermes took his hand, squeezing it gently. "She will never love anyone more than she loves you, Apollo. Remember that." And with that said, the messenger climbed to his feet and took flight, leaving the archer alone on the beach.

Night had fallen before Hermes saw Apollo again. He was in his room, tapping a reed pen against his chin and trying to decide on the rules of track and field. He frowned at the sheet of papyrus in front of him, trying to decide what would be better – a fifty meter dash or a one-hundred meter dash. He decided on the one-hundred. Just before he touched the pen to the paper, a voice said, "Hermes."

"Bah!" Hermes gasped, knocking over his jar of ink as he jumped up. Apollo was standing behind him with both eyebrows raised.

"You startled me," Hermes muttered, turning around and scowling at his ruined paper and the ink dripping from his desk onto the stone floor. Hestia's going to kill me.

"I'm sorry. But I wanted to stop by and say – thank you."

"For what?" the messenger asked, searching around for something to mop up the ink with. He snorted when Apollo produced a cotton cloth from seemingly nowhere and handed it to the younger god.

"For staying with me. Trying to comfort me. Most people would have left. So – thank you." He hesitated over the last two words again, and Hermes smiled. It was hard for Apollo, who was the definition of independent and powerful, to admit that he needed comfort.

"Think nothing of it," Hermes said warmly, looking up from where he was kneeling on the floor. He held up the now-inky cloth. "Did you want this back, by the way?"

Apollo eyed the offered rag, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. "Definitely not."

Hermes smirked. "Aww – is little Apollon afraid of the ink?" he said mockingly.

"I'm not –!" Apollo began to protest, but he stopped when Hermes flew to his feet faster than a person could blink. The messenger was wearing the wicked grin that had quickly become his trademark and holding out the inky cloth as though it were a weapon. Apollo backed away, narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"It's going to get you!" Hermes cried, dashing towards Apollo with a cackle. The blonde shouted, turning on his heel and sprinting out of the room. "You brat!" the archer screamed. "I take it all back! I – hate - you!"