TOA Secret Santa 2024

The intercom connected with a buzz.

“Who is it?” Percy’s voice demanded, crackling slightly through the technology.  Modern technology and demigods didn’t always mix well, although they persevered remarkably as society kept advancing and their choice was to keep up or turn luddite.

Apollo cleared his throat, an unnecessary action but one that helped announce his presence – and a long ingrained habit that Apollo wasn’t in any real hurry to shake.  He liked the way it brought everyone’s attention to him before he started speaking.

“It’s me,” he announced, the words falling away into a silence that Percy didn’t break, and after a few awkward moments, Apollo remembered that Percy couldn’t actually see him from his apartment.  “Apollo,” he added on belatedly, and a little awkwardly.

Percy’s silent judgement was impressive, given they were several floors apart and couldn’t actually see each other.  Clearly to the son of Poseidon that was a minor inconvenience that was easily ignored.

He also, more pressingly, wasn’t letting Apollo in.

“Paul invited me?”  The words weren’t supposed to come out as a question, because there was no question about it.  Paul Blofis had certainly invited Apollo into the humble Jackson-Blofis abode.  Although, one could argue that the question was actually asking whether or not Percy had been informed by his step father that Paul had invited a god over for an afternoon.

Those seemed to be the magic words, however, as with a put-upon sigh that made Percy’s thoughts on the matter of Apollo’s presence in his home crystal clear, he finally, finally pressed the button to open the front door of the apartment block and gave Apollo entry into the building.  Apollo did not waste the invitation, slipping in immediately and following the familiar route to Percy Jackson’s apartment – familiar, because while Lester’s memories as Apollo had been more full of holes than one of Britomartis’ nets, Apollo could recall everything he had experienced as Lester in pin-sharp clarity.  Many of those things he would rather forget, admittedly, but traipsing towards the front door of the Jackson-Blofis apartment had not been, inherently, full of uncomfortable trauma.

In fact, Sally Jackson had been incredibly welcoming to poor, unfortunate Lester, and Apollo was not afraid to admit that he was hoping to find some of her seven layer dip waiting for him – or some of her blue cookies, he supposed, but between the two it was the seven layer dip that had captured his heart.  Its inclusion of his cabin number certainly didn’t hurt.

He was not greeted by a seven layer dip, tragically.  Nor was he greeted by a plate of blue cookies, or Sally Jackson at all.  Paul Blofis was also summarily absent, which seemed a little rude given Apollo was here on the man’s invitation.

No, instead he was greeted by his demigod cousin, who looked no more pleased to see him now than he had been to see a mortal, beaten-up Lester and trash-covered street urchin Meg in the middle of one chilly January.  Percy was not alone, however.  Clinging to him, but staring out at Apollo with wide sea-green eyes that almost identically matched those of her big brother, was young Estelle.

There were not many things that unnerved Apollo – well, maybe there were a few, but most did not apply to this situation, or indeed most situations that he allowed himself to enter nowadays – but one Estelle Jackson-Blofis managed to do exactly that.  It was nothing the young girl had done – at scarcely a year old, there was very little she was capable of doing, beyond apparently chewing on her big brother’s hoodie string, which Percy had either given up discouraging, or hadn’t even noticed she was doing.  Indeed, to look at her, there was nothing untoward.

True, she had the exact same eye colour as her demigod brother, who had inherited Poseidon’s preferred appearance, which raised a few questions about her origins although Apollo could detect nothing as strong as demigodliness about her.  Strains of a distant legacy?  Yes, but the same strains ran through Sally Jackson, so that was to be expected.  Estelle was no demigod.

She was simply a young, mortal child, who coincidentally had the same eye colour as Apollo’s uncle, and his dark hair, too, but Paul also had the same dark hair, and Apollo had no difficulty in recognising her as being his biological daughter.

He almost, almost, wouldn’t have known any different than what he saw now.  Indeed, if he hadn’t seen her as a much younger child, before her original baby-fluff on the top of her head thinned away and grew back strong and dark, Apollo would have been as clueless as his father was – hoped his father was, and the lack of any world-ending lightning storms suggested that so far the king of the gods remained ignorant.

If he hadn’t seen the greys threading through her dark hair, salt-and-pepper, almost but not quite the same patterning as Griscelli syndrome, during his last visit as Lester, he would never have known that the girl was a ticking time bomb, a catalyst that could ignite at any moment.

The signal for Zeus to end the current age of humanity.  And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth, Hesiod had written millennia ago.

