Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even though I was a god again, I felt like an expired piece of salmon sashimi. Tender in all the wrong places. Painfully raw. Probably undesirable and about to be tossed in the trash. I’ll let you assume what you want about my self esteem.

That was a bad metaphor wasn't it? Forgive me. I was sitting next to Artemis in a sushi bar and quite hungry. Why did sushi always take so long to make? Even in Japan—

Where was I going with this?

Oh yes.

Artemis was worried. She hadn't stopped being worried after my quests. Hence, lots of interrogation sessions disguised as invitations to hang out.

Sibling Bonding? I fell for it everytime.

"How come you never brought up the lightning?"

Her mouth was set in a tight frown. I tried not to scream. You know, the usual moods for us two.

"Pollo, he hurt you so many times."

"There wasn't much to tell!" I laughed shrilly, hoping my voice didn't sound like un pollo (Spanish: a chicken) being strangled. The truth was, I had been ashamed. Deep down, a part of me had still thought that I was doing something wrong. That maybe it was just me. That maybe if I just drove the sun a little better, healed a little better, sang a little better, my father would finally love me. A futile hope, but some part of me hoped nonetheless.

I glanced around, desperately hoping only a little that a waiter could show up and go Oh Apollo! Here's your order! And yes, I'm so happy to save you from death by a hundred painful questions!

And if I had told her about it? What if she then said that father was right to punish me? No. I could not stand it. I needed to tell myself, to believe he was wrong . 

For a heart-stopping second, I doubted again. Then I rallied. It was him, it wasn't me. I learned a lot from my time as a human. I'd never forget Nero's honeyed accusations to Meg and how close they touched that lightning scorched and burnt something in me.

Artemis gazed at me with a focused intensity, like she was trying to see through whatever shiny, sequin speckled jacket I always liked wearing on the weekends. I found I almost wasn't too afraid she'd see Lester, bruises, scars and all.

"For the god of truth, you are awfully good at lying." 

"Hey," I grinned halfheartedly, "you got to know one well to be able to differentiate the other." 

Now deflect!!! My instincts screamed. Quick! Add some jokes!! An "LOL"!!

I ignored myself.

The thing is, my sister was right to be worried.

Last week, I'd been wandering around as plain old Lester, trying to feel like myself again. A monster had attacked. Maybe it was really ancient and blind to the fact I was a god. The details had been a little unclear, mostly due to my heart deciding to try and look for a new home in my mouth. 

I may have screamed and curled into the fetal position. Fire may have blasted from my hands, incernating the monster on the spot. I may have also sheared off the tops of some three hundred evergreens in the process. 

The dryads were not pleased with their new haircuts. However, they did calm down after profuse apologizing on my part and me babbling that yes, crew cuts were in.

Naomi Solace had also called earlier that day. Apollo, she had groaned, I know you are sorry. But I would also appreciate you not giving me writer's block everytime you are stressed. I have an album due soon. 

(Maybe I had my reasons. Her previous country albums had been very violent. Possibly concerning me. No, I won't spill the tea. This time I swear it wasn't intentional though.) 

I'm trying, I wanted to wail. But I can't control it that easily. I wish I could!

The thing is, dear readers, as a mortal I could cry and scream all I wanted without consequence. But as a god, our domains are a reflection of ourselves. Meaning that everytime Zeus got annoyed, thunderstorms would be on the forecast. Meaning that everytime my godly emotions spiked, a wave of calamity would sweep across the country, practiced singers suddenly got sore throats, beach-goers got sunburnt, and California would gain a few new forest fires (I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!). My self-control was iffy on the best of days, and with my newly formed Lester-Apollo hybrid fragility, all bets were off.

Maybe it was just post-mortal disorder and I'll shake it off in a few months.

Or maybe it was the way I sit on the marble stairs of my sun temple, the place I'd lived for millennia, and still think 'I want to go home'.

'Home'. 

What a word. Home had been with Hyacinthus once. But that was a long time gone. 

I had no idea where home was now. I hadn't for a while.

Chapter Text

When Apollo brought up the betting at the council meeting, Hermes had been prepared for yelling, maybe some dramatic tears, because what's a little family drama after all these years?

He would have apologized and Apollo would have forgiven him. It was how they were, ever since those sun touched early days when he had stolen his brother's cows. Apollo felt deeply, sure, but at his core, he was kind . The council meeting had been horrible and tense, maybe. But he had not been prepared for the dull sad acceptance that swept across Apollo's face before he schooled his features into the bland mask he wore for Zeus. It was like he had decided something, and Hermes had not been a part of that decision.

He knew he had no right to feel so bad, when he was the one who had started the betting pool but it had hurt. Was that what Apollo saw? Was this...this apathy...this disregard for their family...all they were? All he was? All they would ever be?

He remembered a conversation he had had with Percy, one he had, it seemed, a mortal lifetime ago. 

Do gods change?

Hermes had doubted it. He'd come to accept his nature. But oh, when Apollo had looked right through him, that had hurt. It had brought up the old discomfort again, like an old scar that kept itching and itching. Was Hermes really okay with staying like this? In recent centuries, he had started to feel like a hollow shell. Just repeating what he had been doing all these millennia, day in day out. And Luke…

Hermes shook his head, wishing for the hundredth time his brain worked like an etch and sketch. What he wouldn't give for a break from his memories.

Gods didn't change, until Apollo did. Apollo changed. And he saw right through Hermes. It was scary to admit, but Hermes might be wrong. If gods could have changed all along, where did that leave him? 

Hermes scowled. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He had work to do, thousands of messages to oversee. 

It's been ages since he went on a grand heist and Hermes felt less and less like himself. Well, that wasn't true. He was still him, he just felt less and less free. The shackles of Zeus's power were beginning to really chafe. 

Should he dive back into his work again? That had been the solution since forever. The gods each had their own ways of dealing with their father: Apollo used to turn the music up on his apple AirPods, Ares decided to go for another workout in the gym, and he always kept himself busy. 

Except Apollo was different now. So different he didn't even bring earphones to the meeting. Or attend any parties. And apparently, he was content not to talk to the messenger god. And it both hurt and made Hermes annoyed and worried. 

Apollo changed so fast, Hermes felt like he couldn't keep up. They had always been close. And now it really really sucked. Hermes had waited and fretted and hoped that his brother would make it back. Those months without his sunny presence had been really cold. Olympus had felt icy and empty and way too old. So he made bets to liven it up.

He had really wished for Apollo to ascend to Olympus, for things to be the same again. But now the sun god was back, and it still wasn't okay. Apollo was rarely on Olympus and when he was, he kept his distance. He didn't know what to do. 

Hermes considered the best solution to most problems to be a little distance. But now that same distance was hurting his and Apollo's relationship. Ugh. 

George and Martha looked at him curiously from their twined places on his caduceus.

"What isss the matter Hermesss?" Martha asked.

"Just some headache with Apollo," Hermes groaned. "I miss him."

"Maybe gift him a couple ratssss. That always improves Martha'ssss mood," George suggested. 

Martha hissed in agreement.

Hermes didn't think Apollo would appreciate rats. But he was getting desperate and restless. He sighed and made a note to stop by with the hunters. Artemis might have a better idea of what to do. He had a few messages to deliver there anyway. 

Chapter Text

I am sad to say

no godly ambrosia cure

Can solve this sadness

"You don't even like George and Martha!" Hermes cried dramatically. 

He had caught me in the gardens on Olympus when I was visiting the muses. I'd called out to him since it was a good opportunity to just do all my olympus socializing in one day. Pop in and say ‘Hey I'm alive! Ok bye!’ I'd never thought socializing could be so exhausting but I'd been badly mistaken.

I mentally planned to crash at Meg's for the next day to Recover From Olympus. I'd already planned to bring her a souvenir from the godly tourist shop. 

We had started some small talk and Hermes kept moving to random topics, until I felt like a teacher who had gotten a pop quiz from her own students. I couldn't figure him out and kept getting distracted by the wind currents around him. He was so agitated his shoes flapped a few feet off the ground. It was getting breezy around my ankles. 

"That's not true!" I protested, "They are my favourite snakes of all time!"

"There's not much competition. You hate snakes." Hermes whined. George and Martha hissed accusingly at me. 

Ok, he caught me. Being averse to lying, I had become very good at telling half truths. I didn't like snakes, all I could see were just tiny versions of Python. But I could just tolerate George and Martha, which made them my favourites, relatively. See! No lies here. But Hermes seemed off and I was 99% sure it wasn't because of my dislike of snakes.

I looked back at him and frowned, "Hey 'emmy, what's gotten into you? You usually aren't —"

"Do you hate me?" Hermes suddenly blurted. 

I admit that one had hit me a bit unexpectedly. Especially since the last topic we had just been discussing before snakes was flaming hot cheetos. For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

Then I realized, this was about my recent absence from Olympus and my sudden withdrawal from godly interactions.

My first thought was: He cares!

I was elated! Hermes had always been one of my favourite brothers. I had the irrational urge to hug him but quickly decided it to be a bit inappropriate to the mood. 

With a pang, I remembered all those times we had hung out over the millenia and pranked others. I remembered the first time I'd met him, he grinning at me while strumming the most beautiful instrument I'd laid eyes on. I'd immediately forgotten about the cows.

But now...it wasn't a matter of cows. I felt like someone had suddenly dumped their freezing cold water on me. I had a brief but unpleasant flashback to the middle ages and people dumping wastewater out the second floor windows. One such accident had made me paranoid about multi-story buildings for centuries.

I hadn't wanted to think about it. The Topic. But now it seemed like I needed to. Just as quickly as my heart had soared, it now fell. Suddenly, everything hurt. It felt like I was unraveling at the edge of chaos again, my mind in tatters. I wanted to answer honestly. I really really...

