Chapter Text
APOLLO – FUTURE
Apollo didn’t know what to think. He’d really been so naïve as to believe that after defeating the Triumvirate and boss villain Python, he’d finally have little peace and quiet to adjust back to godhood. You know, throw some shitty party to try and convince everyone (read: himself) that he was okay, and maybe even have some shitty booze and even shittier sex to make himself forget for a minute.
He was a fool to believe the fates would ever give him a break.
And now, here he was. With a room full of people who only thought of him as either a self-centred Olympian or a shitty, deadbeat father. He couldn’t even imagine what his past self was going through.
He glanced at Meg. Sweet, adorable Meg, the only person in the room he could count on right now.
Meg who was currently chewing on her jacket zipper and side-eyeing his piece of shit past self with a glowering lour.
Shaking his head in mirth when Meg finally flinched due to the zipper catching on her already chipped teeth, Apollo let his eyes drift to the gods seated next to Other Him.
Dionysus, drinking Diet Coke and lounging lazily on his leopard skin throne. Hephaestus, sitting hunched over, tinkering in something or other. Aphrodite, fixing her lip gloss with a porcelain pink mirror. Ares, with his arm around his girlfriend, glaring at her husband while sharpening a battle axe. Athena, pouring over some ancient , glancing up now and again, gaze transfixed on himself and his young companion, making him shift uncomfortably. Hera, laying regally next to her husband, twirling a diamond adored glass filled to the brim with pure liquid gold and smugly throwing nasty looks at his future self now that she was no longer the subject of Zeus’ anger. Zeus himself, red-faced with anger at the fates, his own son (both of them) and also at himself, probably. Poseidon, cleaning his teeth with his trident while engaged in a debate with Demeter about what was better, seaweed or grain. (Poseidon would tell you he won. Demeter would beg to differ.) Artemis, speaking with Thalia who was perched gracefully on the armrest on her throne, while simultaneously petting a deer and throwing concerned glances at her brother seated next to her. His future self was trying his hardest not to look at anyone (particularly Zeus) while listening to something or other on his iPod. Probably Harry Styles. Gods, Apollo had forgotten what shitty taste in music he used to have. Hermes, also subtly stealing worried glances at his brother, was browsing the internet and trying to ignore the snakes on his caduceus arguing over something or other (rats, probably). Finally, Hestia and Hades sat awkwardly, not yet used to the thrones they now possessed thanks to Percy’s wish last year.
Thankfully, no one had realised he was Apollo. Yet. He couldn’t bear to imagine the shitstorm that would befall them when it was revealed.
But hey, he was in a room with his past self and abusive father. This was certainly bound to be interesting.
-
“Okay, the name of the book is…” Hermes flipped open the cover. “The Hidden Oracle.”
Wait, what? Hidden Oracle? But his Rachel was right here?
“Hidden? But I’m right here.” Rachel says, frowning.
“Maybe something happens to you. Like, getting kidnapped or dying a horrible death,” Dionysus piped up, just to slouch back down when a horde of angry glares were sent his way.
“Just being honest, geez.”
“That is strange,” Athena ponders, “Perhaps Rachel is the main protagonist.”
After staring for a few seconds at the scrawny sixteen year old boy and the thirteen year old girl who was currently picking a booger out of her small nose, she reconsiders. “Or perhaps not.”
Huh. Weird.
Although… The “hidden” oracle may be referring to his old nemesis taking over Delphi (which 100% was NOT HIS FAULT) although Apollo was praying to Ouranos that it wasn’t the case. That would be humiliating.
“Hey, can we get on with this already?” Percy yelled out. “Some of us have places to be, you know.”
Hermes cleared his throat. “Right.”
Hoodlums punch my face
I would smite them if I could
Mortality blows.
“A haiku?” Annabeth says, crinkling her fair brow. “Isn’t that Apollo’s thing?”
Ugh, looks like yet another stupid wannabe sun god. They were really getting annoying. Who did they think they were, anyways? Trying to take his place? Nobody is better than the original.
