#aquos

“So, what’s been going on at camp?” I asked my children, spearing a sausage on my fork. We were sat at the Apollo table in Camp Half-Blood’s mess hall, enjoying the food after a hard day’s work training. Well, the demigods had been hard at working training. I had been hard at work giving the occasional thumbs up from the sidelines. But I liked to visit Camp Half-Blood often, even when there was nothing in particular that needed some godly input. It was the least I could do, after spending, well, millennia, almost completely ignoring my children. I felt a now-familiar surge of guilt, but pushed it firmly down. Now was not the time. Instead, I continued my questioning.

“News? Gossip? Pranks? Tell me everything.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, then regretted it.

Will cracked a small smile at my antics, so I figured it was all worth it. “It’s been surprisingly quiet, actually,” he said.

“It absolutely hasn’t,” Kayla objected. “You know Tanya from Hephaestus? Turns out her epic rivalry with the Aphrodite cabin was all for show, and she’s been dating Chloe for months. The Aphrodite kids can’t decide whether to exile Chloe for not telling them, or hail them both as the greatest forbidden romance of all time.” “And then there’s Chiron’s new initiative,” put in Austin.

As one, the table groaned.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gracie said miserably, staring down at her plate like she was staring down the barrel of a gun. Oh, wait, demigods don’t use guns. Perhaps the Hephaestus cabin should get on that.

“It’s awful,” Jerry bemoaned. Kayla clapped him on the shoulder in commiseration.

I looked at Will. As head counsellor, he would surely have some sensible and reassuring comment to make to raise his siblings’ spirits. “No, Dad, it really is that bad,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. “It’s to do with Chiron’s new…”

“...mental health initiative,” the whole cabin finished together, with various levels of despair, disgust, and hopelessness in their voices.

I frowned. This seemed like an important parenting moment. “Now, children,” I began. “I know talking about mental health isn’t always comfortable, but as the god of health, you can trust me when I say it’s very important! Whatever Chiron’s got in store for you, I’m sure it’s entirely justified and very helpful.” Oddly, this did not seem to have the cheering effect I’d hoped for. Gracie picked gloomily at her food. The others exchanged commiserating glances with each other.

“In principle, I’d agree with you,” Will said, evidently their designated spokesperson. “But…not this. Anything but this.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I said optimistically, though privately I was beginning to have my doubts. I’d seen my children more enthusiastic about literal wars.

Will grimaced, but didn’t reply. The table fell into a gloomy silence. It seemed I had made a social faux pas, which was unfortunately a surprisingly common occurrence for me. I cast around desperately for another source of conversation, and spied Meg walking with a tray over to the Demeter table.

“Meg! Over here!” I shouted, waving my arms frantically. One thing I’d learned about Meg is that to get her attention, you had to remove the option of plausible deniability that she hadn’t noticed you. She also enjoyed it when I embarrassed myself in public, which made it more likely she would then do what I wanted.

Meg rolled her eyes, but I saw the corner of her mouth upturn in a tiny smile as she corrected course over to our table. This made me feel embarrassingly gooey inside. 

“Sup,” she said as she approached. Meg is very eloquent. It is just one of her many charms. I shuffled along to make room for her on the bench as my kids gave her a muted welcome.

She frowned. “How come you’re all so sad?” “The initiative,” Kayla said gloomily.

Meg mimed throwing up. The table nodded in mournful solidarity.

“So what actually is this initiative?” I asked, which I recognised was not the wisest move socially, but my curiosity was winning out.

As one, the table shuddered.

“We just have to tell him,” Austin said to the rest of the table. “He’ll never rest until he finds out otherwise.” He turned to me with the determination of a hardened warrior once more facing down his worst nightmare. “Chiron is making us each come up with a mental health mantra,” he said.

Gracie clapped her hands over her ears. Will looked vaguely queasy. Meg vibrated with vengeful anger.

“That doesn’t seem so bad!” I said.

“It’s so cheesy,” Kayla said.

“And also useless,” added Yan. Kayla nodded in agreement.

“Mantras are not useless,” I said sternly. “In fact, I had one myself, and it kept me going through all sorts of things!” Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

“Don’t be rude,” Will scolded, but it didn’t really sound like his heart was in it.

