Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Nobody would shut up !

Artemis hadn’t put him down the entire time, and she just kept yelling louder and louder. Zeus was absolutely flipping his shit, acting like an actual uncivilized animal, accusing every other person of being a traitor and calling for Olympus to be shut down now . Hermes and Athena were having identical breakdowns, demanding to know who could have possibly snuck into Olympus and down this. Ares was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at him with something almost like guilt. Poseidon, Hestia and Hera were sharing a silent conversation, true worry in their eyes, and when Demeter took a step closer to them, they enveloped her into their group.

The young demigod on the floor looked spooked, but, most importantly, he looked injured due to the gods forgetting themselves and yelling at the top of their divine lungs. His green eyes were darting around, trying to find an ally in his panic, some blood starting to drip out of his ear. 

That’s it.

“QUIET!” Apollo demanded at the top of his lungs, bringing everyone to a screeching halt. His divinity may be gone, but as he’s discovered, a handful of his powers were still more-or-less there, and Apollo would have a great pair of lungs no matter what body he had.

“Artemis, put me down. Now.” He was distinctly unimpressed with his family’s reactions.

“Brother–”

“No,” He cut her off, even as his eyes softened. “I’m a fragile mortal right now, and you’re not exactly being gentle. All of you are hurting me . Size down and speak quietly, or don’t do it in front of me.”

The guilt in his sister’s eyes was too much for him to handle, eyes filling with tears once more, but he blinked them back. “Please, Artie.”

His sister set him on the ground, and despite his knees threatening to give out on him, he immediately booked it over to the demigod’s side.

To Percy ’s side. Apollo hadn’t met him at this moment in time, not unless you counted watching him get stuck in Hephaestus’ trap with Annabeth Chase live on HTV, and it surprised him how long it took for him to recognize the demigod. He looked far less confident than the last time he’d seen him, slamming a door in the face of a god.

“Hey, are you okay?” His hands clumsily pat Percy’s shoulders, checking for any evidence of incoming incineration or spontaneous combustion due to their family forgetting themselves. “Are your eardrums intact?”

Percy blinked in surprise, “I’m fine. You’re trembling.”

He spoke a bit too loud for him to be actually fine.

“And you’re bleeding,” Apollo pointed at where a bit of blood had fallen out of the other’s ear. “I don’t have nectar, and I don’t think my singing will help much at the moment. Sorry.”

Hermes, ten feet shorter and grayer than a goose, appeared to hand him a flask of nectar, “Apollo, you look worse. Drink.”

Apollo immediately handed the flask to Percy, “I’m mortal . Nectar would kill me.”

Percy eyed the two brothers, but did take a quick swig, stopping the bleeding in its tracks, and immediately handed the flask back to Apollo.

Hermes looked like Apollo had just told him that he was dying of a terminal disease. “What? No, don’t be stupid, Apollo, you can’t be completely mortal. Take the nectar.”

Apollo awkwardly searched out his sister for help, but she seemed to be sailing down the river of denial with Hermes. “I can’t , Herm. Look at me. Just hearing you talk was hurting me.”

His brother merely pursed his lips, crossing his arms so that he couldn’t hand the flask back over.

Apollo sighed and undid the top of the flask; body already tensing and expecting pain as he tipped it towards his palm. A single drop fell on his skin, and while it wasn’t the immediate sizzle of hot oil on a pan like it had been when he had first become mortal, Apollo was swiftly cursing and shaking the nectar off, revealing red skin beneath.

Hermes made a keening sound like someone had just punched him in the gut.

Apollo gently handed the flask back to his brother. It was strange to comfort his own family on his mortality. They had practically abandoned him the last go around, left to the mercy of Zeus and Nero, yet now they are all acting like they care.

“Well, at least we know that whoever did this didn’t half ass it,” He joked. Nobody laughed.

“Apollo,” His father spoke imperially. “You do not appear concerned with your… situation .”

Great way of putting it, Zeus. They should replace Apollo as the god of Orators and Poets.

“It’s just me ,” Apollo stressed. “This could’ve happened to all of us, but it didn’t. I’m just happy that nobody else is hurt.”

“He’s in shock,” Dionysus declared. “He’s not processing anything, complete denial, happens all the time with mortals and demigods.”

“I’m not in shock,” Apollo said, a tiny bit in shock.

Percy very awkwardly shuffled closer, “I’m pretty sure numbness and trembling are both signs of shock.”

“You mean symptoms,” he corrected. Then, he frowned, “Wait, numbness?”

Percy pointedly looked down, and his eyes followed. Oh. At some point, Percy had shifted to helping Apollo stand up and he had somehow not noticed. 