“How dare this imposter steal my signature poem! Haikus are a superior poetry styles suitable for only one with my talents.” Apollo boasts proudly, much to the eye-rolling chagrin of everyone else in the room.
Artemis rolls her eyes. “Trust me brother, no one in their right mind wants to steal your horrendous haikus.”
Whatever. She never appreciated his poetic genius anyways. Apollo made a mental not to not sing for her hunters for a decade or so, see how she likes that, ha.
“Whatever. Just keep reading.”
Hermes abides. My name is Apollo.
Dead silence. Apollo’s brain rushing a million light years per second.
“Yep, that’s me, haha.”
And then, the room erupting in a cacophony of clangour.
Audible gasps grace the room.
Honestly though, He’s flattered. Five more books about him couldn’t hurt, right?
That’s when Apollo’s eye catches the eye of one of the pair the Fates had brought in. That couldn’t be the great, glorious sun god that was Apollo, surely not.
Apollo takes in the boy’s appearance once again. Nothing about him resembled Apollo in the least except for their honey-golden eyes. The boy’s slight frame to his own muscular one, his curly, wild brown hair to Apollo’s neatly gelled blonde ones, the way he held himself small and kept his mouth shut to Apollo’s confidence and vehement tongue.
He looks at his children, still staring in shock at their future dad who was staring pointedly at the floor.
Nope. Had to be a mistake.
Right?
-
After shaking off surprise at the shocking revelation, Hermes continued.
I used to be a god.
Dead silence reigned across the throne room; every occupant far too taken with absolute shock to utter even a word.
A shriek of sheer despair broke the inhabitants out of their stupor.
Turning their heads towards the deafening noise, the demigods with their hands over their ears, they witnessed a certain sun god gripping his dishelmed hair, standing on shaky legs.
“I-It’s not possible… not again!” he moans.
“Uh, again? This has happened before?” Leo inquires, scratching his neck.
“Yeah, duh,” Calypso nudges him, rolling her eyes. “Like, twice before I think.”
“WHO CARES IF IT’S HAPPENED BEFORE? NO- NO, IT CAN’T BE HAPPENING AGAIN.”
Artemis puts an arm around her brother’s shoulder. “Hey, it probably won’t be that bad. Here, sit,” she says, guiding him with an uncommon gentleness back into his chair.
“Woah – wait, what?” Percy scratches his neck. “I didn’t even know that was possible.” He turns to the Apollo sitting next to Meg. “So, you’re mortal right now then?”
“No, not to worry. I did get my immortality back by the end,” he answers, slightly bitterly.
After a few seconds of silence, a harsh noise interrupts the serenity.
“Continue,” Zeus says gruffly, seemingly unbothered by the recent revelation.
“You don’t care? You’re not.. surprised? Concerned?” Poseidon speaks, hesitantly.
“Why should I be? It was the punishment I was planning, after all. Maybe teach him some obedience for once.”
Hades shakes his head, used to this uncaring attitude. “I don’t know what I expected.”
‘Um, I’m going to keep reading now.” Hermes pats a still reeling Apollo on the back awkwardly, summoning the book from where he’d dropped it in surprise.
-
ARTEMIS
In my four thousand six hundred and twelve years, I have done many things. I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy. I blessed Babe Ruth with three home runs in game four of the 1926 World Series. I visited my wrath upon Britney Spears at the 2007 MTV Video Music Awards.
Katie Gardner jumps up. “How could you? Britney Spears was an icon; I’ll never forgive you!” she yells, then flushes and sits back down when every eye on the room lands on her shaking her fist in anger.
Artemis secretly agreed, although she’d never say so out loud. (Zoe walking in on her singing and dancing to Criminal twice before was enough.)
Oh, how she missed her old lieutenant. But Artemis thinks she wouldn’t change a thing were she to have the power. She had Thalia now, and that was enough.
But in all my immortal life, I never before crash-landed in a Dumpster. I’m not even sure how it happened.
