Authors: Aimée Carter
The guards who had previously surrounded me glanced at each
other, confused and still pointing their swords. Instead of focusing on me,
however, they all turned toward the former earl.
“Who are you?” said the head guard. “What business do you have
in this court?”
“What are you talking about?” said the earl, dumbfounded. “I am
your lord!”
I touched the guard’s shoulder. “He is nothing—no one, a
confused old man who doesn’t know himself. Send him out of the village and on
his way with enough food to get him through the night.”
“Of course,” said the guard, and while the others surrounded
the babbling former earl, I turned and walked out of the hall. It wasn’t much,
and it certainly wouldn’t bring Tuck back, but it was all I could give her
now.
* * *
I met up with Iris and the boys shortly after. My feet
felt heavy, and every step was a battle, but I clutched Tuck’s pendant, allowing
it to spur me on. By the time I arrived, Sprout and Perry were crying over
Tuck’s body, now wrapped neatly in silk that Iris must have created, and Mac had
finished digging a grave between two trees.
“Do you think she’d like it here?” said Sprout, his cheeks
stained with tears. I knelt beside him and nodded.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I never meant for this to
happen.”
He hesitated, and just as I was beginning to wonder if he’d hit
me, he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tight. “Don’t be sorry. Iris
told us what happened. You did everything you could.”
I embraced him, and beside us, Perry joined in, as well. He
felt even more fragile than usual, and his body radiated heat, but he was alive,
and he would be okay. “Thanks for saving me,” he said, resting his head on my
shoulder. “I know Tuck would’a been really happy about it, too.”
“She would have,” I said quietly, and I swallowed. “I won’t
always be able to stay with you, but when I can, I’ll be there every second.
You’re my family now, and I’ll never let you down again.”
“We know,” whispered Perry, and the three of us knelt there,
simply holding each other.
At last Mac set his hand on my shoulder, and I released the
boys, forcing myself to my feet. “Take care of them,” I said. “And when you’re
ready, go back to the village.”
Mac’s brow furrowed, and though he said nothing, I knew exactly
what he was asking.
“The earl’s gone. You’re in charge now, when you’re ready. I
know you’ll be fair to your people, and they deserve a good ruler.”
His baby face went white, and his mouth opened, but he didn’t
say a thing.
“You listen, and you watch,” I said. “That’s more than most
rulers. Always remember who you are and who your people are. Never forget
they’re not pawns for your enjoyment. If you do that, you’ll be just fine.”
He continued to stare at me wordlessly, but I patted him on the
back and knelt down beside Tuck. “Come on,” I said, touching her cold hand over
the silk. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
* * *
Shortly after midnight, Iris and I returned to Olympus.
The moment our feet hit the floor, she squeaked and let go of my hand, hurrying
off into a hallway. And once my eyes adjusted, I realized why.
The council was in full session. Perfect.
“Hermes,” said Zeus dryly. “So glad you could join us as we
decide your fate. Please, remain standing.”
I’d been halfway to my throne when he said that, and I stopped
and turned to face the others. They all watched me, some smug, some furious,
some indifferent. But none of them looked at me the way Tuck had.
“Do I get the chance to speak in my own defense?” I said.
“I hardly see why he should,” said Apollo. “He knew the
consequences when he left.”
And there went all of the goodwill we’d built up in the past
day. “Yes, but I know something you don’t,” I said. “I know how to stop everyone
from dying.”
Instantly what few murmurs had been going around the circle
stopped. Zeus stood, and even though he tried to hide it, I saw hunger in his
gaze. “And how is it you came across this?” he said slowly.
“That girl you let die—she’s the one I was searching for when I
left,” I said. “The Fates guided me to her. I wanted answers, and she’s the one
who gave them to me. Not directly, of course, but the things she said…I put them
together.”
Silence. “And?” said Zeus after a long moment.
“
And
if I tell you, I want two
things.”
