Hades' chariot landed down on the barren turf of Perachora and both of them squinted miserably in the sunlight. The soft braying of the peacocks drew their attention to the golden chariot parked beside them, gleaming beside the gentle draw of the waves and perfectly suited to the scene in a way they definitely weren't.
"You think they validate parking?" said Ganymede. Hades smirked.
"Don't make me laugh, kid, or Hera's gonna come down on the both of us."
A thin, pink figure sparkled from the rocks up ahead, and as Hera saw them she raised her hand above her head in greeting. Hades gave her a careless wave of his own, then ushered Ganymede forward. "Come on, before I start to fry."
They passed through the columns baking in the heat as Hera summoned more chairs at her altar. Ganymede pulled his hair back and away from his shoulders as the back of his neck sizzled. "Hey," he asked out the corner of his mouth, "Do I still tan?" Hades fanned himself uselessly with his hand.
"Who knows? I'm not an expert on zombi- Hera!" He swung into greeting with a broad and untrustworthy grimace, "How've ya been, eh?" Hera turned to face them as they mounted the temple steps and nodded to him in greeting. Her eyes passed over Ganymede with a flash of surprise, and not knowing what else to do he kept his face carefully impassive.
"Thank you for joining me," she said without warmth. "Do sit down."
Hades eyed the spindly little chairs with a curl of his nose. He approached the altar, allowed the random old man to stand politely, then summoned his big, black throne at one end of the line-up. He settled happily within it as Hera looked on with a twitch of displeasure. Ganymede pulled one of the jewel-coloured garden chairs closer to Hades and noted grimly that the games had now begun.
"So who's this guy?" Hades thumbed to the old man as Daedalus took his seat once again. "You hire a mediator?"
"No," Hera said rigidly. "This is a friend of mine - Daedalus, the inventor."
"So you're the Labyrinth guy!" For a second he looked delighted, before he leant forward to speak in a lower tone. "Hey, I hate to ask, but how do you spell-" From Hades' shadow, Ganymede's eyes narrowed to yellow slits.
"If we could get down to business," Hera waved four cups of tea onto her altar. Hades withdrew his attention from the man and took his, pinching it between finger and thumb to examine it, not sure how best to hold such a small teacup with dignity.
"Sure-sure. So - what's your plan then, Hera, huh?" With a casual flick he suddenly summoned his table from their throne room. It squatted beside them on the wide dais, chess pieces skittering over the marble. "Walk me through it."
"Don't you 'Hera' me!" she said, coughing against the sudden roll of smoke. "We may - potentially - be allies, but we are not friends!"
"Not even siblings?" Hades asked. Hera's scowl deepened as he sipped his tea with a bitter smirk in his eyes. Ganymede nudged him with his elbow, and when the god turned, he gave his little finger a wiggle. "Oh-" Hades gave him a nod, and stuck out his own before taking another, more high-class, sip. "Good catch."
Ganymede had yet to touch his own (it seemed unwise to drink anything offered here in case it cursed him or something), and as the gods spoke he levelled his attention on the old man at Hera's side. He gave him a curt nod as the gods continued above his head. "So what's your story, pal? Why'd you get the island vacation?" Daedalus regarded him for a moment, part of his expression hidden by the stately, grey beard down which he ran an idle hand.
"Lady Hera took pity on me when I landed on these shores eighteen years ago."
"Like a shipwreck or something?"
"Or something," Daedalus replied with an old smile. "Yourself?"
Ganymede crossed his arms and leant away from him. "Hey, I asked you the question - no need to start an interrogation."
"He can't make him god of the dead!" Hera cried, snapping them both back into the more pressing conversation. "What an awful thing to do!"
Hades' smile dropped to a snarl. "Oh, so you finally admit the job's a dud, huh?"
"You know I have no say in Zeus' business affairs!"
"Or his affairs in general, right?" Hades snapped with so much sudden venom that she recoiled. Ganymede swivelled to face him, but the god's glare was too loaded to point in any other direction but Hera's. Ganymede's hand drifted to fidget at a strand of hair, not quite daring to presume the flashfire was for his benefit, and yet still he had to fight the stupid, grateful feeling of loyalty that struck up inside of him. Casting a glance at Hera, then to Daedalus, he rose and crossed over to the familiar, black table.
"You'll forgive me!" Hera swept to her feet, her voice rising to a screech, "If I seem unsympathetic to the monster who tried to kill my son!"
"Speaking of Hercules..." came Ganymede's low drawl, and both gods turned to the mortal now leaning on Hades' chessboard. He held up a muscular little statuette in one hand. "How'd you think he'd take this news?"
Hera drew her shawls around herself as she gathered her aura back in. Affecting a gentler tone - one she did genuinely mean, but was now too frazzled to bring forth naturally - she answered, "This isn't a side of his father I want him to see." An unhappy smile slithered across Ganymede's face.