A dumpster. Could this get any worse?
Beside her, her brother groaned again and dropped his head into his arms.
Contrary to popular belief, Artemis never hated her brother. She loved him, cared about him more than she did her own Hunters. She disliked him at times, he was annoying, hitting on anyone with two legs – scratch that, anyone with genitals (including her maiden hunters) and was always calling her “little sis” even though she was born first.
But they were siblings, they were born together and they’ll never die together. Artemis’ only solace right now was the fact that his future self was sitting in the room, a god again and alive. That was all she cared about.
Artemis is snapped out of her thoughts when a sarcastic voice sounded out from the crowd gathered in front of her.
“Ugh, the dumpster. I was trying to forget about that,” future Apollo snarked.
I simply woke up falling. Skyscrapers spiralled in and out of view. Flames streamed off my body. I tried to fly. I tried to change into a cloud or teleport across the world or do a hundred other things that should have been easy for me, but I just kept falling.
“I don’t get even a bit of my powers?!” Apollo cries, “Father, you’re too cruel!”
No reply, which is to be expected.
I plunged into a narrow canyon between 1two buildings and BAM! Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags?
Artemis winces, a sentiment chorused by many of the rooms occupants. Garbage? That seems a bit too crass, even for their father.
I lay groaning and aching in the open Dumpster. My nostrils burned with the stench of rancid bologna and used diapers. My ribs felt broken, though that shouldn’t have been possible.
“No…” Aphrodite breathed. “This can’t be.”
Artemis agreed. It was scary, knowing that even the smallest thing could make Zeus angry enough to strip you of your immortality. That much power against them was enough to make all those seated in their thrones shift uncomfortably.
My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface—the voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT. I realized what had happened to me. And I sobbed in despair.
It hurts Artemis to see her brother in pain. She glances over at Apollo, who just buried his head in his arms harder.
Even for a god of poetry such as myself, it is difficult to describe how I felt. How could you—a mere mortal—possibly understand? Imagine being stripped of your clothes, then blasted with a fire hose in front of a laughing crowd. Imagine the ice-cold water filling your mouth and lungs, the pressure bruising your skin, turning your joints to putty. Imagine feeling helpless, ashamed, completely vulnerable—publicly and brutally stripped of everything that makes you you . My humiliation was worse than that.
Her mother, Leto, sighs and places her hand on her chest. "My poor baby."
Artemis’ heart aches. She couldn’t imagine what her brother would have felt, and how we was feeling now.
YOUR FAULT, Zeus’s voice rang in my head. “No!” I cried miserably. “No, it wasn’t! Please!
Nobody answered. On either side of me, rusty fire escapes zigzagged up brick walls. Above, the winter sky was grey and unforgiving. I tried to remember the details of my sentencing. Had my father told me how long this punishment would last? What was I supposed to do to regain his favour? My memory was too fuzzy. I could barely recall what Zeus looked like, much less why he’d decided to toss me to earth. There’d been a war with the giants, I thought. The gods had been caught off guard, embarrassed, almost defeated.
The only thing I knew for certain: my punishment was unfair. Zeus needed someone to blame, so of course he’d picked the handsomest, most talented, most popular god in the pantheon: me.
Artemis rolls her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself,” she says, half-jokingly.
Ares agrees. “Yeah, everyone knows I’m the most handsome and talented.”
The worst part is that he's being serious.
I lay in the garbage, staring at the label inside the Dumpster lid: FOR PICK-UP, CALL 1-555-STENCHY.
Zeus will reconsider, I told myself. He’s just trying to scare me. Any moment, he will yank me back to Olympus and let me off with a warning.
Artemis only wishes Zeus’ wrath was so short-lived.
“Yes…” My voice sounded hollow and desperate. “Yes, that’s it.”
I tried to move. I wanted to be on my feet when Zeus came to apologize. My ribs throbbed. My stomach clenched. I clawed the rim of the Dumpster and managed to drag myself over the side. I toppled out and landed on my shoulder, which made a cracking sound against the asphalt.
