Hermes had been a god of Olympus for roughly six months. In the age of the world, that was nothing, and yet…
"Hermes! Get back here!"
And yet, for the amount of mayhem one so small could cause, his family already felt they'd known him for several mortal lifetimes.
The boy, for he was a child now, not an infant despite his extreme youth, ran laughing, both a familiar sight and sound about the city. He was fleet for one so small, half running half flying, wings at his ankles fluttering so fast they were near invisible, like a hummingbird. The one chasing him did not bother to put in much effort beyond shouting and shaking his fist, knowing there was little chance to catch Hermes once he was in motion.
Or that would have been true if the giggling mischief maker had not had his attention behind himself, watching the fruits of his prank with sparkling eyes, eager to see the reaction so long as he remained out of reach, out of danger. So Hermes did not zip away at impossible speeds to make his escape. He darted, up and out of reach, before he turned. That was, ultimately, his downfall; with his attention in one direction he did not make sure of his exit in the other.
"And what is this?" a new voice demanded, far too close, and strong hands had snatched the boy right out of the air before Hermes could adjust for the new danger and flee. The laughter cut off with a surprised yelp, legs kicking fruitlessly against a much larger, much stronger body that now held him firmly. "Ares… are those… your dogs?"
If the tone was doubtful, it was with good reason. Usually the dogs of war were terrifying beasts that barely looked tame; snarling mountains of muscle and bared teeth with black jagged tufts of fur. These dogs were about the right size and they were certainly dogs, but…
"They're white?"
Their fur being bleached white was only one of the changes that had overcome them. Their fur, once black and rough and threatening, was now white and soft and curled. Their fierce claws were painted all the colors of the rainbow. Bows were tied over their ears. And most damaging of all, neither acted the part of half-tamed murderous beast. They lazed, tongue hanging out, not barking nor snarling but appearing for all the world like normal, calm pets. Their tails even wagged. One of them clutched a ball in his great jaws and gave those around him a hopeful look.
"Someone," Ares growled, doing a great impression of his dogs' former behavior, as if all their aggression had transferred into the man, "Saw fit to… to… give them a makeover. And completely ruined them!"
"They're not ruined!" Hermes protested, perhaps unwisely as all attention moved from the dogs to the boy. But if there was one thing everyone knew by that point, it was that Hermes was incapable of silence, especially if the topic of discussion had anything at all to do with him. "They were just bored and I was playing with them a bit and they're happy like this, not all angry and growly like before, and don't you want your dogs to be happy? I want my sheep to be happy, and my cattle, and I found a serpent yesterday and she's my friend now, and I would do anything in the world to make her happy so I think Ares should be happy."
"Happy? Happy?!" Ares roared. "You should have finished the job when he was still a baby, Apollo, and rid us all of this nuisance! I'll throw the brat into Tartarus myself! Just you wait… I'll… I'll show you some real monsters!"
"Like what?" Hermes asked, sounding thrilled and interested rather than terrified, as might have been a healthier response.
"They've got a three headed dog that's bigger than a horse!" Ares roared, "And I'd just like to see you try to play with him!"
"Don't give him ideas," Apollo protested, shifting a bit as Hermes continued to wriggle in his hold.
"If our brother is stupid enough to try and tame Cerberus, then he deserves what he gets. And the dog is just the guardian at the gates. Death himself lives down there!"
"Why would I be scared of death?" Hermes demanded. "I'm immortal."
"Because I'm friends with him, and I'll tell him what a little troublemaker you are and they know how to deal with the likes of you down there! There's a god of sleep called Hypnos, and he can send you into unending nightmares! Those who punish liars and thieves and murderers live down there with whips of fire! And there's Charon! Ancient, strong, strange beyond reckoning. He rides the untamable rivers of the Underworld and they bend to him and him alone. Pray I do not send you to the ferryman right now to bear you into the land of darkness and monsters and torment!"
"Hey," Hermes said, not to Ares, but leaning back to look up at the man holding him, "How come you didn't tell me all that cool stuff was down there? All you said was you were going to throw me into Tartarus."
"It's still an option, you know," Apollo pointed out.
"As if. I'll just fly if you try it."
"Not if we chop your little wings off first, and feed them to my dogs," Ares growled ominously, a threat rather undercut by one of said dogs happily jogging over and giving them a hopeful look, dropping the ball in front at Ares feet. With an annoyed huff, Ares nonetheless leant down, picked up the ball, and launched it away. Immediately, both dogs tore after it, falling on each other with growls and snarls as they tried to win the ball. Bows flew free in the struggle and their former nature briefly showed beneath the white curls and nail dye.
"You should play with them more," Hermes insisted. "It's mean, keeping them all chained up and covered in blood and only giving them bones of your enemies to eat."
"They get to eat the whole enemy, not just the bones," Ares answered, giving Hermes a look that suggested he very much wanted to feed all of his brother to his dogs, and not just his wings.
"Hermes," Apollo said firmly, making sure to keep his hold firm, knowing that Hermes could squirm free and disappear at the slightest sign of weakness, "It is the nature of Ares' dogs to be ferocious and savage, just as it is your nature to be swift and full of energy. You should no more change them then we should try to change you."
What Ares said to that was mostly muttered under his breath but it did not sound entirely like an agreement.
"How did you even…" Apollo started to ask, staring at the dogs as they trotted back, one proudly holding the ball and the other whining, tail tucked between its legs, but then Apollo his head, "That does not matter. What matters is that you do not go around 'fixing' our animals. Would you like it if I came and turned your sheep savage? Or if I trained your serpent to… to…" Apollo paused, because Hermes was looking up at him with true interest and delight, and Apollo was struggling to think of something horrible that would not just delight Hermes more or give him ideas, "To hate you and not want to be your friend?" he finished with. He must have struck the right idea, because Hermes actually looked upset for half a second.
