Chapter 1: Disastrous Names
Chapter Text
Title: Disastrous Names
When Tony Stark became a father after a one-night stand, he thought naming his son after figures from Greek mythology was a clever nod to his love of ancient tales. He settled on Kronos Hephaestus Stark, a name that made him chuckle every time he said it out loud.
But what Tony didn’t know was that the mother of his child wasn’t some random person he met at a gala. She was Apollo, the Greek god of the sun, prophecy, music, and poetry. Of course, Apollo had conveniently forgotten to mention the whole “god” thing. In Tony’s defense, how was he supposed to guess? It wasn’t like there was a checklist for identifying shapeshifting deities.
Years later, when Kronos—or as Tony fondly called him, "Kro"—started showing signs of being... different, Tony chalked it up to genetics. Bright, impossibly charming, and with an uncanny ability to predict things before they happened, Kro seemed like a prodigy. Tony, ever the genius, figured his son was just taking after him.
Until the kid accidentally set Stark Tower’s roof garden on fire. With his bare hands.
---
Chiron sighed as he watched the newest demigod arrive at Camp Half-Blood, led reluctantly by his mortal father. It wasn’t hard to tell whose child this boy was. Blond hair, a radiant smile, and an aura of sunlight that practically screamed Apollo.
Dionysus, lounging at a nearby table, didn’t even bother to look up from his poker game. “Another one?” he muttered, glaring at the satyr who had brought the boy.
“More of a liability than usual,” Chiron murmured, glancing over at the man who had escorted the child. The man was currently arguing with a nymph about the “structural flaws” in Camp Half-Blood’s design.
Tony Stark was not having a good day.
---
Tony had finally gotten the full story. Apollo—his kid’s other parent—had decided to pop in for a little divine intervention. The god showed up in a flash of golden light, as dramatic as Tony had been warned Greek deities could be.
“You named him Kronos?” Apollo had asked, utterly aghast.
“Well, excuse me for not realizing I was naming the spawn of a god,” Tony had shot back, arms crossed defensively. “I thought it was clever!”
Apollo had groaned. “You named him after the Titan who ate his children! And Hephaestus? He’s your uncle! It’s like naming your kid after the family weirdos. No offense to Hephaestus.”
“I mean,” Tony had muttered under his breath, “you did sleep with me.”
Kro, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, thrilled to learn that his other parent was the literal sun god. “Does this mean I get cool powers?” he asked, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.
Apollo had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, kid. It does.”
---
Now at Camp Half-Blood, Kronos stood awkwardly as Chiron introduced him to the camp’s hierarchy.
“Name?” Dionysus drawled, clearly uninterested.
Kro straightened up, radiating the confidence only a Stark could muster. “My name is Kronos Hephaestus Stark.”
The camp went silent.
Dionysus choked on his Diet Coke, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. “You named your kid what?”
Tony, standing a few feet behind his son, held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t know gods were real!”
Chiron coughed into his hand to hide a laugh. “Well, Kronos, welcome to Camp Half-Blood. I imagine you’ll be staying in the Apollo cabin.”
Kro’s eyes lit up, practically glowing. “Does that mean I can shoot lasers or something? Dad, can I shoot lasers?”
Tony groaned. “Kid, let’s just get through orientation first, okay?”
---
As the days passed, Kro quickly became the talk of the camp. Not only was he the son of Apollo, but his mortal parent was Iron Man—a fact he made sure everyone knew within hours of arriving.
It didn’t take long for Kro to start showing off his abilities. From conjuring small orbs of sunlight to playing a flawless guitar solo he’d never learned, he was a natural at everything Apollo’s children were known for.
But his name continued to be a source of endless teasing.
“You really named him Kronos?” Clarisse muttered one afternoon, watching as the boy tried (and failed) to control a flaming arrow.
Tony, sitting nearby with a cup of coffee, sighed. “Yes, I get it. I screwed up. Can we please move on?”
---
Despite the initial hiccups, Kro thrived at Camp Half-Blood. He quickly became a favorite among the campers, not just for his sunny disposition but for his ability to fix almost anything—a skill that seemed to come from his middle name.
One afternoon, as he was helping repair a chariot, Apollo appeared once again, this time to check on his son’s progress.
“I gotta admit,” Apollo said, watching as Kro tinkered with the wheel, “he’s got your knack for engineering.”
Tony smirked. “Yeah, well, he’s my kid too. Not just some prophecy machine you dropped on my doorstep.”
Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. But for the record, I still think the name was a terrible choice.”
“Noted,” Tony replied, rolling his eyes.
---
Over time, Kro’s unusual name became less of a joke and more of a badge of honor. He might have been named after a Titan and a god of fire, but he was carving out his own identity—one that blended the best of both his parents.
By the time his first summer at camp ended, Kro was a hero in his own right, proving that sometimes, even the most chaotic beginnings can lead to something extraordinary.
As he stood at the gates of Camp Half-Blood, ready to head back to Stark Tower with his dad, Kro turned to Apollo, who had come to see him off.
“Thanks,” Kro said, grinning. “For everything.”
Apollo ruffled his son’s hair, his golden aura softening. “You’re gonna do great things, kid. Just... maybe don’t name your kid Kronos.”
Kro laughed, and Tony smirked, shaking his head.
“Yeah,” Tony said, wrapping an arm around his son. “One Stark disaster is enough for now.”
Chapter 2: The Sun's Obsession
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun's Obsession"
The sun was not meant to be gazed upon for too long. Its light blinded, its warmth burned, and its beauty was unattainable. Yet, those who dared to look found themselves ensnared, unable to look away from its brilliance.
Apollo, the God of the Sun, was the embodiment of perfection, both in his male and female forms. His golden hair shimmered like sunlight, his eyes held the endless horizon of a summer’s day, and his smile was a balm to even the most tormented souls. But his beauty was more than skin-deep—it was divine, a magnet drawing gods, mortals, and even Titans into his orbit.
---
It started with Helios.
The Titan of the Sun had long relinquished his daily chariot to Apollo, but the transition was not without its bitterness. Watching the young god ascend to the heavens each morning, brighter and more radiant than even Helios had ever been, stirred a dangerous mix of envy and desire.
Helios convinced himself it was admiration—Apollo was simply a worthy successor. Yet, he found himself lingering too long in Apollo's presence, his gaze tracing every detail of the god’s form. He was helpless against the pull, much like the mortals who prayed to the Sun God with offerings of gold and song.
“You outshine even me,” Helios confessed one day, his voice heavy with longing.
Apollo, ever gracious, smiled. “You honor me, Helios. But the sun’s light belongs to all, not just one.”
Helios understood the words but could not heed them. He began to craft elaborate excuses to visit Olympus, his heart aching each time Apollo greeted him with that dazzling smile.
---
Eos, the Titaness of Dawn, was no less immune to Apollo’s allure.
Where once she had loved the rosy hues of her own domain, she now found herself yearning for the golden brilliance of Apollo's day. She would linger at the edge of the horizon, pretending to admire her brother’s handiwork while stealing glances at Apollo as he prepared his chariot.
One morning, she dared to approach him.
“Your light is too beautiful for words,” she murmured, her cheeks flushed.
Apollo, adorned in robes that seemed woven from sunlight, turned to her with a gentle laugh. “And your dawn is the perfect herald of my day, dear Eos. We make the world beautiful together.”
Eos smiled, but her heart ached. She realized that she, too, had fallen victim to the Sun God’s unintentional spell.
---
Even Artemis, his twin sister, could not escape the depth of Apollo’s beauty.
Though they shared an unbreakable bond, there were moments when she found herself gazing at him with a mixture of awe and frustration. How could one being embody so much light, so much perfection?
“You’re too pretty for your own good,” she muttered one evening, as they sat by a silver lake under the stars.
Apollo chuckled, leaning back on his elbows. “And you’re too blunt for yours, dear sister.”
But her words lingered in his mind. He knew his beauty was both a blessing and a curse. It attracted love and admiration, but also obsession and jealousy.
---
The most dangerous of Apollo’s admirers was Hyperion, the Titan of Light.
Once a mighty ruler of his domain, Hyperion had been diminished by the rise of the Olympians. Yet, when he beheld Apollo for the first time, his defeat felt like a distant memory.
“You are the pinnacle of creation,” Hyperion declared when Apollo visited him in Tartarus, his voice reverent and trembling. “Even the Titans pale in your light.”
Apollo, ever diplomatic, inclined his head. “I am but a continuation of your legacy, great Titan. Without your light, there would be no sun.”
But Hyperion saw no humility in Apollo’s words—only divine radiance that he longed to possess. His obsession grew until it consumed him, his once-proud demeanor reduced to desperate worship.