Cracking? That couldn’t be… gods don’t break their ribs.
“Araggeeddeee,” I whimpered through the pain. “Stand up. Stand up.”
Getting to my feet was not easy. My head spun. I almost passed out from the effort. I stood in a dead-end alley. About fifty feet away, the only exit opened onto a street with grimy storefronts for a bail bondsman’s office and a pawnshop.
Artemis almost burst into tears right there. How cruel could Zeus be, stripping Apollo of not only his powers but also his dignity? Looking down next to her at her brother, she could tell he shared the thought.
She sends him a message through their link.
Brother. How do you fare?
There’s silence for a moment, before Artemis feels her brother’s thoughts drift through her mind.
I’ve been better. I just- I can’t accept that kid is me. There’s no way, lil sis.
Artemis chose to ignore the nickname in spite of comforting her brother.
Perhaps he’s acting that way on purpose. So as not to reveal too much?
Yeah. Maybe.
I was somewhere on the west side of Manhattan, I guessed, or perhaps Crown Heights, in Brooklyn. Zeus must have been really angry with me.
“Angry? Manhattan is the coolest, bro,” Perseus mutters.
Artemis disagrees. Manhattan was the home of degenerates and drug dealers.
I inspected my new body. I appeared to be a teenaged Caucasian male, clad in sneakers, blue jeans, and a green polo shirt. How utterly drab . I felt sick, weak, and so, so human.
I will never understand how you mortals tolerate it. You live your entire life trapped in a sack of meat, unable to enjoy simple pleasures like changing into a hummingbird or dissolving into pure light.
And now, heavens help me, I was one of you—just another meat sack.
I fumbled through my pants pockets, hoping I still had the keys to my sun chariot. No such luck. I found a cheap nylon wallet containing a hundred dollars in American currency”
“A hundred dollars?!” a demigod yells, perhaps a son of Hermes.
Another agrees. “Yeah, why don’t we get any money? So unfair.”
“Well, you aren’t a god turned mortal now are you?” a girl to his left hits him on the arm. Artemis secretly blesses her with good fortune.
—lunch money for my first day as a mortal, perhaps— along with a New York State junior driver’s license featuring a photo of a dorky, curly-haired teen who could not possibly be me, with the name Lester Papadopoulos. The cruelty of Zeus knew no bounds!
“LESTER? PAPADOPOULOS?” WHAT KIND OF A STUPID NAME IS THAT?”
Artemis frowns, trying to console her brother. “It could be worse.”
“Yeah,” Dionysus chimes in, “you could be called something even dumber like Apollo or something.”
It takes Apollo a while. “Hey!”
I peered into the Dumpster, hoping my bow, quiver, and lyre might have fallen to earth with me. I would have settled for my harmonica. There was nothing.
Not even a simple instrument. Their father must have been absolutely furious.
I took a deep breath. Cheer up, I told myself. I must have retained some of my godly abilities. Matters could be worse.
Artemis only hopes so. Apollo, with absolutely no skills that had nothing to do with his godly power, sent to Earth as a mortal with nothing but some measly coins and a worthless body. This would not end well.
A raspy voice called, “Hey, Cade, take a look at this loser.”
Blocking the alley’s exit were two young men: one squat and platinum blond, the other tall and redheaded. Both wore oversize hoodies and baggy pants. Serpentine tattoo designs covered their necks. All they were missing were the words I’M A THUG printed in large letters across their foreheads.
Artemis feels sinking dread seeping through her godly being.
The redhead zeroed in on the wallet in my hand. “Now, be nice, Mikey. This guy looks friendly enough.” He grinned and pulled a hunting knife from his belt.
“In fact, I bet he wants to give us all his money.”
I blame my disorientation for what happened next.
Uh oh. Artemis was no stranger to a disoriented Apollo. Nothing good can come of this.