"She's my friend!" he insisted, "And she wouldn't listen to you! And Ares should be nicer to Tache and Lichne!"
"And whatever Ares would do to you is nothing to what Artemis will do if you mess with her dogs, I'm warning you right now."
"Duh, like I would dare," Hermes protested.
"Well, Ares, what should we do to the little miscreant? And I'm telling you right now, the answer is not 'chop off his wings and throw him into Tartarus' because father would never go for it.
"Just take him away," Ares answered with a gruff and annoyed growl, "Far away, before I forget myself and take a birch rod to his back. And as punishment, Hermes, you are not allowed to play with my dogs."
"Wait…the playing was with permission?!" Apollo demanded, even as Hermes' lip suddenly started to quiver and his eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't think he'd actually be able to do it," Ares explained. "I thought he'd approach them, almost get torn to pieces, and give it up!"
"I wanna play with Tache and Lichne!" Hermes bawled, kicking and screaming with twice the effort now that he was being denied instead of entertained. "Ares is mean! He's mean and stupid and I hate him!"
"Come along," Apollo said, walking away with the crying child in his arms.
"If you come back, you'll be whipped, you hear! You stay away from my dogs!" Ares shouted after them, unrepentant in the face of the storm of tears, and Apollo walked quickly away, leaving the god of war to tend to his dogs.
In Apollo's arms, Hermes was no longer trying to free himself. Instead he'd thrown his arms around Apollo in turn and cried, too quiet and real for it to be an act.
"There, there," said Apollo soothingly, still keeping a firm hold in case it was an act after all, but also hugging his brother to himself. "You know how Ares is over those dogs. I'm sure he'll get over it and let you play again soon."
Almost as if a switch had been flipped, Hermes stopped crying and perked up.
"Sure like… prophetic sure?" he demanded.
"Sure like, I know my brother. He's the biggest softy out of all of us," Apollo answered. Hermes gave him a look as if he thought him an idiot.
"He's the god of war," Hermes pointed out. "Death and destruction and blood and all that."
"Husband to the goddess of love," Apollo pointed out in turn, "A father himself, and fiercely protective of his family. Now, what should I do to you. A whipping wouldn't go amiss."
"All I did was take good care of his dogs," Hermes pointed out, mostly managing to hide some small real fear at the prospect. Apollo was a protector of children and he would not hurt Hermes, not really hurt him. But Apollo believed 'protecting' included discipline and the threat was not an idle one. "With permission. I didn't even steal them."
"What I want to know is… what did Ares do that made you decide to get back at him?" Apollo asked. For, while Hermes was full of mischief and was constantly doing pranks, this had enough foresight behind it to suggest real thought and planning. That kind of mischief only ever happened when Hermes felt the need to get back at someone.
"He called me a baby!" Hermes answered instantly, kicking his legs and fluffing up the wings over his ears in indignation. Apollo raised an eyebrow, looking down at his very tiny brother.
"You're less than a year old," Apollo felt the need to point out, albeit with careful tact. "If you were a mortal, you wouldn't even be walking yet, or talking."
"And if I were a flea I'd be ancient and decrepit. What's your point?"
"My point is, just wait until you've lived an eon or two, and then see what you start calling six month old godlings," Apollo answered with a shrug. Then, "Is that really all?"
"I was playing with father and Ares got all jealous and called me a baby and made Aunt Hera take me to play with Hebe instead and it wasn't fair and he's mean, and I hate him."
Apollo frowned, still not really understanding. Probably Hermes didn't really understand either; he might think himself 'not a baby' but he was so, so young. Probably some issue not for young ears had come up so Hermes had been sent away. That would make sense to everyone except for Hermes.
"Well, venerable aged one, who shall I take you to play with? Or does one of such advanced age as yourself have work to do that I am keeping you from?"
"I have very important jobs, actually," Hermes answered. "I am looking after roads, and shepherds, and thieves, and money…"
"What is money?"
"Oh, it's new, like me! Instead of trading a sheep for a pig, or whatever, you can trade it for coins, which are small bits of metal, trinkets really, but everyone just agrees that the coins are worth the same as the sheep or pig! They trade real things for the coins, which are easier to carry around than a sheep or a pig and they trade them again for real things."
"And… this works? People will trade real things for these coins and pretend it has the same worth?"
"It works so long as everyone pretends together," Hermes explained. "Oh, it is a great game! And it's so much easier to steal too, of course. I hear they are starting to use coins for their dead even, to give to the Ferryman. Is it true that he is a monster, like Ares said? Is he ancient and strange and strong and scary?"
"He is… different," Apollo answered. "All of them are, those who live in the Underworld. Just as those who live in Poseidon's realm are different. That is the nature of the world. And Charon is old, perhaps one of the oldest beings."
"But he ferries the souls of mortals, and they are new," Hermes protested. "How can an ancient being have such a new purpose?"
"He navigates the rivers, which are old," Apollo answered with a shrug, not knowing the answer himself but not willing to have 'I don't know' be the answer.
"I want to meet him. And his dog."
"It is not his… Hermes, I forbid you going to the Underworld."
"You're not Father, you can't forbid things!"
"Well then, I can't grant things either, so I should take back shepherding and all the rest of those realms I shared with you, shall I?"
"…You are my favorite most wonderful brother, and I will of course take any of your words under serious consideration. If you say the Underworld is not for me then I shall not fail to listen."
"I am also the god of Truth, you realize?"
"I said no falsehood."
"Not as such. Come along, and let's see if we can't find some better companions than Ares' dogs for you to play with."
"Do you really think Ares will forgive me and let me play with his dogs again?"
"I not only think it, I foresee it."
"And can I play with your horses, too?"
"Not a chance."