"Which part?" he asked. Hera saw what little light there was shrink from his eyes. "What thing, specifically, do you not want him to know?"
Hera's eyes flashed with warning, and if Ganymede were still alive this would be the point where he cut his losses and threw himself at her mercy before she boiled him alive in his own blood or something. Hades, however, reclined in his throne only a few feet away, and a sense of righteousness tingled right to the ends of his fingertips. He waggled the figure in his hold.
"Come on, admit it. If you had any leverage over Zeus, you wouldn't be down here at the bottom of the barrel." He felt something cold and solid rise up beside him. Hades towered over him.
"Ohh, keep talking, kid," Hades clapped his hands down on his shoulders and gave them the rough massage of a boxing coach before dropping them - an unspoken but obvious sign that this kid enjoyed the protection of the Underworld. "You're doing great."
Ganymede set the piece down and met Hera's livid eyes. The vulnerable rage in them could do nothing to the hollow emptiness of his own. "Zeus has a weakness, because everybody's got a weakness-"
"Adda boy, kid!"
"It just so happens that Zeus' biggest weakness is his son. Right? I mean..." A sneer crawled over his face as the tip of his finger rocked the figure of Hercules back and forth on the table. "It was the only topic of conversation he had other than himself. If it wasn't the smiting or the Titans or that Prometheus guy, it was how much Hercules was-" He picked the figure back up and shook it next to his own distasteful smile, "Just like his old man."
"So I ask you again," Ganymede continued, his sneer fading and fury flashing hot across his face, "What thing specifically do you not want him to know?"
Hera stood rigid, looking upon both yellow-eyed, sallow-faced con-men with noble disgust. Her eyes flashed with warning, which so infuriated him that even without Hades' protection he could have lunged for her, and his grip tightened around the figurine so viciously that his ridged knuckles shook.
"Because that's the big-ticket item, right?" he snapped, the mask of saboteur dropping. "You took the cup, didn't you?" He whipped a finger at Daedalus. "You had this schmuck draw you a map to the centre and dumped it in there to keep it away from anyone who might have gone and told Hercules the truth!"
Hera finally found her voice. "How dare you!"
A cold front rolled over him. The smell of stone pushed back on the heat and perfumed air, and one grey hand slammed down on the table beside him. He span around to see Hades' eyes, dropped of all humour, glaring at the goddess.
"Hey," he snapped at her, "This kid's one of mine. Watch it." Ganymede softened, smiled, and tucked that same tendril of hair behind his ear. Hades glanced to him "What're you lookin' at me for?" he said, "Close it!"
Ganymede locked back on to Hera as she drew herself up even taller. She shone even pinker with outrage, but he cut in before either of them could derail into a real fight.
"You wanna try and keep up the whole perfect family schtick? Fine. But then you're gonna have to say buh-bye to your little piece on the side."
"Hermes is not-!"
"Didn't ask, don't care," Ganymede spat. "But I think I've got you pretty well figured out by now."
"Oh really?" she asked, as solid as the statue of herself that rose up behind them. "Do you now?" His hands pressed down on the table, and Hades shot her a gleefully vicious smile.
"You asked for it, toots."
"So this guy stole your baby," Ganymede thumbed to Hades, "Okay, uncool. Whatever. But are you seriously telling me that the first time you ever spoke to the kid was eighteen years later, when he showed up on Mt. Olympus?" His flat palm turned into a fist and even his weakened punch sent the pieces rattling. "You love your kid, sure, but you picked your hoity-toity life in the clouds over everything else!" Hera's hand fled to her chest as Ganymede's rage boiled over, his cheeks flushed a darker green, and his voice rose- "You wanna relationship with your son?! Then you're gonna have to fucking talk to him!"
"YES!" Hades' blue flames shot into the air as he pumped his fist at his waist. "Oh, beautiful!"
Hera stared at them both, stunned by their audacity, their callousness, and their accuracy. Adrenaline and wounded pride locked the tears down in the pit of her stomach, but still the temple swooned around her and her ears rang in horror - both towards them, and towards herself.
In her momentary falter, Ganymede tossed the little statue to her. She caught it and rotated it mournfully in the light. She wilted, and ran a finger over the figure's mute face. And yet there was still so much to consider.
If they told Hercules any of this, would she lose him forever? She lifted up hot eyes to meet Hades' vindictive headlamps, and burned with the knowledge of how much easier this decision would be if she had been allowed to raise her own baby. They were asking her for an act of total selflessness, as if submitting to an eternal separation from her child ought to be a simple and instantaneous decision.
"So, Hercules learns of Zeus' crimes," she said slowly, holding herself tight. "Then what?"
