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Apollo waking up to his sister’s face hovering above him was a welcome surprise. In fact, it wouldn’t be amiss to say it was what he had been working toward for the past 6 months. Though in reality, it had felt much, much longer. Apollo had centuries that passed by faster than the past half year felt.
“Took you long enough,” an achingly familiar voice said to him. How could he ever have forgotten the sound?
He let out a broken sob, throwing himself at his twin. Artemis tried her best to comfort him, patting his back awkwardly. “Whoa, there. Okay, little fella. You’re all right now. You made it.”
With that, Apollo let out an even louder sob. Oh, how he had wished to hear those words while he was mortal.
As a mortal, his safety was never guaranteed; each and every minute, he had to fear for his life. When it wasn’t monsters trying really hard to end his life, it was the thought that any odd disease could wipe him out. When it wasn’t that, there was also the thought that simply choking on food could be his end. What a miserable conclusion to a life as long as his.
Artemis stood above him, gently squeezing his arm. “Are you okay? Do you want to try getting up?”
Apollo nodded, not trusting his voice. He pushed himself off the sofa, as he had done a million times. Only for his legs to feel like jelly as soon as he was upright.
He collapsed under his own weight.
Artemis yelped, lunging forward to catch him. “Maybe you haven’t fully recovered yet. You were asleep for two weeks,” she told him, holding him under his arms.
“Maybe…” Apollo said, looking down at his body. It was as he remembered his preferred form as a god, with a loose chiton draped on him. Nothing like how he looked as Lester.
Despite his appearance shift, he still felt very much that fragile mortal he had been just moments ago. Or perhaps two weeks ago, if Artemis was correct.
She shifted him so that he was sitting on the sofa again. “Are you dizzy at all? Do you need nectar?” She fretted above him.
“I’m fine,” Apollo insisted, “I just feel… weak.”
“Weak?” Artemis asked, “As I said, maybe you are still dealing with the after effects of the battle with Python, since it was enough to leave you unconscious for two weeks.”
Apollo frowned. Maybe she didn’t know. “Or it could have been due to my proximity to Chaos.”
“Chaos?” Artemis exclaimed, grabbing onto his arms and forcing him to make eye contact with her, “What proximity to Chaos?”
Apollo shivered; the hopelessness he felt in that moment came rushing back. The knowledge that no one was coming to save him. The thoughts of just letting go.
“During my fight with Python, we fell to Tartarus,” Apollo remembered the aching of his ribs, the cuts that littered his arms, the wind rushing past him as he fell impossibly far. He remembered the feeling of Python’s scales beneath his hands as he dragged the monster by the tail downward. He remembered the feeling of the River Styx, acidic, threatening not just to burn his skin but also his sense of self away. He remembered the horror of gazing into the sea that was Chaos, knowing that there was no return. His essence being ripped apart until there was nothing left that made him Apollo. He remembered the rock that he had desperately hung onto as he and Python dangled above Chaos. The feeling of his knee colliding with Python’s chin, the monster’s grip weakening until he slipped off into oblivion.
It was burned into Apollo’s mind. He would never forget it. “Our fight continued all the way to the brink of Chaos. He tried to push me off the edge, and ended up falling himself. I managed to pull myself back up,” he concluded for his twin, as horror and fear grew upon her face.
“But you’re here now,” she reassured him, “You’re okay.”
Apollo felt a wave of exhaustion take hold of him. Foregoing a verbal response, he nodded and allowed his eyes to slip closed once more.
“Hey,” Artemis shook him, “You cannot sleep now. The council requests your presence.”
Apollo’s eyes opened once more before looking up at his sister, “How can I stand before the council if I cannot stand on my own?”
Artemis looked at him as if he were crazy, “I’ll help you. Let’s go.”
She hauled him like he was some inconvenient bag of rice that she was bringing back to camp to feed her hunters and give them the nutrition that they needed. He supposed that he wasn’t too different from one at this point. He didn’t want to appear before the whole council slung over her shoulder, though. He knew from his scattered dreams that they had all been watching his trials. They already had enough blackmail on him; they really didn’t need any more.
“Artemis!” He complained, “Put me down before we get there, please!”
Artemis snickered, “You can’t even stand, you want me to believe that you can just walk into the throne room?”
“No,” Apollo acquiesced, “But I’d like to be on my feet at least when I face them.”
Soon enough, the two were standing before the entirely too large doors leading into the throne room. She set him on his feet, supporting him by his waist. With a grateful nod, they swung open the doors to the council.
As they strode in (Artemis strode in, Apollo hobbled along with her), Apollo had a brief moment of panic. What was he even supposed to say to them? He wasn’t one of them anymore. And right now, feeling as weak and as powerless as he did, that felt especially true.