The Fates had made an interesting choice, choosing the younger sister of one Perseus Jackson to be the herald, Apollo thought.  The loyalty of Percy to those he clung to – his loved ones, family and closest friends – was not something Apollo would’ve chosen to pit against the fall of humanity at the hands of his father, but he was not one of the Fates himself, and understood their workings only when they chose to reveal them.

Needless to say, they had not chosen to reveal their machinations surrounding Estelle to Apollo.  If anything, she was hiding in plain sight – nothing about her was Concealed from his sight.  If he Looked he could see the spiderweb of her lifetimes, the possibilities glimmering in the sun like gossamer spun silk stretching out towards infinity, the same as any other mortal.  The only reason Apollo knew what he was seeing was incomplete was because he’d seen the grey at her temples as a young baby; without that knowledge, he would never have noticed that not all the threads that should be there were there – and he knew his father did not see the threads the way he did.

If Apollo could not see any of her Fates where his father learned of her existence and chose to act upon it, then his father would not see them, either.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” Percy said, disrupting his musings and taking his active attention away from the young, innocent herald of destruction and onto her older brother instead.  He still didn’t sound happy to see Apollo, and certainly wasn’t eager to invite him into his home, but his irreverence for the gods didn’t seem to quite extend to slamming doors in their faces.  “Mom and Paul will be back soon, they had to go out for a few minutes…”  He trailed off, but Apollo could read the judgement in his face just fine: Did you have to pick when they were gone to arrive?

Somewhat embarrassingly, it hadn’t occurred to Apollo to check that his inviter was home when he’d arrived, although in his defence Paul Blofis had specified the afternoon in question, so surely it was common sense to assume that he would be around.

“That’s quite alright,” he said, stepping over the threshold now that he had the invitation and breezing into the apartment.  It certainly wasn’t the neatest place he had ever set foot in – nor was it the neatest he had ever seen this particular apartment, either.  Apollo’s eyes slid over to Estelle again, who still had the end of Percy’s hoodie string in her mouth and was now gripping at the rest of it with her chubby little fists, too.  Percy seemed to have finally realised what was happening to his clothes and was trying to get her to let go whilst kicking the front door shut with his foot.

Herald of destruction, indeed.  There was no doubt that most of the mess was the fault of young Estelle, given it was mostly a minefield of various age-appropriate toys scattered across the floor in a child-friendly version of caltrops.  At least Estelle had not yet been deemed old enough to be introduced to Lego; scattered Lego bricks were far more lethal than caltrops, even to the soles of godly feet.

As it was, combined with the tipped-over container hanging off the edge of a low table, Apollo got the impression the toys were freshly-scattered, just in time for his arrival.  There was the faintest tint of red in the tips of Percy’s ears as he looked away from Estelle and realised Apollo had noticed the mess.

“Uh, sorry about all that,” he said, before trying harder to reclaim the knotted end of the hoodie string from his sister’s mouth with no success.  It appeared that Estelle’s stubbornness easily rivalled that of her older brother – Apollo felt a flash of sympathy for Sally Jackson.  One headstrong child was already a lot of work.  Two of them…

He ignored the small thought that pointed out that both of them had been born with heavy destinies hanging over their heads, like thunderbolt-shaped guillotines.

“It’s fine.”  Apollo waved his hand dismissively.  “You have not seen Ares’ weapon collection.”  Admittedly that was a little misleading – Ares loved his weapons and would never leave his spears, swords or shields littered around like this.  However, Apollo’s first comparative thought had been caltrops for a reason.

“Can’t say I’m planning on seeing it, either,” Percy scoffed, which was a wise stance for any demigod to take.  Perhaps Ares’ own children might enjoy the experience, but most would find it to be not-so-pleasant.  For Percy, who did not get on with Ares in the slightest, it would no doubt be more frustrating than anything.  “Estelle, no.  Don’t eat that.”

The chubby little bundle that heralded the possible destruction of mankind giggled – not an innocent giggle, no.  The giggle of a mischievous child who knew they were misbehaving, and also knew no-one was going to do anything about it.  From Percy’s sigh and slumping shoulders, he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it.

Apollo gestured at the floor.  “Did you want a hand?” he offered, knowing better than to offer to hold the child herself – and not wanting to, not wanting to do anything that might get Zeus’ eyes on her more than they already would be by virtue of being related to Percy Jackson – but more than willing to help a long suffering older brother clean up his younger sibling’s mess.

