Hermes could hear Zeus complaining as he stood back and cataloged the materials he'd requested his children retrieve. The mortal-gods hadn't stopped grumbling all throughout the night, and Zeus was the worst. He was petty and rude to Hermes and his children, and his eyes flashed every time he looked at the former messenger. Hermes could recall this kind of behavior, so it didn't bother him nearly as much as it had when he was much younger. Hercules grunted as he dropped the boulder, and he looked to Hermes.

"How small?" he asked.

"About the size of your forearm," Hermes replied.

Hercules nodded, then his blue eyes flickered behind Hermes. The boy flinched and went to his task, refusing to look back again. Hermes turned to see Hera, her eyes sad as she stared at him.

"Hermes," she said cautiously.

"Hera," Hermes replied blandly. "May I help you?"

"That's what I wanted to know," Hera said.

Hermes pursed his lips. "What do you mean?"

"We are mortal, yet not," Hera said. "Can you restore us to godhood?"

The king of the gods turned to supervise Pan as he heaved full trees onto the ground for the mortal-gods to cut and shape into whatever they needed. "I can. I've studied the same kind of chemistry as Ambrose did. And he told me what he did to you. It'll be simple to return your powers."

"And you won't do it now?" Hera asked.

She didn't sound angry, and Hermes glanced over her sad face. She looked too pale. The creamy white skin was so different from her usual pink complexion. Her hair was still yellow, but it wasn't like spun gold, as it was in her goddess form, and her blue eyes seemed dull. Hermes wasn't sure if she was pressing him to change his decree, but he wouldn't.

"No," he said firmly. "I won't do it now. You all deserve to be punished. And if Zeus decides to destroy me afterward, or curse me forever, so be it. It can't be any worse than the first hundred years of my life."

Hera flinched. "Because of me."

Hermes shrugged and didn't confirm that. "I understand that you would be jealous of Zeus being unfaithful."

"But it wasn't right for me to blame you for what he did," Hera said quietly.

The blue god froze then turned to scan her face. "I'm not changing my mind, Hera."

"I don't expect you to," Hera replied. "I think you've got a point, as much as I hate it. It won't be easy. Maybe that will be good for us."

Hermes frowned. "What's gotten into you."

"The water was probably the best idea you had," Hera murmured. She crossed her arms and stared out at the fertile land that was going to be her home for the next year. "After you gave it to me, I got to see you for who you were. Or at least, who you wanted us to see. But you didn't deserve my rage. Zeus did, but you and Maia didn't. I just couldn't see it because I was so angry and jealous. You're the best one of us, and I'm so sorry that I made your life so difficult."

Hermes felt a strange pain in his heart, and he turned away, blinking back tears. "I see."

"Do you forgive me?"

"I swore to myself that I would never forgive you," Hermes said honestly.

Hera looked surprised. "When?"

"After you scarred Daphne," Hermes said.

"Who?"

"A nymph who refused to tell you where Mother and I were."

Hera looked down. "That's fair, Hermes. I'm sorry."

Hermes nodded. "I'll think about that."

With that, Hermes broke away from her and continued to get the materials ready. Zeus stormed up to his wife, his face flushed with anger.

"This is ridiculous!" he spat.

Hera didn't reply. She had meant what she'd said to Hermes. She was terribly sorry about how she'd treated him. But she was also sure that their punishment was justified. She herself had behaved so immaturely, so horribly to Hermes when he was young, and if she looked at the others, she saw the same selfish behavior. The world didn't revolve around them. She had begun to realize that when she'd given birth to Hercules and he'd been turned mortal only a day later. Having time to grieve, as a mother, had changed Hera. And knowing what she did now, she never wanted to go back.

"Hera, are you listening?"

"I am, dear," she murmured.

"What can we do about this?" Zeus demanded.

"Nothing," Hera said simply.

The other mortal-gods stopped muttering behind her and she could feel their incredulous eyes on her.

"There has to be something!" Zeus exclaimed.

"No," Hera said. "There is nothing we can do but accept our punishment. We have no power and status, and we couldn't even live on Olympus in this state. We can't do anything to reverse a decree of the king of Olympus."

"I am the king of Olympus!" Zeus bellowed. Everybody turned to stare at him. Hercules's face was set, and he looked at Hermes, wondering how far this would go. Hermes had his arms crossed and was staring thoughtfully, not at Zeus, but at Hera.

"No," Hera said firmly. "You are not the king of Olympus. The king of Olympus has to be a god. You are a mortal, Zeus, and you've got to accept that. It'll make the next year easier the sooner you all accept this."

"Blasted woman!" Zeus snarled. "You've lost your sense!"

Hera stared at him until Zeus took a step back, and then she shrugged. "Say what you will about me. But we deserve this."

Hermes watched this with interest. Perhaps Hera was being sincere. Pan tapped him on the shoulder, tossing his long, red hair behind his shoulder.

"Everything's ready, Dad," he said, his green eyes troubled as they watched Zeus pacing back and forth.