I didn't even know what to say.  I couldn't even think about it. I just...couldn't. Thinking about it would make it real. In my mind, a really young Apollo was screaming at me, telling me to hurry up, I needed to laugh it off and tell him I didn't hate him. Young Apollo was scared to lose him. The seconds trickled by, I was taking too long!

But another part of me, a part that sounded like Meg when she hadn't had breakfast, asked, if he loved me, if he cared, why hadn't he tried to help me? When I was bleeding out in the dirt or forced to resort to stabbing myself, where was my blood family ? 

Hermes kept looking at me. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth.

What's wrong Apollo? I hear you ask. Hermes was showing the concern that I had longed for! I had daydreamed about it sometimes during horrible days on my quests. But, realizing Hermes did care about my feelings just made everything hurt worse instead of making me feel better. It felt immensely selfish but instead of wanting to hug him, I now wanted to yell, if you loved me, why didn't you do anything? 

Why did you watch me bleed and scream and lose the people I loved?

It hurts that you care. But most of all, I'm angry that I can't hate you at all. 

It would be so much easier if I didn't care if my family loved me or not. With the words at the tip of my tongue, I flashed through a billion emotions. Fear, then anger and then hot shame and guilt and then I landed right back on fear again. I couldn't even name what I was scared of (Lie. I knew what. I just didn't want to admit it). 

I wanted to tell the truth, but I didn't even know what it was. Let me tell you, that really does make a god of the subject feel useless. I must have stood there frozen for a solid minute.

Hermes squirmed. He looked like he really wished he hadn't spoken. I remembered laughing with him as we raced through the sky in our chariots. Something in my heart ached. I was at least sure of one thing, even if it was the thing in me generating all this confusion and hurt. 

"I...I don't hate you Hermes," I said. I felt too tongue-tied to say anymore.

Hermes let out a breath. I hadn't noticed how tense he was until he had relaxed. 

I shot him a weak grin and settled for patting him on the shoulder. Then I quickly ducked out of the garden, tail between my legs.

I was glad he felt better. I didn't want to cause him grief. But I had reached the limit of my fragile sanity; if I said anything more, I didn't think I would be able to stop myself from snapping, or worse, crying.

For those very good reasons, I decided to cut my Olympus visit short and call it a day. Recently, talking with my olympian relatives had started to feel like I was taking a worse beating than when I was mortal. Everytime, it would bring up that cocktail of terrible feelings. Not even baked ambrosia scones could convince me to stay there a second longer.

Chapter Text

It was a decent day in the woods. Her hunters were on the trail of the Teumessian fox and making good headway. Artemis was taking a break, her back against an old pine tree. The branches rustled in the wind. She was content.  

Then a god decided to flash in, displacing at least three-quarters of the pine needles covering the forest floor onto her clothes.

"Your advice didn't work." Hermes opened with. He looked positively depressed. "You told me to be straightforward and ask. I did!"

Artemis sighed. She wiped down one of her arrows. When had she become the mediator here? This was usually a role reserved for someone like Athena. Even the love goddess would have been a better pick.

Hermes went over the situation.

"I first started with some...you know...safe topics, like the validity of flaming hot cheetos, " Hermes gestured in the shape of a bag, "and then I just asked."

Artemis groaned. "You went from flaming hot cheetos to 'do you hate me?'" 

"Don't look at me," he moaned, "I got nervous and derailed everything. I didn't even say a single thing I planned to."

He put his head into his hands. "Well anyways, it was all useless since he practically ran away from me after that."

"What did he say to the question though?" 

He paused thoughtfully, "Apollo said he didn't hate me."

In Artemis' mind the situation seemed resolved already. Her twin didn't hate her brother. Why was Hermes still thinking about it? 

Hey, she reminded herself, be more empathetic. They aren't you. Seeing Apollo around the other demigods had made her realize maybe it was okay to let a bit of her emotions leak out from time to time. Being one-upped by Apollo? Never , she thought.

"He doesn't hate me." Hermes repeated, looking forlorn, "But why do I feel so guilty?"

Artemis blinked. Hermes had never really brought this up before. She didn't know how to navigate his emotions. 

Then she realized that they as gods had overlooked one crucial detail.

"Hermes…" She asked cautiously, "did you apologize?"

Hermes froze. 

Artemis grimaced. Of course not. 

Gods never really said the S-word unless they were in deep trouble.

"S-should I have said that first?" Hermes stammered, he rubbed his neck, "I swear I was going to! He just ran away before I could."

"He doesn't hate you at least."

He groaned. "If he doesn't hate me, why is he avoiding me?"

And they were back to that again. Sometimes she felt like Olympus as a whole just went around and around and never really got anywhere. Artemis looked down at her arrows. Man, they really needed some more sharpening huh. 

"Arrteeeeemisss" 

She leaned back into the tree. "I think that's something you should ask him." 

I don't know everything about Apollo. That much is clear now, she didn't say.

Hermes fell silent. He flopped down on the ground beside her. The remaining one quarter of pine needles settled onto her shoes. Artemis sighed, she might as well get comfortable and become one with the forest then.

"I messed up." Hermes muttered, "I'm too scared to ask how."

That was...a straightforward thing to say. Hermes was never so open. He usually liked to dance around things. Was she rubbing off on him? 

"I messed up too." Artemis offered. "I couldn't save him." She winced, remembering seeing her brother, her baby brother , lying limp and broken in that alleyway the first day. And then the hundreds more times after that. Could I have done something more? She kept asking herself. Why didn't I?

Am I so frozen that I can't even save my twin? Will I one day just watch him die?  

"You tried." Hermes looked at her sympathetically, "It's not your fault father decided what he did."

She swallowed, "Not enough . I didn't try enough."

A guilty look flashed across his face. He looked at Artemis, then at the trees. "Better than me, I didn't do anything."

"I mean—no one else did. The way we reacted was normal. But—," he didn't go on. 

But is this really okay? Went unspoken. 

They looked at the sky together for a while. Of course it wasn't okay, Artemis thought, in any mortal family, this is the sort of thing that requires intervention, bloodlines be damned. They were just afraid of the consequences. Herd mentality ran too strong. 

When had she become a herd animal?  

"No." Artemis said finally. "I don't think this should go on. Inaction leads to senseless suffering."

Hermes twisted his messenger bag strap in his hands. He looked like Artemis had said she was about to eat him instead. To be honest, Artemis was still a little angry at him. She had been the only one who dared argue against father. If there had been more gods on Apollo's side, maybe, maybe…

"So…" the messenger god blinked, "should I try to talk to him again?"

"I don't think it's a lost cause, just try starting with an apology next time." She acquiesced.

"I'll—yeah. Ok." Hermes looked less green than before. Artemis decided her comforting skills were at least passable. "Thanks, your advice is always pretty good."

Artemis snorted, "Of course. Maybe if the council ever bothered to listen to me—"

Chapter Text

Avoiding the Melai guards was no easy task, but Hermes was the god of thieves for a reason. He looked around the house—there was certainly a lot more vegetation than normally found in a house. He wondered why Apollo would choose to come to a place like this. The sun god never really liked staying around plants. 

"Who are you?" 

He jumped. The voice had come out of nowhere. Hermes was sure he hadn't seen anyone when he walked in. He looked down. There stood a young girl in a sunflower skirt and a black T-shirt with the words "Weaponize unicorns for war!" in pink. It took a moment for Hermes to remember she was Apollo's former master, Meg McCaffery. 

"Good afternoon, Miss McCaffery. I'm Hermes."

"Okay." She said. 

"How did you find me?" Hermes asked curiously.

Meg grunted. "The plants told me." 

Hermes waited for her to say more, but Meg seemed to be done. She looked him up and down, appraising him. 

Conversation seemed to be in danger of stalling permanently. Hermes rubbed the back of his neck, and decided to just get to the point, Artemis help him.

"Is Apollo here?"

Meg squinted at him. "Why do you want to know?"

Hermes blinked. He wasn't used to being rebuffed like this. "Er...I have official business to discuss."

" Godly business." He stressed, when Meg didn't move.

The demigod rolled her eyes. "You sound exactly like Apollo when he's lying."

Hermes narrowed his eyes. He did not enjoy that comparison. Apollo was a terrible liar. He, on the other hand, was a great liar! Usually, not something people would brag about, but Hermes prided himself on being unconventional. He had just been caught off guard by this kid.

"Well, I guess the gods owe you a debt. And I need to thank you. You bravely saved my brother's life on many occasions."

Meg looked unimpressed.

"Why didn't you come?" She asked, "why didn't you save him?"

"Zeus forbade us all to interfere. You know this." He frowned. "Don't get me wrong, I did want to help. But—"

"But what?"

Gosh, was everyone going to be bringing this up? This was why he stayed away from demigods. They were just so...different. They didn't understand. "Father is very strict with his rules. If I had helped, it might have gotten Apollo in more trouble than the help was worth."

Meg scowled. "Okay." She hopped over a vine spilling into the room and made for the door. "Come with me." 

Hermes breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. He could just apologize to Apollo, and this whole shebang could be over. He could get back to his work and everything would feel right. There wouldn't be any sense of emptiness. Well, no less emptiness than usual.

He followed Meg outside into the garden. The sun shone down mercilessly, keen to bake every last thing in sight. There were so many details he hadn't noticed when he first walked in. 

Hermes hadn't let himself stop working in so long, he'd always distracted himself from his mind. Now though, in the silence, without an excuse to pull out his phone, he felt very uncomfortable. 

The plants had alerted Meg to the intruder in the house. Apollo had come earlier in the day to hang out. They had started a game of checkers at the suggestion of her old mentor, Lu. Apollo made a decent effort to pretend to be fine, but whenever he thought Meg wasn't looking, he went back to looking exhausted. Meg knew it was something to do with Olympus. Or his dad. It was always them. 