“Hm, I don’t feel that,” He mused, surprised.

As if on cue, his knees gave out, and Hermes had to grab them both to stop Apollo from knocking them over from the sudden shift to dead weight.

“Woah!” Hermes looped an arm around his waist, throwing one of Apollo’s arms over his shoulders so he could carry his full weight. “Fuck, ‘Pol, you’re not okay. I’m calling Asklepius right now.”

“My baby?” The image of the little demigod he had raised so long ago came to mind. “Mhm, I want my baby.”

Several alarmed faces swam in his vision, and he could hear a high pitched ringing coming from Artemis’ mouth.

Percy’s head reappeared in front of him, “Hey, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t fall asleep right now.”

“Probably not,” Apollo thought he was mumbling into Hermes’ shoulder, but he wasn’t sure.

“Thanks,” Percy said. “For trying to help, Lord Apollo.”

The use of a title felt weird, like it didn’t fit anymore. Four thousand years of being Lord Apollo and year of being Lester had unraveled him, exposing the vulnerable youth that can never age that hid behind bright smiles and flashier behaviours.

“Jus’ ‘Pollo, Percy,” Apollo waved the demigod’s rare display of respect off. “M‘supposed to heal.”

Yeah, he was supposed to, but had forgotten until Styx and mortality had reminded him.

Apollo buried his face further into the crook of Hermes’ neck, seeking comfort away from the pain of life.

“E’eryone safe?” He slurred tiredly, “No need’a heal?”

He doesn’t remember who told him that everyone but him was fine, but he remembered his relief at those words and how he immediately let go of that little ledge over Chaos, welcoming oblivion once more.

Chapter Text

Apollo has never known his family to be protective or even particularly close.

Somehow, his mortality has changed things.

Artemis hovered . His older sister never hovered over him once in his entire mortal life, not even when she insisted on orbiting around him when Hyacinthus and Daphne left him. Godly children were perfectly independent, as seen by Apollo going after Python as a newborn, and there was never cause for his sister to guide him. However, in the past month, Artemis had not left him alone once, going as far as to ban him from sleeping alone in his temple in fear that the supposed attacker would return.

Hermes and Dionysus, whom he could usually count on to help him sneak around, agreed with Artemis. Hermes hadn’t looked younger than fifty, grey haired with liver spots, since finding out that Apollo couldn’t have nectar anymore. Dionysus, on the other hand, had lost weight and put on a younger face, showing to all who the youngest and most inexperienced Olympian was. Apollo has never seen his brothers so uncertain of their place since they had first become Olympians.

Athena and Ares had disappeared with their father, and suddenly Olympus was closed. Ares had confessed to being controlled, and Zeus hadn’t been happy about it, threatening to turn Ares mortal too. Apollo wasn’t supposed to have known that, but he had been outside with Athena discussing possible attackers and motives, and he ran into the room to lose his voice screaming hysterically at Zeus, terrified at the idea that one of his siblings could be hurt by him. Athena had covered for him, telling father that they shouldn’t lose yet another ally when all signs point to war, and thankfully he had calmed. Both his siblings had acted strange around him after that, like he was made of spun sugar.

Apollo himself felt like he was made of spun sugar at times.

Olympus was not made for mortals, it was always just a bit too much. Furniture too tall, steps too large, lights too bright, weights too heavy; even the paths were too much for a mortal, occasionally disappearing in ways that clearly signified that the walker was supposed to fly or teleport across.

Yet his family insisted on keeping him on Olympus, with them.

“Does this ache?” Asklepius asked, tightening the brace around his flexed knee.

“Yes,” Apollo ignored the way his twin twitched at his answer. “There’s a compression brace around a muscle that’s tensed, it should ache after wearing it all day.”

“Just checking you haven’t lost feeling again,” Asklepius sent him an unsure grin, trying to muster up that boyish teasing of his youth but only displaying his concern. “No sign of anything wrong, dad. Just keep doing your physio exercises.”

“I am !” Apollo griped. There had been several injuries on his body, apparently. The concussion had been the most worrying, but his sisters had focused on the fact that his knee had been dislocated, seemingly coming up with some sort of theory that when the intruder had stolen his divinity, they had gotten upset and taken out their frustrations on him.

