Chapter Text
The sunlight that shone down on the valley was pure and bright, the wind blew through the sky and the green blades of grass, and Zephyrus stood in the field invisible, his face filled with horror as he looked upon the scene in front of him with dawning horror. The clouds drifted before the sun, casting the field into shadows, and Zephyrus was amazed to realize his rival’s own saddened emotions had changed the feeling of the prairie before he himself did, as it was only after the sun vanished from the scene that his winds did as well. The blood that soaked into the grass from the discus wound was still warm and it broke Zephyrus’s heart to see the man he had loved die, so he left as his wind had.
The blood soaked into the god Apollo’s tunic, staining the white fabric a deep almost black red. The tears fell unbidden from Apollo’s eyes as he held the man before him in his arms as Apollo tried desperately to heal the wound in Hyacinthus’s skull—to stop the bleeding, to save his beloved— but it was futile. Too much blood had been lost for the dirty blonde to survive, as his violet eyes had already dulled, but the man wore a feeble smile as he raised a trembling hand to cup Apollo’s cheek. It only made the god before him sob, the sound wrenched from his chest as the emotions overwhelmed him.
“It’ll be alright,” Hyacinthus’s usually strong voice had become weak and raspy as he spoke. “This is the best end for us. I died loving you, and I was given the blessing to have that love returned. I can only hope that…” his voice started to trail off, becoming softer, and somehow impossibly weaker, “...that you’ll remember me, even in a small simple way.”
“I promise,” the god managed, his throat constricting around a sob, he’d never felt so…human before this moment. “I promise that this won’t be the end of us, my Flower,” Apollo placed his hand over Hyacinthus’s own, keeping the last traces of the hand against his face, but the warmth didn’t last long and the hand went cold, the only warmth came from Apollo’s own hand and the tears streaming down his face.
Apollo sat there in the field, his mind running through so many different reasons that this couldn’t possibly be real. When he had finally accepted that Hyacinthus had died of the wound, Apollo stood cradling the body against himself as he carried the limp form. I promised your death wouldn’t be the end of us, my dear. And I don’t intend to break such a promise, Apollo thought, a new determination in his gaze, a new plan that had formed. He flew to his palace in the sky; the sins of the mortal world wouldn’t sully his beloved up here, and no pesky mortal or even god could reach the chambers alive. Apollo set Hyacinthus upon the bed, the sight of it began to look like his dearest had simply decided to fall asleep.
Apollo’s gaze softened at the thought, and he shifted Hyacinthus’s cold hands to cup a pocket full of coins before he pulled the covers to Hyacinthus’s chin and left the palace. He had to find Orpheus’s path to the Underworld, and Apollo could only hope that Hades would allow him to leave with his flower’s soul.
~
Apollo stood before the sealed passageway, lyre in hand. He was eternally grateful that Pandora had kept the spirit of hope from leaving, as he desperately needed to cling to his hope that this plan would work. He strung the strings on his golden lyre, the sound somber. The plants around him began to droop from the saddening sound as it echoed around Apollo before he began to sing of his heartbreak, of a foolish rivalry, and of untimely death.
Apollo didn’t notice the path in front of him opening until his lament had finished and fresh tears had appeared, streaming down his cheeks. He wiped the tears from his blue eyes before he began to trek through the underground, the only light coming from the soft glow that accompanied being god of the sun itself. After traveling through the tunnel for minutes, maybe hours, Apollo eventually reached a river bank, the water inside was dark and murky to the point where you couldn’t see anything beyond the surface.
In the distance, Apollo could see a moving silhouette along with a small spark of light accompanying it. As the mass moved closer to the bank he was standing on it became easier to recognize the shape of a wooden boat with a swaying lantern on the stem. When the boat docked, Apollo and the man in robes looked at the other.
“A god cannot die. You should not be here. Go back to the upperworld, young god,” the man ordered.
“I can not do that, Charon. I have the coin to pay for passage. I need to speak with Lord Hades.”
The man, Charon, tightened his fist around his ferryman’s pole before he acquiesced and held out his hand. Apollo deposited a leather skin coin pouch into Charon’s extended hand before stepping into the boat. Charon slipped the pouch into a fold in his robes before he joined Apollo on the boat and began to push them down the Acheron river. The boat was occasionally jostled by the bony hands of souls that reached towards the two gods aboard.
“Pay them no mind,” Charon advised, “and don’t despair for them or yourself. The dead eventually are honored and I take them across. The one you are searching for is not down there, however. You gave him coins, so he will be past Hades.”
Apollo nodded in understanding as the final moments of the boat ride passed in silence before they docked on another bank. Apollo stepped off the wooden vessel and his sandals crunched the gray withering grass beneath him. Apollo walked through the grass until it turned to stone beneath his feet. Apollo looked around as the open field in front of him shifted forms and became a large throne room where two twin basalt thrones sat before the god. It was then that he realized Hades had saved him the trouble and simply transported Apollo to the throne room.
“Lord Hades,” Apollo said, his voice lacking the cheeriness Hades had come to associate with him, “I have come to you with a request.”
“You wish to have Hyacinthus’s soul. I’m aware.”
