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Zeus calling a Council Meeting on a random Thursday in April was never a good thing. Zeus called a Council Meeting on a random Thursday in April when Apollo had snuck out to watch one of his son’s, Jerry’s, school production of The Addams Family (where he played Lucas) across the pond? Well, that was a recipe for disaster.
His father wasn't even gracious enough to let him finish watching. Jerry had been on stage singing Crazier than You , when a soft letter fell onto his lap. He glanced down and suppressed a groan, before opening the letter as quietly as he could.
Meeting. Olympus. Now.
Apollo snapped his finger, sending a hand-written note on top of Jerry’s bag apologizing for his hasty departure. He quietly made his way to a spot away from the mortal’s eyes before he magicked himself to Olympus.
He was the last to arrive; probably because, however speedy Hermes’ messaging service was, it still took a moment to reach a different continent. He tried to catch the eye of his twin sister to ask what was happening, but Artemis blatantly ignored him. Instead, she picked at the dirt under her nails with the end of a silver throwing knife, its blade shimmering in the afternoon sunlight.
The rest of the Olympians were no help as well; on his left, his stepmother had her eyes glued to her husband, her fingers delicately folded into the colorful fabric of her dress like she wasn’t fuming about something. His Uncle Poseidon and Aunt Demeter were conversing about something—probably crop destruction caused by earthquakes and monsoons if Apollo had to guess—and the two war gods, Ares and Athena, were engaged in a rather serious battle of Rock, Paper, Scissors.
To his right, Dionysus was reveling in his short-lived freedom from his campers. His legs were propped over the armrest, and he idly kicked them as he drank what Apollo assumed to be Diet Coke from a wine glass. Hermes attempted to make conversation with a less-than-enthused Hephaestus, the latter’s attention never once wavering from the model aircraft carrier he was building. Aphrodite was applying a layer of something on her face, a floating mirror covering her from Apollo’s view.
“Finally, we’ve all arrived.” Zeus clapped his hands once, a strike of thunder cackling behind him. “Let this meeting commence.”
“Make it quick,” groaned Poseidon. “I have things to do. People to see.”
“Not more important than a council meeting,” Zeus stated.
“If you say so.”
Zeus cleared his throat in an attempt to bring the attention back on himself. “Olympians, I have received word that some of you have been regularly in contact with your demigod children, which is a direct contradiction to our law.”
Apollo tried to swallow down his fear in a subtle way; not to alert anyone in the room that he had, in fact, been one of those perpetrators. He had already been punished recently, he did not need a pulsing red target on his back.
“The same way that you having children was a direct contradiction to our law?” Hera asked, her voice a mock politeness.
Zeus ignored his wife, glancing at the other Olympians. “Besides Dionysus, I should not be hearing about you all being in—what do the mortal’s call it?—kahoots, I believe, with demigods.”
“Oh, joy,” Dionysus grumbled.
Apollo tried not to look too jealous as he glanced in his younger brother’s direction, but he assumed he was unsuccessful as Dionysus raised an eyebrow at him in confusion.
“Father,” Artemis began. Apollo’s twin had discarded her knife and sat up straighter as she spoke. “I have no children.”
“Then you should know that I am not speaking of you, Artemis.”
“May I, then, be excused?”
Zeus gestured in the air. “Fine, I guess.”
Artemis hadn’t needed to be told twice. Zeus hadn’t even finished his sentence before she magicked herself from the throne room.
“Would you like to leave as well, Dionysus?”
Dionysus looked at his glass in his hand. “I am alright, Father.” He took a large swig of his glass as if to emphasize his point.
“Back to my point.” Zeus clapped his hands again, causing more thunder to grumble. “Rules have been set in place to insure the safety of both ourselves, and that of our children. And I do not appreciate them being disregarded.”
All my children got was a bucketful of trauma with daddy issues sprinkled in , Apollo’s brain supplied. The same things you gave to me.
“What was that, Apollo?”
Apollo’s eyes widened, looking up. He hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. “What, Father?”
“You were mumbling incoherent words underneath your breath,” Athena said.
“Oh.” The only people not staring at him were Dionysus and Hephaestus, so he kept his eyes planted on the latter. “I was thinking, tis all.”
“About what?”
Apollo took a shaky breath. “Nothing, Father.”
“I see,” Zeus said, “You weren’t, per say, thinking about where you had been prior to being called to this meeting.”
Hermes mumbled, “Ooh, ‘Pollo’s in trouble.”
Apollo glared at him.
“It has been less than a year since your godhood has been restored, yes?”
Apollo nodded, not trusting his voice not to blab out some incriminating sentiment.
“And yet you still find yourself the center of trouble.” Zeus drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne. “Why is that?”
“Because it’s stupid,” Apollo blurted out before he could stop himself.
“What was that?”
Well, it was too late to stop now. Apollo stood up, keeping his godly height as he stepped forward toward his father. “I said because it’s stupid, Father.” He took a deep breath before continuing.
“The Second Titan War literally happened because our children felt underappreciated. And just because you had no children in the war, didn’t mean we all didn’t.”
“Sit down, Apollo,” Zeus growled. “And I did have children in the war.”
“Thalia?” Apollo could feel his skin beginning to glow. “Who died at twelve, and instead of helping, you turned into a tree?”
“I cannot interfere with death!” screamed Zeus.
“No, you can’t.” Apollo agreed. “But, instead of heeding her dying wish, you ignored it in favor of what you thought was right. What about Jason?”
“Jason is Jupiter’s son, not mine!”
“You are Jupiter, Father,” Apollo snapped. “Jason, who, just like his sister, died to protect his friends—to protect me— and you did no action to save him. Why? Because you gave him to Hera as a baby? Because you spent years forgetting he was your son?”
