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Ancient Greece was the worst. From its lack of modern medical supplies to its unusual pantheon, this was a place that, if given the chance, Will would not return to, especially when its stupid ancient diseases absolutely wreck their already weak bodies.
Will could have laughed at the injustice that he, a child of Apollo, was being troubled by a sickness, but he was busy watching Nico shiver on the ground.
Nico. He got worse while they slept. He looked so small, curled into himself, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Their bodies were already weak from being turned into children, add shadow traveling and ancient diseases to the mix, and you got a nasty sickness.
Will wiped tears from his eyes as he cradled Nico's head in his lap. “It's gonna be ok, it’s gonna be, you're gonna be ok-” Will broke off with a ragged sob.
He was so tired. Every night, he traveled across monster-ridden lands while carrying Nico, and during the day, he’d hide them both away in a cave to sleep. It felt like he hadn’t seen the sun in ages.
“Please.” Will whispered, “Please be ok. I can’t- I can't heal you. I’ve tried, but I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Y-you have to pull through. Please, I need you.”
It was like he was dying right with Nico. Distly, he remembered all the other times he couldn’t save someone and wondered how this could hurt so much worse.
“Dad, please,” Will prayed, letting go of his fear. Nothing could be worse than losing Nico, a different version of his dad or not. “I’ll do anything if you save him. Just don’t let him die. Not now, not like this.”
A large part of Will expected to be ignored. He almost counted on the gods to pay no mind to his desperate rambling. He was certain it wouldn’t be a first for them. So surprises and a good amount of fear were the main emotions he felt when the air shifted, and light blinded him.
Apollo was pretty sure that Dionysus was playing some kind of cruel trick on him. Why his brother would make him hear the voices of children that shouldn’t exist was beyond him. It wasn’t like Dio to joke about their cures, but there was no other explanation for the prayer he heard. Apollo blamed his newfound madness for why he went to investigate the voice instead of saving himself the heartache.
He appeared in a cave. It was like a void with how dark and cold it was. There was a distant plop, plop, plop, of water dripping somewhere further in. If it wasn’t for a tiny gasp, Apollo would have assumed he was alone. Looking down at the noise, his eyes zeroed in on two small bodies.
“No,” He whispered, his body tensed, his wings readied themselves to take off. Everything in him screamed at him to run. Because they couldn’t be real. They had to be figments of his imagination. He was going to reach for them, and they were going to dispense into smoke.
On the ground in front of him were two boys. They both looked like they couldn’t be more than seven or eight summers old. One boy with dark hair and a pale complexion was lying on the ground, his head in the other boy's lap. Apollo didn’t even need to look at him to know he was sick; he could smell it bubbling under the boy's skin, like rotten fruit.
And the other boy, the one cradling the sick one, caused everything in Apollo's body to scream in delight and anguish. He had bright, messy blond hair and glassy blue eyes. His tan skin and freckles suggested that he spent a fair amount of time in the sun. But the power glowing inside of him was what caught the gods' attention the most. It felt familiar, like the way the rays of the sun felt familiar, warm, and safe.
Apollos's mind was a whirlwind of questions bouncing around his brain, each one desperate to be addressed. How did he have a son, or better yet, how did he not know he had a son? Most importantly, why did his child look so scared?
His son looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. When Apollo reached out to comfort him, he scooted back with a flinch, pulling the other boy closer to him. “I can’t heal him.” He said. Voice barely above a whisper. “Please help him, I’ll do anything you want, any quest, I don’t care, just help him.”
This wasn’t right. None of this was right. The two boys in front of him were gifts that Apollo and the rest of his family were led to believe they never could have. They were more precious than any treasure in any land, and they were alone and scared, and his son was begging him for help like a mortal. It was all horribly wrong.
Apollo crashed to his knees before his son, ignoring the poor boy's full body flinch, the god brought his hands up to cradle his son's face. “My child, you are the best thing to ever happen to me. Whoever gave you the idea that you need to beg me for anything is a traitor to the gods, and I swear on the river styx that they will regret putting that idea in your head. I will give you anything, all you need to do is ask.”
His child's face scrunched up in confusion. “But…I thought…what?”
Apollo sighed. “Nevermind that, we will discuss it later. For now I must get you both back to Olympus. Here give me…” Apollo paused, brow frowning. “What is his name?” His eyes widened. “What is your name?”
His son eyed him weary. The boy clearly knew the power names held. “I’m Will and this is Nico.” He gestured to himself then to who Apollo now knew was Nico.
Despite everything Apollo felt himself smile. Will. What an odd but lovely name. It fit Will perfectly. “Well then Will, may I?” He watched Will carefully as he reached for Nico.
Apollo considered it a success when Will let him pick up Nico. Said boy barely reacted as he was passed to the god. He only muttered a bit before going back to sleep. Worrying but nothing Apollo couldn’t handle. Resting Nico on his hip with one arm, Apollo picked Will up with his other. He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at the boy's shocked squeak. Both boys were truly adorable. He couldn’t wait to surprise the family. But before that he’d need to tell Artemis.