Athena in particular seemed worried about the domain of prophecy having gone missing. Which it was. Dionysus had freaked out to find an empty corpse in the Big House attic instead of the Oracle of Delphi, which made Apollo freak out, and Hades had clearly paled so Hermes had started panicking…

Long story short, Apollo is now on anxiety medication and Hermes is on Lexapro, though that’s mildly unrelated. Apollo had the sneaking suspicion that Asklepius had been waiting to corner Hermes about his overworking and that his multiple freak outs over Apollo’s mortality had meant that Asklepius finally had an excuse. Apollo wasn’t quite sure what the effectiveness of mortal medicine would be on a god, but he supposed that Asklepius knew more than him on this. That, and that Hermes was on the strongest dose of Lexapro , so… Apollo has decided that this is Not His Problem ™ and if something happens, Asklepius and Dionysus can handle it.

“No headaches?” Asklepius was shining a light right into his pupils. “Dizziness?”

“Only the way I’m dizzy with my love for you.” 

That one did make his son genuinely smile, “Then you’re right on track for a full recovery. I’m clearing you for archery and music.”

Apollo tackled his son in a hug, sending them both to the floor and making Artemis squawk in the background. “Finally!”

“Dad!” Asklepius whined, picking himself back up. “The ground is full of germs!”

Asklepius had become a germaphobe with his ascension, but Apollo could still vaguely remember the days when he would chase after a toddler who was trying to eat dirt. When he told his son that, he simply groaned and started shooing him out of his infirmary. Honestly, his kids grew up and immediately thought that they could steal his sacred spots and aspects, and they were absolutely right to do so and he’s so proud of them.

What? You thought he would be upset that his kids grew powerful and confident? He’s not Zeus , honestly that’s just rude.

“Back to my temple?” He asked his sister, looking up at her.

It was strange, looking up at Artemis. Never before had he needed to look up at her, not since he was a newborn. Artemis had always preferred to skew younger in her form, while Apollo enjoyed that moment where it felt like all you wanted to do was hold onto those last few precious carefree seconds of youth before adulthood. Sometimes, they were the same height, like when they chose the same age for their forms or were in their true forms, but Apollo had always made a point to be taller. Not now, though. Apollo was twelve now, turning thirteen on May 7th, and stood at a measly five feet, two inches shorter than Artemis when she was in her twelve-year-old form.

Artemis looked conflicted, the little furrow between her brows that followed a flicker of eyes to where the moon chariot was giving her feelings away. “Poseidon believes that he knows who the attacker was, Dionysus said someone attacked his son at camp two days ago, and Athena wants me there to help convince Father as to what our next step should be.”

Apollo didn’t think, and just spoke: “Grandfather is rising.”

Artemis full body flinched, turning on him to demand answers. “How do you know that?”

Now, Apollo was a terrible liar. He could obfuscate, misdirect, charm, and generally talk someone in circles, but you could never ask him to lie outright. In his true form, he once passed out from Hermes trying to force him to lie. The god of truth was simply incompatible with falsehood.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He fiddled with the edge of his hoodie, “It’s all about time . We’re all running out of time, and I’ve been forced to lose a couple of years. Thousands of years. No prophecies, the oracles are missing… probably have quite a few people who hate me on the other side. Ares was possessed, very few beings have that power, and no god can do it. Better Grandfather than Great-Grandfather, don’t you think? I think I once saw a face in the sky chasing the sun.”

Artemis stared at him, “You’re not making sense, Apollo. What…?”

It pained him, but he shrugged off the hand she tried to place on his shoulder. “I can wait for you in my temple. It’s the wrong time to be able to see any bad memories there.”

“I’ll ask Hermes to stay with you,” The concern in her eyes was increasing. Her fingers were reaching Hermes’ number on her phone, yes, but Dionysus as well.

“Don’t,” He grabbed her wrist, staring up at her eyes. Silver-grey to match his honey-brown. “He should be there at the meeting, he deserves to understand. Dionysus will need to attend too. I’ll be fine.”

“Apollo…” She searched for something in his eyes. “You prophecy… are you…?”

Disguising his future knowledge as some weird lingering manifestations of prophecy? Yeah sure he can do that.

Apollo smiled at his sister, “Not everything is gone, Artie. Not everything can be razed, no matter the anger.”

Artemis looked like she had just seen a ghost, which he thought was pretty rude. Just because he doesn’t have his perfect tan anymore doesn’t mean that he was that pale. Have they seen Nico? That’s an unhealthy pallor. 

“Artemis!” Hermes came zipping past, overshooting his landing just like he has tended to do ever since he was young, conveniently interrupting as always. “Athena’s calling you— are you okay? Did Asklepius find something?”

Apollo cut him off, “Nope! Artie just doesn’t want to leave me alone for the meeting. I’ll be fine, I’ll see you all later.”

“I could–”

“Take Artie to the meeting? Thanks Herm, you’re the best.”

Artemis hesitated, but she knew how important this meeting was. “I’ll message Britomartis, she can stay with you.”

