The air shifted before anyone noticed him. Not with wind, nor sound, nor any warning that could be named. Just a subtle wrongness, like a note slightly off-key in a familiar song. The braziers flickered, flames bending in a direction no draft could explain, and somewhere deep in the palace halls, a servant paused mid-step with the strange sensation of being watched.

And then—there he was, reclined atop one of the high marble columns as if he had always belonged there, one leg dangling freely over the edge. Hermes. He lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, golden eyes half-lidded with lazy amusement. His winged sandals swung idly, feathers catching the firelight as they moved. A faint grin tugged at his lips—not kind, not cruel, just endlessly entertained.

Below him, the palace breathed with mortal routine. Servants moved. Guards muttered. Suitors laughed somewhere deeper in the halls, unaware of the god perched above them like a hawk watching mice argue over crumbs.

Hermes exhaled softly through his nose. Mortals were always so loud. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as if he could see straight through the stone into the endless stretch of sky beyond. His fingers toyed absently with a small, shining coin, flipping it across his knuckles with effortless precision.

“Boring,” he murmured to himself. He had delivered messages. Fulfilled duties. Played the obedient son. For now. But that was never the fun part. The fun part was everything in between. Hermes sat up slowly, tilting his head as his gaze drifted toward the sound of distant laughter—the suitors, no doubt. Their arrogance clung to the palace like mold, fat and comfortable in stolen power.

His grin sharpened. Oh, they were interesting. Not important. Not yet. But interesting. He pushed himself to his feet, balancing easily atop the narrow column as though gravity were merely a suggestion. His wings gave a faint twitch behind him—not enough to fly, just enough to remind the world they were there.

A soft hum escaped him as he considered his options. He could appear as himself. Terrify them. Send goblets crashing and hearts racing.

Or…

Hermes snapped his fingers once. His form shimmered instantly, divine light folding in on itself like fabric. The gold vanished. The wings disappeared. In their place stood an ordinary figure—harmless, forgettable, easy to ignore. Much better.

He stepped off the column. He did not fall. His feet touched the marble floor without a sound.

No one noticed.

Hermes strolled forward at an easy pace, hands clasped behind his back, eyes bright with private amusement. He passed servants without being seen, guards without being questioned. His presence bent around mortal perception like light around glass. He paused briefly near the entrance to the great hall, listening.

Laughter. Mockery. Defiance trying to be born.

Hermes’ smile returned. Oh, this was promising.

He leaned casually against the doorway, invisible to those who did not yet matter, watching events unfold with the quiet patience of something older than consequence. Gods did not need reasons to intervene.

Sometimes—

They just needed to be…entertained.