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When he stabbed himself with the knife, he expected to wake in front of Charon and be banished to the fields of Asphodel. Hades, he wouldn’t be surprised if Zeus himself tossed him down into Tartarus.
What he did not expect was to wake up, half-drowned as a stranger stood over him. The man’s face was familiar, but it was mostly the wings where ears should have been that caught Luke’s attention. He coughed, forcing himself to sit up as his eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight that shone down. He looked up, his voice soft and disbelieving, “Father?”
“What?” The man moved back, a momentary heartbreak in his brown eyes. Then Luke felt the sharp end of a blade against his neck. Wouldn’t be the first he found himself at the end of a weapon today. His hands scrambled against… sand, and that was when Luke finally took in where he was.
This was not the Underworld.
He kept his face neutral, but his heart hammered quickly in his chest as he took in the beautiful island landscape. He had been in Olympus just a few moments ago… He turned back to the familiar stranger, “Who are you?”
“Who are you?” The man shot back. Luke noted that the stranger wasn’t quite keen on sharing his name first. The sword hadn’t moved any further, but he didn’t dare try to disarm the man. Something about the man’s demeanor - and the lack of information Luke had about him - showed that he probably wouldn’t hesitate to skewer Luke like pork barbecue. Then the man was kneeling next to him. It made Luke uncomfortable to see those wings - quite similar to his own, which really only meant one thing.
“Look, you can clearly see our shared relation. Put down the sword.”
It wasn’t just the wings that gave the stranger away, but rather the mischievous glint in his eyes. Luke had enough of seeing it in the mirror and in his siblings’ gazes. The man narrowed his eyes. Standing up, the man moved his cape to the side, giving Luke a clear view of a shipwrecked boat and a couple of men staring awkwardly at him.
Now, it has been years since Luke had indulged himself in remembering the ancient Greek heroes, but his mind was quick to give him a horrifying answer as he took in where he really was.
“No no no no no.” He could almost hear the lingering traces of the mad Titan’s laughter in his mind as his situation finally sunk in. He stood up, nearly stumbling back into the sand as he tried to get away from the stranger. Sadly, he was too slow as his arm was immediately grabbed. He could hear the man bark out something, perhaps a question?
He tried to slow his panic, turning his gaze back up to… By the gods he could hardly accept it.
“Is this your island?”
He shook his head, wishing he was dead. “It’s not.”
—
Despite how much the fates hated him, being brought back to the past was not the worst thing that has ever happened to Luke Castellan.
Where to start?
What about his whole life being damned before he was even born?
What about his mother losing herself while he could do nothing but watch?
What about his deadbeat of a father who never once took the time to care?
What about his siblings and the rest of the Half-Bloods, left to be forgotten by their parents, sent out to die in meaningless quests for gods who would never remember their names?
Ah… and isn’t that where he keeps going back to.
Luke won’t pretend that there wasn’t a piece of him that wasn’t being selfish when he joined the forces of Kronos.
The scar of his failed quest was still fresh, the taste of his own blood still lingering on his tongue when the dreams began.
Kronos had offered him a chance to fight back against the gods, had consoled him when even his own father wouldn’t.
He had been a child. A scared and hurt child.
How could Luke have said no?
Maybe that really wasn’t the start of it, but gods know that he was always destined to fall.
Deep down, Luke knew it began even before he was born. He was but a pawn in the game of the gods - even if he had in the end decided to let go of all that pain and hurt.
Still, the neglect doesn’t go away easily - especially now that he was kept alive by that damned Titan who clearly didn’t want him to rest.
Even so, his mind kept going back to that quest.
That ridiculous quest for a golden apple.
What did his father even need it for?
He would never know. He failed after all.
And the scars remained with him even now, thrown so many years back into the past.
Even now…
He could still feel the emptiness at his back, the loss of the weight that once was there.
When he was younger, he used to enjoy taking long flights throughout Camp Half-Blood.
He remembered the hours he spent with his younger siblings, carrying them in his arms as he flew.
He recalled how a younger Annabeth and Thalia would tentatively reach out, always worried that he’d shriek at them in an instinctive attempt to keep them away from his wings, only for him to curl a protective wing around both of them.
Despite how much he resented his father, Luke loved that he had inherited wings.
He loved those wings, and some nights, he could bring himself to love his father for being able to claim him in that way.
His father may have cruelly abandoned him and his mother, but unlike most of the demigods, at least he had been claimed - long before he ever set foot in Camp Half-Blood.
Then the quest.
Ladon.
Those claws.
… He used to enjoy taking long flights.
—
The rest of the Ithacan crew kept their distance, though Luke could tell they were curious about him.
It wasn’t everyday that one saw another Hermes-descendant, and as far as he could tell, he hoped to keep up that appearance. They didn’t need to know he was actually a demigod. Maybe the lack of back wings was a blessing, they wouldn’t have any clue that he wasn’t just a descendant like Odysseus.
His heart fluttered as the thought crossed his mind.
Never in his whole mortal life would he have expected nor wanted to meet any of the ancient Grecian heroes.
Just another joke from the Fates.