“ I’ll see you later ,” Apollo stressed, shooing her away. “I’ll be fine for an hour, Artie. Honestly, I’m not so fragile.”

He walked away before his siblings could say something, and the second that he was out of sight, he broke into a run. 

Which hurt, by the way. He needed more physical therapy, even if the braces were helping.

Still, he had only a few minutes before Britomartis appeared at his temple, and he needed to be gone before then.

His temple was luckily not far from the infirmary, even though the path was winding and the steps too large, he could get back to his bedroom with no problem.

As a mortal, with the way that Artemis and the rest of his siblings seemed to hover just around the corner, Apollo really hasn’t had time to himself. He couldn’t pick up his lyre, or his bow, or even go visit his sun steeds. Yet, they couldn’t stop him from making art, especially those artful plans of his that never left his head.

They could not interfere if he was in the mortal world, Zeus would never allow it. He’d be angry with Apollo, yes, but at this point, he was angry and numb enough to not care. All he did care about was his own children and protecting the camp. They can’t suffer simply because Apollo was hidden away on Olympus.

His lyre and bow always changed to fit him, the perfect and beautiful symbols that they were, yet they didn’t quite seem to fit him properly. The lyre hummed a tune that his lungs couldn’t quite match, the strings of his bow a bit too sharp for his uncalloused hands. Yet, he picked them up anyway.

His bow slung around his body despite the way that his weak vessel has not yet seen a battle. His lyre resting against his hip despite the way that his voice breaks when he speaks.

He’ll grow into them again. He has to.

He can’t break his promise to the Styx this time.

He left his temple with his hands empty, yet his body adorned for a quest. Old jewellery to pawn for cash around his neck, a bow to kill across his heart, a lyre to sing his pain in the curve of his hip. He was much better equipped than the last quest he went on.

The quest he will go on once more, once his children are saved and he can search for his poor oracles.

The path away was harder, he constantly dropped down and hid from any and all passing divine beings, gods and spirits alike. There were many spots where it was easier to find a place a bit too big for a mortal and a bit too small for a god where he could squeeze and wait for the rushing immortal to pass him by, but there were also many spots where all scenery dropped away and only a slim path forward over clouds existed. He’s lucky that Olympus has been his home for far longer than many other immortals, or else he’d be screwed.

He heard the sound of Britomartis discovering that he wasn’t in his temple, nor anyplace around it when he was close to the elevator out, and he dropped all pretences and booked it.

A pair of satyrs yelped and cursed as he pushed past him, but he couldn’t get caught.

He couldn’t.

The elevator was easy to slip into, to press the ‘close doors’ button as the shriek of Artemis being informed echoed through Olympus.

They wouldn’t check the mortal exit first, but it wouldn’t be the last either. He had to get as far from the Empire State building as he could.

He also had to change the elevator music. He’s adding ‘removing his horrid cover of Vienna’ to his To Do List. What was he thinking ? Well, probably that everyone loves his singing, but that’s because they do. 

Ding !

The security guard yelled at him as he sprinted out of the building, and he knew that his family would be alerted the second the alarm spread down Olympus into the Empire State. Still, until then, he was just another delinquent teenager making a break for it away from his bad school field trip tour.

Left, down two blocks. 

Cross the road, and try not to be killed by the NYC traffic.

Duck down that alley, and use it to confuse anyone following.

Go west, keep going west.

Avoid the boomboxes; that’s where they think he wants to go.

Stop, duck, wait with the homeless guy for a minute, and try to catch his breath.

Up into Harlem, follow the path.

He knows the address, he saw the return address on the package waiting to be delivered. 

Poseidon really should learn to be more discrete.

Apollo’s knee was threatening to give out again, popping with every step he took as he approached the door.

He had barely knocked when it was swinging open, revealing the sea green eyes he had been seeking. “Apollo?”

“Percy Jackson!” Apollo smiled. Did he sound out of breath? He felt out of breath. “My… blessings upon, ah, you! I’m in the… need of some…ah… help.”

Percy might not help, and rightfully so, it wasn’t his problem, but Apollo knew he would let the former god come inside and catch his breath before showing him how the current public transport system worked. 

He just needed a few minutes to figure things out.

“Sorry,” He apologised. “I didn’t think… I could reach camp by my- hss -self.”

Owww! That was a stitch! Ow, ow, ow! 

“Dude,” Percy looked him like he was crazy, “Come in . You look like you were chased here.”

“Kinda,” He shrugged. “I think I messed up my knee again.”

Percy threw one arm over his shoulder, “Mom! Get the first aid kit, Apollo’s here and he’s hurt!”