“Wait, tell us what it is, and then we can copy it!” said Jerry.

The table all turned to look at me expectantly. I realised I had backed myself into a corner.

“Ah,” I said, panicking. “Well, the thing is - I really can’t - I’m afraid I’m needed very urgently at Olympus for something very important - I’m sure you understand - bye!” 

And with that, I poofed out of the mess hall and into my bedroom in the sun palace, where I collapsed on my bed and screamed into the pillow. “Something very important? Really, Apollo?” I said to myself. “That was all you could think of?”

*

Some hours later, I rather sheepishly [teleported] back to Camp Half-Blood and lurked hesitantly in the shadows of the woods, unsure of how to [re-introduce] myself after my rather rapid escape earlier. Before I could think of anything good, however, Meg spotted me.

She marched up to me and punched me in the arm, hard.

“Ow!” I protested.

“Dummy,” she said. “Don’t poof away. Just say you don’t want to answer like a normal person.” 

She spoke gruffly, but I was well practised at Meg-interpretation. My heart melted.

“Oh, Meg,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “I’m very sorry for disappearing on you.” She hugged me back. “ ‘S okay,” she said. “You panicked. I get it.” This made me want to hug her even tighter, but I released her before she started to squirm.

“Why’d you panic?” she asked.

“Truthfully? I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “I guess I was just a little embarrassed.” “You embarrass yourself all the time, though.” I gasped. “Rude!” But she wasn’t entirely wrong. Why had this particular instance made me freak out so much? “Maybe because I felt put on the spot?” I said out loud. “I mean, my mantra wasn't that bad.” Meg raised an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t!” I protested. “I’ll tell you right now! It went ‘I am beautiful and everyone loves me’, which is pretty standard mantra stuff, for your information!” Meg burst out laughing. I crossed my arms grumpily. “What?” I demanded.

“That was actually your mantra?”

“Yes,” I said defensively. “It…didn’t work very well, in the end.” “I don’t think that’s a very good mantra,” Meg said bluntly. I opened her mouth to snap at her, but something told me this wasn’t just one of her standard insults. She continued, slowly: “I mean, all gods are attractive, so that wouldn’t really make you feel good about yourself. And mantras aren’t meant to be about other people’s opinions. Apparently.” She crossed her arms and looked away, cheeks red.

“Meg,” I said, surprised and touched. “Have you actually been listening to Chiron’s mental health initiative?” She shrugged defensively. “Thought it might be useful for helping the rest of Nero’s kids,” she muttered.

I couldn’t help it, I hugged her again. “That’s very kind, Meg,” I said earnestly once she had scrabbled away from me, cheeks still glowing bright pink.

“Whatever,” she said, but she was smiling. “Anyway, that’s a shitty mantra. You should get a better one.” “Language!” I scolded. “And I don’t even go to this camp, why should I have to think of a mantra?” “I don’t go here either,” Meg pointed out. “Not properly. You spend at least as much time here as me. So if I have to do it, so do you.” “But-” “Shut up,” she told me. “I’m your master. This is an order.” I folded. Secretly I was quite touched by the fact that she still wanted to give me stupid orders, even though I was a god now. “Fine,” I said. “We will make stupid cheesy mantras together. How do we proceed?” 

She shrugged at me disdainfully. I hadn’t known a shrug could be disdainful before I met Meg. “That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out, dummy.”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “A most troubling dilemma.” I paused, drawing on my centuries of godly knowledge, and came up largely blank. “Meg, it pains me to admit it, but this is not my area of expertise. We may require backup.” “Backup?”

I nodded, warming to the idea. “Yes, indeed. I will go forth and seek knowledge on mantras. Surely one of our friends must know something.” Meg looked dubious. “You’ve only got a day left, though. They’re meant to be due tomorrow.”

“And nobody’s done one?” I said incredulously.

“The whole camp has ADHD,” she pointed out.

I nodded, conceding the point. “Have faith,” I told her. “I’m a god! I travel quickly. When I return, I will be the master of mantras! The mantra master! Perhaps I already am? Are they a subsection of poetry? Who’s to say? But regardless, I will return to you soon, dearest Meg.”

I kissed her on the head, then vanished. My quest had begun.