---
For Apollo, the attention was as much a burden as it was a compliment. He did not seek adoration; it simply followed him, like a moth drawn to a flame.
Mortals built temples in his honor, artists dedicated lifetimes to capturing his likeness, and poets wrote sonnets that could never do justice to his beauty. Even other gods—Hera, Hades, Aphrodite—found themselves drawn to him in ways they could not explain.
But Apollo remained distant, his heart guarded. He knew that love born of obsession was not true love. He had seen the destruction it could cause, the way it turned even the strongest into shadows of themselves.
---
One day, as Apollo stood at the edge of Olympus, overlooking the mortal world, he sighed.
“Do you ever wish to be less beautiful?” Artemis asked, stepping up beside him.
Apollo smiled faintly. “Sometimes. But the sun cannot dim its light, sister. It can only shine.”
And so, Apollo continued to shine, his beauty both a gift and a curse, a beacon that drew all who beheld him into his eternal orbit. For though many would come to worship the Sun God, none could truly claim him.
The sun, after all, belonged to the world—and to no one.
Chapter 3: The Fall of the Sun (1)
Chapter Text
Title: "The Fall of the Sun"
Apollo had always been curious. As a young god, his days were spent basking in the glory of his own light, composing melodies that rivaled the beauty of the dawn, and racing his twin sister Artemis through the forests of Olympus. Yet, there was a shadow in his bright world—an uncle he had never met.
Hades, the banished Olympian who ruled the Underworld, intrigued Apollo. His mother, Leto, rarely spoke of him, and Zeus dismissed his questions with a wave of his hand. But Apollo's curiosity burned brighter than any decree.
One day, while Zeus and the other gods were distracted by a feast in honor of Athena, Apollo seized his chance.
---
The journey to the Underworld was more challenging than Apollo had anticipated. Though he carried himself with the pride of the Sun God, he was still young, his powers not yet fully realized. The River Styx loomed before him, its dark waters whispering secrets he didn’t understand.
“Stop right there, little god,” Charon, the ferryman, growled. His skeletal frame loomed in the shadows as he leaned on his oar. “This is no place for the likes of you.”
“I am Apollo,” the young god declared, standing tall. “Son of Zeus and the God of the Sun. I demand passage to my uncle’s realm.”
Charon chuckled, his laughter echoing eerily. “The Underworld does not bend to the will of the sun. Turn back before you regret it.”
But Apollo’s pride refused to let him retreat. He stepped onto the ferryman’s boat, radiating light that momentarily dimmed the oppressive gloom of the Styx. Charon said nothing more, his sunken eyes glinting with amusement.
---
Apollo’s journey to the palace of Hades was interrupted when he strayed from the path, his curiosity getting the better of him. A faint sound—like a mournful wail—caught his attention, drawing him deeper into the dark expanse.
“What lies beyond this place?” he asked himself, ignoring the warnings of the shades that whispered to him.
Soon, the ground beneath his feet crumbled, and he fell.
---
Tartarus was not what Apollo had expected. It was darker than any night, colder than the absence of the sun, and filled with an oppressive energy that pressed down on him like a weight.
He landed with a graceless thud, his golden light flickering weakly in the overwhelming darkness.
“Lost, little god?”
The voice was deep and resonant, echoing through the void. Apollo froze, his breath catching in his chest as a towering figure emerged from the shadows.
Kronos.
His grandfather, the Titan King, loomed before him, his chains glowing faintly with divine power. Though imprisoned, his presence was no less terrifying. His golden eyes gleamed with an unsettling mixture of malice and curiosity.
“You’re... Kronos,” Apollo managed, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to sound brave.
“And you are my grandson,” Kronos replied, his lips curling into a predatory smile. “The sun god, bright and bold, yet foolish enough to stumble into Tartarus.”
Apollo’s pride flared, banishing some of his fear. “I am no fool. I came here by accident.”
“Accident or not,” Kronos said, stepping closer, “you’re here now. Tell me, what brings the little sun to the depths of despair?”
“I was seeking my uncle Hades,” Apollo admitted, standing tall despite the oppressive aura surrounding him.
Kronos laughed, a sound that rumbled like distant thunder. “Hades? Ah, the traitor who sided with your father. What could you possibly want with him?”
“I wanted to understand,” Apollo said, his voice firm. “Why he was banished, why the gods fear the Underworld.”
Kronos regarded him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The gods fear what they cannot control. And they cannot control the Underworld, just as they could not control me.”
Apollo narrowed his eyes. “You’re bound by chains. You were defeated.”
“And yet here I stand, speaking with my grandson,” Kronos said, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you think your father’s rule will last forever? Power shifts, Apollo. The sun rises, and it sets. Remember that.”
---
Apollo did not know how long he spent in Tartarus, listening to his grandfather’s words. The Titan King spoke of betrayal, ambition, and the fragility of power. Though Apollo tried to remain indifferent, some part of him couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth in Kronos’ words.
Eventually, Hades arrived, his presence cutting through the oppressive darkness like a blade.
“You should not be here, nephew,” Hades said, his voice cold but not unkind.
Apollo turned to him, his relief overshadowed by confusion. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
Hades sighed. “I rule the Underworld, not Tartarus. This place answers to no one.” He cast a glance at Kronos, his expression unreadable. “Come. Let us leave this wretched place.”
As Apollo followed his uncle out of Tartarus, he cast one last glance at Kronos. The Titan King smiled, his golden eyes gleaming with something that looked unsettlingly like triumph.
---
Back on Olympus, Apollo kept his encounter with Kronos to himself. He returned to his songs and his chariot, but the words of his grandfather lingered in his mind, casting long shadows over his otherwise radiant world.
For the first time, the Sun God understood that even the brightest light could not banish every shadow. And sometimes, the darkness was worth listening to.
Chapter 4: The Fall of the Sun (2)
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun and the Shadow"
Part 2: Reunion in War
The battlefield was chaos. Titans clashed with demigods, gods unleashed their divine fury, and the earth itself seemed to groan under the weight of their war. The air reeked of smoke and blood, and cries of battle echoed across the landscape.
Apollo, riding his golden chariot high above, rained arrows of light down upon the enemy forces. His usual confidence was tempered by the grim reality of the war. The Titans were powerful, their forces relentless. For every one defeated, two more seemed to take their place.
“Focus, Apollo!” Artemis shouted from the ground below, her silver arrows piercing through the ranks of the enemy.
“I am,” Apollo muttered, though his mind wandered. He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he had seen Kronos in Tartarus. The words of his grandfather still lingered, a faint whisper in the back of his mind.
Power shifts, Apollo. The sun rises, and it sets.
---
The turning point came when the Titans, led by Kronos himself, pushed the gods back toward Olympus. Apollo had never seen his father Zeus so enraged, his thunderbolts crackling with raw power as he fought to hold the line.
And then, Kronos appeared.
The Titan King towered over the battlefield, his golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made even the gods hesitate. His scythe gleamed with malevolent light, and his presence alone seemed to darken the sky.
“Apollo,” Kronos called, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The Sun God froze. He was hovering mid-air, his chariot hovering like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. For a moment, the war seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them.
“Kronos,” Apollo replied, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest.
Kronos smiled, a cold, predatory expression. “It seems the sun has finally risen to meet the shadow.”
---
Apollo descended from his chariot, landing lightly on the ground. The battlefield around them stilled as both Titans and gods turned their attention to the confrontation. Even Artemis paused, her bowstring taut but her arrow not loosed.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Apollo said, his golden bow appearing in his hand.
“And you shouldn’t have forgotten our conversation,” Kronos countered. “But perhaps it’s not too late for you to learn.”
Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “I learned all I needed to. You seek power, no matter the cost.”
“Power is a tool, Apollo,” Kronos said, his voice calm but resonant. “It is neither good nor evil—it simply is. The question is how you wield it. Look at your father, your uncles, your aunts. They cling to their thrones, terrified of losing what they have. They are no better than me.”
“That’s not true,” Apollo said, though his voice wavered.
“Isn’t it?” Kronos pressed. “Tell me, nephew, do you truly believe the gods are infallible? Have you never doubted their rule? Their justice? Their fear of anything that threatens their power?”
Apollo hesitated, memories of his father’s pride and arrogance flashing through his mind. The Olympians were not perfect. He had seen their flaws, their selfishness, their cruelty.
But that didn’t mean Kronos was right.
“Whatever their flaws, they do not seek to destroy the world,” Apollo said firmly. “You do.”
Kronos tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing. “You think I seek destruction? No, Apollo. I seek balance. The gods have grown complacent, corrupt. They need to be reminded that their power is not absolute.”