Later, Meg had gone out to help Lu with planting some tomatoes and when she came back, Apollo had fallen asleep on the rug. His face was mushed into the checkers board and she took at least five pictures for blackmail purposes. She put a blanket over him though, because. Maybe it would help the bags under his eyes look less bad.

And then this Hermes guy had to come and ruin the mood. He was not going to go anywhere near Apollo, not if Meg had anything to say about it. And she had a lot to say about it. She just needed to take him outside so their talking didn't wake her best friend up. Or yelling. Meg had a feeling she was going to be doing a lot of yelling. 

"We're getting further from him, not closer." Hermes looked at her with a mix of godly haughtiness and genuine confusion, like he couldn't fathom why she would be keeping him from Apollo. He looked like a pizza delivery guy in his early twenties, annoyed at being given the wrong address.

"Why didn't you come help him?" Meg turned around, her fury suddenly reigniting, "do you know how many times I caught him hoping?" 

"I know about…," she paused, fists clenching, "a-about being controlled...but it doesn't make looking away okay. And what you did, was definitely not okay."

None of her siblings had helped her escape Nero, but Meg had understood, she'd been in their position too. This didn't mean she had forgiven them. 

Apollo talked about Hermes a lot of their quests. It had just slipped out sometimes, tales of their adventures and pranks. In the beginning, he wouldn't be able to shut up, bringing up a bunch of godly names every time she asked a question. As the months progressed, the name dropping had petered out, until he'd still only mutter about his sister. At night, he'd lay down and stare blankly into space. 

There was a difference between being a true friend and being a fair-weather one. Maybe this was why seeing Hermes now made her so mad.

"Maybe you really felt like you couldn't do anything," Meg tilted her head, "or maybe you are just a coward."

Hermes blinked in shock. This small gremlin child was actually insulting him. Normally, he'd give her a medal, but right now he felt a little attacked.

"Alright," Hermes sighed, guilt stabbing through him, "maybe I haven't been the best of brothers. But I'm trying now. If you could just—"

"He's sleeping," Meg said. "Leave him alone."

Later, Hermes will admit to himself that he had the briefest urge to turn Apollo's companion into a tortoise.

She glared at him with a weirdly familiar intensity. She looked like she would fight Zeus herself if it came down to it. She...she reminded him of Apollo.

Hermes suddenly had a clear understanding why his brother was so fond of this child. 

His anger dissipated.

"Another time then, Meg McCaffery." 

"Oh, so you met Meg." said Artemis. She looked almost proud.

"I met Meg." Hermes sighed.

Chapter Text

Hey did you notice

The haikus are back baby

You know you liked those

The Chinese takeout in my lap looked delicious, but I wasn't in the mood.

"I haven't done anything much other than weep recently," I sniffed, hastily wiping at my eyes, "are you sure you still want to be around me?"

Meg gave me a look. I've been around her long enough to know this one meant: ' Apollo, why are you so dumb? ' I plowed on regardless. "You have plenty of better, emotionally stable people to hang out with," I muttered into my sleeves. 

"Yeah, but none of them is my best friend. Idiot." 

Stage two of Meg being blunt is when she starts calling you names. Unfortunately, she usually moves to this stage very quickly. 

Wait—

"I'm your best friend?!" I cried. All my fatigue dropped away.

"The takeout, the takeout—" Meg protested when I attempted to hug her. I halted just in time, my Lester reflexes narrowly preventing a flood of noodles. 

"Hermes was here." Meg said.

I choked. "What?"

"Yup." Meg stretched out a leg. "I told him to go away."

I understood exactly zero from her statement. "What do you mean, you 'told him to go away' ? Why was he here? What did he want?"

"Are you going to eat that?" Meg eyed my noodles.

"No, not really." I blinked, "hey! Don't try to distract me. What did you mean by 'told him to go away' ?"

"He was being annoying." Meg shrugged, "I think he was trying to talk to you. Apologize. Dunno."

I looked down. "Probably because I ran away from him last week. I've been avoiding him. What a lousy brother I am, huh?"

"He's the one being lousy if you ask me." Meg angrily ate my noodles, "Who is he apologizing for, you? Or himself?"

I grimaced. "Is it that simple—no, no, you use them like this."

She was gripping a chopstick in each hand, like a drummer about to do a solo performance. My Chinese friends would probably be scandalized. I thanked the gods that Frank wasn't here to see this. 

"Like this, see?" I mimicked a peace sign. "Use only one hand."

"I've got this." Meg threatened me with a single chopstick. Then she promptly tilted the takeout box back and poured the remainder into her mouth. She did only use one hand .

See kids, this is what happens when you are unclear with your instructions.

"You gonna stay here for the night?" Meg asked.

"If you want me to." I offered. I loved hanging out with her. My palace was a bit messy right now. Home renovation had felt appealing to Last Week Apollo.  Ok. I admit it. I got depressed and trashed my house. Can you really blame me? Besides, no one dares to go in there these days, so who is going to see?

 "We could do a movie marathon…already watched Finding Dory, so wanna do Toy Story next?"

I blinked, touched. It felt just like the old times. I owed so much to this small McCaffery girl.

Meg grinned at me, waving a remote, and I felt lighter than I had in weeks. Laughing, I poked her in the side, "I'm warning you, Toy Story always makes me cry."

How did I wind up 

Lost here again in my mind

The past sucks a lot

I opened my eyes to a crushing darkness. Or wait, was I actually being crushed? 

One of my ribs cracked. I screamed, flailing a hand out. I hit scale. Python laughed and coiled his body a little tighter, "little god, this is the end of you."

I wanted to say Apollo ended a long time ago. The snake was just drawing out my death for fun now. I felt cold and weak all over. I couldn't even struggle vainly anymore. All my strength was truly gone.

I tried to say something but only warm blood slowly trickled from my mouth. I tasted the tang of seawater mixed with metal. A freezing wave crashed over me and I tumbled through dark water. Clawing my way to the surface, I found myself drenched, shivering and clinging to a piece of Caligula's destroyed Yacht.

Medea stood over me with her flaying knife, but I wasn't really paying attention. All I saw in my fading peripheral vision was Jason's limp body bobbing in the water beside me, a spear through his back. The water around him was slowly turning red. 

"Jason—", I reached out in desperation but the witch reached out with a heeled toe and kicked his motionless form away from our makeshift raft. 

The pressure in my chest turned into a piercing pain. 

"It's much too late," Medea sneered, "If you had cooperated, poor Jason and Crest wouldn't have had to die."

Her face morphed into my father's. "Phoebus, you forced my hand." He shook his head in mock regret. "You brought this on yourself."

I took several deep breaths and looked down at my chest. No more python or arrow wounds. I was still standing.

"This has to be a dream." I muttered. "This already is over." I tried to turn away from Zeus but my face slammed into cold glass.

The artificial blue lights of the TV screen blinked back, but somehow I knew I was inside the TV and my godly family was on the other side, watching me. I was trapped with my Father. At least Artemis isn't among them , I thought in relief, whatever happens, I don't want her to see this .

"Stop it!" I yelled, "Let me out! I'm not your scapegoat!" 

My father reached out a hand and my stomach flipped in fear. I could feel parts of me coming apart, my perfect memory getting systematically destroyed.

I swung around in panic, "It's not my fault! You all know that!! Let me go!" I pleaded to the others. But my voice was faint and getting fainter and surely that was the reason, surely they were only not acting because they hadn't heard me. Even though they were staring. Waiting.

"No no...," I whimpered, losing my composure, "please. Father! Dad! Dad!! "

" Apollo! " 

Wait. That was—

I woke up.

(The timing was immaculate. Meg, I love you so much. I will write you a five-stanza Shakespearean Thank You Poem once I stop shaking. One moment.)

I lay staring at the ceiling, my chest heaving from fright. Meg leaned into me and grabbed my clammy hand. For a couple minutes I just focused on breathing. 

"You were screaming in your sleep. Bad dream?" 

"Or maybe I was dreaming of a really fun rollercoaster ride." I gasped out weakly.

I didn't even have to look at Meg to know she was rolling her eyes.

"...yeah. Bad dream again." I got out at last. Meg and I had gotten so many of those on our quests that we'd developed a routine. One of us will always wake the other up. I shifted and realized something.

"Wait. This isn't your house. I'm in a bed."

"My house has beds." Meg pouted.

"No," I tried to wave my hand but it shook too much, "l-like, a soft proper bed."

Meg ignored me. "Here. Drink." She put a glass to my lips.

I took a small sip and jerked back in surprise. "Wait. This is moonwater . Where the heck are we?!?"

"The waystation." My sister said in my right ear. No, not Meg; Meg was on my left. My twin sister, Artemis. 

I let out a very manly scream.

"When I said 'surprise me' back in the 1970's, I didn't mean it like this!"

Artemis flicked my forehead. "This is an intervention. You are staying here until you feel better."

"Nonsense! I'm totally better. I'll just never sleep again!" I protested. 

"You have no idea what you just said, do you?" My twin glanced at me with those annoying knowing eyes of hers, "I was just at your sun palace. Why are you vandalizing your own statues? They are all in pieces." 

I didn't like them anymore. But I rushed to defend myself. "It's not vandalism if it's mine—"

"He has low self-esteem. The other day—" Meg piped up.

"Don't tattle on me to each other!" I cried. 

I tried to get up but Artemis pushed me back down. I realized I was practically in her lap. "Stay still. You still aren't completely okay yet."

Just then I realized my limbs felt watery and weak, not just from my nightmare, it was something I hadn't felt since I'd been a feverish mortal.

Artemis saw my question. "You really scared us, you know? Meg was watching you sleep when your form started to glitch and fracture. She called me here in a panic. She thought you were dying." My sister sighed, "Luckily I'd seen this before. I'd mothered you after your...trials for two weeks. I thought you had healed but ..." She drifted off.

I appreciated the concern. But more importantly, I had just learned two new things. First of all, apparently, my recovery from Python had not been as smooth as I thought. Secondly…

"Meg watches me sleep?!?"

