#dark apollo

An Apollo who has seen the love of his life, his wife basically, die and the gods move on. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, but there's over a thousand years between Perse fading and the Great Prophecy, so they change nevertheless. They forget their children, used to someone else taking care of them, and when they remember its to send them out on a quest. Children leave camp younger and younger, and don't come back. Even Chiron, his old foster son, grows complacent, too comfortable sending babes to their deaths.

Apollo tries to keep his head down and be the best father to his children as he can. To some, he was their only parent; his children tended to pop up when a mortal reminded him of Perse in a particular way, often without sex (he was a widow, not chaste), and sometimes that resulted in them abandoning his child. Perse never would have abandoned a child though. She would have loved them. Michael. Kayla. Austin. Lee. Will. So many before. So many after.

But his children keep dying. Everyone's children keep dying, and no one cares, like Perse meant nothing to them and Apollo.

I never really understood how Ares was the one to catch Luke with the Master Bolt instead of, you know, the literal hunting gods.

And Apollo doesn't really want to help Kronos out, but like... he's going to need some sort of fire power and/or distraction so he can chop Zeus into little bits. Gramps can have the throne for all he cares, just leave Apollo alone with his kids and they'll be fine.

Apollon is half a god.

Unlike some of his half-siblings, he and his sister were born from the womb of a Titaness, whose domains include motherhood and modesty. Artemis took a chunk from modesty, swore to protect the modesty and dignity of girls all over the world. Took a part of motherhood and made childbirth bearable. Apollo took the part of motherhood and became the protector of young boys all over the world. He took a chunk from modesty and wove it around himself until he became the very personification of harmony amongst mortals.

With his very first breath, he knew.

Apollon was born with the pulse of the future in his veins, the knowledge that stirred in his ichor, like magma under the earth. Ancient, powerful and reserved. He was born with the melody of nature humming in his ears, his ichor changing tune with every noise he focused on. He was born with golden eyes that saw too much, golden eyes like his grandfather, golden eyes that watched the island of Delos heel under his and his sister's patronage.

Apollon was born with knowledge, music, poetry, archery, all in his senses, ingrained as if he would not exist without them. His eyes saw beauty and pain and turned it into poetry. His eyes saw the future in fragments and turned it into answers for questions that shouldn't be asked. His eyes tracked movements across the world, ready to spill blood at a moment's thought.

With time, he yanked and grasped and snatched as he saw fit. Medicine, plague, cowherds, shepherds, music, art, archery, protection, duty. Apollon took everything that the mortals needed for him to take and regulate.

Apollon, a child born with his mother in terror and the threat of violence over his family's fates even before he had taken a breath. Apollon, half god, half Titan, born with the eyes of his grandfather and knowledge of his grandmother. Apollon, born with the urge to raze and erase, controlling the life force of all of the earthlings and healing them all at once.

Apollon, whose divinity is as fickle as the mortal eyes who perceive him.

Apollo, who walks the Earth with eyes hidden behind reading glasses, hair tied with a pen, a book of poems tucked under his arm. Apollo, who walks with a pep in his step, melody of the world flowing around him. Apollo, who protects young boys with bruises and memories that leave scars on their minds and hearts. Apollo, who laughs as he makes a rhyming riddle, laughs as people do not interpret the truth in front of their eyes. Apollo, who heals kittens with a touch, who feeds filthy hands to wolves. Apollo, who knows too much just from a look.

Apollo, who wears bright colours and all his possessions are stamped or carved with laurels. Apollo, who smells of hyacinth flowers. Apollo, who plays the flute whenever he is in a foul mood, gripping the instrument like he can kill someone with that alone.

Apollo, who keeps the murmurs of Apollon tucked behind his ear, watching the mortals be hopeful in their silly ways. Apollo, whose eyes are blue.

The demigods do not realise the difference between the ancient times and the present. He pities them, honestly. His self control hangs by a rope only made of hope and dark amusement and he pities them all, who test this rope just by existing.

He does not pity Perseus.

