Hermes walked beside Ambrose as they strolled through the trees. The mortal was winded, his right foot aching from a twisted ankle. He had misstepped during the long fight with Hermes, and though at the time, adrenaline had masked the pain, he was definitely feeling it now. As the adrenaline drained away, each step became progressively painful. He finally stumbled, falling against Hermes. The god caught him, looped his arm over Ambrose's shoulders, and took his weight without a qualm.

Ambrose's curiosity about where they were going was appeased as they came to a spring of water that bubbled down into a stream. Hermes eased the mortal down on a fallen tree, and Ambrose sighed as the pressure on his ankle was relieved entirely. Hermes smiled kindly and handed him the water skein.

"Drink up. You've lost a lot of water."

Ambrose took it and gulped down the fresh, cool water. It sated his parched throat, and he lowered the skein with a sigh. He was about to thank the god, something Ambrose never thought he would do, when he noticed Hermes was making something. With a mortar and pestle, he was grinding some herbs together into a fine powder. Then he added some spring water and a few other ingredients. After mixing them into a paste, he stood and walked over to the mortal.

"May I?" Hermes asked, gesturing at the swollen ankle.

"What is it?" Ambrose asked, anger and distrust in his tone.

"A salve that will ease the pain of your turned ankle. It will reduce the swelling and partially numb it. May I?"

"You're asking permission?" Ambrose sneered.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything," Hermes replied evenly. "If you don't want me to touch you, I won't."

"I'd prefer you not," Ambrose replied after a moment.

"Very well," Hermes replied. He sat down on a rock across from Ambrose and set the bowl aside. He leaned forward and studied the mortal. "Tell me what happened."

Ambrose frowned at him. "What happened with what?"

"Ares and your father."

The mortal's face twisted, and he hissed between his teeth. "You know already."

Hermes shook his head. "I know what Ares and Zeus told me. I want to hear it from you."

Ambrose stared at Hermes, surprised by the god's attitude once again. "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about something like that."

There was a long pause where the two men stared at each other. Ambrose finally breathed out and tenderly rubbed his ankle.

"We're farmers, not herders. We've never been able to afford meat for offerings. We barely had enough money for meat for ourselves. When I was fifteen, Ares sent a warning that if we didn't offer meat, we would be punished. My father worked hard, and we managed to get some fish. But it was the wrong kind of meat. And Ares…" Ambrose squeezed his eyes shut, his features twisting with pain. "He put Dad in a coma. We tried as hard as we could, but it wasn't enough."

"I understand," Hermes said quietly. "Ares has plenty of offerings. Why do one family's offerings matter to him? Especially when he has so much and you have so little."

Ambrose's eyes lit up, and he gazed in wonder at Hermes. "You understand," he breathed. "You really understand. That's why they wouldn't help me get you and your kids. You get it."

Hermes smiled softly. "I do. And I'm sorry about what Ares did. And Zeus. He was involved in it, too wasn't he?"

The mortal flinched and anger worked its way into his expression. "Yeah," he muttered, dipping his head. "He was."

"Tell me about it," Hermes replied.

Ambrose didn't hesitate this time; he was beginning to like Hermes and his open, frank way. "I went to the temple of Zeus with some spices from India. They were expensive, and I summoned him to beg that he help my father. He appeared to me and took my offering. He seemed happy, so I begged on my knees that he reverse Ares's curse. He summoned Ares, demanding what had happened. And Ares told him that we were ungrateful lowlifes who refused to offer a proper sacrifice. Zeus turned to me and said no. He didn't even ask me what had happened. He just took Ares at his word. And he took my offering and left."

Tears burned in Ambrose's eyes, and he gritted his teeth, trying to hold them back. Hermes watched him silently. When Ambrose looked up at Hermes, he reached his hands out.

"Hermes," he said, his voice quavering. "Please, please reverse this curse. I want my father back. It's been seven years. I miss my father."

Hermes closed his eyes. "I can't," he said softly. "I have no power that can compare with the others' powers. I'm so sorry."

Ambrose groaned and slumped over. Tears of compassion began to flow down the god's face, and he knelt down and embraced the mortal. Hermes murmured to Ambrose, offering what comfort he could. Ambrose looked up, surprised again by the heart that this god showed. A single thought contained all the hope he had left.

"You said you were king of the gods."

Hermes stilled and pulled back a little. A curious look was on his face. "What do you mean?"

"You're the most powerful god left," Ambrose pleaded. "Try, Hermes. Try. Please. For me. For everybody that they've destroyed. Please. I will give you whatever you want."

Hermes reached up to wipe away his tears as he considered what Ambrose had said. He was the king of the gods. He could issue commands that even Olympus would obey. For the first time since Tantalus had been cursed, mortals had been allowed on Olympus. And it was because he had decreed it. Hermes took a deep breath and took Ambrose's hands. Ambrose looked up, his cheeks stained with tears, hope in his dark eyes.

"I don't want anything from you," Hermes said. "You've been forced to sacrifice so much to the gods' greed. I won't ask any more from you. I cannot promise that I can break the curse. But I will try."