Chapter Text

Should I make this one

A song lyric: 'oh my gods,

So you can't fix me~'

There I was, half hoping but mostly dreading my ascent back to godhood. I didn't want to go back to acting like the person I used to be. But I didn't know how to keep being Lester. I was scared. Then, when I attained godhood again, it was almost the opposite. 

I didn't remember how to be Apollo, the olympian. I was walking around with someone else's face, trespassing in someone else's home. All four thousand years of my moments of error and horrible actions all suddenly available in perfect HD in my memory. To top it off, I'm almost certain there was a running HephaestusTV series that had been live broadcasting my time as a mortal. Despite all my bluffing and the front I had put up at the council meeting, I still felt like a fraud. I didn't deserve my godhood, I didn't deserve my friends.

You know how some days you think you are a horrible person? But then you remember even more stuff you did wrong and realize you didn't know half of it?

Yeah. 

Funny that some days I had hoped that being a god again would heal me somehow. 

Other days, I didn't want the scars to go. In the end, I guess I didn't have much of a choice either way, my body simply decided it didn't want to cooperate anymore. Some people would call that having a nervous breakdown. Not me though! I'd had far worse on my quests! Bad joke, bad joke, sorry.

After my trials, Artemis had asked me if I wanted to see a doctor. Brushing her off, I had replied that I am a doctor, so I see myself everyday when I look in the mirror.

Between you and me, I found my line iconic, but not everyone appreciated my genius. Looking at you, Artemis.

My sister decided to call Asclepius. No, we were not using Iris messaging, that's so last century. Sorry, Iris. We used Iris video calling like any regular god. 

My son looked at my arm for a long time. "The thing is…," he finally said, "these aren't surface wounds."

The golden cracks ran up my arm and over my body like it was one of those Japanese bowls that had been broken and relined with gold. Some I could tell were scars from my mortal trials that now glowed golden—the scar on my chest throbbed with phantom pain. I shut my mind to the rush of memories and tried to focus. 

"Oh ." I said in a small voice. "So you… can't fix me?"

"There's nothing physical to fix, dad. I can't really do anything. You're a healer too, you get it right?" 

"Yeah." I sighed heavily. It was as I suspected. I frowned down at my wrist, and the golden scars from the burning chains fused and disappeared where I focused. I shifted focus to the ones on my ankles but the burn scars on my wrist reappeared while my attention was elsewhere. My form flickered in agitation. "So I'm basically in it for the long haul."

Shakily, I pressed my hands to my eyes. I silently prayed I wouldn't have to show up to Olympus for the next century. At least the solstice meetings were over. Unless my family decided they suddenly wanted to see each other, —(Historically, unlikely)—I was scot free for the next little while.

Great, I would use this time to show Meg all the things she missed out on while trapped with that horrid man known as the Beast. I never had any regrets when Nero died, probably the only thing I didn't regret. Meg needed so much better. First on my list? Theme parks. 

Also. Fast food! Fast food is the most awesome human invention. I know I said I hated God In The Box, that chain restaurant Hermes tried to start, but that was only because Hermes is a terrible cook. His recipes tried to skimp on everything, until the beef burger didn't even have any beef! Do you know what a vegetarian burger tastes like? Well, if you tried his burger you'll never live to find out. The hospitalization rates are insane.

I've been rambling a lot. Want to know why? Artemis still has not left. She hasn't given me a single minute alone since we got here. Didn't she need to use the bathroom? (Nevermind, she's not Meg.)

Meg had left earlier to 'go pee', she had not come back. Presumably, she was trying to give us space. I didn't particularly desire that alone time. With my little demigod savior gone, Artemis was going to try and interrogate me again. 

The call with my son now over, I awkwardly fiddled with my curly Lester hair. The room was filled with awkward silence and I felt too wrung out to fill it with my usual chatter. Sometimes, I feel like after almost being flayed alive, I'd lost more than just my sense of self, I'd also lost my ability to communicate. My twin seemed in no hurry to talk, so we sat in the silence like a pair of equally stubborn sun chariot horses. I silently cringed, this was unacceptable, I was the god of Poetry! 

Artemis rolled her eyes at my dramatics, hiding a smile, "Relax, I'm not going to interrogate you, brother."

I bit my lip. Seriously, she knew my nervous tells too well. Don't ever get a twin.

My sister's gaze became serious, she turned away. "I...I know things have been hard for you since you got back. I'm not going to push you for details until you want to share…," She coughed. To my surprise, she looked nervous as well. "I'm not good at this kind of ...emoting, but I want to improve. I care about you, my other half. I don't wish for us to be separated so terribly ever again. I will do my best to protect you." She tentatively placed a hand on my arm, squeezing.

I felt a rush of fondness and something in me relaxed. Sweet Olympus, I was so lucky. "I love you very much too," I blew her an exaggerated kiss.

"Gah." She scrunched her nose, twisting away like she could dodge my cooties. 

"Oh no , it's cheesy physical affection!" I teased in her voice. "Anything but this, my dear brother!!"

The rest of the week passed uneventfully. I greeted everyone at the waystation and checked up on the baby griffin and Lit. Josephine and Emmie were happy to hear that Meg and I would be staying for the next while. No one mentioned the golden scars nor my occasionally flickering form and I was glad for it. 

Sadly, I didn't manage to squirm out of the chores, something I still considered a grave injustice. Seriously, must I always cut the carrots? 

After one dinner, Meg pointed her toothbrush at me. We were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. She had a nasty habit of pointing objects in my direction, though I would say my comfort level has improved after she got rid of her golden scimitars. I'd always felt like I was in danger of losing an eye. Maybe it was the thunderstorm warnings that Emmie brought up at dinner which had reminded her, but she brought up the Thing.

"You dream about your father?" 

Oh fates. 

I sidestepped with all the beauty and grace of an elderly elephant with arthritis.

"Meg," I took on a scholarly tone, "when rollercoaster rides get exciting, they also get scary, so it's natural to scream." I clapped my hands together, "We should go on one, although I recommend the flying chair things a lot more! Theme parks have a ton of fun rides." 

I dialed my grin up to 100. 

Meg snorted through a mouth full of foam, "you scream 'dad, dad!' on a rollercoaster ride?"

"..."

"Gosh dang it Meg. I hate you."

She elbowed me good-naturedly, and if she asks, I did not double over wheezing from pain. 

"It's ok, Apollo. Sorry your dad sucks. If I met him, I would punch him."

"Please don't." I had no wish to see my dear companion smited. 

(The lighting bolts rained down and my son died.)

Meg frowned at my words. For a second, I feared that my thoughts had shown up on my face in black marker. I wished a different message would be available, something along the lines of "APOLLO DOESN'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS."

She looked contemplative, which is never a good thing when it comes to a now thirteen year old.

(It was easier to hate the lighting than to hate my father. I knew Nero and the beast were one and the same. But that would mean—) 

"He's like Nero."

I froze. It was like I was hearing an echo of that tiny doubting, annoying, persistent voice that had always been in my head. It had been getting louder and louder these days, so for a second I thought I had started hallucinating. But it was Meg who had quietly spoken.

She tilted her head, "Doesn't your family know that?"

(Can't they see what he does to me? If they see, why don't they care?)

"Meg, please—" I didn't really know what I was asking from her. I just wanted to stop the tide of elation and horror that was rushing through me. I gripped my toothbrush with my sweaty hands. 

Finally, finally someone said it. 

Meg tried to stand on her tippy toes. I think she was trying to look mature. Or maybe it was because she was short. I wisely didn't mention it.

She caught my eye in the bathroom mirror, "Your family sucks. Olympus sucks. You get sad. If people make you sad, you don't have to go see them."

With that sentence, she had made it so simple. Still, why couldn't I just do it? Why was I still so lost? Why did I keep feeling guilty and ashamed? If I said all that I wanted to, aloud, would they blame me? 

I'm scared I'm the one that's wrong. But most of all, what if I was right? They never had loved me? If they loved me, why would they—

"But…," my voice wavered and I held back a sob, “but I…,” I couldn’t continue. 

"Sorry, Meg. I do know what you mean. It's just hard. I get confused." 

"It's ok." Meg kept holding my gaze. I tried to pretend my eyes were watering because I was tired. "Apollo, it's really ok. I got confused lots. I still get confused. You helped me. I'll help you."

Chapter Text

I couldn't sleep. 

Meg's words echoed in my mind. It was the first time I'd actually heard someone else say it.

Your dad sucks.

I don't want to think about it.

He's like Nero.  

I silently slipped out of the waystation and into the dark streets. They didn't deserve to be bothered by me, who despite being the god of truth, always lied to myself.

Of course, I'd spoken to Meg about Nero many times and tried to help her come to terms with her experiences. And yet, ironically, when it came to myself, right in the middle of something similar, I couldn't string together a coherent thought. Mortals had such short lives but they seemed to make sense of things. I'd had eternity and I was still so lost.

The air was cold and the moon beautiful. Tilting my head, I let myself be bathed in the comforting glow of my twin. Even if I lost all else, I'd always had her.

I admired Artemis, she brought light to the darkness without taking away what the night stood for. I had always felt like sometimes my sun shone a little too bright, was a little too blinding, mortals could never look directly at it. It didn't bring the closeness or peace mortals sometimes can feel gazing at the moon. 

The sun chariot blasted the lands and drove away all shadows but was unrelenting in its burning brilliance. It left little room for anything else. And too late did I realize I had done the same, alienating anyone who tried to get close, trapping myself on an impossible pedestal that never made me feel like enough. 

This was why I always liked morning and evening better. People could see me then and I tried my best, painting the sky with romance and poetry. Hard to admit, but I was happiest not carrying the weight of being the sole light source. Stepping down each evening was like the turning of the tides or the passing of hands, warm and nostalgic in its familiarity. Before I might have yelled 'no, focus on me!'

