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“Well, well, well… how nice to see you, Percy Jackson.”
Percy bit his lip to keep himself from sighing. Loudly.
He didn’t want to do this at all, and the last thing he needed was for Apollo to start speaking like a Disney villain.
It was all Annabeth’s fault, anyways. No. Maybe Grover’s.
Actually, the blame laid with the unrealistic, far too demanding prerequisites the College of New Rome asked of his students.
Yeah, he settled, that was it.
He really didn’t understand why Grover had suggested this and why Annabeth had so readily agreed: the quest for Ganymede’s cup had been easy enough.
The one on account of Kymopoleia had been more of a pain in the ass (seriously, couldn’t that woman calm down?) but still, he’d rather save one more thousand baby sea monsters than ask Apollo for a favour.
And yet, here he was.
Percy raised his hands in a conciliating gesture.
“Listen, man…”
Apollo grinned. “I’m all ears.”
This is for Annabeth, Percy reminded himself. Annabeth is tired of quests and begged me to do this, and the only feasible alternative is Dionysus, which would be even worse. I’m here for the future mother of my children.
“I need a favour.”
Apollo started inspecting his nails. “Mh-mh.”
Did he have to make it so hard? He thought Apollo had changed. By all accounts, he had.
He’d started caring about demigods’ plights, after his quest, so Percy had heard.
He’d even stolen a room in the Big House and had begun calling it his office, and no one had ever cared enough to contradict him (except Dionysus, but really, was there anything that man wouldn’t complain about, given the chance?).
He’d put a nice desk in the centre of it, and a box of candies on the table, and as far as Percy knew, demigods went there to ask for help. It was a nice place, too.
Rumour had it that Apollo had already written at least ten recommendation letters, so why would his be any different?
Percy breathed deeply and bid goodbye to his pride.
“I need a recommendation letter for college. We. We need one. Annabeth and me,” he specified. “Please.”
Apollo placed a hand on his chest. “They grow up so fast.”
“Yeah, right. So?”
Percy vaguely felt that he was being rude, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. Asking a god for a favour was the worst possible idea ever, and he really hoped that leaving Camp Halfblood behind and going to college would spare him any more godly interventions in his life, but alas.
“I don’t know, Percy. Why should I?”
Frustration bubbled in Percy’s stomach.
Seriously, weren’t three letters an overkill? New Rome couldn’t trust one Olympian? Couldn’t trust two?
And obviously, your godly parent didn’t count. Nor did saving the world, he thought bitterly.
“You owe me.”
He immediately realized that had been the wrong thing to say.
Apollo arched a perfect eyebrow. “I owe you?”
“Apollo, man… come on. I thought we were friends.”
That was kind of true. After the Lester shenanigan, they’d hung out a couple of times. And if you listened to demigods in Camp Halfblood (or Frank Zhang), Apollo was the best thing to ever happen in the world since the invention of french fries.
“I thought so too, Percy,” Apollo made a dramatic pause. “Then I read my chapter in your book.”
He frowned in confusion. “My book?”
“The one you were oh, so handsomely paid to write. About the Greek Gods.”
Percy blinked. He was 90% sure he’d asked the publisher to remain anonymous.
“You are not being serious.”
Apollo crossed his arms. “My chapter sucks!”
“No, it doesn’t. Why would you say that?”
It was a pretty tame chapter, as far as he could remember.
“It does! Starting with the title. Apollo sings and dances and shoots people. Passive aggressive much? I’m not even the god of dance!”
Percy vaguely wanted to remind him that he did, in fact, sing and dance and shoot people with his arrows a lot, but he had an inkling that wouldn’t be a wise move.
“You know, I went a lot harder on other gods.”
Apollo almost looked genuinely hurt, which was ridiculous. “Did you, now?”
Did he? He’d almost forgotten writing that stupid book. Gods.
“You called me a murdering sociopath with a lyre,” Apollo whined.
Oopsie daisy.
“I took it all back! Remember? That day at Camp Jupiter, I said you were the best,” he tried, hopeful. If he found whoever had given Apollo the book, he would sucker punch them to Tartarus.
“After I had done something for you. Is that all I am, Percy? Someone you can treat well when you need a favour and then discard?” Apollo asked, with the tone Tristan McLean would use to ask the lead actress if she loved him, at least a bit.
It was a pretty ironic question, coming from a god.
Fine, Percy thought, extreme situations ask for extreme measures.
He gave Apollo the best puppy eyes he could. “Please? I’m sorry about that. I really, really want to go to college.”
A beat of silence.
Apollo ran a hand through his hair.
“Alright, alright.” Percy’s heart roared in victory.
“But you’ll have to do something for me.”
“What?” he replied, incredulous. That was so unfair. “What about that time I retrieved your singer?”
“That was years ago, it doesn’t count.”
“I gave you a ride to Camp Halfblood when you were still Lester!”
Oh, how he missed Lester. Lester would have written him a letter in exchange for a cookie and a hug.
“That was for Meg, not for me.”
Percy got up, making as much noise as he could.
“You know what? I don’t even need you that much. We’re all settled, except for this last letter-“
“If you still need something then you’re not all settled, that’s the literal definition of the word.”
He groaned, defeated. “You haven’t changed for shit.”
Apollo shrugged, unfazed by his comment.
Annabeth. This is for Annabeth.
“Fine. What do you want?”
The god let himself fall back on his chair.
“You’ll have to-“
Percy braced himself. Please, let it not involve singing.
“realize I’m screwing with you.”
He opened his eyes. “Come again?”
Apollo pulled out two nicely enveloped letters from a drawer.
“I’ve had them ready for a month. Good luck with college, sweetheart.”
Percy stared at them for what was at least five minutes. “You’re mean,” he said, in the end. “I don’t like you anymore.”
“How dare you speak to me like that in my office?”
“This isn’t even your office, it’s a room you’ve unlawfully occupied and nobody can be bothered to do anything about it.”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “Because people love me, Jackson.”
And I kinda see why, he thought, but he would have started a street fight with a drunk Maenad before he told him.