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Apollo stumbles onto Delos, his eyes and chest moving rapidly. He’s just lost his beloved Hyakinthos, and it’s too much. He can’t think straight, all he sees is a blurr, and he’s hyperventilating. His dazed mind realises that he’s having a panic attack, and it’s the first in a very, very long time.
When he last had one, he’d been very small. A young god, huddled up next to Artemis, his sister trying her very best to calm him down. After trying many different methods over the early years of his life, his sister and mother had tried to find something that was more effective in bringing him back down to earth.
Ironically, they should’ve just looked to Apollo’s own domain, specifically music. One time, when the two goddesses were giving him some space and trying to soothe him, Leto, out of nowhere, started humming a song. A song that she’d last sung while the twins had been in her womb.
Somewhere in his subconscious, Apollo had felt a connection to that, and his breathing had started slowing down. From then on, they at least had a reliable method to help the sungod through the immense psychological pain he endured.
And now, the golden-haired god is frantically looking for an instrument, anything, to make music with, hoping his shaking hands would be able to produce a soothing melody. Finally, he finds his trusted lyre. But his shaking fingers can’t handle the delicate strings like they normally could, and the young god’s breathing speeds up a little more, the panic clouding his mind. He knows these kinds of attacks aren’t normal at his age, them being more frequent when he was younger, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that his mind is racing at unhealthy speeds, and he’s fighting the urge to curl up into a fetal position.
But then, like a small light breaking through the darkness, two graceful hands reach out and gently take the lyre from his own. A soft tune starts up, and through the clouds in his head Apollo sees Euterpe, his trusted muse of music, song, and lyric poetry.
This isn’t the first time she’s used her gifts to ease his mind, although then it had been under different circumstances. Nevertheless, he’s grateful for her help and quick thinking, and the storm in his mind begins to die down, the sun rising and shining a much needed light on his thoughts and mood.
He looks at her, gratitude evident in his eyes, and he can see the other muses slowly come up behind their sister, singing softly to the tune Euterpe plays for him.
He only realises that he’s been reaching out when Calliope hands him another lyre, and his fingers automatically strum over the strings. The sound chases away the last few clouds, and as he starts to softly sing along to his own tune, his mother’s old tune, the muses fall silent, in awe of his revered voice, as they always are.
It doesn’t matter that they’re deities, any creature would stop to listen to the god with the golden pipes, as they would have for Orpheus. No wonder people often believe them to be related.
He plays the last few notes, and finally looks up to his trusted muses again. He notices that all of Delos has fallen silent, and he manages a small smile at the familiar setting. He thanks the goddesses, and they reassure him that they’ll always be there when he needs them, as they’d sworn a long time ago. And he trusts that promise.
He stands up and looks to the sky, where the moon is now seemingly watching over the island. And Apollo is sure in that moment that his beloved sister is still watching over him, the soft silver glow reminding him of her piercing eyes, grounding him to reality.
And he smiles. He didn’t think he’d smile after what had happened after today. But he does, and he knows, deep down inside, that his beloved is now at peace. He smiles once more at the moon. It would take a lot to extinguish the sun god's inner light.