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Every breath ached, a stabbing pain shooting up the right side of her body that she clutched tightly as if to stifle a wound, except when Apo pulled her hand away, crimson blood didn’t taint her hands. Nothing was there. The world of dreams didn’t visibly affect the real world, but Apo knew she weakened; she knew that Nikos had slashed at her with a sword, she knew that Zeus’s champion had beaten her. How, oh how, could she ever protect the Feather Holders if she couldn’t even take down Nikos in her own domain? If Apo hadn’t used that immunity-
No! Nikos wasn’t right! She couldn’t be the reason why her very own flock had raised their swords against each other. She had been trying to take the attention off of them! Apo would do anything for them. Anything. (It scared her to be so devoted again, the sword through her back still fresh.) And if that meant sticking her own neck out for them next time, then she would do it in a heartbeat. She would be better, she would keep them safe, she had to protect them, she would…would-
Gods, what would she do? Apo was just another helpless pawn in this doomed game, just another servant, just another piece of meat to be devoured, just one more soul floating along the River Styx. Apo was, at her core, a caged bird; the addition of dark wings did not affect that statement. She’d dreamed, oh how she had dreamed, but at the end of the day she was no better than Icarus, only now she carried the weight of Morpheus’s gift solely on her shoulders. Apo had never felt closer to Atlas, and yet the only thing she had done wrong was dream.
Shivering, Apo felt the cold surface of bricks beneath her feet, and a sudden bolt of familiarity broke her out of her endless thoughts. She tried glancing up but was only met with the harsh glow of the moon against a blackened landscape. Huh, when did it get so dark? The thought flickered through her mind, though she quickly discarded it when it became clear that she had somehow made it back to the bridge. Apo… didn’t know how she got home; the last few hours(?), minutes(?) had passed by in a blurry haze while she’d been daydreaming. (Or had she actually been dreaming? Was it bad that it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference?)
A sound rang out from the opposite side of the bridge, faint, muffled noises making their way to Apo and alerting her to another presence. Immediately, she thought of the Champion of Nyx—it would only make sense that Pearl was out at night enjoying its dark embrace, but as the dreamer neared, she didn’t see the telltale shape of head-wings; instead, she saw eerie glowing eyes open for a single second and then close again.
Owen. That was the only possible explanation as to who this could be, though why was he out at this time of night, then? And why was she muttering something to himself in a shaky voice that Apo couldn’t make out…? She needed to make sure Chronos’s champion was okay; he could’ve been more affected by the arena fight than Apo originally thought—her own voice still raw from screaming in anguish when her teammates had been selected.
Slowly, she approached Owen, footsteps growing louder and louder, but he didn’t seem to notice, only spinning around to look at her when Apo murmured a name. “Owen?” She questioned, unintentionally jump-scaring the champion who could see everything and nothing all at once. Owen gasped, clutching her walking stick tighter and turning her face away from Apo, but not before Morpheus’s champion caught a glimpse of wet rivulets of tears glittering under the moonlight running down his cheeks. Owen had been crying; a member of her flock was upset—and for some reason a strange protective feeling pounded in Apo’s chest, begging to be let out and wrap Owen up in her wings that she didn’t even have in this world.
“Apo… I didn’t see you coming.” He said, rubbing away the tears staining his skin as if Apo hadn’t already felt her heart be torn apart at the sight. Owen abruptly swung at a random sign with her walking stick, the sign’s wood splintering beneath the weight as it fell apart. He picked it up with shaking hands, letting her fingertips graze the words written across its surface before tossing it over the edge of the bridge. All Apo heard was a soft, distant splash while Owen turned back towards the dreamer, an unidentifiable emotion etched into the lines of her face.
Apo stared, too many words clawing up her throat but getting stopped on the tip of her tongue. Here, under the veil of night, trapped in a death game, Apo didn’t know what to say—she’d led a rebellion, and yet when met with someone so warped by time itself, she didn’t have a clue. "Owen, I- are you okay?” Apo asked, running her fingers through her red waves of hair. The Champion of Chronos simply tilted her head at Apo, a faint smile tugging on his lips that felt too fake.