Apollo raised his bow, drawing an arrow of pure sunlight. “Your balance will cost countless lives. I won’t let that happen.”
Kronos sighed, as though disappointed. “So be it.”
---
The battle between Apollo and Kronos was a clash of light and shadow. Apollo’s arrows burned like miniature suns, their light piercing through the darkness. But Kronos wielded time itself, his scythe cutting through Apollo’s attacks with ease.
“You cannot defeat me, boy,” Kronos said, his voice echoing with power. “You are but a flicker compared to my eternal shadow.”
“And yet,” Apollo shot back, “even shadows disappear when the sun is brightest.”
With a cry, he unleashed a devastating burst of light, blinding everyone on the battlefield. The sheer force of it drove Kronos back, his form momentarily flickering as though the light threatened to unmake him.
But when the light faded, Kronos stood tall, his scythe gleaming. “Impressive,” he admitted. “You’ve grown stronger, Apollo. But strength alone will not win this war.”
---
Before Kronos could strike again, Zeus’s thunderbolt crashed down between them, forcing the Titan King to retreat.
“This isn’t over,” Kronos warned, his golden eyes locking with Apollo’s one last time before he vanished into the shadows.
As the battle resumed around him, Apollo stood frozen, his bow still raised. Kronos’s words echoed in his mind, seeds of doubt taking root.
Was the Titan King right? Were the gods as flawed as he claimed? And if so, what did that mean for Apollo, the Sun God who was meant to bring light to the world?
For the first time in his life, Apollo wasn’t sure where he stood.
Chapter 5: Golden Bonds
Chapter Text
Title: "Golden Bonds"
Apollo, radiant and golden as the morning sun, was known for his beauty and brilliance. His music could soothe even the most restless hearts, and his light brought hope to the darkest corners of the world. Yet, despite his prominence among the gods, he had never spent much time with his younger brothers—Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus.
That changed one fateful day when Zeus, seeking to foster unity among his children, summoned them all to Olympus for a feast. Apollo arrived, his chariot trailing golden light, to find Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus waiting for him.
---
The Feast of Olympus
The grand hall of Olympus was alive with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. Apollo entered, his presence drawing the eyes of everyone present. His beauty was ethereal, his movements graceful as if he were walking on sunlight itself.
“Ah, brother!” Hermes was the first to approach, a wide grin on his face. The God of Thieves had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he sized up Apollo. “Finally, we meet properly. I was starting to think you were a myth.”
Apollo chuckled softly. “I assure you, Hermes, I’m very real.”
Hermes laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Real and far too perfect. No wonder mortals sing your praises.”
Before Apollo could respond, Ares loomed behind them, his armor clinking softly. The God of War was imposing, his crimson cloak flowing like a river of blood. He crossed his arms, his eyes sharp as they studied Apollo.
“So, you’re the golden boy,” Ares said gruffly.
Apollo met his gaze without flinching. “And you’re the mighty Ares.”
Ares smirked. “At least you’re not a coward.”
Dionysus, lounging nearby with a goblet of wine in hand, finally rose to join them. The God of Wine had a more languid energy, but his eyes were as sharp as his brothers’. He took a long sip of his wine before speaking.
“Leave him alone, Ares,” Dionysus said with a smirk. “You’ll scare him off before we even get to know him.”
Ares growled but said nothing, while Hermes laughed again.
Apollo tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “It’s nice to finally meet all of you. I’ve heard stories, but they don’t do you justice.”
Dionysus raised his goblet in a mock toast. “And we’ve heard plenty about you, golden boy. Let’s see if you live up to the legend.”
---
The Growing Bond
Over the next few weeks, Apollo found himself spending more and more time with his younger brothers. Hermes delighted in playing pranks on him, though Apollo often turned the tables with a well-timed arrow or a clever song. Ares, despite his gruff exterior, showed a surprising tenderness toward Apollo, often sparring with him to help him improve his combat skills. Dionysus, meanwhile, was endlessly entertaining, dragging Apollo to revels that lasted for days.
Despite their differences, the four of them grew close. Apollo’s light seemed to soften Ares’s rough edges, while Hermes’s mischief brought a rare smile to Apollo’s face. Dionysus’s carefree attitude was a refreshing change from the strict order of Olympus.
But as their bond deepened, so did their possessiveness.
---
The First Sign
It started subtly. One day, Artemis approached Apollo to invite him on a hunting trip, as they often did together. But before Apollo could answer, Ares stepped between them.
“He’s busy,” Ares said bluntly.
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you decide what Apollo does?”
Ares glared at her. “Since now. Go hunt on your own.”
Artemis bristled but held her tongue. She shot Apollo a questioning look, but he only shrugged, confused by Ares’s sudden protectiveness.
---
The Tensions Grow
The possessiveness escalated quickly. Hermes began intercepting messages meant for Apollo, filtering out anything he deemed unimportant—or unworthy.
“Why didn’t I get the invitation to the Muses’ performance?” Apollo asked one day, frowning.
Hermes smirked. “Must have gotten lost. Don’t worry, brother, I’ll keep you entertained.”
Dionysus took a different approach, surrounding Apollo with revelers and distractions whenever someone tried to monopolize his time. Even Leto, their mother, found herself thwarted when she tried to visit her son.
“Where is Apollo?” Leto demanded one evening, her tone sharp.
Dionysus leaned lazily against a column, swirling his wine. “Busy. You wouldn’t want to disturb him.”
“He’s my son,” Leto snapped.
“And our brother,” Dionysus said with a smirk. “We’ll take good care of him.”
---
The Breaking Point
Zeus himself was not immune to their possessiveness. One day, he summoned Apollo to discuss matters of Olympus, only to find Ares barring his path.
“Step aside, Ares,” Zeus commanded, his voice thunderous.
“No,” Ares said, his tone defiant. “You’ve had your time with him. Now it’s ours.”
Zeus’s eyes narrowed, lightning crackling in his hand. “You dare defy me?”
Before the situation could escalate, Apollo intervened, stepping between them.
“Enough,” Apollo said, his voice calm but firm. “I will speak with my father.”
Ares hesitated but eventually relented, though his glare promised that the issue was far from over.
---
A Confrontation Among Brothers
That evening, Apollo gathered his brothers to address their behavior.
“This has gone too far,” Apollo said, his golden light dimmed with frustration. “I appreciate your care, but you can’t cut me off from everyone else. I’m not a possession to be guarded.”
Ares scowled. “We’re protecting you. The others don’t deserve your light.”
Hermes nodded. “He’s right. They’ll just take advantage of you.”
Dionysus raised his goblet. “Let them whine. We’re the only ones who truly understand you.”
Apollo sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. “You don’t need to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
“But you shouldn’t have to,” Ares said quietly, his gaze softening.
Hermes and Dionysus nodded in agreement, their expressions uncharacteristically serious.
Apollo looked at them, his frustration melting into something softer. Despite their overprotectiveness, their actions came from a place of love.
“I know you mean well,” Apollo said gently. “But love means letting me live my life, not controlling it.”
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Ares sighed, his shoulders relaxing.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But if anyone hurts you, they’ll answer to me.”
Hermes grinned. “And me.”
Dionysus smirked. “And me. With wine.”
Apollo laughed, the tension in the air dissipating.
“Deal,” he said, his golden light shining brightly once more.
---
Epilogue
Though their possessiveness never entirely faded, Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus learned to give Apollo more space. Their bond remained strong, unbreakable, and Apollo found comfort in their love, even if it sometimes bordered on overbearing.
After all, the sun was brightest when surrounded by those who truly cherished its light.
Chapter 6: Secrets of Sun and War
Chapter Text
Title: "Secrets of Sun and War"
For centuries, Olympus had thrived on its drama, secrets, and divine chaos. The gods' interactions were a source of constant amusement—and occasional disaster—for mortals and immortals alike. Yet, amidst the chaos, one secret remained untold: Ares, the God of War, and Apollo, the God of the Sun, were married.
Their union had been forged in fire and light, an unlikely pairing of war’s brutality and the sun’s radiance. They had hidden their marriage well, knowing that such a revelation would shake the foundation of Olympus itself. But hiding their bond didn’t mean their relationship was smooth.
---
The Flirting Feud
Ares was a notorious flirt. His dalliances with Aphrodite and mortal women were common knowledge among the Olympians. Though Apollo pretended not to care, his simmering anger often manifested in his own playful retaliation.
One day, during a grand feast on Olympus, Ares had been caught whispering sweet nothings to Aphrodite while stealing glances at her. Apollo, seated a few seats away, watched the exchange with narrowed golden eyes.
Two could play this game.
As the feast continued, Apollo turned his attention to Hephaestus, Aphrodite’s husband and the god of the forge. The Sun God leaned in close, his golden hair catching the light, and whispered something that made Hephaestus laugh—a rare and booming sound that echoed across the hall.