“ Who?! ”

Chapter Text

Sally Jackson looked very different from the last two times that Apollo had seen her.

That was to be expected, of course, she was half a dozen years younger and wasn’t recovering from childbirth. However, the strange changes in everyone were building up, but Sally’s change in appearance was comforting in the way that it was the only thing different about her.

Well, that, and not being used to the divine world as she would be, but Apollo was sure that another year or so and she would be back to asking if the hellhound had any dietary restrictions.

“So, let me get this right: you were attacked in the middle of the night by some unknown being that stole your godhood, and when your family tried to keep you hidden away on Olympus, you ran away because you believe that Olympus is not a place for mortals?” Sally double-checked as Apollo scarfed down the sandwiches she put down in front of him.

He missed her cooking, he had no idea what she put in it, but it tasted like love and care. If he was a god right now, he would neglect nectar and ambrosia just to have her cooking every day. Asklepius wouldn’t be very happy with that but Apollo could handle some mild malnutrition; he’d already done so during his quest!

“Yeah,” Apollo nodded as soon as his mouth was empty again. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” This wasn’t the first time she’d said that, but Apollo really was quite sorry for dragging them into his problems.

He’d learnt a lot in his time as a mortal, like how food was expensive and how quests are actually so dangerous and that kindness was hard but so very worth it. They didn’t deserve to have Apollo show up asking for sanctuary. Gods showing up was almost never an actual blessing.

“Thank you,” Apollo switched tracks. “Your hospitality is sacred to me. I just need some help figuring out how the New York public transport system works? Last time I used it was when they made the first subway and I think that’s out of date. I should try to get to camp as fast as possible, they’re less likely to try and drag me back if there’s demigods around.”

“Wait, what?” Percy burst out, “Dude, it’s getting dark outside, and I don’t think you should be going anywhere by yourself or without a weapon.”

“My bow is right there!” He pointed at the weapon on the recliner, next to his lyre. Sally had said no weapons in the house last time and he wasn’t upsetting her this time.

“You forgot your arrows,” Percy pointed out.

“It’s my godly symbol, I don’t need a quiver,” Apollo felt like Athena that time when Hermes said that he would take advice only from a Magic 8 Ball.

Sally cut Percy off from replying sarcastically, “There’s no bus at this hour that would take you to camp, Lord Apollo. I can drive you there in the morning, until then, I would feel better if you spent the night. Percy can take out the air mattress—“

“Oh you don’t have to,” Apollo said. “I’ll be fine with the recliner.”

It did look comfy, even if did stink like someone had left it in a dumpster for a week.

“And you don’t have to call me lord.” He added.

“Mom meant that I’d sleep in the mattress and you would take my bed,” Percy pointed out.

Apollo blinked, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed, I’m being trouble enough.”

“You really aren’t.” Sally looked concerned.

“You’re weird,” Percy said helpfully. “For a god, I mean.”

“Thank you?”

“It’s a compliment. You actually care about what you’re doing to others.”

“Percy please—“

“Oh.” Apollo would never have expected Percy Jackson to ever believe that Apollo cared. “Sorry?”

“Stop apologising,” Percy made a face.

Unwittingly, Apollo’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

Percy let out an exaggerated groan of suffering, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes as he leaned alllll the way back in his chair. Both Sally and Apollo were alarmed enough about his precarious position that they snapped a hand out to grab the back of his chair.

“I’m fine!” He quickly protested their worry, throwing himself forward so that all four legs of the chair were back on the ground.

Without thinking, Sally and Apollo shared a look of long-suffering that any parent would recognise in a heartbeat.

It was this little interaction that finally had Apollo relaxing, lowering his guard and his expectation of getting shunned. After spending so much time as Lester, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be treated as a divine guest.

Or maybe just as a welcome guest.

The only difference is the threat hanging on a thread, after all.

Two small arguments ensued: whether or not Apollo should wash his own dishes and whether Apollo would sleep on the air mattress or Percy’s bed. He tried every single trick in the book, but he only won one of those debates.

(“ You would force me to be a bad guest?” Apollo demanded, both hands gripping his plate.

Sally looked back at him, one hand on the tap and the other on her hip. “You would force me to be a bad hostess?”)

Laying on the ground, covered by a blanket that had the itchiest trim he had ever encountered and yet was the fluffiest blanket he had ever used since pelts were in style, Apollo stared at the ceiling. 

There were glow in the dark stars stuck up there, but someone had painted over them. A landlord who couldn’t be bothered with scraping them off, most likely. Still, the bad paint job was peeling, and spots of soft green light could be seen peeking through.

“So, why camp?” Percy asked, poking his head over the edge of his bed.

