Hephaestus’ island forge was only inhabited by him. No followers or students on the nearby islands. No altars for travelers to drop offerings.

The heat of a volcano core was better than any moat or wall. The sounds of lava flowing and chains clanking were the sounds of home.

The conditions were torture for young Hermes. Stepping over loose nails and chains. The heat made him sweat uncontrollably. Not to mention the unbearable smell.

Apollo hated his brother’s lack of décor. The caverns were perfectly tunneled as expected. But they were just that. Not that Hephaestus could or would put a plant or painting anywhere.

Apollo tapped Hermes’ shoulder, “Like we rehearsed.”

“Lord Hephaestus!” Hermes called, “I have a message from King Zeus.”

There was no response.

Apollo was no louder than Hermes, “Hey, lava lunatic! Father’s got a commission for you!”

An axe flew toward his head. Of course, Apollo caught it. Then he flung it right back.

Hephaestus turned the corner just in time for the weapon to barely take his head off. It stuck right into the wall. An inch away from his neck.

Hephaestus plucked the axe out, “Still a little off balance. So what does Zeus want now?”

Apollo rolled his eyes, “Your aim is what’s off balance.”

Hermes couldn’t pick a topic. The casual attempted murder. The heat still wearing him down. Or Hephaestus resembling a smaller and bald Ares.

His muscles and scars were gained from lifting and slamming tools. His brown beard was the same as Zeus’ blonde one. Kind of like his naturally olive skin. Farmer tans from years inside a volcano and days on the beach.

What Hermes decided on was how Hephaestus walked with a limp. A sluggish stride. Brought upon by a prosthetic right leg.

“Woah!” Hermes ran right up to the man. Inspecting his limb, “It is true! I thought my mom was joking!”

“Why is there a mortal in my cauldron?” Hephaestus asked. “Wait! How are you still alive?!”

“Because he’s a Demi-god.” Apollo picked the boy up by his waist, “See how he’s sweating?”

“I’ll sweat you,” Hermes jabbed.

“That didn’t even make sense.”

“Your face doesn't make sense.”

Hephaestus interrupted, “So you ‘educated’ another mortal but forgot the follow-up lesson. I suppose congrats would be in order if I cared.”

“What?” Hermes asked.

“He’s father’s.” Apollo corrected, “My ‘follow-up lessons’ are always on point.”

Hephaestus looked a little closer at Hermes. Three seconds was all it took. The blonde hair and chin specifically.

“Oh yeah. Now I see it.”

“Hermes,” Hermes offered his hand. Still suspended by Apollo. “How’d you get a brass leg?”

“Hephaestus,” Hephaestus shook the boy’s hand. “Bronze. And I built it.”

He walked the two deeper into his workshop. He slept where he worked. Ate where he slept. And worked while he ate. The mess surrounding his bench confirmed it.

“So, what’s so special about this one?” Hephaestus asked. He stopped at his bench. Looking for items that Hermes couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of.

Apollo continued to carry Hermes, “Father wants you to make him a pair of shoes that won’t break.”

“Why?”

Hermes was happy to declare, “I’m the god of speed!”

Apollo shook him like a drink. Aggressive enough to shut Hermes up.

“You get your title when King Zeus gives you your title. Did no one ever teach you blasphemy?”

Hermes’ answered after his dizziness ceased.

“Don’t have a cow, man.”

Apollo snarled, “They can’t find your body in a lava pit.”

Hephaestus spoke flippantly, “You can take your bickering outside if that’s all you two are gonna do.”

Hephaestus returned from his table with a few tools and a seat. He said nothing as Hermes sat down. Focus only on measuring the boy’s feet.

It didn’t take long. The worst part was Hermes being ticklish. Apollo kept him still.

“Ok, got it.” Hephaestus grabbed his notes but left the tools there. “I can make your shoes. But I still need to know why they need to be indestructible.”

“He’s the new messenger I have the unfortunate pleasure of training.”

“I mean what’s his ability? Does he have super speed? Do his feet change into flippers in water?”

“I’m fast,” Hermes answered.

“How fast?” Hephaestus asked.

Apollo whispered to Hermes. Then he let go. The millisecond his fingers left Hermes’ shoulders, the uncrowned god of speed showed why his title was all but official. Just as Apollo thought.

Hermes organized the area in a minute. All the items and tools scattered on the floor were neatly put away. Wrenches were lined up by size. Nails and screws were placed in a cup.

The only issue Hephaestus had was that certain tools were intended to be color-coordinated. Two or three needed to be swapped around. Others were placed in inconvenient spots. But he didn’t expect a child to know why a sledgehammer needed to be placed by the anvil and not against the wall.