Ambrose sobbed in relief and leaned heavily against Hermes, clutching at him for dear life. Hermes held the mortal close until he'd calmed down. Ambrose sat back and looked at the bowl of salve. Without a word, he crossed his ankle over his knee so that Hermes could tend to it. The god gently rubbed the paste onto the swollen ankle, and Ambrose sighed in relief as the pain dulled and the swelling diminished. After a few minutes of running the sore ankle, Hermes stood up and offered his hand to the mortal. Ambrose took it without hesitation and stood up. His ankle was still tender, but he could put some weight on it. He began to limp back the way they had come, feeling like a new person from those few moments of kindness from a god he had tried to kill only an hour before.

They walked back to the battlefield, and Ambrose was pleased to see his men eating roasted meat and cheerfully talking. Hercules noticed their return first, and he strolled over.

"Looks like it was fruitful," he said, his blue eyes sparkling.

"It was," Ambrose said. He glanced at the food, his empty belly growling. "Is there any left?"

Hercules nodded. "Come sit down."

Ambrose looked at Hermes, who smiled. "Go eat. I'll send Pan and Auto for your father and mother. Then I'll join you for a nice lunch."

"What are we doing?" Pan asked handing his father a heaping plate of food.

"I need you to go and get Ambrose's parents."

"Where are they?" Autolycus asked, holding out a plate for Ambrose.

"The valley outside of Saronida," Ambrose said. "It's a little house with acres of farmland."

Pan nodded, and Autolycus held out his hand to his father. Ambrose watched as Hermes waved his hand and his caduceus appeared. He handed it to his son.

"Be careful with his father, Pan. And Auto, be kind to his mother."

They nodded, and Autolycus waved the golden staff of the heralds. A blue portal opened, and the two gods dove in. Hermes helped Ambrose to sit down then they began to eat. Hercules smiled at the peace coming from Ambrose. His older brother was incredible with people. Especially mortals.

"Hercules!"

The boy turned to look at the mortal-gods. He saw that his father had called for him. Hesitating for a moment, he wakes over and stood a few feet away.

"Yes, Father?" he asked evenly.

"Get us out of here!" Zeus hissed.

Hercules had never thought to say no to Zeus, but the answer came from his lips before he thought about it.

"Why?"

The mortal-gods stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"We have to get out of here, that's why," Athena said slowly, as if he didn't understand a basic truth.

"What's the rush?" Hercules asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We have to kill that mortal!" Ares hissed.

Anger flushed through Hercules at that callous statement, and it was turned into rage as the other nodded eagerly.

"No!" Hercules spat. Everybody turned to look at him. Hermes chewed on a piece of lamb, watching with interest. His little brother looked angry.

"Hush, dear," Hera soothed, her fearful gaze landing on Ambrose, whose face was set like a stone as he stared at the mortal-gods.

"Why?" Hercules asked coldly. "You want to kill him for no reason."

"No reason?" Ares fumed. "He's turned us mortal! He threatened to kill us!"

Hercules snorted. "Considering how many people you've killed, I wouldn't worry about somebody who's only going to kill thirty people."

Ares's cheeks flushed red. "You impudent little fool!"

"Hear that, Hermes?" Hercules asked, turning to look at his brother. "I'm an impudent fool."

"You are impudent," Hermes said, smiling and licking sauce from his fingers. His silver eyes gleamed with pleasure and mischief. "But you are no longer a fool. He only calls you that because you're smart enough to see the truth now."

Hercules shrugged. "I don't care what he thinks. What can he do about it? He can't even get out of his bindings."

"Hercules," Zeus pleaded. "He's just overexcited. Let us free we'll take care of everything."

Hercules stared coldly at Zeus, his mind rushing through everything he knew about his father and mother. He couldn't let them hurt another mortal, so he crossed his arms.

"No. You have no good reason to kill anybody."

"Son," Zeus implored. And he was speaking only to Hercules. Hercules looked back to see Hermes playing with his food, pain etched on his expression. And Hercules turned back to his father with a steely glint in his eyes. The mortal-gods shrank back.

"Which son are you talking about?" Hercules asked icily.

Zeus looked him over. "You, of course," he said in confusion.

"Oh, of course," Hercules growled. "Because you only have me. And Ares. And Apollo. And however many other sons you've sired, willingly or unwillingly. But you're willing to claim all of them, aren't you? Everybody except Hermes."

Hera broke in. "You don't understand the situation, Hercules."

Hercules stared at her. "I don't understand that you hated him for being born? For Father raping his mother so that she conceived him? I don't understand that you tried to kill her because she was unwillingly raped by Father? Oh, how dare she be raped! How dare she be forced to have sex with somebody she didn't want to! Isn't that right, Mother? And how dare Hermes be born! How dare he exist! Because he had full control over all of the events surrounding his birth! So of course he has to be punished and beaten and abused and tormented! His children have to be twisted and punished for their father's existence! And all because you're jealous!"

Hercules stared between his mother and father, righteous rage crackling around his thin frame. He stared at them so that they cowered away, and no words would come to either Hera or Zeus. Hercules leaned down and glared at them.

"What about all of that do I not understand, Mother?"

Hera and Zeus and the rest of the mortal-gods stared fearfully at the demigod as he gazed at them, enraged. And they suddenly knew that they weren't going to get their way this time. They all looked at Hermes, and they were terrified by the blank look in his fathomless silver eyes.

The time for their foolishness to be punished had finally come. And they were afraid of the messenger for the first time in their long lives.