I knew my immortality had been stripped away, but I still considered myself the mighty Apollo! One cannot change one’s way of thinking as easily as one might, say, turn into a snow leopard.
Also, on previous occasions when Zeus had punished me by making me mortal (yes, it had happened twice before), I had retained massive strength and at least some of my godly powers. I assumed the same would be true now. I was not going to allow two young mortal ruffians to take Lester Papadopoulos’s wallet.
I stood up straight, hoping Cade and Mikey would be intimidated by my regal bearing and divine beauty. (Surely those qualities could not be taken from me, no matter what my driver’s license photo looked like.) I ignored the warm Dumpster juice trickling down my neck.
Apollo shivers, Artemis feeling it ring through her with the way their hands were locked together.
“I am Apollo,” I announced. “You mortals have three choices: offer me tribute, flee, or be destroyed.”
I wanted my words to echo through the alley, shake the towers of New York, and cause the skies to rain smoking ruin. None of that happened. On the word destroyed , my voice squeaked.
Artemis can’t help but snort at that, an action echoed by many other occupants of the throne room, causing Apollo to wrench his hand away from hers and look at her in betrayal.
The redhead Cade grinned even wider. I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death.
“What do you think, Mikey?” he asked his friend. “Should we give this guy tribute?”
Mikey scowled. With his bristly blond hair, his cruel small eyes, and his thick frame, he reminded me of the monstrous sow that terrorized the village of Crommyon back in the good old days.
“Not feeling the tribute, Cade.” His voice sounded like he’d been eating lit cigarettes. “What were the other options?”
“Fleeing?” said Cade.
“Nah,” said Mikey.
“Being destroyed?”
Mikey snorted. “How about we destroy him instead?”
Cade flipped his knife and caught it by the handle. “I can live with that. After you.”
Artemis mentally notes the mortals’ names and appearance. She would be sure to smite them in the worst possible way once this was over.
I slipped the wallet into my back pocket. I raised my fists. I did not like the idea of flattening mortals into flesh waffles, but I was sure I could do it. Even in my weakened state, I would be far stronger than any human.
“I warned you,” I said. “My powers are far beyond your comprehension.”
Mikey cracked his knuckles. “Uh-huh.”
He lumbered forward.
As soon as he was in range, I struck. I put all my wrath into that punch. It should have been enough to vaporize Mikey and leave a thug-shaped impression on the asphalt.
Instead he ducked, which I found quite annoying.
Artemis almost laughs at the simpleness of the way her brother thinks.
I stumbled forward. I have to say that when Prometheus fashioned you humans out of clay he did a shoddy job. Mortal legs are clumsy. I tried to compensate, drawing upon my boundless reserves of agility, but Mikey kicked me in the back. I fell on my divine face.
Apollo winces. His poor, poor face.
My nostrils inflated like air bags. My ears popped. The taste of copper filled my mouth. I rolled over, groaning, and found the two blurry thugs staring down at me.
“Mikey,” said Cade, “are you comprehending this guy’s power?”
“Nah,” said Mikey. “I’m not comprehending it.”
“Fools!” I croaked. “I will destroy you!”
“Yeah, sure.” Cade tossed away his knife. “But first I think we’ll stomp you.”
Cade raised his boot over my face, and the world went black.
“Well. That was certainly… interesting.”
You could say that again.
Artemis lets her eyes travel over the occupants of the room, critically hardened before softening when they were laid her brother, sitting straight0backed on his throne and staring ahead.
Are you okay?
Of course not. Can we talk later?
Sure.
Artemis sighs and turns her gaze over to where the demigods were sat, muttering and chattering between themselves.
Her fellow Olympians are still stunned silent, sneaking elusive glances at the sun god who definitely noticed. She feels someone nudge at her mind.
Yo, is he good?
Hermes.
Definitely not. Would you be?
I suppose not. He’ll get over it though, right? I can’t have my bro go all emo on me.
Ugh. Boys.
Yes. He’ll be fine.
I hope, she adds privately.