It was a position he’d found himself in more than once, although his younger half-siblings tended to create messes of far more epic proportions than a single disrupted crate of children’s toys, and attempts to do anything about it were heavily dissuaded on Olympus.  Still, he’d cleaned up a few of Artemis’ messes over the years…

“Sure,” Percy said distractedly, perching on the edge of a couch so that his sister was now in his lap and not supported by his arm, thereby leaving him with twice the hands available to try and get Estelle’s destructive tendencies redirected towards something that wasn’t his clothes.  Apollo sincerely wished him luck with that endeavour.

For his part, with Percy’s permission granted, he knelt down and began to gather up Estelle’s impressive collection of toys, ruining their aspirations of being deadly caltrops by plucking them off the rug one by one and depositing them back in the crate, which he remembered to put upright after the first couple of toys spilled back out again.  Her collection truly betrayed her status as the beloved baby of the family – Apollo didn’t think he’d seen a child so young with quite so many toys, before.

All the better to cause chaos with, he supposed as he dropped a plushie satyr with one of his horns half torn off into the crate.

Millennia of being the centre of attention told Apollo when he was being watched, and the same prickle of awareness had him glancing back at Percy and Estelle, both of whom were staring at him with their identical sea-green eyes.  Estelle had yet to relinquish her hoodie-string snack, but Percy seemed to have forgotten that he was attempting to rescue it from her maw.

Apollo raised an eyebrow.  “Is… there something on my face?” he asked hesitantly, before a thought occurred to him and he craned his head around further.  “Or my back?  I swear, if Artemis put another of those kick me signs…”

“No!” Percy said, a little abruptly, before shaking his head.  “No, there’s nothing on your face.  Or your back..?”  He said the last bit like a question itself, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that some typical sibling shenanigans didn’t also occur to gods, even when the gods in question also happened to be twins.  “I just… didn’t expect you to clean up like that.”

Apollo sat back on his haunches, a well-chewed and still slightly damp hellhound plushie in one hand – oh the irony – and a slightly disturbing squishy skeleton in the other, and centred his attention more directly on Percy.  “Like what?” he asked.

“Like that,” Percy repeated, one hand abandoning the hoodie string rescue mission – not that it had been working on that quest for the past thirty seconds anyway – to gesture broadly at Apollo and the toys still to be cleared away.  “Instead of, I don’t know, just snapping your fingers or something?”

Apollo blinked, and looked back at Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly.  He wanted to say that the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and it was true that it had barely occurred to him, a flicker of a thought dismissed before it could fully form, but in reality it boiled down to Estelle, again.  Bursts of godly power in the Jackson-Blofis apartment ran the risk of drawing his father’s eye, and Apollo was reasonably determined to minimise Zeus’ reasons for looking in their direction.

As it was, he was technically causing a risk by being there at all, but if he wasn’t being all godly while he was there, maybe Zeus wouldn’t look too closely.

There were some truths that were best off unspoken, though, and Apollo had no desire to speak into the world the danger that Estelle posed, to herself and humanity at large.  Percy would take it badly, no doubt, and Zeus would not miss such a declaration.

“I suppose some of my Lester habits haven’t quite left yet,” he said instead, which was true in its own way.  “Why, did you want me to?”  It was a dangerous question, because if Percy said yes…

But the son of Poseidon was already shaking his head, as Apollo had suspected he would.  “No, it’s fine,” he said.  “Maybe if she sees that it’s effort to clean up, even for a god, she’ll stop doing it.”  The look he sent his little sister was stern, but it was the sort of sternness that didn’t hold up to scrutiny and Apollo could easily see the bemusement behind the fake frown.

Privately, he thought the herald of destruction lurking behind the angelic face thrived on seeing others suffer through chores such as trying to stop her doing what she wanted, knowing they were doomed to fail.  The concept of hard work no doubt seemed fun to her, still safely in the stage of youth where everything she wanted fell neatly into place and only other people had to do boring and tedious things like cleaning up her messes.  Her tune would only change once it was her responsibility to clean up her own mess.

In Apollo’s experience – and he had a considerable amount of it, given the number of children he had had over the years, even if most of them he had been unable to pick up strewn toys for – most young children Estelle’s age enjoyed watching others clear up their trails of destruction.  He had no doubts that an infant Perseus Jackson had been the exact same way.

Still, he saw no reason to disillusion Percy on the topic.  Deep down, he suspected that Percy already knew the truth and was simply denying it for his own sanity, but in the short term it didn’t matter.  Estelle was still too young to tidy up after herself, and as she had a loving big brother wrapped around her little finger, Apollo knew it would be some time before she truly had to start finding her own feet and responsibilities in the world.