“What do you mean, why camp?” Apollo turned his head to meet his eyes in the dark. “Where else would I go?”

“Everywhere?” Percy shrugged, “Camp is great, really, it feels like home, but it’s not home . It’s a place to train and see your friends. Wait, is that it? Did you forget how to use your bow and now you need Chiron to teach you? I’m terrible at archery but at least I remember that I need arrows to shoot.”

Apollo flushed, “I remember how to use my bow! I just want to see my kids!”

“Oh,” Percy went quiet for a few minutes. “If you want to see your kids, why didn’t you visit them?”

Because he’s a coward? Because he’s scared of his dad? Because he’s a self obsessed asshole? 

Instead he shrugged, “I dunno, the laws I guess? And dad got pissed when I raised Asklepius…”

“He killed him,” Percy corrected. “I asked Annabeth about him after the solstice. She said he’s part of the reason we don’t get raised by the gods.”

“He got better,” Was all Apollo could say. He did get better, but not before Apollo had sent plagues across every corner of the known world in his grief and he had nearly been struck off the council by his father. “I want to see my kids, and nobody can say anything now if I do, isn’t that all that matters?”

“I guess so,” Percy seemed reluctant to agree, but Apollo knew exactly what he was feeling. If Zeus showed up and suddenly apologised for everything and started treating him like an actual son, Apollo would first demand to know who got blackmail on him. Then he would probably blow up on him.

It’s hard for Apollo to understand both sides of the problem. There’s too much truth sometimes. 

“Why? Where did you think I’d go?”

“I dunno,” Percy shrugged. “Maybe go to all the fancy god places? Visit all your temples sneakily like Undercover Boss? Enjoy the mortal world?”

“Oh,” He hadn’t thought of any of that, not when he knew where his children were. “That seems…”

“Petty?”

“I was going to go for out of touch.”

“Sorry,” Percy shrugged, not actually sounding all that sorry.

“I’m pretty sure your mom banned that word in the house today,” Apollo missed the banter and insults that demigods threw around when there were no gods around. He missed Meg, but he had no idea where she would be at this point in time, only where Nero would take her. “ ‘Sides, I’m like, broke now. No fancy Maserati sun chariot and drachma to throw around, I’m old-school hero’ing this. You know how far the original Perseus had to walk to places? Enough that I agreed with Hermes giving him flying shoes to stop the cramps. I’m mortal and risking tendonitis, baby!”

“I don’t know what tender-nights is–” “– tendonitis !–” “–But I’m pretty sure you’re not slumming it willingly. Aren’t you upset that your family won’t help you anymore?”

The smile slipped straight off of Apollo’s face, “I chose to leave Olympus, Percy, they didn’t kick me out. Demigods have been doing this for thousands of years, it’s my turn to work for it.”

“Why does anyone need to work for anything?” Percy prodded.

To a certain degree, it was comforting to know that Percy had always been like this, so critical of the gods and the status quo. On the other hand, Apollo was painfully aware how easily the prophecy could have gone completely differently if only Kronos had been just a little more persuasive.

He changed the topic, weaponizing that wonderful, useful, and cursed demigod ADHD. “Percy, do you know who Karl Marx is?”

Percy didn’t bring up it up again, even as they spent the whole night talking.

“Best sleepover ever,” Percy had said around the time that Artemis switched from the moon chariot to her shift with the Sun chariot.

Star Wars was playing on Percy’s tiny portable DVD player, and some soda had spilled, making the floor sticky. Apollo had been dared to sneak into the kitchen for some chips around 1am and he had paid Percy back by stealing some of his clothes. Neither of them had slept at all, and were probably going to regret it once it hit noon, but they had been too distracted to care. 

Apollo couldn’t remember the last time he did something like this, the last time he really leaned into his title of ‘Protector of Youth’ and experienced real childhood joy. It must’ve been before Dionysus ascended.

“Hey Percy,” Apollo hesitantly spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Think your mom will let us continue our sleepover for another night?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued to babble on. “I mean, we totally haven’t slept and it’s a long trip to Camp and we have to be alert. And can you imagine us walking into Camp with these giant eye bags? We’ll get mistaken for our Uncle’s children and that’s just tragic! And maybe I should IM first to see if I even have any kids staying year round right now or if they even want to see me? And what if Dio tries to drag me back—?”

“Apollo!” Percy grabbed both his hands which had started to fly about as he worked himself up. “I’m sure mom will be fine with it. She’s always telling me to make more friends so if anything she should be ecstatic.”

“I don’t think she meant me.”

“Too bad, we’re friends now.”

“Oh,” Apollo stared at Percy, his words incomprehensible. Now he understood why the single demigod had gained more loyalty than the gods have in millennia.