The twins soon stood before the council. Apollo didn’t move to turn himself twenty feet tall to match the heights of the other gods in the room. He honestly didn’t know if he’d even be able to in this state. Artemis followed his lead, much to his relief.
“You have returned,” Zeus said, looking him over, taking in his surely miserable state, “Though you haven’t regained your strength yet.”
Thanks, Captain Obvious, Apollo thought, but did not dare vocalize. “I have returned, Father,” Apollo confirmed, “Though I am still recovering from my time as a mortal.”
With a quick glance around the room, he could see the various reactions of the other gods. Athena stared at him scrutinizingly, which wasn’t really all that unusual. Ares looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Hermes looked him over in concern.
Zeus spoke again, “Disappointing, but that is to be expected from you, Apollo.”
Apollo cringed under his withering stare. Even after all these trials, Zeus still wasn’t satisfied. There truly was nothing Apollo could do to make his father proud.
Apollo bowed his head, waiting for Zeus to continue. And continue he did.
“In any case, it appears your trials have been successful. There has been no sign of Python, and the Oracles have been freed.”
“Yes, Father. Python is gone, and the Oracles are free,” Apollo confirmed, “I hope that you approve.”
Zeus nodded, “I do.”
“Great,” Apollo said drily. The longer he stood here under the scrutinizing gaze of the other gods, the less and less he felt like he was one of them, and the more he felt like he was their latest moral plaything.
“Welcome back to godhood!” Zeus pronounced, “I hope that you recover quickly so that you are able to go back to your duties as usual.”
“Thank you, Father,” Apollo said. He hated the formalities. He wished that he could yell in his Father’s face and demand answers. Demand to know why everything Apollo did was wrong, why he could never make his father proud, why he was the one punished for the war with Gaea, when everyone was equally to blame.
He swallowed back the anger for now, reigning it in like the flames of the sun. “Council is dismissed,” Zeus stated.
Apollo turned to his sister, “I’d like to head out to the gardens now.”
Artemis frowned, “Are you sure? You don’t want to catch up with anyone?”
“I need air,” Apollo pleaded.
Artemis took in a deep breath and nodded, “Okay, I can take you to the gardens.”
Before Apollo knew it (maybe he was more tired than he thought, if he was starting to space out), the familiar sight of fauna and flora stretched before them. Apollo pointed at a bench, shielded away from the walkway, and away from the scrutinizing gaze of the other gods. Artemis led him there.
“Are you okay?” She asked him after depositing him in his seat.
Apollo thought about everything that had happened since he woke up. The weakness in his limbs that shouldn’t be there, the fogginess of his memory, the lack of power coursing through his veins, the old familiar anger of dealing with his Father who never cared for him and likely never will, and the feeling of being torn apart under the gaze of the rest of the Olympians, who were looking for any fault or crack.
Apollo felt a sharp stinging in his eyes as he finally let the tears spill.
“Oh, Apollo,” she gasped.
He sobbed, letting out all of the emotions that he had been feeling for the past who knows how long. “Why?” he demanded through sobs.
“Why?” Artemis asked him, trying to comfort him to the best of her ability, “Oh, Apollo, please, you need to breathe.”
“Why am I never good enough?” he sobbed.
A confession. One that he had never vocalized to his sister before. One that had been burning under his skin for as long as he had been alive. There was no turning back.
“Everything I do, everything I am, it’s never enough,” he gasped, “I’m still weak and powerless after everything I went through as a mortal, despite the quests being to give me my power back. And despite it all, Father is still not pleased.”
“Apollo,” Artemis pleaded. He had never heard this tone from her before: “You need to breathe and calm down.”
Apollo squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep breaths.
“That’s better,” the moon goddess said, “You are enough, Apollo. You always have been. You are talented in everything you do, and you have a way with people that I never had. It’s a testament to your character that you made so many mortal friends so quickly.”
Apollo sniffled, “You really think so? It’s not just pity, is it?”
“Never,” Artemis said, grabbing onto his hand, “I’m your sister, I’m the person least likely to pity you out of everyone. What else are siblings for?” She added with a smirk, “But seriously, you are enough, Apollo. Never doubt that.”
“Do you promise?” He said to her, hope fluttering in his chest. If Artemis believed in him, that meant something. Her opinion mattered to him more than anyone else’s.
“I promise,” she said. Apollo threw himself at her, squeezing her in a tight embrace. Apollo felt her arms snake their way around him, returning the embrace.
Maybe nothing was truly fixed. Maybe he’d never regain his strength and would continue to live in this limbo between mortality and immortality. Maybe he’d never be enough for his father.
But being enough for at least one person? That was enough for him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and let himself lean into the embrace.
This was enough.