"Then we ask him to talk some sense into the guy," Ganymede said. He straightened up and tossed back his hair, the head of his rage cooling. "Zeus might see reason, if just to preserve his image. I mean, sure, we don't have any evidence anymore..." He paused to cast her and her goon a bitter look. "But if we convince Herc, that's one Hell of a testimony."
She winced against the sordidness of it all, but truly seethed against the shadow of the tyrant they now all scrambled beneath. He had set the tone of their plans. He always dragged them all down with him.
Zeus dragged Hermes towards the central plaza of Olympus, clouds forming a walkway beneath each step, which rotted from pink to black even as the vapours pulled themselves together. The cloudbanks rolled up and around them, burning from the inside with the red smoulder of war, their boiling walls blocking out the heavens beyond and bathing them both in crimson light.
Hermes said nothing. His hands and feet had been bound and he dragged from Zeus' fist like a luggage crate, but he kept a furious, determined muteness as the world around them rumbled. His wings buzzed on his heels like the wings of a wasp.
"EVERYONE!" Zeus bellowed. "TEAM MEETING! NOW!"
Chariots streamed in, the gods scrambling to obey, and as he waited on their obedience Zeus stood in the central plaza, the storm rolling in. Hermes raised his head as a strange sound caught the lowest threshold of his hearing - he could have sworn he heard some sort of chittering, like the legs of a thousand beetles. The clouds burgeoned into shapes that almost looked like faces.
The gods crowded into the plaza, emerging through the walls, their confusion building into a frothing, uncontrolled force. Hermes felt himself lifted from the ground. The king of the gods thrust him aloft and shook him like a tribal chieftan showing his men the severed head of a rival. Still, Hermes kept his rigid silence.
"Good news!" Zeus boomed, his eyes on fire, "We have a volunteer for Hades' position!" The savagery in his voice left no ambiguity, nor did the shackles hanging from his old messenger. "The war you want is back on!"
The crashing storm swallowed their furious cries of triumph and the scarlet lightning lashed disfiguring shadows across their faces. Something real and physical crackled down the back of Hermes' neck as his friends and oldest companions thrust their fists into the air and gnashed their teeth like animals - these were not the pleasant cocktail conversationalists he knew.
The chittering grew louder as something inside of the clouds changed. Their slow curling snapped into activity, and suddenly the walls were boiling to life around them, huge gouts of cloud vapour building, bursting and coiling above, behind and below them. He stared over his glasses as a thousand pairs of eyes or more opened up inside them and the almost-humanoid shapes in the smoke groaned over and deformed. Everything had a hundred jeering heads pushing out; some had horns, some had snouts, they shook and babbled with emotion that made Hermes sick to his stomach. The air filled with moans. As the sky filled with demons, he decided to break his silence.
"Uh... Zeus? Are you seeing this too?"
"Behold!" Zeus boomed, "Our new god of the dead!"
Hermes cried out as electricity locked his body rigid. That same scarlet lightning crackled around him, biting wherever it hit.
His tunic dulled to grey as if the life had been drained from it. His wings darkened to black and the caudeceus on his belt faded - hardened - from gold to iron. Though he had never been able to create the same way as the other gods, he still felt the light of power inside of him go out as his fingers and toes turned cold, and with it snuffed the soft light around his body. Through gritted teeth, through the pain and the panic, he tried to do something - anything - before his new role took everything from him, but he was not quite as cunning as the last guy to have this job. His skin remained blue.
The pain ended and he hung, inert and exhausted, from Zeus' knuckles. The man continued to display him like a prize.
"Congratulations, Hermes!" Zeus let out a mean laugh, "You've finally been promoted!" Then he roared over the heads of the crowd, "Now we march! Who is with me?!"
All of Olympus rose in cheer, but Hermes struggled to understand exactly how. Aphrodite was no warrior. Hestia and Dionysis had no great love of battle, but they were crying for blood just as loudly and just as ferociously as everyone else.
The answer crawled up his spine. That jittering noise that surrounded them seemed to have entered his head without him noticing. The heads in the walls turned on them all, and inside of him rose a noise that invaded every quiet part of him, finding and invading every secret place until he couldn't think - only feel agitated, rising anger without any space to examine and temper it. All outside of him was red, black, burning dead and all inside of him was turning to chaos. When Zeus yelled for weapons, even he almost cheered - violence would go some way towards escaping the poison leaching through his chest.
Then Zeus shook him violently to punctuate some sort of point, forcing a gasp of hot, stifling air into his lungs and forcing a second of sanity. His eyes searched the jeering walls for any sign of the sky, but they were trapped. Before the noise inside became too loud to think past, something moved inside of him and he begged the stars - he knew they were still there - to save his soul. Hera was still out there, and she might still need him.
A reply whispered through his heart, cutting like a cold blade through the noise, bringing with it a flutter of love so intense that the whisper and the love might have been the same thing.