Apollo didn’t try to yank his hands away from Percy’s grip. “Hey Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“I forgot my anxiety medication on Olympus.”

“That explains a lot,” Percy gave him a dopey grin.

“Hey!” Apollo may have been protesting, but he was also smiling.

Chapter Text

“This doesn’t look right,” Apollo said, eyeing the neon rainbow tie-dye school uniform.

Percy was also looking at it in horror, “Mom, I don’t think—“

“Boys, trust me, I don’t like it either,” She said, pouring the rest of the dye down the sink. “At least it’s cheap.”

The school had sent a set of ten white t-shirts, a DIY tie-dye kit, and a letter explaining that they encouraged the individual creativity of its students. Frankly, Apollo thought that ‘cheap’ was a crime and the school should be paying them to wear that.

“You’re suffering with me,” Percy informed Apollo.

He was aware of his many crimes, but he truly did wonder what great sin he committed to deserve this. “Unfortunately.”

Chiron had answered the IM with great patience despite his mounting horror, exhaustion, and several other emotions that Apollo would like to say were caused by the angrily yelling Dionysus in the background that tried to threaten Apollo into “marching his scrawny fragile mortal ass back to Olympus and apologizing to Artemis and Father.” 

Apparently, only one of his children was a year-rounder at the moment, and Valeria was very much not receptive to Apollo’s apologies nor presence, stating very firmly that if he came to camp then she would be leaving it. At 18, Valeria was well within her rights to decide their relationship, and she was very angry at the idea that he would suddenly show up again now. Apollo, reluctantly agreed. He could apologize, but she was under no obligation to accept or offer him forgiveness. Still, he wrote a letter.

For all his years as the god of poetry, his words escaped him. His apology was clumsy, his explanation was lacking, and he did not even dare to send an excuse. Somehow, by some leftover grace of his godhood, he was granted a miracle. 

She told him she might not reply, but if he was serious, he should remember to send her and her siblings their birthday cards.

Apollo may have immediately gone a tad overboard in overcompensating for the past few thousand years of being an absent father, and he may have had to sheepishly ask Percy how he could make money for more stamps, but he is very happy to not have his children refuse contact with him. He’s also dogwalking with Percy now, and is very proud of his $3 per dog salary.

“So do we have school books or something?” He kneeled on the couch, leaning over the back as he watched Sally lay the shirts to dry in the kitchen. “Last time I went to school, we used clay slates. Unless you count University, and that was like… a few months ago. Or years. I think I lost count.”

“Why would you go to university?” Percy was on the floor eating strawberry yogurt, because he said that strawberries are best eaten on the ground, and this apparently extends to strawberry-flavoured foods. “Are you secretly a nerd?”

Apollo gave him a look, “Percy, I was the god of Knowledge and Logic . What part of that implies that my nerd card was a secret?”

“You told me it's illegal not to own Ray Bans and that the only guns you’ll ever need is, and I quote, ‘these bad boy on my arms’.”

“I contain multitudes,” He sniffed, offended. 

“Yes,” Sally agreed. “You don’t, however, contain a social security number. How confident are you at using the mist? I need to pass you off as Percy’s cousin born in a cult in Arizona who never got registered.”

“Why Arizona?” He wondered.

“Sunny, duh,” Percy answered.

“Oh.” He considered it, “Do you want to skip the bureaucracy and just send a letter to Hermes? He’ll probably take care of it.”

Sally mulled it over, pulling a clothesline rack from the pantry that was more rust than metal. “What would we owe him?”

Right. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, especially with gods. As much as Apollo loved his little brother, Hermes did like his tricks and deals…

“Nevermind,” He fidgeted with a stray thread on the couch. “I think I can handle the mist.”

Percy shoved another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, “Can I learn to do the mist thingie?”

Sally also looked interested, “Perhaps that may mean a few less incidents with you.”

Apollo squinted at Percy, “Have you or anyone you are allied with ever pissed off Hecate?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Then maybe, probably not very well, Poseidon himself isn’t that good at it and just tends to brute force mortals to mind their own business–” Apollo heard Sally mutter something that could have possibly been a ‘ No, really? ’ full of sarcasm but he could also have been hearing things. “–but it always merits a try.”

to Knock. Knock.

“Percy it’s your turn to answer the door,” Sally said without missing a beat. Apollo had been extremely brave and answered the phone last night, so it was Percy’s turn to do unscripted social interactions with strangers.

Percy passed his yoghurt over to Apollo who promptly shoved a spoonful into his mouth. It was the cheap kind with a slightly bitter aftertaste and a very artificial strawberry pink color. It also tasted way better than the honey greek yogurt that Hebe made to eat with figs, something about eating Percy’s leftovers made the snack way more sweet.