He didn’t envy her that.  If anything, he celebrated it.  Every day that Estelle was able to act like a loved baby sister with a doting family was a day that her existence went unacknowledged by Zeus, and if that could last her entire mortal lifetime, then Apollo would be ecstatic.

Soggy-Hellhound and Squishy-Skelly found themselves deposited in the crate on top of Torn-Horn-Satyr, and Apollo resumed tidying up, listening to the sounds of Percy renewing his attempts at rescuing his hoodie string with little success, and finding a smile creeping across his own lips.

He just hoped that Zeus had the foresight to hire someone capable to take care of them. Or, more likely, that one of his assistants had taken pity on the poor horses and hired someone themself, because the words “Zeus” and “Foresight” rarely go hand in hand. But with the way his luck was, and the unfortunate tendency of people to forgo taking care of immortal beings because “they’ll live,” Apollo was not confident he would escape his horses without any injuries.

Suffice it to say, Apollo needed to check on his sun horses. So, after much too long, Apollo appeared just outside of the stables.

He had chosen to wear high rubber boots and stylish yet practical overalls and chaps, with a plain white t-shirt underneath and hefty leather gloves, a decision that was proven to be wise when he opened the stable doors and a rush of grimy water escaped into the air. “Dear me,” Apollo muttered, avoiding eye contact with four very angry horses.

The stable was in worse a shape than Apollo hoped, as it seems someone was hired to take care of the horses, but whoever it was seemed to know nothing about horses at all. The most glaring issue is that the water had been left on for who knows how long, flooding the drainage and leaving his precious steeds stuck in up to nearly a foot of water.

Ignoring the horses for now, Apollo got to work clearing out the stables. Normally, and if he were still mortal, the stables likely would have been ruined beyond repair, but as a god once more Apollo repaired rotting wood with a snap of his fingers, while leaving the more delicate process of checking the pipes and foundation for a more thorough inspection.

For now though, the stable was stable enough for him to leave the inspection to later, focusing all his available energy on his horses. “Hello, dears,” he chuckled, cowing under the firey glare his horses gave him. “I’m sorry for abandoning you, I truly am, but unfortunately—”

With a snap of his fingers the gates unlocked, and suddenly Apollo found himself on the still damp ground, sharp hooves pressed in uncomfortable places as his horses whinnied in displeasure.

“Ow, ow, ow, please—” Apollo wheezed underneath his horses, and as four horses practically bullied him, he realized maybe he should have done this one at a time.

Once his horses had decided that Apollo’s delicate body had served enough punishment for being left alone, he somehow managed to corral them back into their proper stalls.

Summoning a horse care kit, Apollo made his way over to Pyrois’ stall, as the hot headed horse has made it abundantly clear that he needs his spa day. He also takes care to split his essence once again, this time into four, so that he can take care of each of his horses at the same time, not wanting to decline any treatment. They hate when he plays favourites, no matter how many times Apollo has insisted that they are all his favourite.

First, Apollo checks for any damage caused by the unknown amount of time spent alone, stagnant water or otherwise. Although he is the god of medicine, he isn’t necessarily the god of vetrinary medicine, so he takes his time to ensure that Pyrois hasn’t suffered any damage. He notes with some disdain that Pyrois is malnourished, but it seems that someone had at least been feeding him something, even if that something was not his usual feed.

Once he’s given Pyrois’ general health the all clear, Apollo grabs the front left hoof and places it firmly in between both his legs, assuming an awkward squat to keep the hoof in place. Gently, as it’s very easy to fuck up a horse foot (even if that horse foot is immortal), Apollo takes the buffer and positions it just between the clench and the hoof wall before tapping the buffer with a mallet, straightening out the hooked nail end. He then pincers the head of the nail and works it out of the shoe, repeating this step until the horse shoe is properly removed. After this, Apollo takes the nippers and begins to hack away at the overgrown hoof, trimming it down to size.

Pyrois huffs in Apollo’s ear and he thinks he probably should have sedated the horses, but it’s too late now, so he goes ahead with cleaning up Pyrois’ hoof. Luckily it’s still in relatively good condition, and no extreme trimming will be needed. Once he’s done, Apollo carefully replaces the horseshoe with one of his backups, noting in the back of his mind to ask Hephaestus for some replacements. Repeating this process for Pyrois’ other hooves, the horse gives Apollo an affectionate nuzzle in thanks.