While Apollo walks around with laughs and amusement, he sees the demigod's disdain for the divine plain in his sea eyes. Apollo finds it even more amusing. He has known the fate of this man since he was a boy, since he first stepped in front of the Oracle who told him he will lose what matters the most. He knows, the boy's most treasured possessions are not inanimate objects; they are people. His mother, who saw Poseidon, who knew it was not a fisherman but the Father Of Monsters, who walked beside her. His friends, the other little demigods and the satyr, the current Lord of the Wild. His little sister, who has green eyes, not of the sea but of the emerald that his step father has. The cyclops who calls him a brother as if he was saying a prayer of salvation.

Apollo knows all of them, knows their fates from all the prophecies they have stepped foot in.

When they fight against the mother earth, Perseus lives up to his name, instead of the ridiculous nickname he insists on using. He is destruction personified, doing what he was prophesied to do: raze.

The boy's sea eyes are no longer the reflection of the Sun on the Sea, nay, they are the depths of the sea that the mortals are afraid of. As he stands with half a glare and his sword coated with golden dust and the lower half of his face covered in blood, even Perseus' friends refuse to look into his eyes.

The boy challenges all the gods present, demands accountability and justice and Apollo raises an eyebrow. So naive, he was.

There is no justice in the world unless it is snatched.

When Apollo's father tries to blame him for the mistakes of his legacy, Perseus snorts and snarls something or the other about the Augur. He demands justice, again, from the god of justice. And Zeus, who knows there is no justice, does not give him any. But, he does not punish Apollo.

Not that Apollo cares for it, nay. Had he been punished, Apollo would turn his head again and let breath the shadows of Apollon, just until he was at the peak of his power again.

Apollon has killed many, in many different ways. But as Perseus argues with the gods again, Apollo watches the scene unfold and thinks that there must be some poetry in the boy, some melody that Apollo has forgotten to weave into music. He focuses on the boy's heartbeat and it blooms in his ears, the sound of the waves of the ocean, the hiss of burning poison. Apollo does not have a heart. No god does. But if he did, he likes to think he would have matched the beat of his heart with Perseus'. Destruction and beauty. Delicate and dangerous, in one.

Months later, when they sit across from each other with their respective beverages getting cold, Apollo grasps Perseus' hand and tells him that his eyes are the colour of the abyss of the sea, the depths of the ocean that even he is not allowed to touch.

Perseus cups Apollo's cheek in a tender way that that hasn't been bestowed upon Apollon since he killed Python. He tells him Apollo's eyes are golden, much brighter than of the healing fleece and the imperial gold dagger strapped to the demigod's calf.

Apollon knows where his name came from. He knows the meaning of apollymi, to destroy, to erase. To purify. To renew after ruin.

Perseus knows where his name comes from. The hero who lived. He also knows perthein, the ravager, the destroyer. To lay something to waste.

They are both weapons. Arrows that are hidden in a quiver. Sword that lights even the darkest of tunnels. Their eyes are reflection— golden shadows of a cruel master of time and abyss of the untamed sea. Their eyes are hidden to everyone but each other.

It’s strange. You hadn’t noticed it before but Aphrodite has been avoiding you. You might have remained clueless had Hermes not told you himself.

No.

Wait.

That’s the lie you would tell anyone who asked you why you were looking for her. In truth, you wanted to know what Apollo’s feelings were. It has been a month since the incident with the Nymph and no such incidents have been repeated…as far as you know.

It’s driving you crazy, and you have no one to speak of such complicated emotions. You just want to place a name on it. It’s NOT jealousy. That would mean you cared. Disappointment?

You shake off the feeling. You have to deal with it yourself. Aphrodite is well known to gossip. Hephaestus most likely won’t care. Artemis is Apollo’s sister. Your father, would raise hell but then it’ll be top Olympus news. The only person who can relate to your situation would probably use it to take off the attention from her husband’s next affair. You have no one.

You sigh in annoyed resignation. You remember why you never surfaced from the sea. Maybe if you had you would’ve made more connections? No. If you hadn’t left the sea in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this situation…

“Trouble in paradise?” Came a mischievous tone you know all so well.

Curt. “Hermes.”

“Aww, come on! You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

You had been short with him ever since you found out about his part in your meeting with Apollo. The same one that left you unconscious and in a miserable marriage.

“So you are?”

You huff out, “I am not in the mood for your games, God of Thieves.”

“I’ve apologized before”, he whines. “How was I supposed to know he’d pull a Hades?”

You give him a look. He always had a strange manner of speaking, but no one questioned it since he’s also a God of languages.