“You will tell us because you are a member of this family, not
because we have bribed you,” he growled. It was the first time I’d heard
anything other than a neutral tone from him in ages.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Family doesn’t treat
their own the way you’ve been treating me since Persephone faded.”
Across from me, Hades flinched, but I kept going. Couldn’t
spare his feelings now, not when it was this important.
“I made a mistake, a huge one, and I’ve done everything I can
to repent. But even though I’m still me, you’ve all treated me like scum ever
since, and I’m sick of it. I don’t treat any of you that way—except maybe you,
Apollo, but only because I’m jealous of your teeth.”
No one laughed. I took a breath.
“Listen. I don’t want any of you to die. I just want to be part
of the family again—a real part, not a ‘let’s pretend until we know everything’s
fine, then kick him out’ part. I don’t want to be forced to leave you, and I
don’t want any harm to come to Iris for helping me. And—that’s about it,” I
said, uncertain now that I’d come to the end of my list. “Just treat me better,
don’t punish Iris, and we can all figure this thing out together.”
Zeus stood in silence for the better part of a minute,
obviously communicating with the rest of the council silently. I didn’t care. As
long as they did the right thing, they could be as petty about getting there as
they needed to be.
At last he cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said slowly. “We
accept your bargain and your conditions, but we have one of our own—if your
advice does not live up to your promise, you will be immediately banned from the
council and stripped of your role as an Olympian and all it entails. Do you
understand?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Not as if I’d
expected anything less from them anyway. “I understand, and I agree. As long as
nothing happens to Iris.”
“Very well, Iris is cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Zeus.
“Now, tell us what you’ve learned.”
This was the hard part. I stood in front of my throne, not yet
daring to sit, and I focused on each and every face. No matter how they felt
about me, I loved them, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening
to one of them. Even if they’d denied me, I would’ve told them.
“You’re going to object,” I said. “It’s different, and you’re
all going to resist. But before you dismiss it, give it a try, and remember the
Fates themselves sent me to her.” I hesitated. “We need to change who we
are.”
A confused murmur echoed through the room, and Zeus raised a
hand. Everyone fell silent. “Explain, Hermes.”
I launched into Tuck’s story—everything she’d gone through and
why she’d done it. How she’d adapted. What her real name was, how her
self-chosen nickname had been a way for her to recreate herself and become the
person she needed to be. How she’d changed who she was and what she’d believed
and how she’d acted, all for the sake of her new life. And how much that new
life had meant to her.
“So you’re saying we need to change our names?” said Aphrodite,
clutching Ares’s hand. I nodded.
“But it’s not just that. It’s changing who we are to the world.
We depend on mortals, and they depend on us, but they don’t realize that. Most
of them are completely unaware. People used to know who we were and what we were
doing, and they believed in us. They think we’re myths now though—stories to
tell around a fire, not real people. And we need that belief.”
“Then how do you propose we do that?” said Poseidon.
“We need to become more than what we are. More than gods and
goddesses. More than Olympians. Yet at the same time, we need to become one of
them, as well. Live among them, understand them, help them. Stop needing
recognition. We need to integrate ourselves and stop being these great deities
who are so far above humanity. Yes, we’re immortal, but we feel the same
emotions they do. We’re happy, sad, angry, excited—we need to do away with that
divide. We need to bleed blood instead of ichor. We need to adapt.”
“I do not understand,” said Hades quietly. “How would living
among them benefit me?”
“It wouldn’t, not you,” I said. “Your subjects will always be
there. They know who you are, at least to an extent. But ours—they believe in
other gods now, or only one of us at a time, or whatever the case may be. We
need to become those gods. To become these ideas in their minds.” I shook my
head. “I know it sounds crazy, but the core of the problem is that they don’t
know who we are. And short of exposing ourselves and ruling like kings, we can’t
change that. But we can live like—like Rhea.”
At last a few faces seemed to light up with understanding.
“She lives among the people. I don’t mean we have to abandon
Olympus. We just need to join together with the mortal world and understand it.