Ares noticed immediately. His dark eyes locked on Apollo, his jaw tightening. When Apollo placed a hand on Hephaestus’s arm, Ares slammed his goblet onto the table, silencing the room.
“Something wrong, Ares?” Apollo asked innocently, his voice dripping with honey.
Ares glared at him, his voice low and growling. “Not at all, dear husband.”
A shocked silence followed as the other gods froze in place. Zeus, seated at the head of the table, raised an eyebrow.
“Husband?” he repeated.
Apollo sighed, realizing their secret had been unintentionally revealed. “Yes, father. Husband.”
---
The Revelation
The days that followed were a whirlwind of chaos. The Olympians were outraged, amused, or indifferent, depending on their personalities. Hera was livid at being left out of the loop. Aphrodite, however, seemed more amused than anything, while Hephaestus simply chuckled and went back to his forge.
Zeus, for his part, was both angry and impressed. “You managed to hide this for centuries?” he bellowed.
Apollo shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult. No one expects the Sun and War to be compatible.”
Ares smirked. “But we are. Perfectly.”
Despite the initial uproar, the gods eventually accepted their marriage. However, the drama was far from over, especially when their demigod children began to piece together the truth.
---
The Step-Sibling Shock
The mortal world was no less chaotic than Olympus. The demigod children of Ares and Apollo, scattered across various camps and quests, had long known of each other’s existence. They often met during battles or gatherings, exchanging wary glances but never suspecting a deeper connection.
It wasn’t until a particularly eventful reunion at Camp Half-Blood that the truth came to light.
Clarisse, one of Ares’s most formidable daughters, was sparring with a boy named Helios, who was as radiant as his divine father, Apollo. The two often clashed, their rivalry fueled by their parents’ contrasting domains.
“You’re not bad with a spear, sunshine,” Clarisse said, wiping sweat from her brow.
“And you’re not entirely hopeless,” Helios retorted, smirking.
Before their banter could escalate, Chiron, the camp’s immortal centaur trainer, approached them with an announcement.
“Campers,” Chiron began, his tone measured. “I have news that may come as a surprise to some of you.”
The gathered demigods fell silent, their curiosity piqued.
Chiron hesitated before continuing. “It has come to my attention that two of our gods—Ares and Apollo—are, in fact, married.”
The camp erupted into chaos.
---
Reactions
“Married?!” Clarisse’s voice rose above the din, her face a mix of confusion and disbelief. “No way.”
Helios, equally stunned, looked at Chiron. “You’re joking, right? My dad wouldn’t marry him.”
Chiron sighed. “It’s true. The Sun and War are united, though they’ve kept it secret for centuries.”
Clarisse and Helios stared at each other, the realization dawning on them.
“We’re…” Helios began, his voice trailing off.
“Step-siblings,” Clarisse finished, her tone flat.
The other demigods burst into laughter, though Clarisse and Helios were far from amused.
---
Sibling Bonding
Despite their initial shock, Clarisse and Helios began to find common ground. Their rivalry turned into camaraderie as they trained together, often teasing each other about their shared parentage.
“So,” Clarisse said one day, smirking as she watched Helios struggle with a heavy shield, “does this mean you get your sparkling personality from Dad or Stepdad?”
Helios rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have anger management issues.”
Clarisse threw a punch, but it was playful, her grin betraying her amusement.
Their newfound bond extended to the other demigod children of Ares and Apollo. Together, they formed an unlikely family, united by their shared heritage and the knowledge that their parents’ love, though unconventional, was genuine.
---
Epilogue
Back on Olympus, Apollo and Ares watched their children from afar, their faces alight with pride.
“They’re handling it better than I expected,” Apollo said, leaning against Ares’s shoulder.
Ares grunted. “Tough kids. They take after us.”
Apollo smiled, threading his fingers through Ares’s. “You know, for all your flaws, you’re not a terrible husband.”
Ares smirked, pulling Apollo closer. “And for all your dramatics, you’re not a terrible wife.”
Apollo laughed, the sound as bright as sunlight, and for a moment, even the chaos of Olympus seemed to fade.
They might be an unlikely pair, but together, they were unstoppable.
"Now that we are alone..." Apollo's hand traveled down Ares's bulky arm. Ares smirked and grabbed Apollo's hips.
--And very horny.
Chapter 7: The Sun and The Sea
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun and the Sea"
On Olympus, where gods and goddesses were born of power and grandeur, the bond between Apollo and Poseidon stood out like a beacon—a relationship that was more akin to father and son than that of uncle and nephew. For Apollo, Poseidon was the father he never had, a rock in his life amidst the chaos of the Olympian court. And for Poseidon, Apollo was his radiant nephew, the light of his heart in ways that even his son Percy couldn't rival.
---
The Sun and the Sea’s Bond
Poseidon’s palace was magnificent—carved from the very bones of the earth and the waves themselves, it stood at the heart of the sea. The walls glittered with pearls, and the floors echoed with the sound of rushing water. It was here, in this underwater kingdom, that Apollo found peace away from the bustling world of Olympus.
The Sun God was accustomed to his mother, Leto, and twin sister, Artemis, but there was something uniquely comforting about Poseidon’s company. Apollo adored his uncle, the way Poseidon’s deep voice could calm the stormy seas or how he would laugh with such thunderous joy that the waters seemed to ripple with him.
"You're spoiling me again, Uncle," Apollo remarked one day, standing beside Poseidon’s throne as the older god offered him yet another luxurious gift—a golden trident adorned with glowing sapphires.
“Ah, it’s not spoiling if you deserve it, my bright one,” Poseidon replied with a wink, his aquamarine eyes sparkling with affection. “You bring light to the world above, and if I can bring you a little light to your own life, I will.”
Apollo, golden as the sun itself, chuckled as he accepted the gift. He was well aware that his uncle had always favored him, showering him with presents and attention more than any other god or even his son, Percy. The contrast was evident, and Apollo couldn’t help but relish it, even if he loved his cousin dearly.
But Poseidon didn’t mind. Apollo was his favorite nephew, and though his son Percy, with his rebellious spirit, always sought approval in his own way, Poseidon felt an undeniable connection with the Sun God. They shared something special, a quiet understanding that was deeper than the oceans themselves.
---
A Day at Sea
One bright afternoon, Poseidon and Apollo decided to take a trip together, far from the prying eyes of Olympus. The sea was calm that day, the waves barely breaking against the shores of Poseidon’s domain. Apollo reveled in the tranquility, his usual flare of brightness turned to a gentle golden glow as he soared through the air beside his uncle.
"Uncle, this place is breathtaking," Apollo said, gazing down at the sprawling undersea gardens where the fish swam in synchrony and coral forests bloomed in vibrant colors. “I should bring Artemis here sometime, let her see the beauty of it all.”
Poseidon smiled knowingly. "Of course, but know this, my boy—your sister might not appreciate it as much as you do. She's always a little too serious when it comes to beauty."
Apollo laughed, nodding. "I know. But she’s my sister, and I wouldn’t trade her for anything."
They flew over the waters, laughing and joking, until they reached a peaceful cove where the waves lapped softly against the shore. Poseidon lowered them gently, allowing Apollo to rest on the sand while he sat beside him, his great form leaning against a boulder.
“It’s quiet here,” Apollo said, his voice soft as he looked out across the sea. “I think this is why I love spending time with you, Uncle. You remind me that there’s more to life than just the chaos of the gods.”
Poseidon’s smile softened as he placed a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “It’s because you carry so much light with you, Apollo. I want to remind you that it’s okay to rest, to let go of some of that pressure. We’re family, after all.”
Apollo tilted his head toward Poseidon, his heart swelling with warmth. He had always been close to his mother, Leto, but there was something about Poseidon’s presence that felt like home. Perhaps it was because Poseidon treated him not like a god to be revered, but as a child to be nurtured. Apollo had never known his father, Zeus, the way his other siblings had. He had heard the stories, of course, but there was something about Poseidon’s constant care and attention that made Apollo feel cherished in a way he never had before.
---
The Other Half of the Family
Even though Apollo cherished his time with Poseidon, he couldn’t help but feel guilty at times when he saw how Percy—Poseidon’s son—was often left out of these quiet moments. Percy had his own life, filled with quests and the weight of being a hero, but Apollo couldn’t help but feel protective of him.
It was a quiet evening when Apollo, without much thought, invited Percy to join him and Poseidon in the sea. They gathered around a fire on the beach, the crackling of the flames filling the silence.
“Percy, I want you to know,” Apollo said with a soft smile, “that I know how it feels to not have a father around all the time. But your dad—he loves you more than anything.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “I know. He’s just... different.”