“Pull a Hades?”

“Yes! You know the story, the very one. The lonely God Hades saw a wandering Persephone and fell in love. Blah, Blah, Blah, kidnapped her, marriage, BOOM! A sort of happily ever after.”

You had finally come to the realization. Who else but Persephone would understand your situation better than you?

“Do me a favor and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“And what’s that, my dear Goddess?”

“Help me rendezvous with Persephone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a while, but you had finally gotten your meeting. Hades was at first apprehensive, but it seems Persephone soothed him enough to change his mind. Although it did have to be held in the Underworld. Not that you minded.

It was your first time being there. It is quiet and dark. Something that has left you in both a state of tranquility and unease. Two spirits come to you and silently guide you to the back of the temple where, unlike the rest of the underworld, flora thrive. At the center lies a grand gazebo, already there is Persephone fussing over the table cloth.

You silently step up towards her, she now fusses over the tea.

“Persephone.”

Despite Persephone being a Goddess herself, she jolts.

“Oh! Lady Y/n!”

You nod to her. “Are you alright?”

She motions for you to sit. “Yes, of course. It’s just you’re my first official guest. I wanted to make a good impression.”

“You don’t have to try so hard. This isn’t exactly a formal visit.”

“Oh, okay.”

She sounds a bit relieved and disappointed. Perhaps she wanted someone to come to her for a major decision but you’re not going to pry that information out of her. You weren’t here for her and you’re on borrowed time.

She motions for you to sit across from her. “I think this is the first time we’ve officially spoken.”

“It is.” You sit down calmly while looking around. “Must’ve been hard to get used to the underworld compared to the mortal realm.”

She looks nervous as she pours your cup of tea. “It was…difficult, but one manages. It’s not like I can’t ever go back…”

“Have you tried to ever break it?”

That seems to have startled her. “What?” She lets out a humorless chuckle that briefly ends. “Of course not. I’d be up against the Ruler of the Underworld. There’d be no sense to try.”

At those words you study her. On the surface she seems jittery, clumsy, and almost naive, but you know better. You’re a woman, a Goddess. She hasn’t tried to get away not because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t want to. Why would she after all? Her mother had always been overbearing. Even if she did miss the surface, she has power down here, she gets to make the calls, she can soothe her husband enough to get her way.

You don’t point any of it out. Why would you? You would’ve done the same thing. The only difference is that Apollo doesn’t rule a realm.

“You’re right. Sorry to be insensitive.”

“It’s no problem at all!” She seemed relieved to have the subject dropped, but then proceeds to be sympathetic and cautious. “I heard you and Lord Apollo are in the same…situation.”

You take a sip of your tea before responding, “Unfortunately.”

Nothing more, just “unfortunately”. You don’t want to speak with her anymore. You can’t help but dislike her.

You sigh, “Nothing can be done. Hera has already blessed the union.”

“Has he been kind to you?”

“Yes.” Your answer is unwavering. You won’t let anyone think otherwise. You refuse to be further humiliated by letting anyone know he’d lay a hand against you.

“That’s good, most aren’t fortunate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve made up your mind to never again go to Persephone for anything. The cunning thing got on your nerves. You should’ve known better.

You walk around the temple in Delos, thinking to yourself until Apollo’s radiant light takes over your senses as he approaches. He looks desperate, and you can already tell what’s to come.

Apollo takes your hands in his own trembling ones. “Why? Why would you go to such a dreary place? Where my sun cannot reach?”

You look at him unamused. “I am a Goddess, not property, I can speak to whom I please.”

“But to such a place?!”

You wrench your hands from his. “What are you spouting about? You’re so dramatic.”

“I cannot keep you under vigilance if my sun doesn’t reach!”

“Even better.”

He looks dejected, “I want to make this easy for the both of us, my love, but I cannot if you do not meet me halfway.”

You don’t even look at him, instead looking out into the gardens. The flowers show off their petals proudly. Everything is devoid of darkness. What a shame.

“I tire of you.” You turn around. “I will be resting. Do not wake me.”

He surprisingly doesn’t stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's also very oblivious to Apollo's feelings for him (go figure).