But more and more, I was content to bring light to others and let them shine. 

Even before, I had looked for hidden talents and tried to encourage people to do what they loved, using prophecies to nudge the population towards periods of peace and prosperity.

A pang went through me. Crest, oh the sweet pandos, he never did get the chance to play at my concert. His blood stained my ukulele and my hands. But I was immortal, I would wait for him when he regenerated. I will be there. I will keep my promise.

I furiously glared at the ground. Had I done anything to become even remotely worthy of all the sacrifices my friends had made to get me here? I didn't deserve it, I didn't deserve them. The knot in my chest coiled tighter. Why was I the one that had survived? The trembling in my hands had started up again and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Meg was so good and kind. She'd finally escaped from Nero. She deserved a worry-free life. I didn't want to bring up my issues around her, and to drag her down. I needed to get a grip, I needed to be brave for her.

I had been so angry on my trials, but that anger had just turned into grief. In the end, with the exception of Artemis, my family had abandoned me to die. What did that say about them? What did it imply about me? 

Perhaps I could admit it just once. I always avoided thinking about it, because then I want to blame someone. But, I always end up blaming myself.

The streets were quiet and dark. I wasn’t very familiar with the area, but I wasn’t in the mood to keep track of where I was going. Maybe my emotions had clouded my senses. For the next time I looked up, rolling clouds blocked everything in sight and rushing rain pounded down onto the pavement. I was cold, and wet. My clothes were soaked through and plastered to my skin. If I hadn't been present enough to feel it a moment ago, I was certainly aware now.

Rationally, I knew the only explanation was that at some point, my thoughts had started to skip. I had started to lose time. This wasn’t good, how long had I been out here, directly in the path of Zeus’ anger?

I swear Father was booming 'DON'T BLAME ME FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, APOLLO.'

Everything would be okay , I reasoned to myself hysterically, you've heard it from Emmie, this is just a scheduled storm. He's not mad at me. I'm far away. I'm safe. What kind of major Olympian god, and a god of logic at that, curls into a corner from some rain? 

I wasn't afraid of the lightning. I wasn't. I wasn't—

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Blind panic shot through me, but I reeled myself back in time. Shaking, I channeled my godly senses outward, looking for the Waystation and Meg’s demigod aura. It was closer than I realized. I just needed to calmly teleport —

The entire sky flashed white. The boom rang in my ears.

All sense of logic left me. I tried to run.

A detached part of me made a haiku. 

It is all my fault.

Lordly Zeus breaks out his bolt—

I become stir-fried.

I needed to hide. Not even thinking, I teleported straight into a brick wall. Sharp pain exploded in my forehead and I stumbled back blindly, reaching for my powers. Next time I teleported, I landed precariously on a fire escape. No, please work, I begged my powers. I threw all my concentration into the next shot and flashed into the kitchen at the Waystation.

The walls of the Waystation seemed to be crowding down on me, worsening the ringing in my skull. The fear was too much but everywhere I turned I couldn't find an exit.

I teleported into a shelf, wedged myself under a table and then promptly tripped over a rug when I tried to get out. The cold ground felt more solid than anything else. This was bad, I could not stop myself from slipping back into old habits, practiced behaviors. I curled into a fetal position and started to calculate my odds. Maybe if the lightning hit my back first, I could take less damage?

(Father could hear my panicked breaths, the unsteady hammering of my heart, he sees everything. I’ll never escape the sky.

It's over, I'm dead.)

I never did die though. Maybe it was more horrible that way.

After what seemed like an eternity of me trying to regain control, footsteps sounded by my head. 

"Hey Sunny, is it alright if I move this? It's crushing you."

The worried voice miraculously reached my brain. Through the haze of fear, I somehow whimpered a noise of agreement. A broad figure gently lifted the table off me. 

"Dear, what happened to you? You look..."

I slowly lifted my head from where I had curled into a ball. Tears stained my cheeks. My form flickered between Lester and a small golden-haired child, but no matter which one I took, the shining scars stood out angrily on my skin. 

"Josephine." I croaked.

Chapter Text

Josephine had lived through quite a lot of things. Sheltering a 4000-year-old god turned mortal turned god did not make her bat an eye. She had experienced something similar with the whole hunter to non-hunter thing. Lester was a good kid, even if she sometimes couldn’t figure out how to mesh him with the god. 

When she first heard noises downstairs, she had initially thought the sentient Waystation was moving one of it’s rooms, as it tends to do regularly. But she had been more paranoid since Georgie, so she decided to check. Emmie shifted in her sleep and Jo paused, leg halfway off the bed. The rain continued to pound outside, and Emmie softly snored on. Sensing no further movement, Jo crept out to investigate.

She found Apollo in the kitchen having what looked like a panic attack. With hushed words, she coaxed him out from under the table and over to a sofa. Now, Apollo sat shivering and dripping water onto the cushions. He looked comatose and pale, staring blankly into nothing. A line of golden blood was slowly trickling down his forehead. Was he going into shock? 

Josephine decided to act quickly.  

“Ok, Sunny, here’s what we’re going to do.” She bundled him into a blanket and pulled out a first aid kit. “Let’s have a look at your forehead first. It’s bleeding.”

“Huh?” Apollo seemed out of it. His Lester form was flickering alarmingly, giving Josephine a strange sort of double vision. Sometimes he looked about Georgie’s age, with golden hair and blue eyes. 

He blinked and focused on her. 

“No, no. I’m fine.” He mumbled. He hurriedly wiped at the blood with the back of his hand, “see? It’s healing...” 

Jo gently took his hand away, “Let me take a look.” 

It was as he said, the scrape was slowly disappearing. Jo rummaged through her apron and pulled out a box of flowery bandaids she normally reserved for Georgie (and sometimes Lityerses, but don't tell anyone that). Maybe it wouldn’t really help physically, but there was something in putting on a bandaid that made people feel better. 

She carefully wiped away the ichor, and put a blue bandaid with cartoon flowers onto his forehead. “This should do.” 

Josephine tried to telegraph her movements to not startle the god. Apollo held very still as she checked his temperature—his forehead felt icy cold. He kept shivering. Josephine frowned in worry. Apollo was a god, wasn’t he? Gods didn’t get cold. She decided to shelve that thought, right now Apollo needed to get dry. The blanket would do no good if he was still wearing soaked clothes.

Conveniently, the laundry room was close by. Closer than usual actually. The Waystation must have been aware of what was going on. Rummaging through the dryer, she found one of her freshly washed shirts and some PJ slacks.

Apollo was still in the same position she had left him in and Josephine tried not to fret.

She helped him sluggishly change out of his soaked hoodie and pants. He stood there mutely in his boxers, curled in on himself, staring anywhere but her face. He seemed so...lost, it broke Jo's heart a little. When he raised his arms to pull the dry shirt on, she caught a glimpse of a raised scar on the center of his chest, and another jagged white scar on his stomach, which made her pale. There were many more scattered across his body.

Last time Meg and Apollo had been at the Waystation, Apollo had not had so many scars. It was worrying, some of them... How did he get all those serious wounds in just a couple months? How did he manage to survive? 

During the past week Apollo had been here, he was also significantly more subdued. Tonight it just seemed like whatever was bothering him had turned from bad to worse.

Josephine wasn't sure how to broach the topic so she focused on taking care of any physical ills. Dry clothes, another blanket—she ushered him back over to the sofa.

She heated some milk and opened a pack of cookies, then sat down by his side.

Apollo had stopped shivering so much, and some color had returned to his face, which Josephine thought was a good sign. Her shirt was way too big on his skinny frame, but at least it was dry. He took the glass of milk wordlessly.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but we don't have to if you don't feel up to it." Jo said softly.

Apollo stared down into the glass of milk. He began to talk slowly, the events of the past hour coming in bits and pieces. She learned of his fear of lightning, and even though he didn’t really expand on it, she could make a guess as to why. So Josephine sat there, toweled his hair and tried not to angrily curse at Zeus. What kind of father hurts their kid? Just the thought sickened her. It reminded her of Emmie, and two girls jumping off a cliff to escape their dad's wrath.

"Maybe they don't...maybe they don't love me."

Jo was initially confused as to what Apollo was referring to. Who were 'they'? But her years of experience sheltering traumatized demigods told her to wait and let him talk.

His voice trembled. "It's so stupid. I keep wanting them to care. Even though I decided that I wouldn't." He wiped at his eyes. 

Ah. It was his family. Those gods who had done nothing but watch. It looked like things hadn't gotten much better. Josephine scowled.

I just—" Apollo burst out,  frustrated tears welling in his eyes. "I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what to do. I lived, but what am I—what am I even doing ?"

Jo decided to say something she thought she would have liked to hear, way back when she was a little girl trapped in a gang. "It's ok to not know who you are yet. You can take it slow." 

I have a choice then 

I guess I will choose to blame 

Onions for my tears

After my outburst, I slumped, defeated. This new Me had no idea what to do. I was so tired of fighting, and seeing the long stretch of road ahead really put a damper on things. Maybe it was that, or the shakiness left in me, but my mouth continued to run. 

“When I came back… it was like I had never left. Those golden halls are the same. My family… sometimes I wonder if they think I deserved it.”

Josephine looked angry, but it didn’t seem directed at me, “No. Apollo, you didn’t deserve it. Family is a choice. Both sides need to make it. If not, those people can, in plainer terms, shove it.” 

“But how can you think that?” I couldn’t keep my doubts in anymore, “You know what I used to be like. I’m not a good person. I’m hardly a person at all.” 

Some part of me expected Josephine to agree, or for a hidden crowd to gasp and point: HA! Look at Apollo, he finally admits it!

Instead of all that though, Josephine pressed another cookie into my hand. 