“Yes, of course. I just- " A harsh laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, the timelines are messing with my mind. I can’t wrap my head around it… Why am I like that in the future?” Owen was rambling, and at this point Apo couldn’t decipher what she was saying. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t- it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, I swear. It w-wasn’t me!” Owen pleaded, sinking to his knees and curling up in something loosely resembling a ball, walking stick laid beside her. Apo’s breath hitched, and she gently lowered herself to the ground next to Owen, fingers twitching when all she wanted to do was reach out and touch.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I-I’ll help! I can’t take you to the dream realm right now, though; I was fighting- never mind, that’s not important. What’s wrong, Owen?” Apo questioned, wringing her hands out while she took in how small Owen looked right now. Chronos, the personification of time was his god—what all that power would do to a mortal… gods, Apo didn’t want to imagine; the answer was staring her right in the face, though. As Owen whispered, “It’s so loud.” Apo couldn’t help but think this was all unfair, that none of the champions deserved this fate. Apo had never considered herself a hero; she'd just fought for a better life, so she knew the Elysium Fields were never in the cards, but why was this better than Tartarus? All she’d done was dream.
Apo was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the soft pitter-patter of footsteps approaching until a familiar figure knelt down beside them, small wings unmistakable even in the darkness where that figure thrived. “Now, what are you both doing out here?” Pearl asked, eyes flickering back and forth between Apo and Owen as if trying to solve a puzzle. Apo curled her fingers around the icy metal of her accessories, though just as she was about to speak, a shuffling sound made its way to her ears, and she looked up, suddenly noticing the Champion of Hermes awkwardly standing nearby—Something in Apo’s chest unfurled as she met brown irises again for the first time in hours.
Pearl followed Apo’s gaze and rolled her eyes when she saw him, abruptly grabbing onto the edge of Sausage’s armor and pulling him down. “C’mon Sausage, stop standing around.” Pearl teased, a smile lifting up the corners of her mouth. Sausage stuttered over his words while Owen lifted her head from its spot on his knees when he heard Sausage’s name enter the air, a slightly frantic look on her face. Right. Apo thought. They had to fight each other just a few hours ago. Gods, I haven’t seen Sausage since his first death; that means Owen hasn’t either.
Apo ached to do something. She wanted to comfort her flock, but she had no idea how to go about it, only having a deep protective instinct smothering her heart. Strangely, she almost wished that she had her full-sized wings in this realm too, something within her begging to wrap up Pearl, Owen, and Sausage in her feathered wings to shield them from the world. That wasn’t possible, but when had she not dreamed? Sighing, Apo discreetly shifted closer to Owen, satisfied with being able to feel his warmth.
Sausage’s breath hitched as he looked at Owen, and it was only just then that Apo realized the faint red staining his eyes from crying—gods, her chest hurt. The Champion of Hermes and the Champion of Chronos gravitated towards each other, words being choked back into their throats every time they dared to speak. Apo wanted to help, to say something for them, but just as she was about to step in, a cold hand landed on her arm, the small shake of Pearl’s head telling her everything. Let them do this themselves; they’ll be okay. So Apo did.
Sausage worried his bottom lip as he and Owen stared at each other for a moment, too many hidden emotions lying just behind their gazes, before eventually Sausage broke, eyes still rimmed with red. “I’m sorry, Owen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to fight you.” He said, gesturing around wildly with his hands as fresh tears pooled at his waterline. Under the moon’s light, Apo could see how the battle had affected Sausage, how his hands trembled, how the spark of hope in his eyes had dampened, how worry creased his brows, (Apo thought of what Sausage had told her earlier about his family. The fact that someone had used her rebellion to make a better life for themselves… gods, Apo couldn’t describe the emotions in her stomach.) how despite it all, he still cared for Owen.
“No, no, Sausage,” Owen tried to smile, but it came out forced and weak. “It’s okay, I saw it already; I just didn’t think- I’m so sorry, though.” Chronos’s champions sucked in a ragged breath, voice far too watery for Apo’s heart. “It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, I swear,” Owen whispered again, tugging on the strands of her dark hair, eyes opened to reveal an abyss of pure white.
Apo couldn’t take it anymore and surged forward, grabbing Owen’s hands and holding them between her own, letting the warmth soak into her veins. Glowing white eyes blinked at Apo slowly, an indescribable emotion flashing across Owen’s face before he let out a breath, shaky fingers just barely tightening around Apo’s hands, which sent a swell of warmth to her chest. Everything was okay—her flock was okay; she would make sure of that fact.