Poseidon chuckled, raising his glass. “Percy’s always been a little unpredictable. But he’s mine, and I’m proud of him.”
Apollo laughed lightly. “Aren’t we all?”
The moment was quiet for a while, the three of them just sitting together by the warmth of the fire. Apollo’s golden light illuminated the space, the warmth a perfect contrast to the cool, calming blue of the sea surrounding them.
Poseidon glanced at Apollo and then at Percy. He felt a twinge of sadness, though he would never admit it out loud. He had always been Apollo’s protector, but he also wanted Percy to see the same support and love from him. Percy was just as much his son as Apollo was his nephew, but sometimes he felt like Apollo needed him more.
Apollo, sensing his uncle’s thoughts, nudged him playfully. “Don’t worry, Uncle Poseidon. I know you love Percy, too. We’re a family, after all.”
Poseidon smiled and ruffled his nephew’s hair. “You’re right, Apollo. And that’s something we’ll always have.”
---
The Gift of Love
As the evening faded into night, Poseidon presented Apollo with one final gift—a necklace made of fine silver, each charm shaped like a delicate wave. The necklace glittered with an iridescent glow, reflecting the light of the stars above and the sea below.
“A symbol of our bond,” Poseidon explained. “You’re my favorite, Apollo. My sun.”
Apollo was taken aback by the gesture, his golden eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Uncle. You’ve done so much for me. More than anyone else. You remind me of what it means to be truly loved.”
Poseidon embraced him, pulling his nephew close. “I will always be here for you, Apollo. No matter what happens on Olympus or beyond, I’ll always be by your side.”
And Apollo knew that this was the truth. In Poseidon’s arms, beneath the golden glow of the sun and the deep blue of the sea, he had found something more valuable than any gift or title—he had found family. And for Apollo, there was nothing more precious than that.
----
The Sun, the Sea, and the Thunder
The gods of Olympus were known for their egos, their rivalries, and their occasional bursts of jealousy. None more so than Zeus, the king of the gods. While he wielded thunder and had dominion over the skies, he often found himself struggling to balance his responsibilities with his complicated relationships with his family.
And it wasn’t just his children that caused him turmoil—no, it was Poseidon, his brother, that seemed to have garnered the affection of Apollo in a way that Zeus could never achieve.
---
The Growing Rift
Apollo’s visits to Poseidon’s palace had become a regular affair, a source of solace for the Sun God. They would spend days together in Poseidon’s domain, exploring the tranquil underwater kingdoms or simply basking in the warmth of the sun on the shores. The bond they shared was something that Apollo cherished deeply, more than he realized. Poseidon’s calm and nurturing nature gave him peace in ways Olympus never could.
However, this bond did not go unnoticed.
Zeus had watched from Olympus as Poseidon lavished Apollo with attention—gifts, love, and care that Zeus himself had never given. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent such quality time with his son, Apollo, or shown any real affection. Apollo had grown into a god of unmatched beauty and talent, a shining beacon in the mortal world, but Zeus felt as though the Sun God was slipping away from him, finding solace in the arms of his brother.
And that hurt.
For centuries, Zeus had been Apollo’s father. But Apollo had always been distant, always on the move, always radiating light for the world to see. Zeus never truly understood the complexities of his son, nor had he made much of an effort to. Now, Apollo’s bond with Poseidon seemed to make him realize just how little he had really known his own child.
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The Spark of Jealousy
It started with small things—Zeus noticing Apollo’s absence from Olympus when Poseidon would summon him to the sea. Apollo’s radiant presence would be missed, and Zeus would feel an odd ache in his chest. When Apollo would return, it was clear that he had grown closer to Poseidon. The two would laugh and share secrets in a way that Zeus could never replicate. Apollo’s golden glow seemed to shine brighter whenever Poseidon was nearby.
Zeus, in his own subtle way, tried to reclaim his son’s attention. He summoned Apollo to Olympus on several occasions, offering him palaces of gold, songs of praise, and even the finest mortal musicians to entertain him. Yet, Apollo, though polite, seemed distracted—his thoughts always drifting back to Poseidon’s domain. He would excuse himself, promising to return soon, only to leave Zeus feeling like an afterthought.
One evening, after Apollo had returned from another trip to the sea, Zeus could no longer hold his frustration. He confronted his brother, Poseidon, in the grand hall of Olympus, his voice laced with thunder.
“Why do you spoil him so, Poseidon?” Zeus demanded, his eyes flashing with jealousy. “He’s my son, not yours. You’ve already taken the sea, the sky, and now… you’ve taken Apollo’s heart as well.”
Poseidon stood calmly, unperturbed by Zeus’s anger. He knew his brother well—Zeus’s pride was always his greatest weakness.
“I’m not trying to take anything from you, Zeus,” Poseidon replied, his voice steady. “Apollo has always had a special bond with me, as he has with you. But that bond is not a competition. I’ve done nothing more than offer him the peace and solace he needs.”
Zeus scowled, his grip tightening around his thunderbolt. “A peace he’s never found with me.”
Poseidon’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer to his brother. “Perhaps that’s because you’ve always been too busy with the heavens and the mortal world to see what Apollo truly needs.”
The words stung, and Zeus found himself at a loss. He had been so preoccupied with ruling the gods and overseeing the mortal realm that he had neglected his children, his family. And now, the one god who truly mattered to him—Apollo—was slipping further away.
---
The Tension Builds
The tension between Zeus and Poseidon continued to grow. It wasn’t just words anymore. When Apollo was present, Zeus would make pointed comments, trying to bring the Sun God’s attention back to him, while Poseidon would respond with gentle care, never showing the slightest sign of annoyance.
One day, during a gathering of the Olympians, the two brothers stood together, watching Apollo as he performed feats of brilliance, his radiant golden light shimmering across the sky. Poseidon was proud, his heart swelling with affection, but Zeus stood stoically, his expression hard.
“A beautiful display,” Zeus muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Poseidon glanced at him, a frown tugging at his lips. “It is,” he agreed, though there was no malice in his words. “He does so much for the world.”
“Yes,” Zeus said, his tone darkening. “For the world. But not for me.”
Apollo, ever perceptive, noticed the undercurrent of tension between the two gods. He approached cautiously, sensing the growing rift. “Uncle Poseidon, Father,” he began, his voice gentle but full of concern. “Is everything all right?”
Zeus’s gaze softened at the sight of his son, but his jealousy still lingered like a storm cloud. “Of course, Apollo. Everything is fine,” he said, his voice stiff.
Poseidon, however, could see through the façade. “Apollo, come, walk with me for a moment,” he said, his voice warm, inviting.
Apollo nodded and followed Poseidon away from the group, giving his father a lingering glance. As they walked, Poseidon’s face softened in understanding.
“Zeus is having a hard time,” Poseidon said quietly. “He doesn’t know how to show his love for you, Apollo. But I know he does love you.”
Apollo sighed, his golden eyes clouded with confusion. “I know he loves me, Uncle. But it feels like he’s always… distant. I never know what to say to him.”
Poseidon placed a comforting hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “He’s always been distant. He keeps the weight of the heavens on his shoulders, but sometimes he forgets the weight of family.”
Apollo glanced at his uncle, his heart heavy. “I don’t want to make him angry.”
“You won’t,” Poseidon said with a smile. “But you need to let him know that he’s your father, and no one can replace that.”
Apollo nodded, understanding the words more than he could express. He had always sought the warmth of Poseidon’s embrace, but deep down, he longed to repair the distance with his father.
---
The Confrontation
Later that night, Apollo found himself standing before Zeus’s throne, his heart pounding. The king of the gods sat in his towering seat, his face stern and unreadable.
“Father,” Apollo said softly, his voice uncertain. “I need to talk to you.”
Zeus glanced at him, his expression softening just slightly. “What is it, Apollo?”
“I…” Apollo hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve been spending time with Uncle Poseidon. He’s always been there for me, in ways that I didn’t realize before. But I want you to know that you’re my father. No one can ever take your place.”
Zeus’s heart swelled with a mixture of pride and guilt. He had been so caught up in his own anger and jealousy that he had never stopped to consider how his actions were affecting his son.
“I’m sorry, Apollo,” Zeus said, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been… distant. I’ve always focused on ruling the heavens, and I’ve neglected you.”
Apollo smiled softly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’s not too late, Father. I want to understand you better, just as you want to understand me.”
Zeus nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over him for the first time in centuries. Apollo’s warmth and understanding were like the sun breaking through a storm. Perhaps, for the first time, he could truly be the father Apollo needed.