Apollo then turns to Pyrois’ coat, summoning his pair of horse clippers. Pyrois whinnies, not a fan of anyone touching his coat, but Apollo sooths him with an apple (summoned by yours truly) as he trims down Pyrois’ winter coat before brushing it. He then checks Pyrois’ mane and tail which, tapering into fire at the end, tend not to need any pulling, so he still takes his time to brush out any dirt or matts.

Once the hair has been trimmed and checked, it’s time to bathe Pyrois. While normal water works as hydration—and likely could work (with difficulty) to bathe the horses despite their internal temperature being that of, well, the sun—Apollo prefers to get the best of the best, so he’s had Hephaestus hook his stable pipes up to the Phlegethon itself.

Far away from Tartarus and The Underworld, the liquid fire of the Phlegethon isn’t as damaging to Apollo as it would be if he were to encounter it at its source. It still burns, as fire is wont to do, so he tends to put on an outfit more useful for horse power washing than horse bathing. But the sacrifice in style is more than worth it for the comfort of his horses, who deserve only the best for regularly spending their time pulling the sun.

Once all of his horses are properly cared for and bathed (the healing water of the phlegethon curing any superficial injuries better than he could), Apollo gives each horse their own special feed, making sure to set reminder to feed them again later, as to rehabilitate them from their unfortunate malnourishment.

Apollo blinked and let out a laugh that had him wiping tears away, as he got up. He let out a happy sigh and held a hand out for Meg to take.

“What?”

“Well, you want a horse, right? I can let you ride one but not have one,” Apollo started, already envisioning the day they could have. “Let’s pay a visit to our dear friend Hazel Levesque, shall we?”

To say Hazel was shocked when Meg and her godly friend appeared at Camp Jupiter was an understatement, but she was always surprised. Especially with how Apollo wasn’t.. Lester.. anymore and still treated demi gods and mortals better. But she let a smile appear on her face as she walked around with them. “What can I help you with, Lord Apollo?”

“Ah, just apollo works. Or Lester, even.” He waved a hand, embarrassed. “And Meg here wants—“

“A horse!”

“Right. Meg, please let me finish my sentence.”

Meg shrugged and smiled innocently at the god. Hazel got a thinking face on and debated.

“Well, meg, you probably can’t keep one, but we can go have fun together— all three of us— with the horses in the forest? Have a lovely stroll.”

Meg nodded excitedly. Any horse was better than no horse, after all. Hazel let the way to the stables and introduced each horse.

You can ride any. Except Arion. He’s not even here. He’s a free horse, see. I helped him escape from the Amazons and tamed him. Usually only I ride him.”

Meg nodded and went up to a horse that was a pale brown in color and eagerly allowed Meg to touch them.

“That’s Adiva. She’s wonderful and absolutely the sweetest.”

Hazel introduced as she helped Meg get Adiva out of the stable and feed her real quickly.

“Apollo, are you—?”

Apollo nodded, eyes fluttering around. He knew his godly form probably scared some of these animals, so he had changed into his Lester form. With, some changes of course. Firstly, none of that dreadful acne! And better outfits, now that he had a choice. He walked up to a grey horse that brayed and stared at Apollo.

“Oh, that’s Caoimhe. She’s gentle but super extra about everything.”

“Sounds just like you Apollo.” Apollo shot Meg a deadpan look as he helped Caoimhe out of the stable and also fed her. Now that they were ready, they walked the horses out to the forest area and quickly hopped onto them. Meg needed some assistant of course, but then it was smooth sailing.

“So, how is it with a more calm environment, Hazel? No quests, no problems, right?”

Apollo started the conversation, letting the horses lead the way. He had a pleasant smile on his face, as Meg snorted.

“You might just jinx it, being the god of giving terrible prophecies.”

Apollo waved Meg off, with a dramatic pose of his hand on his chest as he shut his eyes and used a loud, and over exaggerated voice.

“Oh Meg, you WOUND me! My prophecies NEVER cause problems! Wouldn’t you say so, Hazel?”

Hazel let out a laugh, a hand coming to cover her mouth slightly. She shook her head, curls bouncing and glinting in the dim light. She looked much happier.

“Prophecies have never caused problems! They could never cause wars, or have titans come back to life and attack us!”

Hazel played along. All three broke out into laughs, echoing as they rode into the forest with the sunset behind them. Chatter could be heard from everywhere with how loud and joyful they were.

And when they came back, no one asked why Hazel was practically high with the amount of times she giggled as she remembered their conversations.