To kick up the field trip, Ginrius and friends stopped by the local smithy. The artisans there had nothing but praise for him; they knew who he was without need for introduction, furthermore, what he did to restore their livelihood. It also helped that he was once a local, one of the decent ones at that. Post-formalities, the godsmith was given the floor for some exhibition, and he took it as a chance to craft toys for the children, as well as upgrade his patrons' workshop.
Food and drinks were served to honor the occasion; a humble but hearty spread amid the contrast of fire and metal. There was enough bread to feed the whole block, fresh puree, and a cresting lamb roast for that touch of bourgeoisie. As everyone feasted, Ginrius was approached by Zacleus, who brought a couple of brimmed tankards as peace offering.
"This isn't laced with poison or anything?" Ginrius jokingly asked.
"Does poison even still work on you?" shot Zacleus back, grinning, "'cause if it is then I'm game. Zacleus, godslayer… it's got a nice ring to it."
Ginrius took a swig and did some reflection. "I'm not even sure anymore… but the godslayer part does sound epic."
Their conversation soon led them back to Minea, who busied herself in entertaining the children. The two felt equally pensive as they admired her from a safe distance, as they did all those many years back.
"Three years ago, I would have kicked your ass for even glancing at her," Zacleus commented, before laughing it off.
"Three years ago you would have failed anyway," said Ginrius with his own snicker. "I still can't believe I was gone that long… While I was out there, it merely felt like days."
"You do know that gods perceive—even move—in different plane, right? That's why we hardly see them. It's complicated, but the way they—you move around is tied to your will. You are only here because you choose to be here, otherwise, you'd be in that exclusive, happy place of yours."
The way Zacleus explained the concept proved more interesting than the subject matter itself. His half-wit brother, who always solved issues with brute force, had now grown a decent head over his shoulders, stopping to actually analyze an obstacle before pounding it down. "You really have changed, haven't you? It's hard to recognize you now apart from that stupid silver mane of yours," Ginrius insult-complimented him.
Zacleus of course threw his own jab. "It's called growing up—you should try it some time."
"And here I was, really looking forward to kicking your asshole, asshole." Ginrius snorted.
"But you know who never changed?"
"Huh?"
The demigod nodded back towards Minea. "She really waited for you, you know. Even when she thought you had forgotten, she kept on waiting. It was quite annoying; despite my insistence and obvious charms, she still picked the guy who flew to the sky." There was a sliver of disappointment in his eyes as he spoke, which was tantalizing to behold for the first time. Usually, the demigod's emotions were classed under rage, growing rage, and then rampage.
"Don't tell me you signed up for the orphanage just to stalk her? You creep…" Ginrius tried to lighten the mood.
Another laugh escaped from the stern demigod. "Well, sure, at first…" he said pensively. "But these kids really grow on you… In fact they play a heavy part in changing me." After that, he just strolled ride back to melancholy city, and the core of it all became clear as day. "About father…"
Knowing where the conversation was headed, Ginrius decided to cut him short. "It's not your fault."
"You don't understand… the reason father was on that boat… was because I wouldn't…"
Hearing this, Ginrius whipped around to face his brother, who never looked more vulnerable.
"A fishing vessel was wrecked in the high, and the town recruited volunteers," Zacleus continued. "Since I wouldn't join, father took it upon himself…"
Silence took Ginrius. He felt resentment and anger, but it was a passerby that quickly left town. Seeing how much more it bothered Zacleus made room for empathy instead. The man has had enough, soloing the guilt all this time. He also knew that no matter who fell in that trip, it would have stung either way. He didn't like Zacleus in the past, mostly because he was a royal jerk, but in the end he was family, even more so than the man who raised them. Again, he consoled himself with the fact that their father was in a better place, hanging out with none other than the love of his life. He sighed his biggest one yet, and then patted his brother in the back, asking the next pertinent question. "Where is he buried?"
"In our backyard," replied Zacleus. "I'm sorry if I wouldn't be able to accompany you—it's just too hard."
"It's all right, brother… I understand."
In the middle of the conversation, Minea and the children rejoined them. She asked for Ginrius' hand, smiling sheepishly. "Where to next, master godsmith?"
Though opposed to the idea of leaving Minea alone with Ginrius, Zacleus ended up doing just that. The children caught up with the goings-on and dragged him back to the orphanage with them. Finally alone, the two made plans for their itinerary.
It was Ginrius' turn to ask his date. "Where do you want to go first?"
Minea didn't take long to answer. "I'm thinking the beach—it's a lovely sky were having tonight."
Ginrius recalled the night Hades and Thanatos approached him, hoping they wouldn't pull the same trick that night. "Are you sure?" he said, worrying a bit.
"Yes, but we have to get some food and wine first—let's visit the grocer."
"I think I have a better idea."
Outside, they were met by a man wearing a strange, feathered hat. Hermes looked as out of place as his garish cane was, which, even in variant form still sported twin serpents. But the biggest takeaway was the boots he wore, which had wings and a tad too much quicksilver detail.
Ginrius recognized him immediately, but inquired nonetheless. "Hermes, is that you?"
"The one and only," Hermes said with a tip of the hat.
"What are you wearing?"
"It's called fashion—it's the rave in the west right now—do you like it? More importantly—what took you so long?"
It was pointless to argue, so Ginrius skipped right down to business. "Did you bring the goods?"
Hermes had his sights on Minea, causing a lag in his usually prompt response time. That's an Olympian for you. "Aren't you going to introduce me to first?"
"Knowing you, it's probably better to keep her as far away as possible," grunted Ginrius.
"However do you mean?"
"It's nothing—never mind." Ginrius turned to Minea and proceeded with a bored tone. "Minea, this is Hermes, the god of impatience. Hermes, this is Minea, my childhood friend."