---
Epilogue
The rift between Zeus and Poseidon had not fully healed, but the conversation between father and son marked the beginning of something new. Apollo, ever the bridge between the gods, continued to visit his uncle, but now he also made time for his father.
And Poseidon, for his part, remained the proud, loving uncle he had always been, knowing that no matter what happened, Apollo would always be his sun, shining brighter than any storm.
Chapter 8: The Winds of Jealousy
Chapter Text
Title: "The Winds of Jealousy"
The winds howled through the plains of Greece as Zephyrus, the West Wind, stood alone on the cliff's edge, his eyes dark with jealousy. The world below seemed to spin in slow motion as he watched the scene unfold before him: Apollo, the radiant Sun God, and Hyacinth, the mortal prince of Sparta, standing together in a moment of perfect harmony. The sun’s golden rays bathed them in a divine light, their laughter mingling with the breeze. To the untrained eye, it was a sight of pure beauty. But for Zephyrus, it was a betrayal.
---
The Beginning of the Betrayal
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
Zephyrus had loved Apollo. He had always loved him—since the first time he had heard the song of Apollo’s lyre in the winds of the sky, since the first time he had felt the warmth of Apollo’s presence as the sun kissed the earth. He had loved him quietly, with the patience only the winds could afford. He had watched Apollo from afar, admired his grace, and, above all, longed for his affection.
But Apollo never saw him.
Zephyrus was a gentle wind, rarely seen, always shifting, changing, passing through the world without a sound. He had accepted that—until Hyacinth came into the picture. Hyacinth was everything that Zephyrus was not: mortal, bright, and full of life. And, of course, Apollo adored him. The bond between the two was immediate, like the fateful meeting of the sun and the earth.
At first, Zephyrus had tried to ignore it. He told himself it was just a fleeting infatuation—nothing more than a passing moment. Apollo was the sun, after all, and Hyacinth was a mere mortal. Their love could never last, he had reasoned. Apollo would return to his celestial duties, leaving Hyacinth behind.
But that didn’t happen.
As the days turned into weeks, Zephyrus watched helplessly as Apollo and Hyacinth grew closer, their bond strengthening with every shared moment. They trained together in the fields, Apollo teaching Hyacinth the art of archery and music, Hyacinth, in turn, sharing with Apollo his love for the natural world. They were perfect together—Apollo with his bright, burning light, and Hyacinth with his grounded, earthly charm.
Zephyrus had never felt more invisible.
---
The Moment of Choice
It was the fateful day when everything changed.
Zephyrus had longed to be near Apollo, to speak to him, to feel the warmth of his love. But instead, Apollo’s attention was fixed on Hyacinth. The two were in the meadow, laughing as they practiced discus throwing. Apollo threw the discus with incredible precision, his blue eyes glinting with pride as Hyacinth tried to match him. The winds swirled around them, as if the very air itself was eager to be part of their joy.
Zephyrus, unable to control the surge of emotions in his chest, watched from the shadows. He felt a deep ache in his heart, a hollow emptiness that only grew when he saw Apollo’s bright smile directed toward Hyacinth. Apollo’s eyes sparkled with something that Zephyrus could never possess—something that made him feel small, insignificant, and utterly powerless.
It was then that something inside Zephyrus snapped. The wind, which had always been gentle, now began to stir violently around him. He felt a primal urge to lash out, to do something—anything—to claim Apollo’s attention, to prove to him that he was worth more than the fleeting mortal standing in the meadow. His love for Apollo twisted into a bitter, possessive rage.
Apollo glanced over at Zephyrus, sensing the sudden disturbance in the air. He furrowed his brows, concerned. “Zephyrus?” he called, his voice soft, as though trying to soothe the restless wind.
But Hyacinth, ever the kind soul, turned to Apollo with a gentle smile. “He’s just jealous,” Hyacinth said playfully. “Let’s give him some space.”
Apollo smiled warmly at Hyacinth, the warmth of his gaze never leaving the mortal. "You’re right," Apollo said, turning his attention back to Hyacinth with a loving look.
And that, that simple gesture, that simple act of choosing Hyacinth over him, shattered something deep within Zephyrus.
In that moment, Zephyrus made a terrible decision—a decision that would alter their fates forever.
---
The Tragic Turn
The wind howled angrily, swirling violently as Zephyrus turned away, unable to bear the sight of Apollo’s affection for Hyacinth any longer. His jealousy had turned to rage, and the very force of it tore through the meadow.
Hyacinth had just thrown the discus with all his might, aiming for Apollo’s outstretched hand. As the discus spun through the air, Zephyrus, in his fury, turned the winds against him. The force of his anger sent the discus veering off course, and in the blink of an eye, it struck Hyacinth in the temple.
The world seemed to stop. Apollo’s eyes widened in shock, and time seemed to stretch on for eternity as he rushed to Hyacinth’s side, his heart breaking as he caught the mortal in his arms. Hyacinth’s blood stained the earth, his breathing shallow as Apollo tried desperately to revive him.
“No!” Apollo shouted, his voice breaking. “No, no, no!”
Zephyrus, watching from afar, felt a rush of guilt wash over him, a weight too heavy to bear. He had not meant to kill Hyacinth. But in his jealousy, in his desperate need to be the one Apollo loved, he had caused this. He had chosen to act on his anger rather than his love.
Apollo’s cries echoed through the meadow, a sound of pure grief that tore at Zephyrus’s very soul. The West Wind, who had always been gentle and kind, now felt consumed by regret. He had wanted to prove his worth to Apollo, but instead, he had taken away the one person Apollo truly loved.
---
The Consequences
In the aftermath, Apollo, devastated by the loss of Hyacinth, withdrew into himself. His radiant light dimmed as he mourned the mortal prince. The gods of Olympus, upon learning of what had happened, were enraged by the tragedy. Zeus himself sought out Poseidon and the other gods, their voices raised in anger as they demanded retribution.
But Apollo did not seek vengeance. He did not ask for punishment for Zephyrus, though he could have. Instead, he mourned, and in his grief, he did something no one expected. He turned to the heavens and created a flower—a symbol of Hyacinth’s beauty and purity. From the blood of the fallen prince, he created the hyacinth flower, its petals a soft, vibrant purple, forever to remind him of the love he had lost.
Zephyrus, meanwhile, was condemned to carry the weight of his actions for all eternity. His once-gentle winds were now often stormy and unpredictable, reflecting the chaos of the emotions that still raged inside him. He would never be able to undo what he had done, no matter how hard he tried.
---
The Legacy of Love and Jealousy
Though Apollo would never forget Hyacinth, he eventually forgave Zephyrus. The love he had once felt for the West Wind had been poisoned by jealousy, but Apollo understood the nature of that pain. Still, he could not look at Zephyrus the same way again.
Zephyrus, too, would carry the burden of his actions. He had not killed Hyacinth because Apollo chose the mortal over him. He had killed Hyacinth because Apollo had chosen him—Zephyrus’s jealousy, his need to possess what could never be his, had blinded him to the love that was truly there. And in that blindness, he had destroyed the one thing that mattered most to Apollo.
From that day forward, the winds would carry the weight of that loss, and Apollo would carry the memory of Hyacinth—forever immortalized in the flowers that grew in the meadows, a bit
tersweet reminder of love, jealousy, and the consequences of a choice made in anger.
Chapter 9: The Chains of Fate
Chapter Text
Title: "The Chains of Fate"
The dense forest was alive with the sounds of nature—the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Young Apollo, vibrant and full of energy, moved with the grace and ease of someone who had spent countless hours in the wilderness. His bow was slung across his back, and his quiver was full, ready for the hunt. The sunlight filtered through the trees in beams of golden light, making everything look almost otherworldly.
Apollo had always been drawn to the forest. It was a place where he could escape from the demands of Olympus, a place where he could be himself—carefree and unburdened by the weight of his divine responsibilities. Today, he had ventured farther than usual, following the trail of a deer that had caught his attention earlier that morning.
As he moved deeper into the forest, he felt something unusual in the air. The peaceful aura of the woods was disrupted, replaced by an undercurrent of tension. Something was wrong.
Apollo paused, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the area. It wasn’t the typical danger of wild creatures or hunters. No, this was something else. He followed his instincts, his curiosity urging him forward.
---
The Discovery
Hidden among the trees, Apollo came across a massive sight—an immense mountain that rose high into the sky, jagged and rough. At the base of the mountain, wrapped in chains that seemed to pulse with an eerie energy, was a figure. The chains dug deep into the earth, their weight anchoring the figure to the ground.
Apollo’s heart skipped a beat as he took in the sight. The figure was a titan—immense and powerful, but bound in such a way that it made him seem almost... helpless. The titan's skin was rough and dark, his hair long and tangled, and his eyes were closed, though a faint shimmer of awareness still lingered in them.