*

My first port of call was the Waystation. Emmy and Jo were some of the wisest people I knew. I felt sure one of them would have advice to offer. But when I appeared in the Grand Hall, the place was largely deserted, save for two familiar faces deep in concentration at one of the anvils under the rose window.

“Lityerses! Leo!” I cried. “It’s good to see you, my friends!” Leo put down the sledgehammer he was wielding and offered me a wan smile. “Hey, Apollo,” he said.

I frowned. “Is this a bad time?” “Well-” Leo began.

“Yes,” Lityerses interrupted. “Calypso broke up with him,” he informed me.

Leo winced. “Dude, you didn’t need to say it so bluntly,” he said, but even that was half-hearted, lacking his usual brimming-over energy.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you cared for her a lot.” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s tough for her, rejoining society after so long being on her own. I get that she needs some time to figure herself out without having to worry about anyone else.” “It still sucks,” said Lityerses, with more emotional intelligence than I would’ve expected from a guy once known as the Reaper of Men.

Leo patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. Anyways, Apollo, what were you actually here for? Unless it’s because you’re deeply invested in my love life, which would be understandable, if a little creepy, because I am incredibly hot.” He flexed a bicep.

I wasn’t surprised he was changing the subject. Deflecting with humour was a Leo Valdez speciality; even I could tell that much. But I couldn’t fault the guy for not wanting to talk about his breakup 24/7. “I’m actually here on a little quest of my own devising,” I said. “Do either of you know anything about mantras?” Leo let out a genuine laugh. “Okay, that was not what I was expecting. Why are you going on a mantras quest, Apollo?” “Long story,” I said. “Well? Anything?” He shook his head, still smiling. “Sorry, man. Not my thing. Lit, you got anything?” “No,” Lit immediately denied, but there was something shifty about his eyes. 

Leo immediately rounded on him. “Dude, you’re kidding me. You have a mantra?”

“I am an esteemed warrior who has lived for many lifetimes of men,” Lityerses said stiffly. His cheeks were red.

“That’s not a denial!” Leo said gleefully.

“I, for one, would love to hear your mantra, Lityerses,” I put in.

“It’s just Lit,” he said, crossing his arms. “And it’s not really a mantra.” Leo gasped. “He admits it,” he stage-whispered.

“Shut up, Leo,” Lit said. I’d never seen someone flush brighter red in my life. “It’s just something Jo said to me a couple months after I started staying here. That it didn’t matter if people called me Midas’s son or Commodus’s lieutenant or even the Reaper of Men. That I had to decide how I wanted to see myself, and then hold tight to that. Never let it go.” I’d never heard Lit speak so many words in one go before. I was moved by the fact that he'd chosen to share such a personal thing with me.

“Aw, Lit,” Leo said, clearly touched. “I’m telling Jo you said that.” “Don’t you dare,” Lit grumbled. He turned to me. “Hope that was helpful, I guess.”

“Thank you very much,” I said. I wanted to express my gratitude further, but Lit still struck me as a man who wouldn't appreciate the attention. “Those are very wise words indeed. But as nice as this chat has been, I'm afraid I must be on my way. I’m on a tight schedule!”

*

“Brother, I don’t have time for games,” Artemis said to me, arms folded. “We’re finally a step ahead of the fox. I don’t have time to waste.”

“But this is important!” I protested.

Around us, the entire camp of hunters was a flurry of movement as they struck their tents and packed up camp. They were remarkably well-polished. One elbowed me as she walked past carrying a towering pile of weapons, which I graciously chose to believe was accidental.

Artemis looked unimpressed. “You have five minutes. And if the fox gets away again, it’s your fault.”

“What?” I cried. “It’s not my fault you’ve all been on a wild goose chase for years!” “Wild fox chase,” she corrected.

“It’s a figure of speech!” “Is this really how you’re choosing to spend your -” she glanced at her watch - “four remaining minutes?” “Fine,” I said, not at all sulkily.

She looked at me incredulously. “Is that a pout?” “Now who’s wasting time? Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about was mantras.” “Mantras?” She studied me more closely. “Brother, are you having an identity crisis?” She said it derisively, but there was a hint of genuine worry in her eyes.

