Chapter Text
I watched my son gently clean the branching gold spreading beneath his skin.
He had yet to notice my presence, his attention fixed wholly upon the task of mending himself. Careful hands moved methodically across ruined skin while soft hisses of pain escaped him despite his obvious attempts at restraint. Quite difficult to witness.
It brought me little joy to see Apollon suffering so.
Yet discipline was necessary, particularly for a child of mine. Good-hearted though he was, Apollon possessed a dangerous boldness beneath all that softness. Such traits, left unchecked, had destroyed gods long before his birth.
Then came a small, broken sob.
The sound settled unpleasantly beneath my ribs.
“Apollon.”
He startled violently at my voice, scrambling to his feet so quickly the towel nearly slipped from his grasp. Tears streaked down ichor-bright cheeks as he attempted to silence the pathetic sounds escaping him. When I reached to wipe them away, he flinched.
Distressing.
Though he was injured, and therefore there were more pressing matters to concern myself with. “Apollon, my son,” I repeated more firmly. “Sit.”
My command appeared to shake him from whatever frightened stupor had overtaken him. He obeyed immediately, lowering himself onto the edge of the empty bathing tub with lowered eyes. His long golden hair hung in tangled waves over narrow shoulders, concealing streaks of similarly colored ichor beneath it. A pitiful sight for one so radiant.
He was still crying.
Quietly, certainly, Apollon had always attempted to weep as silently as possible, but I could hear the unsteady breaths he struggled to contain. I placed my hands upon his shoulders, ignoring the instinctive flinch that followed, and guided him carefully until his feet rested against the bottom of the dry tub, his back turned toward me.
After gathering his hair into a twist pressed against his scalp, merely to keep it from the wounds, I brushed the top of his spine, feeling the way he shivers under the tips of my fingers.
“My lord,” he whispered softly, voice breaking around the words. “It hurts.”
I exhaled slowly. The movement of my body stopping to listen into that melodic voice, even when filled with pain, sounding like the birds of spring. “Of course it does.” My hand spread carefully against Apollon’s back, thumb brushing the unmarked skin beside the sharp lines of gold. Even now, the power of the Master bolt flickered beneath his flesh, veins of molten brilliance webbing down his ribs. “The bolt is not supposed to be gentle.”
Apollon’s head lowered further. The few loose strands of golden hair clinging to his damp cheeks, obscuring the tearful bright blue of his eyes. Beautiful child, shockingly so, more so than even Eros. Aphrodite seemed to think so as well, with the piles of gifts she sent him, even that over protective mother could see the superior radiance of his own son’s light.
Leto had raised Apollon to be gentle, all pretty features and lowered lashes, combined with his sweetly careful words. I had thought it a relief, sons who looked too much like kings brought rebellion, but now, seeing Apollon covered in ichor and trembling, I felt little relief.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Apollon had his legs pulled tight to his chest, with his own dripping arms wrapped around them. The warm water reached the bottom of his ribs, a necessity for the severity of the punishment etched across his back.
He had been hesitant to allow me to clean him, murmuring about disrespect towards the king of the gods. It was disappointing, my son acted as though I never had time for him, perhaps Hephaestus had been tainting his thoughts.
“Father?” A pretty voice called, I replied with a soft hum, running my fingers through his silky smooth hair. “Are you still displeased with me?”
“No, my son. You have been disciplined, you know to not repeat the mistake, and now the matter is over.”
Seeing the tension in his shoulders ease so quickly was almost humorous, he was so rightfully wary of losing my trust. This would not happen, as long as he listened. A songbird wrapped in golden will always sing a sweeter melody than ones lost in the wild.
Although, there was reasons to worry. Apollon held far too much affection for Poseidon— for all of the family he met through me, actually. Persephone was too mischievous, Hades too cruel, Hera too uncaring, Poseidon too rebellious, Demeter too strict, and Artemis spent too much time with the mortals for Apollon to visit her. I let out a tut involuntarily, perhaps I would have to find him better company. The muses or Athena would do.
Once he was clean, I pulled the drain and gave him a dark blue robe, applying salve over his skin and wrapping bandages over his ribs. Exhaust filled his jewel-like, blue eyes, but he still moved back to the edge of the tub and began to braid his hair.