While Apollo has changed and grown, becoming a better father and a better god/person... he's not quite used to being told 'no'. He is an utterly ancient deity, once one of the most powerful and fearsome gods in the pantheon. There are endless stories of his failed lovers, but also many a tale of his acts of retribution. Skinning satyrs alive, slaying Niobe's children because she dared to brag, quarreling with his own infant brother, etc.

And Apollo, perhaps precisely because he got such a recent a taste of mortality, cannot help but look at Percy and feel like he's racing against a ticking clock. Every second of every day, Percy is growing older. He's growing closer to death. If not by the hands of some other god or monster, then disease or old age. If Apollo doesn't act now, he could very easily lose Percy forever. And he doesn't want to go through that feeling again. Never again.

So, after much thinking, planning, and toiling over every aspect, every possible flaw in his idea, he comes to one conclusion. Winning over Percy's mind and heart would be an impossible task while he's still devastatingly loyal to Annabeth. But his body?

Percy is only human. And Apollo would know how easily humans can be broken. He will make Percy's body fall in love with him, want and crave his touch, and eventually, that cavernous aching desire will whittle away his mental resolve, his loyalty, and all his reservations about loving a god.

Apollo will make Percy addicted to his touch.

But he must be careful. He can’t let Percy or Annabeth catch onto his plan too early.

So, the next time Apollo sees Percy, his lovely little pearl is struggling to study for his upcoming Latin exam in the campus library. Apollo, disguised as a student, walks up to his table and claps Percy on the shoulder.

Percy inhales ever so slightly and relaxes for the brief moment Apollo puts his hand on him. For Percy, the tiniest wave of warmth flows through his body, taking the edge off his anxiety and frustration. It's so faint he doesn't even notice it. He looks up and shoots a smile at Apollo, clearly not in the mood to talk but at the very least, not irritated to see him.

Apollo pretends he's on his way to see some of his Roman kids but stopped by to chat. Percy is courteous but casually mentions that Annabeth is going to show up to help him study as soon as she gets out of class. Apollo takes his cue to leave but brushes Percy’s shoulder as he goes, imparting another tiny bit of soothing warmth on his way out.

He wants Percy to associate that comfort, warmth, and sense of safety with himself. And even if he doesn’t do so on his own, Apollo’s spell will make it happen.

The warmth itself is a blessing, but also a curse. It brings peace and comfort when present. But when it fades after a few minutes, it’ll leave Percy feeling the tiniest bit colder than he was before it came. He will feel just a little more alone.

Despite all of Apollo's fears about Percy growing old and past his prime, as well as his fears of Percy’s death, Apollo knows he has to take things slow. He’ll only offer the smallest, shortest touches for now. Just friendly touches on the shoulder or "accidental" brushing of the hands. Then the intensity of his warmth and the subsequent painful cold will increase over the span of weeks, months, perhaps even the next few years if Apollo can really remain disciplined and bide his time.

But sooner or later, while he’s still young and beautiful, Percy will not only bask in Apollo’s warmth but crave it more than anything else in the world. He’ll be desperate for it. He won’t feel whole without it. Apollo will consume Percy’s thoughts and all his strength.

He will make the son of the sea want him if not love him, to the point that if Apollo told Percy to abandon Annabeth to be at his side, Percy would do so without hesitation.

Percy resembles Apollo's long-lost lover, Perseus. 

And so the story goes…

conclusion? Absolute. Devastation.

Some Important Gossip

from this : https://www.tumblr.com/harmatia/791963754677108736/shining-upon-man?source=share

Actually, I wanted to finish writing everything before talking about the events in the fic and my ideas for some of the descriptions. But I couldn't hold back, because I might not get the chance to post them later (since this part might end up being cut because the storyline keeps changing).

Because I’ve been getting into Epic: The Musical lately and because the PJO and HoO will always have a place in my heart:

Due to some plot convenient reason, Percy gets sent back in time to around the time Odysseus has started his journey home

Percy meets the SeaFam and basically gets accepted into the family (maybe he ends up earlier in time to bond with them but doesn’t realize the Odyssey is happening until later?) (or maybe the SeaFam gets some memories/imprints of their future relationship with Percy and see him as family?)

But basically, I wanna see Percy and Odysseus meet after the thing with Polyphemus and Odysseus ends up hurting Percy who only wanted to help him a bit

Like what would Poseidon and the SeaFam do to Odysseus for hurting Percy?