“No, no,” I reassured her. “It’s just so I can advise the demigods. Something about Chiron’s new mental health initiative.” I tactically left out my agreement with Meg that I would also have to come up with a mantra.

“Chiron started a mental health initiative?” came an incredulous voice from behind me. I turned to see a young woman with short black hair and a familiar leather jacket. “Guess camp really has changed since my day.” “This does not concern you, Thalia Grace,” Artemis said. “Do not let my brother drag you into this ridiculous conversation.”

“Thalia!” I said, delighted. “I don’t suppose you know anything about mantras?” She snorted. “Nope. Lady Artemis?” Artemis sighed. “Well, I suppose if I must contribute…” She closed her eyes for a moment in thought, then opened them again. “Yes, I do believe I have it.” “Really?” I said suspiciously.

“I go to the trouble of indulging in your foolish games for once, and I am met only with suspicion? You might hurt my feelings, brother.” “Sorry, sorry,” I said hastily. “So what is it?” She gave a small smile, which made me instantly suspicious. “Repeat after me: I, the god Apollo…” I didn’t like where this was going. “I, the god Apollo…” “...pale in comparison to my lovely, talented, and beautiful sister.” She beamed at me. “Do you like it?” 

Thalia gave her a high five.

“Very funny-” I began, but the two of them were already walking away.

“Sorry, brother, must dash!” Artemis called over her shoulder. “We have a fox to catch!”

*

My beloved oracle, Rachel Dare, stared at me contemplatively. “I think I’m getting there,” she informed me, daubing a few more dashes of paint on her easel as she spoke.

“Really?” I said hopefully.

“Mhm.” She put down her brush and scooted over her stool so she could look me in the eyes. “Are you ready to receive my prophetic wisdom?” The suspense was killing me. I nodded eagerly.

“Apollo…” - she looked me dead in the eyes - “...you are Kenough.”

I frowned. “Is that a riddle?” She threw up her hands. “Aren’t you the god of music? Why are you so uncultured? Look, stay here, I’ll get my laptop. I’m about to change your life.

She wasn’t wrong. The Barbie movie was excellent. However, it did not aid my quest.

*

“It turns out that knowledge of mantras is harder to come by than I thought,” I informed my mother as we sat down for our weekly afternoon tea. “Nobody is taking my quest for knowledge seriously. Well, except maybe Lit. I knew I liked him for a reason. But the rest of them are just treating mantras as a joke!”

Leto took a sip of tea, unbothered by my dramatics. “Didn’t you think of them as a joke?” she said, infuriatingly reasonably.

“Well, yes,” I admitted.

She raised an eyebrow.

“...And also I called them stupid and cheesy and useless,” I said. “But they are! No wonder none of the [demigods] have taken this seriously!” “Were Lityerses’ words to you stupid and cheesy and useless?” Leto asked.

“No,” I said. “No, not at all.” “Then clearly some mantras aren’t like that.”

I sighed. “But none of the others will see it that way. Even Lit said that his advice wasn’t really a mantra.” “So clearly people don’t respond well to that word,” Leto reasoned. “Much like you, they associate it with cheesy advice with no real benefit. So stop using it.” My brow creased. “Investigate mantras without investigating mantras?”

“Why not? Just try asking them for a piece of advice, something that someone’s told them, or that they’ve realised themself, that they hold close to their heart.”

“And you think they’ll respond to that?” I said hopefully.

She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “It’s worth a try. And Apollo, before you go, I’ve got a piece of advice of my own.” She made sure I was listening before she continued. “It doesn’t matter if it’s cheesy if it helps.”

*

My mother, as always, was right.

“There is always happiness in unicorns,” Lavinia told me solemnly. “And in tap dance.”

“We can change things,” Frank said as we gazed out over the reconstruction of New Rome.

“Not even curses last forever,” said Hazel, pressing a small blue sapphire into my hands.

“Just ‘cause I’m half Cherokee doesn’t mean I’m a fount of spiritual knowledge, you know,” said Piper. “But I guess I would say that happiness is still possible.” She squeezed Shel’s hand.

Luguselwa watched Nero’s children replant a new set of seedlings. “It’s not too late,” she said.

“I thought we already had this conversation?” said Artemis. “Honestly, brother. My advice is that you don’t need my advice. You know full well what advice you need to hear. You know better than anyone else. Now stop with this pointless denial and listen to yourself.”

