Work Text:
“Wow!” Apollo whistled, and even the simple noise of awed disbelief was pitch-perfect in a way that made Percy cranky as they watched the arrow sail past the edge of the target and sink into a distant patch of grass. “You really are quite terrible at this.”
“I told you that.” Percy glowered at the god, lowering the bow. A bit of sweat had beaded on his forehead and pooled in the small of his back. Standing so close to a sun god in late summer could do that.
“Well, yes, but it’s almost remarkable,” Apollo said, sounding like a curious researcher, ready to run Percy through some tests. “You certainly have the force, but your aim leaves something to be desired.”
“At least I’m not accidentally hitting other campers and dryads anymore,” he pointed out.
Apollo laughed, a slight breeze ruffling his golden locks, and the midday light glinting off his teeth. He looked like a divine Colgate commercial and Percy was not buying. “Yes, I’m sure Will is relieved for that.”
“Are you regretting these lessons yet?” Percy asked.
“Not at all,” Apollo replied easily. “No one is unteachable, Perseus.” His expression turned serious, and Percy suddenly remembered that Apollo was also the god of teaching. “Enough people gave up on you in the mortal world, and even this one, but I certainly will not.”
Something clenched between Percy’s ribs, the intensity of Apollo’s gaze burning.
The moment passed. Apollo looked away, and Percy drew in a ragged breath, unsure what to do with the emotions.
“Now, come. Take your stance again.”
Percy complied, but the tension still wracked his body.
“Breathe,” Apollo reminded. He had spent most of the session standing behind Percy, guiding his elbows and shoulders and legs into place.
Now, though, he watched Percy’s face as he took aim at the target. Percy closed one eye to line up the shot and then loosed the arrow.
It missed spectacularly and hit a bale of hay.
“Again.”
Percy groaned, but he complied, grazing the upper corner of the target.
“Hmmm. Fascinating!” Apollo enthused after another minute of observation. “I think I have figured out what the issue is.”
“Am I cursed?”
“No, no. I already checked for that this morning,” Apollo dismissed with a wave. “No. You, my friend, are right-handed, but left-eye-dominant.”
“What?”
“When you focus on a target, you use your left eye to line up a shot.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Percy squinted at the target with his right eye instead, and everything shifted a little. Then he focused with his left eye and everything seemed normal. “Does that matter?”
“Yes, of course!” Apollo started to glow a little in excitement, which was kind of cute, like a puppy. A four-thousand-year-old, incredibly powerful puppy. “In this case, you might do better with a left-handed bow.”
Percy lowered the bow and rolled his shoulders, which ached after hours of using muscles in ways his body wasn’t used to. He was tired and frustrated. He wanted lunch and his sword, maybe in that order. “But I am right-handed. Why would I switch bows?”
Apollo looked delighted that he would get to explain. “Most beings have a dominant hand that matches their dominant eye, such as my daughter Kayla. She is right-handed and right-eye-dominant, meaning that when she lines up her shot, she uses her right eye to aim. You, my friend, are part of a rarer group whose dominant hand and eye do not match .”
“Story of my life,” Percy grumbled, letting Apollo take the bow back from him. It was a beautiful thing, blue like the ocean, with little waves etched into the wood.
Apollo waved a hand over the bow, and it shimmered, warping slightly around the finger holds. “In archery, your dominant eye is often the key, more so than your dominant hand. It may feel strange, at first, shooting with your other hand pulling the string, but try lining up the shot this way. See if it helps.”
He handed the bow back to Percy and with a snap of his fingers, the arm brace disappeared from Percy’s right forearm, and a new one covered his left.
“I don’t see how this will help, but okay.” Percy obeyed, his body mirroring the stance he had been taking. He almost dropped the arrow as he tried to get it nocked with his left hand, but eventually, he was in a passable stance.
Apollo hummed. “Good. Now try again. Line up the shot.”
Percy took aim, his left eye steady on the target. He took a deep breath, and on the exhale, he let the arrow fly.
It almost felt like slow motion, the way it had seemed on Geryon’s ranch the day he made that impossible shot with Hera’s blessing. He watched the arrow’s path as it arced towards the target.
And then came a thump the arrow sank into the target up to the fletching, just outside of the center ring.
“Holy shit,” Percy whispered.
He turned to Apollo, his jaw hanging open. Apollo was grinning at him, almost vibrating in excitement. “Dude!” He almost asked the archery god something dumb like ‘did you see that?’ but he managed to hold back.
“Very good,” Apollo praised. “Now, do it again.”
Percy did, landing on the edge of the center ring again. Then a third shot. A fourth. The fifth hit a bullseye. “Oh my gods.”
“Oh me, indeed,” Apollo laughed, doubled over at the look on Percy’s face. “I fixed your archery! Ha. I knew it! Oh, Athena and Ares owe me money, now,” he said, more to himself.
Percy looked back over his shoulder once his quiver was empty, a dozen arrows clustered around and inside the center ring. “You bet money on my archery skills?”
Apollo looked unapologetic. “Of course. You are quite a common topic of conversation amongst the gods, you know.”
“Great,” Percy said dryly.
Apollo clapped him on the shoulder. “Come now, my young hero, you can hardly blame us. You are the greatest hero since antiquity, and you are my personal favorite.”
“I thought Nico was your favorite,” Percy pointed out as Apollo steered them towards the dining pavilion for lunch.
“Oh yes, I am delighted by my future son-in-law, but did you know that when I was cast down, I planned to spend my mortal punishment in your service?”
Percy stumbled, but Apollo caught him. “You what?”
“Meg called dibs, of course,” Apollo explained, setting him to rights, “and I am glad, now, that she did, but you were my first choice.”
“I was? Why?” Percy’s brows crawled up his forehead.
Apollo’s good humor slipped a little, revealing something more serious, more anguished, and Percy wondered, perhaps for the first time, just how terrible Apollo’s trials had been. “You are a good person, Percy. I knew that you would not abuse my power or me. I knew that any task I assisted you with would benefit the world and not harm it.”
The show of faith from the god of truth was overwhelming. Percy swallowed hard, forcing down a lump in his throat. “I hadn’t known that. But thanks—for telling me.”
Apollo gave him a small smile. “Of course.”
They entered the dining pavilion, and the campers fell silent.
“Well?” Nico asked, smirking.
Apollo gave the assembled campers a gleeful look. He snapped his fingers, and a golden target appeared at the far end of the dining pavilion. “Percy, if you would.”
Percy huffed a disbelieving laugh, but he took his cue, raising the left-handed bow, its blue body glinting like sapphire in the torchlight.
Campers screamed and ducked for cover.
Will yelped a hurried, “Dad, no!” which absolutely did not deter Apollo.
Chiron gave them both a long-suffering sigh but did nothing as Percy took aim and fired.
A perfect bullseye.
Nico was the first to emerge from the cover of the tables. “Holy shit! You actually cured him.”
“I wasn’t sick,” Percy grumbled.
“Could have fooled me,” Nico teased.
“As demonstrated, Percy Jackson is now a proficient archer,” Apollo intoned with the gravity of a prophecy. Then he turned to the Hermes table and his attempts at being stately and refined vanished, replaced by a gleeful energy. He held out a hand towards Connor. “Pay up.”
Percy burst into laughter, offended and amused at the chorus of groans and the clink of coins from around the pavilion.