“Funny, after seeing you, I realized gods and humans aren’t that different. Perhaps it’s your actions, rather than your birth, that make you what you are.” Jo said softly. 

She was there still, but I heard another voice, from not so long ago. 

Hey, Apollo, you—you know the difference between a fawn and a satyr? 

What was the difference between being human and being a god? 

“It’s what we see in them, and what they see in themselves…” I mumbled through my rapidly blurring vision. 

“Good, because I see bravery in you, Apollo.” Jo seemed awfully confident in her assessment. Her eyes crinkled, and was that fondness I saw?

I was so shocked I temporarily forgot how to talk. Bravery? In me? Must be the earth mother of all oxymorons. 

Like a nervous guy in a HephaestusTV commercial I once watched, I sipped my milk. And sipped. And kept sipping. Hopefully, Jo will assume I was simply really thirsty. The cookies steadily dwindled despite me not making any effort to eat them; Jo apparently had a sweet tooth. Eventually, I recovered some coherency. She had been so nice to me, I felt obliged to correct her, to tell the truth.

"I'm just pretending though." I said miserably. "I'm afraid. I'm still afraid. It's all an empty bluff."

"But you are brave." Josephine insisted, patiently wiping away my fresh tears, "you've been very brave. You saved your friends. You resisted Python even with overwhelming odds. You chose to fight when you could have run. And even right now, you still are brave, you know."

Was I? Everything in me protested against the notion. I let out a watery laugh. "Have you seen me recently?"

Josephine gently wrapped an arm around me, somehow reminding me of my mother and the way she used to take care of me as a kid, “ Bravery isn't about being tough, it's about doing something for the right reasons even while you are afraid.”

That sounded like something I would have written in an attempt to be poetic. I doubted Zeus would approve. He probably would rumble something like: NO SON OF MINE SHOULD EVER BE AFRAID. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, but saving Lit, rescuing the elephant, protecting Meg, those were all choices you made. You chose to be kind, you chose to give people a second chance. It wasn’t anyone else who helped them, it was you.”

She poked me in the forehead. “Am I getting through here, Sunny?” 

I made a face and childishly buried myself further into the sofa. Why did being praised feel so foreign and embarrassing? I didn’t deserve any of it, I wasn’t good like her. Four thousand years of being an arrogant god doesn’t just wash away like I wished it would. 

As if sensing my thoughts, Josephine added, “I’m not saying you haven’t done anything bad in the past, but making bad choices does not make you a bad person. There’s no such thing as being inherently evil, rather it’s in choices we make. You can choose to be good.” 

Could I really? I was trying. But I feared I could never remove the factor that was likely causing all the trouble. Me. My thoughts began to slip again, back down that worn track. 

"For as long as I've lived, tragedy has seemed to flit alongside me. Sometimes I think it is me," I tried to keep my voice from wavering, "I'm the curse."

Jo's expression turned sad. She pulled me into a tight hug. 

"Apollo, you've suffered so much. A long time ago, I was where you are right now. I know it feels like pain is all you ever are. I hope you can believe me when I say, here, you are alive, and while you live, there is the chance for something better. Don't give up on yourself."

Oh, how much I wanted to believe her. I was tired and I was weak, I let myself sink into Jo's embrace and let her warmth temporarily shelter me.

Chapter Text

If someone were to ask him about his life, Hermes would say he had been quite lucky. 

He knew his place. If Zeus had not accepted him as an olympian, he'd probably still be in a dirt cave with his mother.

His childhood hadn't been ideal, but it could have easily been disastrous. It could have been like the twins', for instance. Running for their lives and living in the wilderness since they were born. Or Hephaestus, who straight up got yeeted off Olympus by Hera for being a somewhat ugly baby. Or maybe Athena, who was born inside Zeus' head, a special place no sane god would ever want access.

Even though his father let his bastard kids sit on the council, Hermes knew Zeus was the exception, not the rule. Things could have been a lot worse and still could be a lot worse.

Was he a coward for just accepting things as they were? Maybe. But you can't say thieves and liars are particularly brave people, and Hermes was the god of them. 

He definitely wasn't being brave now, standing in front of Luke's grave. A decade too late to really do anything for his son.

The trees rustled overhead, announcing that autumn was coming. Bending down, he gently replaced the dried flowers at the foot of the gravestone with fresh ones.

Hermes sometimes wondered if Percy had lied back then, saying that Luke loved him in the end. And maybe hey, it had been a lie, or a laurel branch for a grieving father to cling to. But it hadn't felt like any of those. It had felt like a punch to the gut. His fault. His failure. 

Perhaps there had been something he could have done, maybe some final trick he could have pulled. Or maybe all effort would have been for naught.

Regardless, his son was dead.

Hermes was no stranger to grief and loss, and he had needed to make his peace with death many, many times. 

Still. 

Luke would never sit around a campfire and laugh with his friends again. He would never again crack a joke or roast a smore. And Hermes would never get another chance to love him.

This was why he didn't like thinking about it.

Once upon a time, he had wanted nothing more than to be like Apollo. The golden brother, who was so bright and talented. Apollo was perfect. But Apollo had that awful habit of Dwelling On Things™.

Still water stagnates, it breeds bacteria and rot. If Hermes stayed that still, all the grief would smother him like the volcanic dust from Pompeii. He'd seen mortals die that way. He'd seen what it did to Apollo. 

Despite it all, Apollo had blundered on. He neither faded nor stopped loving people. Kinda weird. Kinda admirable. One hundred percent stupid. As a mortal, he'd very nearly died for it.

Gods were different. Surely, they had to be right?

Hermes always thought he could run fast enough that he left that sense of emptiness behind. Watching the falling leaves slowly settling on Luke's grave, he was starting to wonder if he never did.

Chapter Text

Never let Meg shoot

Deformed unicorn plushie?

Amusement park good

The sunlight peeked through my room in the Waystation. A part of me was raising the sun, and the larger, much lazier part of me was sprawled on the bed. 

It was quite ordinary, in a comforting sense. I almost felt like I was normal. 

My brain itched as I tried to recall what I wanted to do today. 

Aha! 

I grinned to myself, today was a special day! I was going to take Meg to the amusement park! I stretched out like a cat and rolled off the bed. 

To my dismay, it was almost noon already. Cursing, I fumbled with the clothes that I'd borrowed from Jo last night. With a couple very frog-like hops and inelegant abracadabras, I swapped it out for a trendy hoodie/shorts combo. Jo would be getting back some clean laundry and some new tools. I owed her. 

I did one last check in the mirror. My reflection squinted at me, heavy eye bags and ruffled hair making me look like I was on the verge of losing it and transforming into a raccoon. Grimacing, and gave myself a speedy makeover, with skill worthy of Aphrodite. The show-biz had prepared me well. Covering up emo behavior was second nature to me.

Alright Apollo , I told myself, time to go! 

I clapped my hands and let my powers do the rest. 

"I'm hungry." Meg whined, trying to see through her blindfold even though I told her not to, "this better be a good surprise."

I gasped, "I'm so hurt. When have I ever given you a bad surprise?" 

Meg scratched her nose, "I dunno. Like the time you tried to feed me shellfish…" 

"I didn't know you were allergic!" 

"...or that time with the whale…"

"That was an honest mistake!" 

I caught the other end of the blindfold just in time before she tried to pull the cloth into her mouth. I sincerely hoped she was not hungry enough to eat my hand as well. 

"Also," I grumbled, "you were the one who said you liked surprises." 

Meg made a noise of acknowledgement, "Ok, that's fair." 

I gleefully added to my mental tally. 

Apollo: 1. Meg: 863.

(I know 1 is a sad, sad number but dear reader, be aware this tally refreshes every month along with my shred of dignity.)

"Anyways, we're here!" I bowed, whisking away her blindfold, and the concealing magic that went with it. I wasn't completely dumb, of course I had come prepared knowing she would try to peek. 

The hum of human voices flooded us. Excited kids and their haggard parents, moon-eyed couples, babies, everyone and their second cousin was here. I snuck a peak at Meg. Her eyes were wide, taking in the roller-coasters, the giant ferris wheel and multicolored stalls of assorted games. 

Meg probably never had the chance to experience this as a kid. The thought made me sad. But at least I could make it up to her now. 

"Huh. Not bad, dummy." Meg put on a show of fake casualness, even though I could tell she wanted to take off for the closest stall. 

"Maaaybe this was a good surprise? " I pushed cheekily. 

"Maybe.", my little plant sister grudgingly admitted. 

" Apollooo, you're so awesome? Best brother ever ?" 

Meg rolled her eyes and tugged me towards a shooting balloons game stall. 

The teenager manning the stall ushered us to two air rifles laid on the stall table.  "Alright, just aim and shoot at the balloons. If you hit a certain number, you win a prize. Easy." 

I eyed Meg. She seemed engrossed in the big unicorn stuffie that was hanging next to the stall. 

"Just shoot when you're ready. One at a time." The teenager waved offhandedly and sat down. He kinda reminded me of Hermes when he was tricking Ares. This made me wonder if this stall was rigged. Don't call me a hater, I've just been done in too many times by Hermes. 

I nudged Meg. She grinned and grabbed the rifle with one hand. The barrel tip dipped and swayed dangerously as Meg tried to aim. I took a surreptitious step back. Today I was really not ready to lose an eye. 

Bam. 

Meg scowled in concentration. She looked like a hunter going after a deer. Artemis would be proud. Alas, the effect was a little dulled by the weak thud of pellets hitting the wooden backboard and missing all the balloons.

"Hey! How many do I need to shoot to get the big unicorn?" She asked. 

"All the balloons." The teen yawned and put his head back down on the counter. 

Meg blinked. She looked down at her pellets and frantically started to count them. 

While she did that, I examined the gun.

It looked like there wasn't enough air in it to even reach the balloons. Or if it did, the lack of momentum would cause pellets to bounce right off.