As long as there are mortals, there will always be love and music and travel,
and in order to stay tied to those things as we are now, we must go down to
earth and represent them. Everyone we meet will know who we are, even if they
don’t know our names, and we’ll ingrain ourselves among them. Bottom line—we
cannot hold ourselves above them anymore. We are not better than them, and we
must remember that. We depend on them as they depend on us, and it’s time to
start acting like it.”
“We have lost touch,” said Athena, glancing around at the
others. “It couldn’t hurt to try.”
Nearly a minute passed as everyone seemed to absorb this. A few
whispered amongst themselves, but it wasn’t until Zeus sank back down into his
throne that everyone seemed to relax.
“We will try,” he said. “Abstract as that is. Do you have any
solid suggestions for what we might do to implement these…
ideas
of yours?”
“Yes,” I said frankly. “We need to change our names. Right now.
We need to cast aside our old identities, and we need to become the people we
have to be in order to adapt and survive. The name’s just the start of it, but
it’s as good a start as any.”
No one looked happy about it, not even Hephaestus, who hadn’t
exactly won the name lottery. “What sort of names?” said Aphrodite,
frowning.
“I don’t know. Names that will stick around for centuries,
though I suspect we can change them again if we have to,” I said. “We’ll do
whatever we have to do to survive.”
“Very well,” said Zeus. “Then why don’t you start us off? What
is your new name, son?”
Son
. It may have been a single word
to him, but to me, it was a moment of acceptance—a moment when we moved beyond
the struggles of the past eons and stepped into a new era where the slate was
wiped clean.
It was exactly the kind of life Tuck wanted. And it was the
life I would live when she couldn’t.
“James,” I said. “My name is James.”
* * *
Three years later, we all still existed.
Couldn’t lie and say it was easy—none of it was going to happen
overnight, but to the council’s credit, they each tried. Only Hera kept a Greek
name, refusing to budge from the roots she held so dear, though at least we were
able to persuade her to change her name to the lesser-known Calliope. Even Zeus
found a name powerful enough to satisfy his ego.
Slowly but surely, the council changed. Instead of deities
lording over a world that didn’t know we existed, each of us began to spend time
on the surface, interacting with mortals in a way few of us had in millennia. It
wasn’t painless—more than a few attempts resulted in varying disasters, mostly
revolving around Aphrodite and her new set of mortal conquests. Apparently the
world had changed since she’d last waltzed into the middle of a village and
announced herself. But soon enough, we all adapted. We all started down the road
of becoming the people we needed to be in order to survive.
In those three years, I visited Mac, Sprout and Perry often,
occasionally bringing Iris along with me. The three boys moved into the castle
soon enough, and Mac slipped seamlessly into his role as the new earl. He was a
kind, fair leader, exactly as I’d hoped, and as time passed, my concern for them
lessened. They’d be all right. They already were.
But despite that, I could never escape the guilt that
surrounded me over Tuck’s death. Even though the boys had long since mourned
her, I’d never fully recovered, and that was why it took so long before I
finally made the trip I’d been dreading.
I approached Hades’s throne with my head bowed—partially to
show respect, but mostly to avoid looking at Persephone’s empty throne. He
hadn’t chosen a name yet, the last of us to do so, but there was no hurry. If he
chose to remain Hades, his existence was secure. Even after the last mortal died
and the rest of us faded, he would live forever. But if he didn’t fill
Persephone’s throne, it would be a very, very long forever. And I didn’t like
the reminder of what I’d done to him.
“Hermes,” he said in a deadened voice, and he paused. “James.
Is there a problem with the souls you’ve transported?”
“No,” I said.
“Then why are you here?”
It’d been an unspoken rule between us that I went out of my way
to avoid seeing him while doing my duties in the Underworld. Despite a few
awkward run-ins, most of the time we managed to keep our distance. “I have a
request.”
Silence hung between us, and at last Hades sighed. “You want to
see the girl.”
“I—” I clamped my mouth shut. Of course he knew. “Yes. I won’t
stay long. I just want to make sure she’s doing all right, and I have something
to give her—”