Fuck, what was his life?
He watched as the infamous King of Ithaca paced the island, a heavy sadness on the man’s shoulders. Luke must have just arrived after the great loss of the man’s crew to Poseidon.
Funny how they shared that similarity… being screwed over by a child of Poseidon.
Though, Luke felt prideful enough to believe that he wouldn’t have yelled his name out like Odysseus did.
If the lost king wasn’t stressed about their predicament, Luke was sure he’d be under heavy interrogation - but after his admittance that they were on Circe’s island (because at this point Luke didn’t give a damn about accidentally ruining the past considering his own predicament), Odysseus was strangely silent. He was thinking of a plan. Luke knew how quick-witted the Grecian hero had been.
The man had sent a few of his men away, further into the island. Now, he was thinking of his next move.
Luke didn’t really care enough to warn him about what was going to happen.
As if right on cue, one of the men that Odysseus had sent stumbled out of the forest. Odysseus had reached out for him immediately, holding him by the arms as he demanded where the rest of the crew were.
Pigs. They were currently pigs.
Luke would have laughed, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He was already on thin ice for being a stranger that somehow washed-up on this island at the same time as them (Luke was not about to explain that he was from the future).
At least Odysseus hadn’t called him out on his lie. He didn’t even call Luke out when he lied about his name.
He should probably thank his father that Odysseus probably took pity on him since they were of kin, but right now Luke didn’t want to invoke Hermes’ name - not when he didn’t know what his father was like in the past.
Instead, he leaned back against a tree as he watched Odysseus have a quick argument with the man. Then they were both rushing into the forest, the other man trying to stop the king from entering any further.
As he watched them disappear into the trees, his eyes following after them, Luke couldn’t help but feel as though something in the foliage was staring back.
His back burned.
—
“Hello, little bird. That was a silly stunt that you pulled.”
This was Tartarus. Kronos sent him to Tartarus.
Luke clawed at the god’s arms, his wing-ears flapping frantically as he tried to escape his father’s tight embrace.
Why couldn’t he have had this when he was a child?
Even if he had sacrificed his life, Luke had no love for his father. At least, none that he wanted to give anymore.
As the god kept him from escaping, his eyes met Odysseus’.
He knew the story.
He knew what Odysseus had done to get home.
Still, Luke felt betrayed.
“Thank you, darling. Here’s the moly.” With his face pressed against Hermes’ chest, Luke could feel the crackle of divine energy - and it scared him. Even the arms that caged him held all the power that the gods wielded.
This was not the father he knew.
His father pretended to be a mailman.
He rarely showed his divine self.
He watched as Odysseus reached out for the plant, refusing to meet Luke’s gaze.
This wasn’t how the story goes. Hermes assisted Odysseus for… Hades, Luke didn’t know. Hermes helped because why not?
So why was he suddenly a bargaining chip?!
“Let go of me!” Even as the arms continued to tighten, Luke did his best to flail out of the god’s embrace, his wing-ears flapping fitfully. “Don’t touch me!”
“Oh you know how demigods are, darling! Stubborn and reckless. Little Loukanos here has hit quite the rebellious phase. Scared me when I returned to my palace to find him missing. Little bird tossed himself right out into the sea. Can you imagine it?” The god laughed, and Luke wished he had continued his war with the gods.
The audacity!
Hermes was lying, and they all knew it.
Odysseus knew it.
“Hermes… thank you.” The king said softly, a hint of guilt and hesitation in his voice. Luke felt somewhat vindicated at least that Odysseus felt some semblance of regret. Not that he would save him, but it was the thought that counted.
“Don’t thank me, friend. You very well may die.” There was an amused smile in the god’s tone, and Luke shivered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such blatant carelessness in his father’s voice.
“Good luck!”
He heard faltering footsteps, and soon there was nothing but silence.
It was just him and this version of his father now.
Those arms eased around him, but Luke wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he was free. Hands gripped the back of his shirt, as if the god was searching. He dared to look up, scared of those irisless eyes. The Hermes of the future had the same blue eyes as Luke’s.
He really didn’t know this version of his father.
“Now that dear Odysseus is gone, you and I should have some father-son time, hm?”
The god’s smile was strained.
“Let’s talk.”
The god leaned down, his mouth close to Luke’s wing-ear.
“Tell me, little bird, where are your wings?”
—
As a father, Odysseus would do anything to protect his son.
The thought doesn’t ease his guilt, even though a part of him knew that this was the right choice.
He knew his men were in danger, but he spared a single glance back to where he had left Loukanos with Hermes .
When he had first seen the young man, Odysseus had been surprised to find a fellow Hermes-kin. Then Loukanos had opened his eyes, and he’d called him father.
The “father” had taken him aback, but mostly it was the haunted look in the boy’s eyes that scared him.
Odysseus knew war.
He saw it in the eyes of his crew.
He saw it on his own.
His only hope is that he would never have to see that same look in his own son’s eyes.
Really, it was for the best that he left Loukanos with Hermes. He didn’t know where the boy had come from and Odysseus had enough men to worry about. He couldn’t take Loukanos with them once they left the island.
