Broken Pantheon AU except it's Luke who's plucked from the Underworld and thrown into the BP universe, inexplicably alive — and all he wants to do is go back to being dead. He's had quite enough of living, thanks; he just wants to stay in the Underworld until he sees his mother again one last time, and then go off to be reborn.
He's smart enough to immediately realise that he's been thrown into Ancient Greece, even noting that something about this time period seems a bit off from what he remembers in the textbooks back at Camp Half-Blood. Unfortunately, he doesn't get much time to figure out what exactly is off, because right from the start he — weapon-less and alone — gets attacked by a monster.
The good news: someone rescues him.
The bad news: it's Hermes.
.
.
.
Now here's the thing. Because Luke has spent the last couple of years being dead, his soul still retains traces of the Underworld. Those traces are potent enough — at least from the start — that they cover Luke's divinity and mislead Hermes into thinking that he's a dead mortal who accidentally wandered out of the Underworld.
As a psychopomp, he's more than happy to escort Luke back, especially when Luke is eager to return to the Underworld — which, Hermes remarks, is quite the rarity amongst dead spirits. Annoyed as he is, Luke can only agree — he still hates Hermes, but 1) he's not delusional enough to think that he can outrun an Olympian, and 2) since Hermes thinks he's dead anyway, he just has to put up with Hermes until he escorts him back to the Underworld. Then Hermes will leave, Luke will go back to being dead, and none of this will be a problem anymore.
Right?
(He'll convince Hades and the three judges to make him dead again. Somehow. He's running on desperation and adrenaline, alright? He'll iron out the details of this plan later.)
What Luke fails to realise is that since he's now alive, the traces of the Underworld that his soul has retained will naturally dissipate. So in the next few days of his and Hermes' journey to the Underworld, the imprint of death on him fades and fades until...it disappears.
And Hermes realises that Luke is not only very much not dead, but that he is, somehow, a demigod child.
His demigod child.
.
.
.
"You."
Luke barely manages to hold back his flinch from the grip on his wrist. Hermes' touch is hot, almost searing; Luke is half-afraid he'll see the burn imprints of Hermes' fingers on his skin once he releases him.
He tries to tug his hand from Hermes' grasp, but the Olympian remains unmoving, his hand like a steel band around Luke's wrist.
"...Lord Hermes," Luke says slowly. His frame is rigid with tension, eyes fixed on the the most dangerous thing in the room. "I thought we were returning to the Underworld now?"
For a moment, Hermes says nothing. From under his helmet, his unblinking eyes bore into Luke's, pupils blown so wide that Luke can barely see the thin blue ring of his iris. It's distinctly unsettling, to have the entirety of a god's attention directed at you, to be the subject of their single, sole, focus.
The hairs on the back of his neck rise. DANGER, the reptilian part of his hindbrain screams like an air raid siren.
...He looks like he wants to swallow me whole, Luke thinks suddenly, but immediately dismisses the thought. What a crazy thing to think. He must be going insane from sleep deprivation.
"We are not going to the Underworld," Hermes replies. His voice is even and smooth, completely pleasant, just like how he normally sounds. Had this been any other situation, Luke would have thought that he was joking.
But Hermes isn't smiling.
And Luke's heart drops into his stomach.
"...What?" He croaks. "Why? You — you said you would take me back! You said that was your job!"
Again, he tries to pull his hand away, but it only makes Hermes' grip on Luke's wrist tighten. The divinity in the air thickens, so intense that Luke's knees momentarily go weak. This is the power of an Olympian in their prime, he realises, dread dripping down his spine, at their most dangerous and most cruel.
This is not someone he can escape from.
"Indeed," Hermes says. He hasn't blinked once; he's still looking right at Luke. Why is he still looking at Luke? "I guide the mortal souls of the dead to the Underworld. That is my duty."
"But you..." He reaches out with his other hand, and Luke can only stare as he tucks a curl of Luke's hair behind his ear. His touch is gentle, as if caressing the petals of a fragile flower. "Are neither dead, nor a mortal."
Silence.
"Well?" Hermes prompts. He sounds almost kind. "My little fledgling?"
Luke swallows. A ball of ice has formed in the pit of his stomach, heavy and cold.
"I don't know what you mean." He forces an easy smile, grateful that he manages to keep his voice even. More than anything, he wishes he had Backbiter in his hand. "I am dead. You said it yourself, didn't you?"
Hermes smiles too, then. He smiles with a softness that looks alien on his divine features. A face that looks like it's been carved from marble shouldn't look gentle, Luke thinks wildly. Where is the apathy? The cruelty?
"Did you think I wouldn't uncover the truth?" Hermes asks. "I know not how you did it, but it was clever to fool me with the imprint of death on your soul. Until it faded, that is."
There is a fervent, fevered gleam in his eyes as he leans in even closer. "My little miracle. I do not know why you insist on cutting your life short, but I will not allow it. Do you understand? I am the god of crossroads, but the Underworld is the only realm where I cannot follow. I do not permit you to die."