“Hey, we still have each other. One unexpected fight isn’t enough to break us apart.” Pearl pointed out, head-wings fluttering. “Owen, you aren’t mad at Sausage, right?” The Champion of Nyx asked, trying to make a point that was quickly reaffirmed by Owen’s words. “No! Of course not.” He said, eyes shut against the world so that he couldn’t see Pearl’s knowing look. “See, and Sausage isn’t mad at you either.” Pearl gestured towards Sausage, who was, as expected, vigorously nodding his head in agreement before he realized Owen couldn’t see him doing that.
“I’m not upset- …well, at you! The blame goes to the gods that put us in this game, or the people that voted for us. All we have is each other, besides… I really like all of you.” Sausage genuinely smiled, rubbing away the tears staining his skin, and something fond welled up in Apo’s heart. She would do anything for her Feather Holders. Anything. They were her flock now, and she would make sure to protect them. Here, under the dead of night, there were no impending battles, no champions fighting over a blessing, no thinly veiled threats; it was just Apo and her Feather Holders.
“I-I said something similar to Apo earlier, but friends can be like family. And… I would consider you guys my family.” Sausage smiled softly, oblivious to the fire burning in Apo’s chest at those words. To trust another family so quickly after her last makeshift one turned on her… gods, Apo wanted to so badly despite the consequences—she wanted to hope that this one would turn out differently; the dreamer wanted to believe her flock wouldn’t point their swords at her until it was absolutely necessary. Apo wanted a family again, especially if that included Pearl, Sausage, and Owen.
A broken laugh escaped Pearl’s throat as she surged forward, enveloping Sausage in her arms, eyes sparkling in the night. “Aw, Sausage, you're really messing up my reputation. How will people think I’m so terrible now? But I agree, you guys are like family to me.” Pearl revealed, pulling Sausage into a hug that he easily returned, fingers curling into the fabric of Pearl’s shirt. Nyx’s champion grinned, something in her gaze softening when met with the Champion of Hermes. Apo looked on fondly, energy dancing in her veins that left her fingers twitching at her sides in want.
Apo glanced over at Owen, taking in how she could still see faint tears staining his skin—she ached to wrap the Champion of Chronos up in her wings or at least the next best thing. Would Owen hate that, though? Was Apo being selfish? They had spent so much time in the dream realm together; Apo would be shocked if that didn’t mean something to Owen, so…
The logic warring with her heart finally failed, and Apo rushed forward, suddenly wrapping her arms around Owen in an embrace. The warmth was the first thing she noticed, and the second was the quiet gasp Chronos’s champion let out, slightly tensing in her hold. Apo panicked, a weird concoction of emotions swirling in her stomach, and she started to pull back, mourning the contact before she had even finished. The words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. “I’m sorry, I just-“ She never did get to finish her sentence, though, because Owen abruptly pulled Apo back against himself, returning the hug in its full extent.
Owen let out a breath, a faint smile on her lips as she shook his head, dark hair tickling the side of Apo’s neck. “No, no, it’s okay,” Owen said, letting Apo sink into the embrace and bask in this rare moment between battles to the death. Honestly, Apo couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hugged—her rebellion were fighters; they didn’t have time for stuff like this, but that didn’t mean Apo hadn’t longed for the warmth of something that wasn’t the fires they started in the streets.
Pearl giggled nearby, an uncharacteristic gentleness to her cadence when she spoke. “C’mon guys, you can join in.” Pearl grinned, grabbing hold of both Owen and Apo and pulling them into her hug with Sausage, an arm wrapping around Apo instantly. The Champion of Morpheus sighed after a few moments, sinking deep into the warmth and slowly letting all her worries and pains fade away for just a little bit. Who knew what tomorrow would bring, but Apo would do everything in her power to enjoy this moment while it lasted. Her family was okay, her flock was okay, Apo was okay as long as her Feather Holders stayed right beside her.
She would try to protect them; she would try to keep them safe—she would try to make sure this moment in time could happen again. And Apo would dream because that was indelibly intertwined with her soul. She would dream that she had met Owen, Sausage, and Pearl in another universe. One that wasn’t so controlled by blood. One where they could be happy.