A spark of lightning cackling from Zeus’ clenched fists. “Sit down, I say! Did you learn nothing from your little stint as a mortal?”
Apollo’s knees were attempting to buckle underneath him, but he stayed tall. “I did, Father. But, it wasn’t the message you wanted me to learn.
“My little brother taught me to remember; remember what it was like to be mortal, what it felt like to feel love and affection and pain and suffering. Jason gave his life so that I could continue to live. Not only for myself, but for my children whom I have neglected their entire lives. I had seventeen children die during the course of the two wars, Father. Seventeen . And six of them I never had the chance to meet.” Apollo felt a tear sliver down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He wanted his father to see his anguish.
“So, yes, Father, it’s stupid. It’s stupid that you won’t let me get to know my children. It’s stupid to not have been there for Lee, Michael, Robin, Casey, Ricky, Wynter, Hope, Jane, Sammy, Maude, or Mary Kate. It’s stupid that I never got to know Rosemarie, Henry, Colette, Katrina, Paige, or Isabel. But if I can be there for all my living children, I’ll be there. If Will wants me to help him study for his biology test, if Kayla wants me to keep track of her score as she practices archery, if Austin wants me to duet his favorite song with him, if Jerry wants me to watch him perform in his secondary school’s production, if Yan wants me to read over the newest song they wrote, or if Gracie wants me to help her pick out an outfit for a special occasion, then I’ll do it, Father. And you can’t stop me.”
Tears were readily flowing down his face as Apollo pivoted and plopped himself back in his throne. Two seats over, Hermes awkwardly shifted in his spot. “Apollo’s right, you know, Father.”
Zeus, still shell-shocked over Apollo’s monologue, snapped his head towards his other son’s throne.
“The war happened because I abandoned my son. Luke resented me because I left him alone.”
“It was for the better,” Zeus screamed.
“Luke is dead now, how is that better?” Hermes shrieked. “He’s dead because I couldn’t save him. Dead because I let him feel so unloved that he turned to Grandfather, a Titan known for his inability to love, for that validation.”
“Your son chose his side—”
“—Because he was given no other choice!” Hermes intercepted. “It’s a miracle, honestly, that more of our children didn’t deflect because we gave them nothing and expected the world in return.”
“They are our children , Hermes! They should be willing to give the world to us.” Zeus had lightning bolts cackling in his hair. “Just as you should as my son.”
“How can Chris call himself my son when I did not claim him until he was at camp for years? How can all the children who have stayed under my protection because no one bothered to claim them support their parents? We needed a boy to tell us to claim our children, how pathetic is that?”
Zeus tore his gaze from Hermes, looking around the room with rage pulsing through his veins. Apollo, instead of hiding like he had tried to do before, stood tall.
“As much as I hate Barnacle Brain’s spawn.” Athena’s voice was quiet, yet it echoed through the throne room that had been constructed by her daughter. “Especially since he’s with my daughter, he did do one good thing. And that is that he made us realize how messed up our treatment of demigods has been.”
“He’s made sure my Silena’s name will be forever remembered,” Aphrodite added.
“And Charles’ as well,” Hephaestus looked up from his invention, a fond look on his face as he recounted his son.
“All my son has asked for is that we love our children.” Poseidon tapped his fingertips on the prongs of his trident. “It doesn’t seem too hard to acknowledge that.”
“My daughter, Margaret, prefers Apollo to me,” Demeter said.
Apollo grumbled, “Meg. Her name’s Meg,” under his breath, but loud enough that Demeter could hear. His aunt sent him a glare, which he squashed by continuing to speak. “And so many other demigods were manipulated by Nero because they had no one else. Is it asking too much to go and talk to them?”
“Where were you before this meeting, Apollo?” Zeus snapped back. “Because being at a school production of The Addams Family is more than talking to them.”
“I was supporting my son. Which you don’t know how to do.”
A crackle of thunder echoed through the throne room. “You dare speak to me like that? All of you?”
Ares cracked his knuckles. “My children often enjoy it when I let the strongest of them drive my chariot.”
“Would make my job easier if you weren’t all absentee,” Dionysus mused, lifting up his cup almost in mock toast. “As much as I hate those brats, I am the god of mental health and most of them have trauma stemming from abandonment issues.”
Zeus turned towards his wife who, much to Apollo’s shock, had stayed quiet for the most part, playing with the tulle of her dress. “Hera, tell them the importance of following this law.”
Hera shrugged. “I have no illegitimate children, darling.”
Zeus huffed. “Still—”
“Come on, Zeus,” Poseidon interrupted, leaning forward, his trident holding his weight. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t knock up at a small village the day my boy dissolved our pact.”
“I did not! Stop projecting!”
Hera raised an eyebrow, making Zeus squirm in his spot.
“As long as you don’t mollycoddle,” Zeus mumbled under his breath. “I guess a few visits can’t hurt. But if I find this right is being abused, I will revoke it.”
Apollo jumped up in his spot. “Thank you, Father!” Apollo noticed the other gods cheering in their spots.
“Meeting adjourned.”
The next day, Apollo found himself back in London, a flimsy ticket and Playbill in his hand as he sat near the back a few minutes before the show was set to begin.
“What’s this show about?”
Apollo turned, and to his shock, his twin sister was to his left, reading Bios in the Playbill.
“Arty?”
“I’m proud of you, ‘Pollo.” Artemis glanced up. “Standing up to Father is not an easy task.”
“You weren’t there,” Apollo pointed out.
His sister sent a wink. “The show's about to start. Let’s give your son all our attention.”
This time Apollo didn’t have to leave in the center of Crazier than You .