“Apollon.” My voice called, even I could tell I sounded exasperated. He looked up at me with a pair of bright topaz irises, confusion just barely giving his features emotions, the rest of him weighed down by tiredness. “Go to bed.”
When my son’s soft gaze met my own, I remembered he was still young, carefree and foolish. It was my own duty to make sure he knew what was correct, even if it meant disciplining him. “My son, you are tired, you can braid your hair tomorrow. It is time for you to rest.” The next moment of silence was filled only with his big wolf pup eyes blinking slowly.
“‘M not tired…”
I chuckled and lifted him into my arms, one under his knees and the other wrapped around his ribs.
Placing him into the nearest bedroom, made for important visitors like Eos or Selene, I watched as his muscles started to loosen, sleep beginning to pull at him.
He rested on his stomach, head turned to the side atop a pillow, breath evening while I sat beside him. Only then did I notice the faint flickers of the Bolt beneath his skin, he did not deserve to feel pain when he awoke, not for such a minor mistake. I summoned the salve and a roll of bandages, noticing the way he groaned childishly. “More?”
“Yes,” My voice comes out sardonically “do not move.” The pillow does a bad job of muffling his sleep deprived giggles, which only makes me chuckle too. He was far too adorable. “Apollon don’t tense up.” I scold lightly, tying the bandages as I finish.
Apollon peeks out at me, his eyes half lidded and still closing further. “Father..” That gentle voice calls, “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
Before I am able to reply, he falls asleep.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
I awake lying on my father, partially, but still on him. He supports me with his left arm under my back and ignores the fact I’m sprawled half across him, reading a scroll with his right hand.
When he notices I’m no longer in my slumber, he places the scroll down, tilting his head towards me. “..G’m’rning papa.” I don’t know how he made time to spend the night with me, but I do know that he cared for me when I was in pain.
I hated the Master Bolt. It was painful and when I was struck, it meant I was in trouble. Yesterday was the third time I’d been disciplined, it happened because I had made a mistake, but I still didn’t enjoy the faint electric feeling beneath my finger tips.
“You woke up earlier than I thought you would, the sun has only just risen.”
“I always wake up with the sun!” My voice chimes out automatically, both my mother and twin teased me over my waking time often. Even when I spent a night with Aunt Amphitrite under the ocean, I’d not been able to stay asleep past sunrise.
He made an amused sound, moving his hand to wrap around my shoulders and giving me space to sit up. Situating myself more comfortably, I look at the scroll on the bed. My father notices, chuckling “Just work.”
I reply with a nod, swinging my legs off the bed to stand up. Although my head still pounded, and my limbs still felt heavy, I needed to get up and prepare for the day.
The moment my feet touched the cold marble floor, pain flared sharply across my ribs. A small yelp escaped me before I could stop it.
“My son.”
Father had set the scroll down again, his attention fully on me now. There was no anger in his expression, only faint exasperation as he reached toward me. “You are still injured, why are you attempting to wander Olympus at dawn?”
My brain feels like mush, I try to focus onto his voice through the ringing in my head and the sharp shoots of pain in my chest “I can still attend my lessons and duties.”
“You can barely stand.” Heat rushes to my face, all too aware he is correct.
“I do not wish to appear lazy.” My father’s face shifts strangely at that, and for a moment, he simply sighed.
After rising from the bed, adjusting his robes and looking at me with pity, he gave me an order. “You will rest today instead.” his hand settled against the back of my neck, steadying me in a way I didn’t realize I needed “Come. The gardens will do you good.”
It only took a moment for me to agree, nodding and standing up.The pain was still there but I was being supported by my father’s arm, leaning into him helped to alleviate the ache.
Each step through the halls felt heavier than the last, my torso throbbed with agony to a level I could not quite ignore. Still, I kept pace.
The palace gave away to open air as we stepped into the gardens. Warm light spilled across the marble paths, softening the sharp edges of Olympus. Flowers seemed to tilt into a certain spot, as though trying to uproot themselves and migrate like birds. Briefly, the tension throughout me loosened.
My gaze flickered between the unnaturally vibrant and blooming flowers, usually Queen Hera preferred the gardens to be more muted and clean cut, but today they looked as if in the wild nature.