Hermes stood exhausted. Panting like a dehydrated horse. He was swimming in sweat now.

“W-water please.”

Hephaestus scoffed, “Demi-gods.”

“At least you can see the floor now,” Apollo quipped.

-An hour later-

Hermes couldn’t be happier that Hephaestus’ volcano was an island. The Aegean archipelago had the most beautiful beaches he’d ever seen. Clearwater to splash in and no one around to bother him.

Hermes’ problem was Apollo on the beach. A stone's throw away at all times. A lifeguard he never wanted.

“I’m not gonna drown before I get my shoes,” Hermes said. “Or is that what you’re hoping for?”

“I haven't decided yet,” Apollo muttered. Then aloud, “Listen kid: I’m stuck with you. You’re stuck with me. How about you pretend not to be a diseased stray long enough to convince Father you’re worthy of god-hood?”

Hermes kicked a seashell, “How about you be the god of education and teach me something?”

Apollo weighed his options. Argue with a child. Or find out where this resentment came from.

He chose neither. Instead, calling the boy’s bluff.

“You know how to swim?”

“Of course, I know how to swim!” Hermes said.

Apollo sat and waited. Nothing happened. Hermes stood still as the tide kept splashing his calves.

“Well?” Apollo asked.

“Well, what?”

“Show me.”

Hermes scoffed, “How to swim? Wow! That’s sad. You’re an Olympian and you don’t know how to swim?”

“I’m trying to be nice, you little troglodyte.”

Hermes shrugged, “…I’d be insulted if I knew what that was.”

“It means you were so filthy that you changed skin tones after a bath,” Apollo informed. “I’m surprised you even knew how to play the lyre.”

“Whatever.”

Hermes turned his back on Apollo. But it didn’t seem like it was just physical. He didn’t turn and jump into the sea. He didn’t say anything after. It was as if that line seemed to cut off Hermes’ emotions.

Apollo scoffed at this immaturity. All the insults he’d taken from Hermes. But this boy couldn’t take one or two?

The brothers didn’t speak for a while. After a while, Apollo had gotten a little tired of listening to the sea. That and Hermes’ splashes.

No one else was on the island. To Apollo’s knowledge that is. So he had to entertain himself.

His golden lyre came as he snapped his fingers. Appearing in a flash of light. It was the span of his arm and as pristine as his temple.

Apollo began to play.

Hermes stopped what he was doing. He put the crab down when he heard the first few notes. Turning to face Apollo as the song continued.

Hermes wondered if this was how the animals he’d tamed felt. So entranced by the beautiful tune that he couldn’t physically pay attention to anything else. Muscles at ease. Mind on the music as everything else melted.

A mastery of an instrument Hermes only dreamed of obtaining. Apollo truly was the god of music. For he was barely even trying to impress his pupil.

Apollo saw Hermes. Sitting cross-legged before him. Lower elevated on the beach. Looking up to Apollo in both senses.

“You want to give it a try?” Apollo asked. Fully expecting a form of ‘no’.

Hermes didn’t speak. He raised a brow. He waited to see if there was a punchline. There wasn’t one.

Apollo extended his hand. This lyre that was as wide as Hermes’ torso was his to practice. If Hermes could charm a giant snake and a herd of super cows with an out-of-tune makeshift lyre, Apollo wanted to hear what Hermes could do with this.

Hesitantly, Hermes accepted. Apollo had to laugh as Hermes underestimated how heavy it was. Nearly dropping the gold lyre on a seashell.

Hermes got situated and played. A little faster than Apollo’s tempo. Plucking a little harder than he needed to. Obviously testing the sound.

“Oh, it’s already tuned!” Hermes realized.

Apollo would’ve been insulted if Hermes didn’t immediately start playing something wonderful. And the wonderful song he played, grabbed everything with ears.

Every bird above their heads. Every crab on the beach. Every squirrel in the grass. Apollo & Hermes were soon surrounded by a captive audience.

Like hypnosis, the animals stood perfectly still. Hermes had the mini safari at his whim. A few different notes could turn them right around and back to their lives. Or, for the squirrels, bring the gods some sticks.

The mammals piled them as Hermes started playing a bit faster. The birds flew to get stones. It only took a few minutes for Hermes to construct a campfire.

Apollo’s curiosity peaked. Why was this musical prodigy using birds and squirrels to make a fire? The same reason crabs were lined up by size.

“I want the big one!” Hermes said.

Apollo didn’t have the heart to tell Hermes that Hephaestus had a grill inside the forge.

End