“Is there any way you’d be willing to let me bring him back so that I may make him a god?” Apollo inquired, hopeful.
“You wish to make him a god?” Hades asked out of surprise before his gaze hardened and turned cold as he looked down at the god before him. “For what? So that you may have a beauty on your arm? Only to toss him away for the next bauble that catches your eye?”
“I am not my father,” Apollo said resolutely. “I won’t toss him away, I will love him, I won’t do anything to harm him.”
“And what if one day you wish to have a child?” Hades sneered.
“Then I will ask if he wishes to as well and we will find a mortal to ask. It will be clear that we are doing this for the two of us and that I in no way have romantic feelings for another.” Apollo answered confidently.
His answer caused Hades to pause. The air was stifling as he considered Apollo’s request for the mortal’s soul. “And what exactly will he be the god of?”
“My plan was to ask your wife and Demeter if they could give him domain over flowers if I succeeded in gaining his soul.”
“Flowers?” Hades questioned.
“Despite how he may appear, my love adored flowers, I believe it would be fitting.”
Hades nodded, his gaze had softened. “I will allow you his soul, however you must do the same as Orpheus had. You must walk back to the upperworld with his soul behind you, if you turn around he will go back to the fields.”
“And if I succeed?”
“When you exit the tunnel his soul will be in a bronze jar, that way my wife and mother-in-law will be able to bless him more easily, simply open the jar above his corpse when you are ready to bring him back,” Hades answered simply.
Apollo nodded in acceptance before he began to walk back to the upperworld. Despite the absence of footsteps behind him, Apollo’s belief and hope did not waver, he did not turn around. A light appeared before him as the tunnel had finally reached the upperworld, Apollo stepped into the field as the sun shone upon him. Turning, Apollo saw a small bronze jar that sat upright in the field, he carefully picked it up and cradled it in his hands before traveling to the meadow he often noticed Persephone and Demeter visiting.
~
The two goddesses sat upon a checkered blanket as they ate together, their heads turned as Apollo approached them.
“Apollo,” Demeter greeted, as she shifted the grass around them so that she was facing Apollo with Persephone behind her.
“I’m not here to take Persephone, Demeter, don’t worry,” Apollo said as he sat in front of Demeter on the grass.
“Then why are you here?” Demeter questioned, still untrusting of the god before her.
“I have come to ask for a favor. The both of you may have me repay it however you see fit.”
“What’s the favor?” Persephone asked, her eyes shining with interest.
“Hyacinthus died, and I traveled to Hades to get his soul back. However, I wish to make him a god so that he won’t suffer such a tragedy again. I was hoping the two of you would give him your domain over flowers,” Apollo answered, setting the bronze jar down in front of the two women.
Demeter’s green eyes narrowed, “You wish to make him a god? And what if you find a new lover?”
“There will be no other lover. The only one I will love as a partner is him. If we wish to have children the mother will never be dear to my heart. Not in the way he is,” Apollo said, his tone soft as he imagined the future he and his future husband could have.
Persephone’s black eyes softened as she extended her hand to touch the jar. It shone a mossy green for a moment before she removed her hand. “I hope the two of you find great happiness together.”
“As do I,” Demeter said as she placed her hand on the jar after her daughter, the jar shone a bright green before she removed her hand.
“Thank you, I will not forget this. If you ever need something from me I will do my utmost to accomplish it,” Apollo promised as he cradled the jar close to him before he bowed to the two goddesses and flew off to his palace.
~
Apollo sat at the side of the bed, waiting for any sign that opening the jar had worked. It had been several minutes since he had removed the bronze lid and he hadn’t seen any movement from Hyacinthus. Apollo leaned into the side of the bed, his arms crossed atop the sheets, cradling his head as he felt all his hope trickle away.
Apollo didn’t know when he had fallen asleep but when he opened his blue eyes, still hazy, he realized that his position had changed. His head was pillowed on warm thighs instead of his own arms and he could feel a hand carding through his blonde curls. The action almost comforted him back to sleep until Apollo realized that only one other person was currently in the palace with him.
“My Flower?” Apollo asked as he choked back a sob as he turned his head. Apollo’s gaze was met with soft, love filled eyes.
“Good morning, my Sun,” Hyacinthus said as his hand continued to card through the locks before him.
“You’re back,” Apollo was overcome with joy, he couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his face as he moved to hug Hyacinthus close to him.
“I’m back. I can’t believe you did so much for me, just to keep me with you,” Hyacinthus confessed bashfully, his eyes looked away from Apollo as he spoke.
“Of course I did, you’re my beloved…and I was hoping you would also consider,” Apollo paused, uncertainty entered his voice as he held Hyacinthus’s gaze. “That you would consider being my husband?”
Hyacinthus’s eyes widened in surprise and joy before they slipped shut as he kissed Apollo. “I’d be honored to be your husband, my Sun,” Hyacinthus answered when they separated.
Apollo smiled brilliantly before cupping the back of his head and pulling him into another kiss. Both of them knew they could never be separated, they would always be together one way or another. They had gotten lucky that they could live through countless millennia together.