Father released his hand from me once we spotted the reason for the abnormal actions of the petals, aunt Demeter. The harvest goddess usually stayed in her own gardens, otherwise she would just spend the entire time tutting over imperfections and making Queen Hera anxious.
It was not difficult to figure out why she was acting oddly, because next to her was a goddess with vibrant red hair and a cascade of plants within said hair. She, Persephone that is, spun around cooing at the roses. The spring goddess wore a green gown, with matching green in her hair from different roots and ivy’s. Demeter pulled out all the more wild plants in her hair, scolding her and tossing them to the side, before apologizing to the plants silently.
‘Sephone noticed us before her mother, perking up even more, and waving. “Hello!” Her call made Demeter see us, leaving a bit of awkward silence.
It didn’t last long, Persephone dragged me towards the bench and began to speak about… whatever it was her head filled with. Although father and aunt Demeter were having a conversation, I couldn’t tune into their words over Persephone’s. She only paused when her forget-me-not blue eyes locked onto my hair, which, although golden and shiny, was a bit of a mess.
“Apollon, what did you do to your hair?”
“Oops… I fell asleep without braiding it.”
Apparently that was enough convincing for her. She sat behind me and ran her fingers through my hair, getting the tangles out and separating it into three parts.
It was finished quickly, a thick and fluffy braid flowing down my back. I thanked her and touched it gently.
“I’m not finished! I wanna put flowers in!”
When I give her a nod, permission, she threads in Hellebores and another flower I don’t recognize. ‘Himalayan blue poppies’ according to the flower goddess.
I’m not given enough time to thank her again, instead I am dragged once more by Persephone. She pulls me towards the elder Olympians, spinning me around to show off her work. “Ma look!”
Demeter seems to like it, giving a gentle smile and complimenting the fact that Persephone didn’t put any roots in my hair. Father’s large hands caress the side of my head, and I feel myself lean into the touch with my cheek before I can even think about it.
Usually my hair has jewels or gold braided in, gifted by father or someone alike, but he doesn’t seem to hate the flowers. I do not see my uncle until he speaks, catching everyone’s attention.
“Uncle Poseidon!”
He catches me in his arms and squeezes me tightly. Pain sends excruciating shoots up my legs to the top of my spine. Poseidon stops immediately, staring down at me and wiping away at my cheek. His hand comes back wet with tears, but surely not mine, gods didn’t cry.
I cannot decipher what he says to me, I do not know who picked me up or why everyone else seems… upset. The ravaging pain shook me to the core, I was barely able to see their mouths moving, much less decipher why they would be yelling at the person— father— holding me.
Agony muffled the world, and my thoughts, completely incapacitating me. Everything went black for a moment, perhaps longer, I was now on the bench with my papa. His strong arm held me up from touching the scratchy material and my legs rested over his lower thigh.
My gaze moves over to Persephone, my sobbing half-sister/cousin, the sight made my heart fall. Although she often bothered me at the worst times, she always meant well, and therefore seeing Demeter clutch her to her own hip, trying to help the crying goddess, was disheartening.
I reached out— to let her see I was fine— but my body betrayed me. The torment forced me into a slumber once more.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Often I leave my children with their mothers, giving them a chance to prove themselves before getting my acknowledgment. This always goes for the demigod children of mine, no matter how much I favor the mortal mother. There are exceptions. If they are both mine and Hera’s, or if they are an important immortal, such as my daughter Athena.
One example of this would be my son Apollon. He came into this world with a powerful sister, highly respected mother, and extreme strength of his own. Then, he went and slayed the monstrous Python, elevating his rank even further. Although the pesky earth goddess forced me to make him mortal, he was given a chance to get followers and figure out civilization first hand, which was even more helpful for himself.
He is, through and through, my son. A feeling of radiance followed him wherever he went, and he was seen as quite a perfect god by the lesser on Olympus, this was because they did not see him in the same way I did.
My son was gentle and naive. Apollon did not understand seem to understand that I was the Godking, mercy was rare and he was gifted with it often.
Athena did not have this… phase. She was born emotionless, although there was that one daughter of Triton who often brought out her worst sides. Apollon was more like a wolf pup, energetic, bright, and emotional. He was young, and therefore needed to be molded.