“What... who are you?” Apollo whispered to himself, his voice barely above a breath. He had never seen anything like this before. Titans were rare in these times, and most of them had been cast down into the deepest parts of the earth. This one, however, seemed... different.
The titan stirred slightly, groaning under the weight of the chains. Apollo felt a pang of sympathy. Titans were fierce, often viewed as enemies of the gods, but Apollo could not help but feel the pull of compassion. The titan was obviously in pain, and Apollo hated to see any being suffering—especially one as majestic as this.
---
A Moment of Decision
Apollo approached cautiously, his footsteps light on the forest floor. He knew that unchaining a titan would not be without consequences. The last thing he wanted was to unleash a force of nature that could destroy everything in its path. But something in the air, something in the titan’s weary posture, told him that this was no ordinary prisoner.
The titan’s eyes fluttered open at Apollo’s approach. They glowed with an intense golden hue, and Apollo found himself momentarily frozen by their depth. For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other, neither saying a word.
Then, the titan’s deep voice broke the silence, rough like stone being ground under pressure.
“Why are you here, little one?” the titan asked. His voice was surprisingly soft, though still filled with a quiet power. “You are too young to be wandering these parts. And too naive to understand the dangers of freeing a chained titan.”
Apollo’s gaze faltered for a moment, but his curiosity quickly overpowered his hesitation. “I—I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t deserve to be bound like this. Why are you chained? Who did this to you?”
The titan’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker passing through them. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer, his gaze flickering from Apollo to the chains that held him in place. Apollo’s heart raced as he stood there, waiting for the titan’s response.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the titan spoke again, his voice quiet but filled with a hint of bitterness. “I am Vern, a titan of old. I was chained here by the gods—by your family—long ago. I was considered a threat, even though I never wanted to hurt anyone. But they didn’t care. They feared me, as they fear all of us. And now, here I remain, a prisoner in this forest.”
Apollo frowned, his mind racing. He knew the stories of the Titans, of how they had once battled the Olympians for control of the cosmos. But he had never heard of Vern. The name didn’t ring any bells.
“I’m sorry,” Apollo whispered, not knowing what else to say.
Vern’s gaze softened just a little, though his posture remained tense. “You shouldn’t apologize, child. You didn’t do this to me.” He paused, studying Apollo intently. “You are… different from the others. Why are you here?”
Apollo hesitated for a moment, then spoke honestly. “I don’t know. I was hunting, and I heard something—felt something. It led me here. I don’t know why, but I felt like I needed to help you.”
Vern let out a low chuckle, though it was devoid of humor. “Help me? I don’t know if that’s a wise decision, little one. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I am capable of.”
Apollo squared his shoulders, his resolve hardening. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said, though his voice was calm. “I just want to know the truth. And I want to help.”
Vern’s eyes studied him for a long moment. Apollo’s heart raced as the silence stretched on. Finally, Vern spoke, his tone heavy with both resignation and curiosity. “Very well. You may help me. But know this—if you release me, you are placing yourself in great danger. The gods will not forgive this. And neither will I.”
Apollo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? What will you do if I free you?”
Vern’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, Apollo could almost feel the weight of the titan’s presence intensify. “I don’t know. I am your second cousin, Apollo. And yet, I feel as though I have no place among your kind. I could protect you—or I could destroy everything you hold dear.”
Apollo’s breath caught in his throat. “What do you mean? We’re family!”
Vern’s gaze softened for a moment, his expression turning thoughtful. “Yes, we are. And that is why I hesitate. You are innocent, Apollo. And I am torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to destroy everything you love. Perhaps it is the chains that have made me this way, but I am unsure.”
Apollo’s heart ached as he stared at the titan. “You don’t have to destroy anything. You can choose to be better. You don’t have to be what they made you.”
Vern’s eyes flickered with a strange, almost wistful light. “I hope you’re right, Apollo. I truly do. But know this: once I am free, I will have to make a choice. And so will you.”
---
The Final Decision
Apollo, feeling the weight of Vern’s words, made his choice. He could not let this being, his own blood, remain trapped and suffering. He reached for the chains, his fingers brushing against the cold, unyielding metal. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come.
“I believe in you,” Apollo whispered, more to himself than to Vern. “And I will help you.”
With a decisive motion, he began to loosen the chains.
Vern’s gaze never left him, a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. As the chains fell to the ground with a resounding clatter, Apollo stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest.
Vern stood tall, his immense form towering over Apollo. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Finally, Vern knelt down, his massive hand reaching out to gently cup Apollo’s face.
“I won’t hurt you, little one,” Vern said, his voice softer than it had ever been before. “I’ve made my choice.”
And in that moment, Apollo knew that he had done the
right thing. The chains were broken, and a new chapter in their story had just begun.
Chapter 10: The Child of Chaos
Chapter Text
Title: "The Child of Chaos"
Apollo had faced many surprises in his immortal life. He had seen the rise and fall of civilizations, witnessed mortals and gods alike perform acts of incredible bravery and unspeakable cruelty. Yet nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for this.
Sitting in his golden palace on Delphi, Apollo stared at the faint, glowing aura emanating from his abdomen. His perfect, immortal body had been untouched by such a phenomenon for eons. Yet here he was, holding the faint, undeniable proof of a life growing within him.
It wasn’t just any life. This child’s essence was ancient, powerful, and chaotic in a way that defied even Apollo’s divine comprehension.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself, pacing the length of his chamber. “Okay, let’s think this through. How did this even happen?”
His mind raced back to the previous week. He had been traversing the far reaches of the cosmos, curious to explore the vast unknown. He had come across a strange, shifting void—a place that pulsed with power and defied the laws of nature. Chaos.
Curiosity, his eternal flaw, had drawn him closer. What he hadn’t expected was for Chaos itself—Khaos, the primordial origin of all things—to manifest before him. Its form had been impossible to fully grasp, shifting between light and shadow, solid and liquid, form and formlessness.
They had spoken—or rather, communicated in a way that transcended words. Apollo, with his ever-present charm and lighthearted arrogance, had bantered as he always did. But Khaos had been… different. Enigmatic, alluring, and incomprehensibly powerful.
He had felt a pull he couldn’t explain, a connection that transcended time and space. And before he knew it, he had found himself entangled in the primordial’s embrace, their forms merging in a way that was as much metaphysical as it was physical.
Apollo groaned, running a hand through his golden curls. “I thought it was just… an experience. I didn’t think—”
His words faltered as he looked down at himself again.
There was no denying it. He was pregnant.
---
The realization didn’t stay contained to Apollo for long. Olympus was not a place where secrets stayed secrets, and soon enough, the other gods began to notice the faint, chaotic energy radiating from the Sun God.
It started with Hermes. The God of Thieves had stopped by Apollo’s palace, his usual smirk faltering the moment he entered.
“What’s that energy?” Hermes asked, sniffing the air like a hound. “It’s... different. Chaotic. Are you dabbling in some primordial stuff I should know about?”
Apollo’s smile was strained. “Just a new project I’m working on.”
Hermes narrowed his eyes but shrugged, unwilling to dig deeper.
Next came Artemis. As Apollo’s twin, she was attuned to even the slightest changes in him.
“You’re acting weird,” she said, crossing her arms as she studied him. “And you’re glowing. More than usual. What’s going on?”
“I’m not glowing,” Apollo snapped, then winced at his overly defensive tone. “I mean, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Before Apollo could deflect further, a shadow loomed over the chamber. Zeus had arrived.
---
Zeus’s presence filled the room with thunderous authority, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his son. “Apollo,” he boomed, “what is this strange energy I sense from you? Speak the truth.”
Apollo sighed, knowing there was no escaping this. He straightened, summoning all his confidence. “I… might have had an encounter with Khaos. The primordial.”
The room fell silent. Even Artemis, who was usually unflappable, stared at him in shock.
Zeus’s face darkened like a brewing storm. “You did what?”
“It wasn’t planned!” Apollo said quickly. “It just… happened. And now…” He gestured vaguely at his abdomen.
Zeus’s gaze sharpened, his divine senses attuning to the faint life force emanating from Apollo. His expression shifted from anger to something unreadable—fear, perhaps, or awe.
“You’re carrying a child of Chaos,” he said, his voice heavy. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
Apollo shrugged helplessly. “Not really? You’re the one who always said I should settle down. Well, here we are.”
“This is not settling down!” Zeus thundered.
Artemis, for her part, stepped closer to her brother, her protective instincts kicking in. “What are you going to do, Father? Punish him for something that wasn’t his fault?”
Zeus glared at her but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his attention back to Apollo. “This child will be powerful—perhaps more powerful than any god or titan. We must be cautious.”