"Good." Hermes clapped his hands, and the mortal-gods looked at him distastefully. "Everything you need to build a home is here. You have a starting flock in the fields over there beyond that thicket, and your farmland is over there. You have plenty of seeds, and you're in luck that it's only mid-spring. There is a river with a large supply of fish on the other side of the fields. I suggest you get started soon. Your first offering is due in one week. Good luck."

With that, Hermes gestured for the others to leave. As he walked by Zeus, the large man snarled at him.

"You will regret the day you were born, Hermes."

Hermes stopped, turned around, and glared at him. "I have regretted that day for my entire life, Father, and nothing you do to me will make me regret it any more. I didn't choose to be born. It's your fault I'm here. Keep that in mind while you figure out what the heck you're doing."

And Hermes spun around on his heel and stormed off, power crackling off of him in waves. Hercules and Triton both paused to look back at their family. Everybody looked miserable, and Triton sighed.

"Was this a good idea?" he asked. "They have no idea what to do."

"Neither do most mortals," Hercules said quietly. "Some of them struggle their whole lives. Besides," he added after a moment. "I don't think Hermes will let them die."

Triton sighed through his nose. "I guess you're right, Herc. Hermes isn't like that."

"They just don't know how lucky they are," Hercules muttered.

The demigod and his cousin turned and disappeared through the trees. There would be a victory feast on Olympus, and they were eager for a large, sumptuous meal. And they had to report to Cassandra, Icarus, and Phil that they could resume their lives now that Ambrose had been placated. There was also a ton of schoolwork to catch up on, which was something none of the teens were looking forward to.

Zeus watched as his son turned his back on them again. He had hoped that Hercules would have broken down and forced Hermes to change his mind. But no, the boy had left, ignoring years of loving treatment from his own father and mother and turning to that traitorous Hermes. When Zeus was king of the gods again, Hermes would get the worst punishment of his entire life. He would rue the day that he ever thought of punishing Zeus.

A soft breeze played through the trees, and Hera spoke first. "We need to set up the tents. It's spring, and the nights are chilly."

There was a grumble of agreement, and the mortal-gods began to squabble over what to do. Hera took up the scroll of instructions that Hermes had left and studied the words. Nobody else even glanced at the scrolls he'd left. They were too angry at Hermes to even consider accepting his help. But Hera knew that Hermes was a good god. He was better than the rest of them. His instructions would help, not hurt, so she began to gather the pegs and ropes and followed the directions.

An hour later, sweating, tired, and hungry, Hera sat on her heels to see the tent. It was big enough for her and her husband, who was still complaining and moping around. The others were in various states of tangle and anger. With the tent out of the way, Hera rolled up the scroll and set it carefully aside, then she moved to the fire pit. She picked up another scroll nearby and opened it to see more instructions, this time on how to make a good, hot fire. She studied these as well, then obeyed.

Ten minutes later, a roaring fire was in the middle of the tents, most of which were still only half-done. Only Athena and Artemis had finished their tent. Hera placed a hand to her complaining stomach. Hermes had mercifully fed them a good stew the night before, thick chunks of rabbit with carrots and potatoes and savory gravy. She wished for that, but she reminded herself that this was her punishment. So she stood and surveyed the offerings.

There was no meat, but there were plenty of vegetables. She picked through the scrolls, hoping for a recipe, and with the third one, she struck pay dirt. After glancing at the dish, she spoke up.

"Poseidon?"

Everybody stopped talking and turned to look at her. She looked up to see shock in their faces.

"You started a fire!" Aphrodite exclaimed.

"And you got your tent up," Athena said. "Very quickly, I might add."

"I followed Hermes's instructions," Hera said calmly. She turned back to Poseidon. "You can fish with a rod and line, can't you?"

"I shouldn't have to!" Poseidon began.

Hera interrupted sharply. "But you do have to. This is how mortals live. Now, make a rod and line and go and catch fish. Let's hope they're biting well today."

Poseidon grumbled then picked up a thin line, a hook, and a long, thin stick then headed for the river. Hera turned back to the fire, unaware of the glittering silver eyes that were on him. The fair, pink eyes that stood beside him were alight with glee, and also a hint of surprise.

"Hermes," Daphne said slowly. "Hera is listening to you. Does she not remember?"

"She does," Hermes replied. "But there is something different about her now. She's not the same goddess who hated me." He paused then waved a hand at Poseidon. "Have some luck, Uncle," he murmured. "You'll catch lots of fat fish."

There was a ringing call that echoed through Hermes's mind. The guests had arrived, and the feast was ready. They were waiting for him to begin. Hermes kissed Daphne's cheek.

"You will watch over them, won't you, my dear?"

"I'll let you know about everything," Daphne said. "The other nymphs will watch, too, but they will not be in their human-esque forms."

"That's fine. I have to go now, Daphne. I'll bring you something delicious. And thank you for this."

With a wave, Hermes flashed out of sight. Daphne stared at the place he had gone for several seconds then turned once again to study Hera, who was carefully washing vegetables off in some water. Without thinking, her slim, green hand reached up to caress her scar, and she sighed.

"Only for you, little god," she whispered. "Only for you."