Even if I had the best aim in the world, I probably would not be able to hit the required number of balloons to get a prize. 

Luckily, this didn't matter because I was a god! Haha, dear readers, that felt so good to say. 

I've been feeling so down lately, but this? This I could handle with no problem. I looked down at my pellet dish, 10,12…15. Fifteen pellets for fifteen balloons. That meant each shot needed to hit. Beside me, I could hear Meg swearing under her breath. If anyone asks, she didn't learn those words from me.  

After my little sister used the last of her rounds, the teen refilled the board with balloons and pointed to me, gesturing that it was now my turn. 

I picked up the rifle with both hands and aimed. I also let loose a little godly power, which automatically calibrated the rifle and refilled the air. You know, just the basics. 

Meg had stopped her fiddling and looked to me. "Lester," she hissed urgently, side-eyeing the plushie like her life depended on it, "please tell me you know how to shoot."

After her display of rifle skills, this comment was more than a little insulting. 

" I know how to do it! " I whisper-yelled indignantly. Now if only she would stop distracting me and making me nervous! Sweaty hands are terrible for aim! 

I shot one after another until finally, I was done. I breathed a sigh of relief. All fifteen balloons down. 

The teenager looked at me with wide eyes, and wordlessly handed me the unicorn plush. As we walked away from the stand, I saw him trying to figure out how a scrappy 17 year old managed to shoot all the balloons.

I turned to give the stuffie to Meg but she pushed it back towards me. 

"I won it for you." I said in confusion. "I thought you liked unicorns?" 

"Keep it." Meg said, "you used to hug your ukulele when you sleep. I think you lost it though." 

She patted the unicorn on the head like it was a real animal, perhaps giving it her Meg Seal Of Approval. "Hug this in the future, Lester." 

As a god, I could snap my fingers and get a dozen plushies. But it wouldn't be the same. No little sister had decided to give it to me. This plush, with it’s deformed face and string sticking out, was special. 

I felt my eyes water. I have not felt this touched since my twin invented a new braiding style just for me. 

"Dear Meg," I choked out, "you didn't have to, truly."

She looked a little embarrassed, "ugh. I was going to win it for you. But I suck at aiming." 

"Through no fault of your own," I assured, "it was those blasted rifles that were calibrated wrong!"

"I knew it." She muttered. "I have I'm-peckable aim."

I was so touched I decided not to correct her. In fact, I was tempted to leave a five star review. “Amusement park good. -Sincerely, Apollo”

We went around and tried out rides and unanimously decided to skip all the roller-coasters and haunted houses. 

Me because I got queasy just looking at them, it reminded me too much of a recent fight with a giant snake. Meg didn't seem interested in the long lines. At least, that was her outward excuse. But I felt like we both had enough jumpscares and adrenaline rushes to last a lifetime. 

We (read: Meg) had a lot of fun with bumper cars. The daughter of Demeter gleefully chased me around the track like she was the entire horror movie cast while I was the final girl. My stuttering car kept getting stuck in every bend on the ceiling. Why are those things so finicky!! I swear Hephaestus was doing it on purpose. 

We also rode on the rotating flying chair ride and ended up doing that one on loop for an hour. The wind brushing our faces and the sensation of flying was almost close to the real thing. Meg put out her hands and flapped like she was a goose. I did not join in. 

Okay, I did. It was silly and if the gods saw, they'd probably write it in the gossip magazine about how poor Apollo had lost his mind after his mortal stint. Past me would have been horrified. 

I didn't care. I felt so happy just enjoying being dumb and having fun. 

For a moment, there with Meg in a dingy old chair being swung around, I felt free. 

"WHO CANCELED ME ON TWITTER?" 

Hermes winced as he approached the doors of Zeus’s room. The lord of thunder was having serious struggles integrating into the newest version of the app. Perhaps that was the reason he had been called here personally? Hermes hoped so, he really didn’t want to personally deliver any more horribly flirty letters to another one of Zeus’s paramours. Hera’s frosty glares made him long to be in Antarctica instead. 

He cautiously pushed open the heavy oaken doors. They were thicker than his evergrowing pile of undone paperwork.

Zeus looked up scowling, “Good. You’re finally here.”

Hermes bowed. “My lord, you called for me?” 

“Yes, a couple things.” Zeus glared down at his phone. “First, bring me the one who started the “thunderboomer” hashtag on Twitter.” 

Hermes almost let a laugh slip out, but he had enough self preservation to disguise it as a cough. 

“M’lord,” the messenger flattened his mouth in fake sympathy, “These folk are out of line, I understand your frustration.” 

The crackling pressure that Hermes had felt since he entered, eased a little. “Thunderboomer” leaned back, nodding in satisfaction. “Indeed, they must be punished.” He was probably imagining all the ways he would strangle the perpetrator, who is likely some teenage fawn licking Doritos crumbs out of the bag while laughing at Zeus’s Twitter meltdown. 

“However, unfortunately,” Hermes continued, trying to put his best customer service voice, “I’m afraid this really isn’t my area of expertise. Perhaps, may I suggest contacting Hephaestus instead? I’m sure he-”

Zeus raised an eyebrow, “But you are the god of messengers, no? Eradicate these gods awful messages at once.”

Life would be so much easier if I were the god of Twitter, but unfortunately my name is not spelled E-L-O-N. However, being under you certainly makes me feel like one of his employees. 

Hermes felt an urge to spit back such a response, but once again successfully held his tongue. 

“Yes, M’lord, but unfortunately the vast and complicated world of social media isn’t part of my domain.” He said, making sure to put extra emphasis on the words “vast ” and “complicated ” . 

Zeus sighed. “What use are you?”

Hermes kept silent. 

“But I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Pass on a message to Apollo.” 

Hermes bit his lip. Apollo’s name has become a taboo in the house ever since he made old papa near hysterical with paranoia after the giant war. It was definitely not going to be confetti and sparkles now that Zeus voluntarily brought up his wayward son.

“I believe Artemis’ hunters have been unsuccessful at subduing the Teumessian fox. It’s been over a year. Sadly, all of my children have been disappointing me these days.” 

The lord of thunder stared at Hermes, “But you won’t, right?” 

But what use am I? The snarky voice continued in his head. Hermes suppressed it violently. 

He wet his lips, he felt like any move was the wrong move now. Somehow he’d walked into a trap.

“Yes.” 

“Good. Tell Apollo he is to make up for his sister’s failure. He has a week to kill the fox.” 

“But Python happened only six months ago—“

Hermes felt the protest slip through before he could close his mouth. 

Hermes knew his dad. There was no way this was as simple as he presented. Zeus had an ulterior motive. Apollo had just barely survived Python, and Hermes knew, he knew his brother wasn’t recovered as he put on. Zeus wanted to test him. If Apollo was injured again by the fox, he was easy prey. But if he won, he would be a threat. He can’t be too weak nor too strong, least Zeus decided to get rid of him. It would be a death sentence either way.

“Six months is plenty of time to heal for a god. ” Zeus narrowed his eyes. “Unless there is something else you are not telling me?”

“I-,” Hermes pleaded, “ Father. ”

“Sending a simple message should be well within your domain. He has a week starting today. Dismissed.”

Hermes almost fell over in his scramble to get out.

Chapter Text

The second generation Olympians sat in a gloomy circle, staring at the flames. The holographic image floating above the hearth had just cut out to one of Hephaestus's’ automaton commercials. A pretty dryad was describing the benefits of the new Celedon 324. Not a moment before, Apollo had just been giggling like mad while stumbling into the darkness of Trophonius’ cave. 

The boisterous ad music suddenly cut off. Artemis had muted the commercial with enough force to dent the remote. Hermes winced. 

“Seriously? An ad?” Artemis growled at the god of blacksmiths. There was a squeaking sound as her nails dug into the armrests of her throne. “You couldn’t have picked a better time?!”

“I do not control the commercials.” Hephaestus shrugged uncomfortably. “By the time I tell my staff to turn it off, it probably would have finished its run time anyway. Besides, this was a commercial that Apollo would have liked…,” He drifted off, eyeing the empty throne to his right. 

The room fell silent once more. No one wanted to talk about the elephant in the room. 

Hermes bit his lip, wracking his brain for a way to talk about the situation without actually talking about it.

“Why don’t we have a bet?” Hermes tried to act nonchalant, whipping out his trusty leather notepad. “What do you all think? I bet Apollo-” 

“This is stupid.” Ares said. 

Hermes could feel his grin becoming strained, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time, I’d love to hear it!” 

“Violence is always the answer.” Ares replied cryptically. He glanced longingly at Aphrodite’s seat, perhaps hoping for support, but the love goddess had crafted a good excuse for Zeus and had wiggled out of this meeting. 

“Not always.” Athena decided to add. She fingered her spear, “Perhaps we can have a competition to see who can defeat an opponent first.” 

“If we are having one, I volunteer Hermes as the one getting stabbed.” The war god smirked. 

Hermes mentally pushed Ares’ name to the top of the list of people he was going to publicly humiliate.  

“I actually think bets are a wonderful idea!” Hephaestus abruptly exclaimed. He was edging his seat away from Artemis, who looked like she was going to bite the holograph screen like a rabid dog and shake it from side to side until it showed Apollo again. 

If the god was trying to distract Artemis, it didn’t work. She remained fixated on the commercial. 

“Well then, ten golden drachma that he’s not gonna make it.” Hermes took off his hat and shook some coins from his purse into it. “He’s basically powerless and just went insane in a cave full of snakes.” He then passed the hat around the circle. 

“Twenty that he will.” Athena said. She placed the drachmas into the hat.

Hermes blinked in surprise. That was unexpected. Athena rarely made bets she wasn’t sure she would win. 

“Twenty that he won’t.” Ares growled. 

“Seconding that, the odds are just not in his favour.” Hephaestus chimed in. 

“Thirty that he will.” Athena said levelly. 

