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2023-11-07
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2024-02-02
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5/?
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way down we go

Summary:

Apollo slipped off the ledge and fell into Chaos.

Down and down he went, the void swallowing up all that he is, he was, and he could be.
Darkness.
Upwards he rose, gold swirling around him, all that could have been.

Apollo tumbled out of his bed with a yelp, the fall to the floor far bigger than he was expecting it to be. The soft carpet nearly gave him a concussion, his mortal body feeling weak and fragile after that fall into Chaos…

Wait. After his fall?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: don't blame me

Chapter Text

As Apollo hung over the eternity of nothing that is Chaos, he contemplated his existence.

 

He had many regrets, many that he had let go and been forgiven on, but still many more to go. He can’t say that he didn’t enjoy being mortal despite how much he suffered during his trials. Perhaps Olympus truly didn’t need him.

 

Styx floated over him, looming above him like Scar did to Mufasa, just waiting for him to fall into the void.

 

“I told you so,” She said, cold eyes uncaring of his plight. “Have you learned your lesson?”

 

His pinkie unhooked from the rock. Nine fingers left.

 

His whole body was straining to keep him from falling, divine strength fading away and being pulled into the maw of Chaos with every second that ticked by, and his lungs cried out in protest at his push to speak. “Yes. But I learned too late.”

 

She crouched down, dress of misery and broken promises skirting the tips of Apollo’s fingers. “Too late… yes. Hold onto that, then.”

 

The lesson or the rock?

 

But she was gone, diving back into the waters of her river, leaving him to die alone.

 

So many of his children had died alone, without their father to comfort them.

 

A tear fell down Apollo’s face, and though he could not see, it shined like a pearl. The tears of a god.

 

It wasn’t how loudly he swore his oaths or what sacred words he used, but how much he meant them. With every child born, he had sworn to be a father. He had sworn to Meg that he would return. He had sworn to his sister to be a good brother. He had sworn to Jason to remember his time as a mortal. He had sworn so many oaths, and he had not meant too many of them.

 

His left hand slipped off the rock, leaving him holding on by one hand.

 

He’s so sorry for never understanding the meaning of his words.

 

Apollo slipped off the ledge and fell into Chaos.

 

Down and down he went, the void swallowing up all that he is, he was, and he could be.

 

Darkness.

 

Upwards he rose, gold swirling around him, all that could have been.

 

Apollo tumbled out of his bed with a yelp, the fall to the floor far bigger than he was expecting it to be. The soft carpet nearly gave him a concussion, his mortal body feeling weak and fragile after that fall into Chaos…

 

Wait. After his fall?

 

Apollo scampered to his feet, hands patting frantically at his own body as if to check that it was still there. Flab? Check. Acne? Surprisingly not flared up, but check. Brown hair? Still there. He’s still Lester.

 

And this was his temple on Olympus.

 

What the fuck? Did someone rescue him? Impossible, he had fallen into Chaos , there wasn’t supposed to be an after to that.

 

Yet he stood here in his old bedroom. A bed made for an 18-foot-tall Olympian god, with all the finery and frivolity involved. Also, tall enough to hurt when he fell off it, ye- ouch . 

 

Everything was in its place; all trinkets collected over the years were on their shelves, ranging from the bracelet he borrowed from Cleopatra and forgot to return before she died, to his Saturday Night Fever pantsuit his mom had been telling him to pick up off the floor for the past thirty years, to the Valdezinator… not there.

 

Huh?

 

Apollo scanned his room again, searching for his latest musical instrument, yet came back empty. For a second, he thought that Hermes decided to do some light payback for the Lyre incident of 2000 BC, but nope, the Valdezinator wasn’t the only thing missing. His iPod, his laptop… oh fuck , his CD collection was half-empty!

 

What kind of monster raids a god’s CD collection?

 

The kind that replaces his latest computer model for his old one, the raggedy and slow Hephaestus monstrosity of 2004 sat on the desk, ready to scream out some dial-up sounds when Apollo tried to get Limewire running.