Percy opened the door to find nobody standing on the other side, only a parcel on the floor. Apollo shoved another spoonful into his mouth as Percy kicked the door closed.

“Pol’ I think it’s for— hey!” He whined.

He just blinked innocently back. “What?” He said with a mouthful of yogurt.

Percy gave him a look that promised payback, but he wasn’t worried. That look usually meant that his french fries would get stolen or Percy would steal a shirt from him. It wasn’t some sort of Hermes Special that ended up with a decade of lost memories, one Ancient Law broken, two goats, and one hangover from Tartarus.

“It’s for who, Percy?” Sally asked, drying her hands on a towel. 

“Apollo,” He waved the thin package at him, showing off the Ancient Greek scribbled on top of the Hermes Express package. “οὐκ ἐπῐστέλλε πᾰτήρ,” He said. “Don’t tell dad.”

Apollo took the package from him, “What’s Hermes doing? Dad’ll be pissed if he finds out he sent me something.”

“Language,” Sally sighed.

“I think that’s why he underlined that twice,” Percy took his yogurt back, but it was empty. “Seriously?”

“I’ll get more,” He took the bowl back and handed Sally the parcel to open. 

The fridge was mostly empty, with only cheap snacks, peanut butter, and some leftovers, and Apollo was about to finish the rest of the yogurt. He inwardly cringed as he dug out the last of the pink goop. Quests tend to be scarce for food, and after eight months running around America with Meg, he was more than used to foraging for scraps and then hording them like Midas had touched them. Apollo wasn’t stupid, he noticed how Sally had stopped talking to the real estate agent two weeks ago, how she had stopped considering selling and buying a bigger apartment. Children were expensive, and Apollo had suddenly joined them with no warning. Yet, she didn’t kick him out, and he hesitated every time he tried to announce that it was time for him to go to Camp. He snuck some of the money he got dog walking into her wallet, and he pretended he didn’t see Percy doing the same. Guilt curdled in his stomach, paralysing him from making a decision.

“Oh my,” Sally gasped. 

“Mom?” Percy was immediately concerned, trying to peer at the stack of papers that she had pulled out.

Apollo came over, squinting at the words at the top of the page.

Birth Certificate of Lester Apollon Phoebus Papadopolous, Born May 7 1994…

A sticky note was stuck on top, stopping him from reading on. “I’m sorry, Polly, it was my son who figured out how to sneak into Olympus. This is the least I can do. Always call on us, please, let us help you.”

Apollo choked up on the last sentence, wondering what had happened differently to make his siblings care. As Lester, he was no longer connected to them, just another mortal in the crowd. Only Diana came, and it was restricted by Jupiter and Zeus. Did his other siblings even care about his mortality then? He’d like to think so, but none of them attempted to help him until now. Perhaps because now they don’t think that it’s his fault? But it was. It still was. The only difference is that now Zeus didn’t choose the punishment for him. Apollo was mortal because it was his punishment. It would always be his punishment.

It's like black and white. Apollo was mortal and covered in dust and dirt and tar, and he couldn't come home until he was clean and wouldn't taint the marble floors of Olympus, but he only had a single tissue. He knew that he'll never be good enough to go home again, yet his siblings stood at the porch, glasses of water outstretched, trying to help. Apollo didn't know whether accepting their help would make it better or worse in the end, once his mortal thread tangled and frayed and broke clean under the Fate's shears. Like every demigod, he had to choose to work the night shift or in the shadows, knowing he'd never get that secure 9 to 5 of the gods.

Percy seemed to have finally managed to read the name of the birth certificate, not yet attempting the sticky note. “Oh dude you’re so going to get bullied in school. Lester? Come on.”

Apollo just laughed wetly. Perhaps, once, it was his brother who had chosen that name and snuck the wallet onto him before Zeus banished him. “I like it. Thank you , Hermes.”

Percy immediately switched up, “Well, if you like it, then what everyone else says doesn’t matter. If anyone tries to bully you, I’ll throw them in a fountain.”

“No, you will not!” Sally broke out of her shock to scold her son, “Neither of you are starting any unnecessary fights.”

“Okay,” Percy said in that tone of voice, the one which meant he absolutely would be starting many fights that he deemed necessary.

“So, does this mean I can start school at the same time as Percy?” Apollo interrupted, not wanting Percy to go down that rabbit hole.

“I suppose,” Sally smiled softly. “I guess I need to tell the school to send us more tie-dye kits.”

Apollo was too happy even to pretend he was annoyed.