“Thirty that he won’t.” The god of war declared, glaring daggers over at the goddess of wisdom. 

The room erupted into arguments. 

“Shut up everyone. The commercial is over!” Artemis yelled, banging the remote. 

Wanted to play chess

But Hermes dropped mail on us

More bad news — yay me

This morning was mostly uneventful. As usual, I had breakfast with my good friends at the Waystation. You may be wondering, Apollo, why aren't you driving the chariot? Well dear readers, it was finally Ra's turn. Unlike most assume, I don't drive all 365 days of the year, even gods need a little vacation time! And I really wanted one right now. 

Anyways, I was hanging out with Meg in the common room, a chess game on the coffee table. I don't even know why I thought it would be a good idea to teach Meg how to play chess. It was a game dependent on rules and Meg ignored any rule she could. 

"Hey Meg, how have you been with your siblings?" 

"Eh." Meg waved a hand, a gesture she probably learned from me, "Haven't really been with them much." She kicked the table. "They've been...kinda annoying."

I nodded, sensing there was more to it than she stated. For some reason, I felt like I understood. Relationships were…complicated.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I sighed, thinking of my godly siblings on Olympus, whom I was currently avoiding. And it wasn't because I'd accidentally plugged their toilet after trying an exotic food. “I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.” 

“Not now. I’m gonna beat you at this game.” 

I whined. “That’s not fair. You are not playing by the rules!” 

That's when Hermes appeared on top of us in a shower of mail. All three of us screamed. 

Looking back, if Meg hadn't wanted the god of cheaters to show up, maybe she shouldn't have cheated. 

Hermes was wearing a sports jersey and ripped jeans, he stood across from us, with the coffee table as a shield. We were surrounded by a sea of white envelopes. 

"Hey." Hermes said awkwardly, "sorry. My mail bag exploded." He slowly reached across to stuff a couple stray letters back into his bag, eyeing Meg like she was going to bite him. Which… I wouldn’t actually put past her.

"Hey…" I said equally awkwardly. I remembered how I had run away from him on Olympus last week and died inside. 

We stared appreciatively at each other after that intelligent exchange.

I didn't need to turn to know Meg was glowering at Hermes. I wondered what Hermes had done to get on her bad side so quickly. Or maybe Meg just really valued our chess game? 

"Let me just—," 

Hermes snapped his fingers, and the letters swirled into the air and back into his bag. "Much better." 

"Hermes…," I started. 

The wings on his head drooped. I tried not to find it cute. I was still mad at him.

"It wasn't a prank this time, I swear! I messed up the teleportation because this place was so hard to find." 

"That's the point." Meg growled.

"I'll make it quick." Hermes promised us, "Apollo, Zeus wants you to help kill that big fox Artemis has been hunting." 

"Ah. That's…" I thought about my unstable powers and the golden cracks across my body. I then thought about the Teumessian fox and how it was not meant to be caught. My sister had been after it for at least a year with little success. My eye twitched.

"You got a week starting today." He pushed onward, ignoring my look of dismay. 

"What? Why do I have a deadline!?" I protested. "I'm not mortal anymore. He can't send me on a quest!" 

"He got impatient." Hermes laughed nervously. 

"Ugh." I mentally calculated how long it would take for Zeus to go from impatience to 'I will burn Olympus if this doesn't get done right now'  

My calculations were not hopeful. 

I turned to Meg apologetically. "I guess we will have to continue our game some other time."

Meg frowned but reluctantly nodded. Then she pointed at Hermes in a 'I will get you later' kind of way. 

I dragged my feet as I packed my meager belongings. As a god, I didn’t need much, I could magically make anything appear if I wanted to. But right now, I couldn’t even split my form, or teleport properly. Asclepius had just told me to wait it out, but how long was I just supposed to wait? 

When I expressed my concerns, Jo told me to 'just grab supplies from the Waystation. Please'. Perhaps, she didn’t like how my failed attempts to “grab stuff from olympus” led to things dropping randomly from the sky. She didn't want to leave me alone after that. Only through sheer luck did I narrowly avoid getting another tracking device put on my leg. 

I lugged my bag towards the door, where Hermes waited in the sun chariot. It was in the form of a handsome sports car. But that's not important. 

“Wait.” Meg pulled me aside. She pushed the stuffed unicorn into my arms. “Bring this for good luck.” 

“Be careful.” She ordered. 

I hugged her and the unicorn, and tried not to get teary again. “Of course Meg. I'll always come back.” 

The sun-car-chariot-bus chugged along the road, leaving a trail of dust in the evening light. The fox had been in Athens recently, but there was no trace of it now.

Apollo sat stiffly into the front seat, acting like he had been arrested by the police. He wouldn’t look at Hermes, instead choosing to focus his attention on an ugly plushie. 

Hermes fiddled with the steering wheel. “So, ah, you finished saying goodbyes?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s funny. Being back in Athens after all these centuries. But I’m glad the Acropolis is still there.”

“It’s Athena’s pride and joy. She won’t let anything happen to it.” 

The conversation stalled. 

Hermes snuck a peek at his half-brother. Apollo looked sickly pale and his eyes kept slipping shut when he thought Hermes was occupied. The guilt churned in his stomach. He originally had intended to drop Apollo off somewhat close to where the fox had last been seen, but with his brother in this state, the fox might actually be a threat.  

‘Sending a simple message should be well within your domain. He has a week starting today. Dismissed.’

He had turned Zeus’ words over and over in his head, trying to find a loophole. Hermes sighed. Technically, it hadn’t been specified that Apollo was to defeat it alone. 

But it was heavily implied. 

Hermes didn’t know what would happen to both of them if he got in the way of Zeus’ plans. Logically, he should leave. Apollo had been able to pull off miracles even as a mortal, a fox shouldn’t be hard. Plus, Apollo was the favourite child, even if he failed this mission, the fallout would hardly be comparable to Zeus' wrath should Hermes disobey him instead. He should leave. Before Zeus noticed and made things worse. 

Hermes slowed the car.

“Apollo…”

His brother was looking at the passing Greek countryside with a nostalgic smile. For a second, Hermes remembered laughing as they sped across similar hills in a golden chariot, some three thousand years ago. 

Hermes choked on his words. "W-we probably passed the fox." 

“That's fine…," Apollo replied. His brother's golden eyes searched his face, looking like he wanted to say something else. "Hermes–"

Hermes held his breath. 

He's going to ask if I'm supposed to be here. Oh no. Crap. 

Apollo paused. "Nevermind. It's nothing."

Hermes cursed how good his brother was at reading him.

"It's easier to get ahead of the prey and set traps anyway–" Apollo returned to blabbering about the hunt.

Hermes slumped in his seat. Why did he feel both relieved and disappointed? Was he hoping that Apollo would call him out and tell him to leave? Or tell him to stay? 

Either way, he had hoped Apollo would take the decision off him. 

Maybe he really was a coward, just like Meg had said. 

Mission of the week

To become a fox chew toy

Why lord Father Why

We set up camp by a small stream in the grassy hills. Based on the path the fox had been taking, it had seemed to be travelling inland. The best plan currently seemed to be going ahead and laying a trap. If only I knew what kind of trap actually catches something that's not meant to be caught. Ugh. 

Yes, my divine knowledge was fully restored—but let me tell you, it was a lot . Imagine forgetting the password to your most critical email account, and feeling like an absolute fool. Then one day, you finally crack the code, and 7,488,363 unread messages smack you in the face. 

Needless to say, my processing speed took a catastrophic nosedive. After an eternity of internal screaming and crying, I finally managed to fish out what I needed. 

Back in the ancient days, Artemis’ dog, Laelaps, fated to catch anything it pursued, was set upon the Teumessian fox, which was destined never to be caught. Classic divine conundrum. Zeus, in his infinite wisdom, resolved the paradox by turning them both to stone. 

I only knew of this because Artemis had complained to me for centuries afterward about losing her prized hunting dog. To this day, she still 'borrows' my feather duster (read: steals) to clean that statue. Naturally, none of that love and care was put on the fox, and it got lost when the pantheon moved to America. Honestly, quite a lot of treasure was lost that way, but we gods had so much stuff it's hard to keep track. 

I was unsure how the fox had been released, but asking Zeus to turn it to stone again was out of the question. I doubted he'd lift a single finger to help, unless the fox started gnawing on his silk pillows. 

Was Medusa's head still tucked away in Sally Jackson's closet? Would it be cheating if I wielded it? 

I shook my head. Knowing Artemis, she’d have already thought of it—if it could work, she would’ve used it.

Logically, she was the best person to ask about the fox. But spilling the beans would make her conclude that I was in danger because she failed. 

The truth was – if she had succeeded, Zeus would have found something else to ruin my week. Alas, my sister would likely chalk that explanation up as some excuse I came up with to spare her feelings. 

It wasn't like I was purposefully hiding the quest from her! I'll take care of the fox and sneak back to the Waystation before she finds out. Simple.

I patted myself on the back for coming up with this fool-proof plan and went to bed. 

Yeah right. 

I doubted the fox would sit in a circle with me and sing kumbaya. More realistically, it would see me as a delicious chicken leg.

I was angry. I was upset. And I was tired of things trying to eat me. 

Grimacing, I watched a golden scar materialize along my arm. Okay. Nope. Not here. Deep breaths Apollo. Do not think about poisoned teeth sinking into your skin. Breathe. 

After a while, the golden tooth marks disappeared. I flexed my arm, silently thanking the gods that Hermes hadn’t noticed my near breakdown. He was bent over some bushes, flailing his arms to scare a cricket. 

With Hermes hanging around, I couldn't even sulk in peace. Honestly, why was he still here? Had Father sent him to annoy me, or did he have his own orders? 

Sighing, I laid down in the grass. The inky black sky spread from horizon to horizon. Somewhere, Zeus was watching. 

It felt suffocating.