 

In the mirror…

 

This was wrong.

 

Apollo looked at the mirror, seeing Lester as expected. It was almost comforting, this body and mortality, yet someone had messed with it. He was younger . Shorter, thinner, barely any acne; he looked like an average preteen who might need braces.

 

This was Olympus, yes, but it was the wrong time .

 

He learned his lesson too late.

 

Oh, the Styx was a bitch .

 

It was 2005, before his latest mistakes would be made, before Olympus went to war against Kronos, and Phoebus Apollon was mortal.

 

…Oh shit. Apollo wasn’t the only god who had broken oaths and hurt others. What if he wasn’t the only one this time?

 

Oh Chaos, Artemis!

 

Apollo took off running, his ratty old sneakers nearly having him tripping over the hem of his baggy jeans, but he rights himself with a squawk and kept going. Does it hurt like a motherfucker to run with his Python-bruised muscles? Yep. Is he more panicked at the thought of his sister being turned mortal to care about literally anything else in this world? Obviously, evidenced by the pair of nymphs he knocks over and doesn’t help up, only shouting an apology over his shoulder as his focus narrows in on the temple beside his.

 

Why the fuck did Artemis’ temple use to be so far away from his? Annabeth was an absolutely amazing architect for finally putting them closer.

 

Apollo nearly fell as he climbed up the stairs, having to brace his hands against the stone and boost himself up. He burst into Artemis’ temple with as much grace as a startled cat, screaming her name.

 

She appeared around the corner, bow in hand, a question on her tongue…

 

…and Apollo burst into tears.

 

“Thank Chaos, you’re okay!” He sobbed, finally seeing his godly sister for the first time in months. “I thought they got you too!”

 

“Who are you?” She demanded, cold eyes betrayed by the furrow between her brows. “What are you talking about, boy?”

 

Apollo hiccuped, sleeves soaking up his tears as he scrubbed his cheeks roughly. “Sister, it’s me .”

 

Artemis frowned, then her entire body went slack in shock, bow leaving her fingers to thud loudly on the ground.

 

Kneeling, Artemis frantically reached out to her brother, a third of the size of her godly stature and so very fragile.

 

“Apollo?”

 

He lunged towards her, letting his older sister wrap her large hands around his body, seeking comfort from her. “I’m mortal , Artemis.”

 

He expected many things from her as a response, perhaps a scolding or a demand for him to tell her how he messed up this time. He did not expect her to pull him towards her and wail .

 

Her scream of anger, rage, grief, and panic was all-consuming, a divine thing that any mere mortal’s ears would bleed at. Apollo was not a mere mortal, but he was still mortal, which is why even if his eardrums hadn’t burst, he did get dizzy and have to slam his hands over his ears and clamp his eyes shut in pain.

 

When he opened them, it was to the thundering voice of his father.

 

“Artemis!” He stood, Master Bolt in hand, displeasure writ all over his face. “What is this racket!”

 

He wasn’t the only god demanding answers. Artemis appeared to have teleported them straight into the council room, and while it had been just Poseidon there with their father, soon other gods were appearing, trying to figure out what the commotion was. Strangely, a lone demigod was in the room, quickly moving away from kneeling and instead trying to back away from the upset gods.

 

“We’ve been attacked!” Artemis snarled, clutching Apollo close to her chest. Apollo is very appreciative of her protectiveness, though slightly confused as to where it came from considering the past year-ish. Or future year-ish. “Whatever being had stolen your bolt has returned and attacked us once more!”

 

“What?” Hera demanded, speaking up from where she had materialized behind her husband.

 

Artemis extended her arms, where, curled up in her palm, Apollo blinked up at his father and step-mother. His hearing was still fuzzy, and the mix of angry gods and Artemis’ manhandling were not helping matters. “They attacked my twin!”

 

Apollo raised one small mortal hand, trying to ignore the fact that waving it was making him dizzy, and his eyes were tearing up again at seeing his divine family again. “Is everyone else okay?”

 

He did not get his answer as the entire Olympian council burst into chaos.