I would not allow him to be tainted by foolish ideas, no matter how tame Leto was, she was both a goddess and a Titaness. Even if she helped against Him, there was a possibility she would weaken Apollon. I could not let him be sculpted by a rebellious immortal. His spot was with me, to stop the weak from hurting him.
Because of this, I was extremely angered. Who did Poseidon and Demeter think they were, scolding me, acting like I was the one hurting Apollon, when it was them. The fact that it was my lightning bolt that struck him meant nothing, Poseidon’s influence put me in that position.
My hot-blooded brother was attempting to take my role as his father, attempting to mold my son into a puny version of the glorious, although innocent, god he was.
“—too young!” Demeter sneered, holding Persephone tight.
This was my limit, my temper bubbled over as I sat down onto the bench to let my sleeping son rest more. “Enough!”
Apollon stirred, making me glare at my now silent siblings, and reached out to Persephone, she watched him with wide eyes. That did not last, he fell back into his slumber. Poseidon looked down on me, as though he was better than I.
”Too young,” they said, like I wasn’t doing this for him. He was young enough that any influence would control the rest of his life, I needed to make sure he wasn’t molded into another useless god. That was my job, as his father, and they were being akin to mortals. Weak, lenient, softhearted mortals.
Silence overtook the gardens after my command, even the birds stopped their chirping. Yet again an example of the power I hold, but not enough for them to leave us be.
“He is my son. I do not need to explain myself to your ilk.”
“Nonetheless—“
“No.”
The stillness barely holds as they continue their senseless blathering. Once more awakening Apollon, which upsets me even further.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
I hear anger before I see anything. This wakes me up sharply, much more so than my usual laid back mornings. The animosity is in… father’s voice. My father is the one upset, he seems to have silenced my aunt and uncle.
“Mngh?”
Rawness in my throat forces a disagreeable sound out of me, but the sound does not seem to be what unsettles the other gods.
“Careful.” Rumbles my father’s speech, his large hand rubbing the side of my arm opposite him. He stands, pulling me with him. I feel again.
No longer just echoes, I feel thundering, booming, striking pain. It shoots through me, merciless. This does not show. I am a god, and therefore do not suffer from things as slow as this. No matter how torturous, I stomach it and straighten myself.
Three pairs of eyes focus onto me. “Apollon!” Cries Spring, green eyes laced with blue rivers matching the thin rivers of tears rolling down her face.
I give her a few words of encouragement, letting her know that I am fine, although the anguish is barely hidden in my voice. My uncle and aunt are not so easily fooled, they look down on me with pity. Pity. As if I am not a god. The stares bring an unpleasant feeling.
A boy with curly autumn wood hair, lightning blue eyes, and red blemishes on his pale skin.
Something flashes in my vision and I shudder, leaning into my father. They seem to partially mistake it for pain, but their eyes are locked in on mine, and I see a sickly, snake-like green reflected.
It changes to blue immediately, a pretty topaz blue reminding me of the boundless expanse of sea. “Apollon—“
Although it is not my father’s voice, it shares a few attributes. For one, they are both sharp and strong, but this voice is not the thundering of the God King’s. Instead, the strength feels less controlled, more like a storm in the sea-
“Poseidon. That’s more than enough.”
“Is that so? You don’t want us to make sure our family member is okay?”
“He is doing fine under my supervision.”
Demeter cuts in, yet another shockingly similar voice, except this one seems to hold onto the trees “We all know what happens when one child gets too much attention. Look at Athena.” An ‘apathetic’ slips out much quieter, seemingly a thought said aloud.
“Do not come onto my home, insult my daughter, and worry my son.”
His son, me. “Papa—.. Father. What’s going on?”
“Nothing of importance.”
They begin to argue again, voices rising only barely, and to the untrained ear only my uncle would be the one getting louder. The arguments I have heard from mortals are crude and demeaning, much different from the much more cruel and falsely polite ones here.
No matter how much I try to focus onto the words, slowly becoming less controlled and all the more targeted, I cannot seem to grasp onto anything they say.
I am reminded of my cousin when I feel her gaze boring into me. “Persephone?” She clasps her hands over one of mine, thick tears rolling from her face. My fault, which brings me a not comfortable feeling.
“Apollon,” Gasps Persephone “why would dad hurt you?”
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──