"My lady," Hermes greeted, tipping his hat again. The bastard didn't even notice the profane alteration of his title.
"Is that supposed to be a disguise, by the way?" Ginrius said. "'cause I fail to see the point if you're sticking out like a sore thumb—you look ridiculous."
"Nobody asked you—anywho—per your request."
Hooves started pounding from the distance, backed by the more fluid contribution of rolling wheels. From the far end of the avenue appeared a chariot, roofed and matching the Hermes motif.
And yet, between these roadshow series of surprises, nothing held a candle to Dionysus, god of merrymaking himself, who had taken it upon himself to outdress everyone and coach the outlandish vehicle. "Hop aboard young lovers, the night is young!" he bellowed his end scene line.
***
Involving Dionysus in any occasion meant receiving the complete V.I.P. treatment. When the two gods left the couple by the beach, they had all the makings of a wedding reception, from inexpensive bottles of ambrosia, to food that did not even appear on any earthly menus. For Ginrius, it was a rework of that fateful night he had with Hades—the remastered version that included better food choices and the complimentary love interest. For Minea it was simply their official first date.
"I still think the Hermes and Dionysus part was overkill," Minea commented as he rummaged their supplies. "And this much food after we just ate? Having you should have been enough—well, you and this bottle of goodness that is."
Ginrius smiled at her, so beautiful even under the yawning moonlight. "If it's any consolation, I only called for Hermes—he's the messenger of the gods after all. The Dionysus part was not in the script."
"So, we have the sea, the moon, and the nectar of the gods… what's next, master godsmith?" Minea digressed.
"Well, we could start with the wine taste… or we could start with this…" Ginrius leaned in to kiss her, and Minea closed her eyes to receive him. The young god first touched her face and thumbed her lips, before truly diving in for moderate contact. When he drew back to look at her, she had this rather curious expression.
"Three years of waiting for my first kiss and this is all you've got?" she said, feigning disappointment. "I thought godly improvements would be so much better than that."
Challenged and reconnected to his Olympian confidence, Ginrius charged back in. He kissed her with all the fire of his being that she was barely able to keep up. When they parted, Minea was totally out of breath; she even joked about feeling like she just swam out of Atlantis.
"You are such a heretic," Ginrius smiled at her again, which made her blush even more.
Suspecting an implosion if they kept at it, Minea opted to segue for a bit, hoping she would regain enough breath and composure for the next round. "W-what was it like," she fumbled. "Olympus?"
"Amazing but at the same time, terrifying." Ginrius played along. Giving Minea her space, he stood up, picked a stone, and pitched it to the sea, where it skipped past every wave and disappeared into the horizon. "It's ironic… I spent all my life hating these irresponsible deities we have, in large part because of Zacleus, only to discover that I'm one of them."
Minea joined him by the shore, feeling the cold ocean water rocking back and forth her feet. The sand, however, felt warm under her soles, like Ginrius' hand in hers. "I get it, but if you weren't one of them, chances are, you'd be dead by now." She tried comforting him. "I rushed in whenever you and Zacleus brawled, and I was always mystified how you managed to recover each time. Your brother is not exactly one for subtlety."
There was truth to her words, but Ginrius was at best, only half-convinced, so Minea pushed on for the win. "I think it all worked out in the end. With you as an Olympian, maybe you can inspire the great change—I know you can."
Finally, Ginrius beamed another warm one. "I owe who I am to my father," he said. "Knowing what he went through made me adamant in my stand… and you're right, being a god doesn't change that. In fact, the feeling is even stronger now." He then snatched Minea's hand, leading her away from the water.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To visit my old man—introduce the love of my life while we're at it."
***
Treading back to his childhood home, Ginrius was surprised to find it in mint condition. The lawn was manicured clean, and it was obvious that the rest of the plants were tended to regularly. As for the house itself, it was unbothered by the elements, looking even stronger with its scrubbed walls and reworked roofing. This made it hard to imagine how he was gone a long time. The only thing missing was his father, who would be sitting at the front yard at this time of the night, accompanied by his thoughts and a goblet of wine.
"Zacleus can't bring himself to sleep here, but he still came every day to clean up and visit your father's grave," Minea revealed.
Ginrius knew how hard it must have been to do all that. For all the strength and majesty his lineage granted him, the kind of blockade he couldn't move was probably the most frustrating. Moreover, he didn't have the courage to do it with his brother, who was another viable source of guilt made by his life's choices.
With their property lining among Greece's humblest, the additional trip to the grave was short but not nearly as unceremonious. Ginrius used his godcraft to improve the normal gravestone, where he etched, "Beloved father and husband". After saying his piece, and as promised, introducing Minea in a brand new light, the godsmith even fashioned a mausoleum to house the landmark, blessing it further with what ambrosia they had left. They decided to enter the house next.
"How much more nostalgia can you take?" Minea asked him the moment they stepped in. Seeing the place just as orderly landed Zacleus more merit, especially in knowing how terrible he was with chores.
"I'll be fine," Ginrius told her, breathing in that rustic sense of home he didn't know he missed. "In fact, I think I'm staying for good."
"What about Olympus?"
"Olympus can wait. It's going to be there forever—this place isn't."
Relief spread across Minea's face like daybreak. "Glad to have you back then. Well, I guess I'll see you again tomorrow, neighbor."
She sounded like it was time for goodnight, but everything else sang a different tune. Ginrius didn't even need his newfound confidence anymore, though it sure helped smoothen the seams. He held her hands in proposition and went for it. "Or you could see me through the night and all the nights that would follow."
Minea did not answer with words—they've had one too many of those. She went ahead and kissed him instead, hoping this time, she'd be the one to take his breath away.