*

When I returned to Camp Half-Blood, it was in chaos. Demigods ran panicked between cabins or else were deep in frantic discussion with friends, some scribbling on scraps of paper, some murmuring under their breaths. 

I eventually found Will out by the strawberry fields, alone save for Nico. “It’s a war out there, Dad,” he said to me, face grim. “Chiron’s officially announced there’s an hour left until the deadline, and then we all have to recite our mantras. Everybody’s going crazy.”

“Are you both ready?” I asked.

Will grimaced. Nico gave me a death stare worthy of the son of Hades.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Only a question!”

“I'm starting to panic about it a little,” Will confessed.

Only now? I wanted to say, but I guessed that comment wouldn't be appreciated. Instead I nodded and said “I've left mine rather to the last minute as well.”

“You're doing one?” Nico said incredulously. “Why?”

I reddened, and Will cut in before I could answer. “Meg bullied him into it,” he said. “If you're ever confused about anything Apollo does, 99% of the time you can blame Meg.”

Nico nodded as if this made sense. I wanted to argue, but I was aware I didn't have much ground to stand on.

“But one thing I am confused about,” Will continued, “is that didn't you already have a mantra, Dad? Why do you need a new one?”

Believe me, dear reader, I wanted to make a bad excuse and disappear to Olympus again. Despite my trials, emotional vulnerability was still not my strong point. But instead, I said “I’m afraid I’m reliably informed that it was, in fact, a shit mantra. Not very emotionally healthy. So I’m giving it a second try.” “Any luck?” Will asked.

I took a moment to consider. “I’ve talked to a lot of different people,” I said. “Many of them told me very wise things. But I think - and I will deny saying this - that my sister was right. It’s something you have to come up with yourself, because deep down, you know what you need to hear.” They both took a moment to take that in, or perhaps they were wondering what in the Hades I was going on about.

Eventually Will said, in a very quiet voice, “But what if I don’t deserve to hear that?” Tears pricked at my eyes, and I gathered him up into a hug. “Of course you deserve to hear it, Will. You’re brave and kind and a fabulous healer, but even if you weren’t any of that, you’re still my son. And my son deserves the world.” Will hid his face in my shoulder for a moment. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

I pressed a kiss into his golden curls, then looked at Nico. “Look after him for me, will you?” I said.

Nico nodded solemnly. “With my life.”

*

But I still had one final visit to make. I found Meg in the stables, brushing down the unicorn I’d gifted her as my return-to-godhood present. She’d taken to horsecare - well, unicorncare - far more easily than I’d expected given her lack of experience, but she seemed to find the same quiet satisfaction in the manual work that she did in gardening.

“You better have some real good mantra knowledge to offer,” she warned me. “I got nothing.”

I sighed and slumped down by a post. “You’re not going to like it,” I said.

She huffed. Apparently that wasn’t even worth a verbal response.

“It’s just gotta be the thing you most want to hear,” I said. “The thing you most wish someone would say to you, but then you’ve got to say it to yourself.” “That’s stupid,” Meg said. Her shoulders were tense. “I don’t want to.” “Neither do I,” I said honestly. “How about I go first, so you can laugh at me?” “You’ve got one?”

I sighed. “Yes, and it’s the cheesiest, stupidest thing in the world, and I don’t believe it when I say it. But if I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it.” Meg looked heartbreakingly fragile. “You go first, then.” I hesitated. The words felt like they were getting stuck in my throat. Trite, a lie, unoriginal, stupidly similar to a stupid quote from the stupid Barbie movie. But I needed to hear them. Not only that, Meg needed to hear them. We both needed me to be vulnerable right now.

“I’m enough,” I said quietly.

Meg blinked, and then launched herself at me in a hug. “I love you,” she said hoarsely.

“I love you too, Meg,” I said, voice cracking.

She shook her head, nose rubbing against my chest. “No, that’s my mantra,” she said. “I love myself. Or whatever.” She sniffed, but I didn’t even care about the cold snot starting to collect on my jumper.

I held her close to me in that quiet stable, just the two of us and a unicorn, and there was not a thing in this world that could have made me let her go.

Sharp Aquos – Print ad (1999-2001)