Besides, Hermes had said that the boy was his son who had escaped from Olympus.
Nevermind that Odysseus knew the god had lied.
Nevermind that as far as Odysseus was aware, his own grandfather - a son of Hermes - had never mentioned anything about Hermes keeping any of his children on Olympus.
Nevermind that Loukanos had looked terrified when Hermes had forcefully dragged him into his arms.
Odysseus had tried to think of another way, any other plan that didn’t require such a sacrifice.
But Hermes had flashed those irisless white eyes at him, a daring grin on the god’s face.
Try it, King of Ithaca. I dare you.
He needed the moly.
He needed to save his crew.
He needed to get home.
He needed to see Penelope and his own son.
Odysseus could only hope that Hermes would have no ill-intent towards Loukanos. After all, Hermes was a father himself. Surely he only had the best intentions for his son.
He could just delude himself that Loukanos was some spoiled demigod. There were plenty of spoiled royals. He’d had the displeasure of meeting them himself. Loukanos was probably just one of those.
Even if the boy had refused the embrace, Odysseus had seen how much Hermes had been so happy to hold Loukanos in his arms. How he refused to let go.
Odysseus would trade the world to have his family in his arms.
What did Telemachus even look like?
Had he gained the same wings that most Hermes-kin had?
Odysseus felt his wing-ears twitch, the heartbreak nearly consuming him as he thought of his son.
What he would give to be like Hermes right now.
He shook his head, grasping the moly tightly in his fist. It was a worthwhile deal. He couldn’t regret it.
He had a crew to save.
He had a kingdom to return to.
And he had his own family to think about.
Loukanos will be fine.
—
Luke was not fine.
“I don’t remember siring you.” There was a hand on his chin, tilting his face as the god observed the scar on his face, tracing it with clawed fingers.
Luke would have given anything to have the future version of Hermes. His actual father knew how to pretend to be human. This Hermes had no such reasons to play pretend.
“But I look at you and I feel a great sense of loss.” The god’s voice turned into a soft croon. “I look at you and feel as though I have a mortal heart to break.”
“...Right.” Luke tried to take a step back, cursing the Fates as he remembered that he had been cornered into a tree. “Like you said, ‘as though you have a mortal heart,’ don’t worry about it too much. Just let me go and we can pretend—”
“I don’t even know your name, little bird.” Hermes’ other hand gripped his arm, keeping him from darting sideways.
Luke wished Kronos had teleported the knife with him. Sure, Luke didn’t want to fuck around and find out if he tried to stab this Hermes, but it would have been better than being defenseless.
“It’s Loukanos—”
The grip on his chin tightened, and the god’s eyes glowed briefly.
“Don’t lie.”
He took a breath, trying to stop the erratic beating of his heart. “It’s Luke. Luke Castellan.”
Hermes frowned, relinquishing his grip. “Luke Castellan of…?”
He wracked his mind for an answer, but anything he said would have been seen as a lie. Weakly, he mumbled out, “...Of Connecticut?”
“Of what?” Now it was the god’s turn to be confused. Luke took the opportunity to quickly dart past his father’s arm, trying to put as much of a distance between him and the god.
He had barely made it a few steps before the god was on him. He covered his face as he landed on the ground with a huff. He could feel the end of Hermes’ caduceus at his lower back, keeping him from crawling away.
“Your words don’t register as a lie, little bird. But I can’t quite recall a place known as… Kanetikut? Ah, and I don’t think I remember which mortal woman you come from—”
“Of course you don’t. Typical of you not to remember mom.” Obviously past Hermes wouldn’t know Luke’s mom yet, but the comment enraged him.
“...You have a lot of anger towards me, little bird.” He felt the weight of the caduceus lift, and Luke scrambled back to his feet. At least this time, the god didn’t follow after him. Instead, he was staring at Luke with birdlike curiosity, as though he were a shiny trinket. “You dress strangely too. There’s something very odd going on here, little bird. Where are you from, really?”
“Like I’d ever tell you.” He scoffed before rolling his eyes. “The only place I should be in right now is the Underworld. So, do your job and drop me off.”
“You don’t look dead to me, Luke.” The god grinned, but the amusement quickly dropped. “Though I suppose you feel as though you’ve died. Your poor wings—”
“And whose fault is that?” He snarled, wishing more than anything that this really was his father. He had wanted so long to ask the god why he had sent him on that quest.
Why did he even want that stupid golden apple?
“Ha! Certainly not me, darling. I didn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago.” Hermes tutted, as if lecturing a small child. “Still, you blame me, don’t you?”
Before Luke could respond, the god was suddenly in front of him, arms pulling him into an embrace. “While it isn’t my fault, I won’t leave you to suffer alone.”
“Wha—”
He screamed as the god suddenly flew upwards, carrying Luke in his arms.
The god only laughed, as if this was nothing but a game to him.
“No need to be scared, little bird. Your father has you.”
Luke nearly screamed again as the god jokingly loosened his grip. “Where are you taking me?!”
“Home, little bird.” The god smiled, “I don’t ever want to feel the loss of you.”