Apollo crossed his arms. “It’s still my child, Father. And I’m not going to let anyone treat them like a threat.”
Zeus’s jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. “Very well. But know this, Apollo: you are playing with forces far beyond your understanding. Be prepared for the consequences.”
---
As the months passed, Apollo adjusted—begrudgingly—to his new reality. The pregnancy wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced. The child’s chaotic energy made everything unpredictable. One moment, Apollo would be basking in golden light, and the next, the room would be filled with swirling shadows and starlight.
Despite the challenges, Apollo found himself growing attached to the life within him.
One evening, as he sat on the balcony of his palace, gazing at the stars, he felt a faint pulse from his abdomen—a tiny spark of life reaching out to him.
“You’re going to be incredible, aren’t you?” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I promise I’ll do my best for you.”
Unbeknownst to him, a figure watched from the shadows. Khaos, ever-present and ever-watchful, observed the Sun God with an inscrutable expression.
“You surprise me, Apollo,” Khaos whispered, their voice a ripple in the fabric of existence. “Perhaps this child will not be a curse, but a gift.”
And as Apollo’s golden light mingled with the primordial’s eternal chaos, the cosmos itself seemed to shift, as though bracing for the arrival of something entirely new.
Chapter 11: The Favorite Parent
Chapter Text
Title: "The Favorite Parent"
Apollo’s arrival at Camp Half-Blood was nothing short of a spectacle.
The sun itself seemed to burn brighter as the golden chariot descended, casting rays of warmth and light across the campgrounds. Demigods paused mid-training to shield their eyes and gape at the divine figure stepping down from his chariot. Clad in a golden toga that shimmered like sunlight on water, with his golden curls shining in the afternoon light, Apollo looked every bit the god of the Sun, Music, and Poetry.
“Hello, Camp Half-Blood!” Apollo greeted, spreading his arms wide. His voice carried an infectious charm that made everyone’s hearts flutter.
“Dad!” Will Solace, head counselor of the Apollo cabin, pushed through the gathering crowd, his cheeks flushed with equal parts excitement and embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”
Apollo beamed, enveloping his son in a bear hug. “Will! I decided it’s high time I paid a visit to my kids. I’ve been meaning to spend some quality time here.” He pulled back, ruffling Will’s hair. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to hang out with their awesome parent?”
Will groaned but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to cause a riot.”
---
The Apollo Cabin’s Privileged Day
As soon as Apollo stepped into his cabin, his children crowded around him. Each of them wanted a moment of his attention, asking for advice on their musical pieces, healing techniques, and even their poetry.
“Dad, can you check out this melody I’ve been working on?” one of the younger campers asked, holding up a battered lyre.
“Sure thing, kiddo!” Apollo said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor like one of them. He took the lyre, strummed a few chords, and instantly transformed the melody into something heavenly. “There you go! Play it like that, and you’ll have the dryads swooning.”
Another camper handed him a poem, nervously wringing her hands. “Could you, um, give me feedback on this? It’s about the stars.”
Apollo read the poem aloud, his golden voice adding depth and emotion to every line. “This is incredible!” he said earnestly. “A little tweak here and there, and it’ll be perfect. Keep at it, and you’ll outshine the Muses one day.”
---
Jealousy Spreads Across Camp
Word of Apollo’s visit spread like wildfire. Campers from other cabins began to hover near the Apollo cabin, trying to catch glimpses of the radiant god.
At the dining pavilion, a group of Athena campers whispered among themselves. “Why can’t our mom visit us like that?” one muttered, glaring enviously at the Apollo table, where Apollo was leading his kids in a sing-along.
“Seriously,” a Hermes kid chimed in. “Our dad barely remembers our names. Apollo’s over there acting like he’s their best friend.”
Even some Ares campers, usually too proud to care about such things, found themselves grumbling. “He’s so… cool,” one said begrudgingly, watching as Apollo showed off his archery skills at the training grounds.
“Do you think he’d adopt us?” another joked, though there was an edge of sincerity in their voice.
---
Apollo’s Influence Grows
As the days passed, Apollo made it a point to interact with campers outside his cabin.
He stopped by the forge, offering tips to the Hephaestus kids on crafting instruments that could double as weapons. “You’ve got to blend function with art,” he explained, sketching designs for a harp that could shoot arrows.
At the arena, he teamed up with the Ares kids for sparring matches, much to their delight. “You guys have the brute strength,” Apollo said, effortlessly dodging a sword strike. “But you’ve got to add a little finesse. Like this!” He spun gracefully, landing a perfect strike with a bow staff.
Even the Demeter cabin got some attention. Apollo helped them plant a sunlit garden that bloomed with flowers in every color imaginable. “Nothing brightens a place like a good sunflower,” he said, conjuring a patch with a wave of his hand.
By the end of the week, half the camp was following him around like lost puppies.
---
A Heartfelt Moment
One evening, as the sun set over Long Island Sound, Apollo sat around the campfire with his children. The other campers had grudgingly returned to their cabins, leaving the Apollo kids to bask in the rare moment of their father’s undivided attention.
“You know,” Apollo said, his voice softer than usual, “I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of all of you. Being a demigod isn’t easy. You face challenges that even the gods don’t fully understand. But you’re strong, talented, and so much more capable than you give yourselves credit for.”
Will, sitting beside him, glanced up. “Thanks, Dad. It means a lot.”
Apollo smiled, pulling his son into a one-armed hug. “I mean it, Will. And I’ll try to visit more often. You deserve that.”
---
A Camp United
When Apollo finally prepared to leave, the entire camp gathered to see him off. Even Chiron and Mr. D made an appearance.
“Don’t stay away too long, Sun Boy,” Mr. D grumbled, though there was a faint smile on his lips.
“Don’t worry,” Apollo said, winking. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
As his chariot rose into the sky, the campers watched, their hearts lighter than they’d been in weeks. For the Apollo kids, it had been a dream come true. For everyone else, it was a reminder of what a god could—and should—be.
And though the other campers wouldn’t admit it, they all found themselves hoping that maybe, just maybe, Apollo would adopt them next time.
Chapter 12: The Sun's Shadowed Lovers
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun's Shadowed Lovers"
The Olympian Council was in chaos. Again.
It had started innocently enough, with Dionysus casually mentioning Apollo’s “ridiculously colorful dating history” over a game of cards. Naturally, Zeus overheard, and within minutes, the entire council was summoned for what Hermes later dubbed "The Apollo Exposé."
Apollo leaned back lazily in his throne, his golden curls shining in the sunlight streaming through the council chamber. He was smirking, though a bead of sweat betrayed his nerves. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Why are we even talking about my personal life?”
Zeus slammed his lightning bolt onto the floor, silencing the murmurs. “Because, Apollo, apparently, you’ve had more partners than the rest of us combined. And now we’re dealing with threats and disturbances because of them!”
Hera arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Threats, you say?”
Ares, sitting with his arms crossed, snorted. “More like half the cosmos ready to burn Olympus down just to get a piece of him.”
Artemis, perched in her usual spot with her bow resting against her chair, glared at her twin. “This is why I always told you to stop being so… so… you.”
“Charming? Irresistible?” Apollo suggested.
“Reckless,” Artemis snapped.
---
The List of Exes
It didn’t take long for Hermes to produce a list—because of course, Hermes would have one.
“Let’s see,” Hermes began, unrolling a scroll that unfurled halfway down the chamber. “We’ve got mortals, demigods, nymphs, muses, titans, primordial beings… and a few creatures that I’m not entirely sure qualify as sentient.”
“I was young,” Apollo muttered, slumping in his throne.
“You’re still young,” Hades drawled from his dark corner. “And stupid.”
Zeus snatched the scroll from Hermes, scanning it with growing horror. “Kronos? Kronos? You… you seduced my father, your grandfather?”
Apollo waved a hand. “It wasn’t a big deal. It was a long time ago.”
“Not a big deal?” Poseidon barked, leaning forward. “That explains why the ocean tried swallowing Delos last week!”
---
The Obsessed Exes
As the gods continued to argue, the door to the council chamber burst open. A wave of heat swept in, and a stunning figure strode into the room. It was Helios, the former sun god, who had ceded his duties to Apollo centuries ago.
“Apollo,” Helios said, his golden eyes burning with intensity, “I need to talk to you.”
Apollo groaned. “Helios, I told you, we’re done. It’s been over a millennium!”
“I don’t care,” Helios snapped. “You were mine first. You belong with me.”
The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by a snort from Hermes. “This is better than a drama at the amphitheater.”
Before Apollo could respond, another figure materialized—a shadowy, ethereal being whose presence sent a shiver down everyone’s spines. It was Erebus, the primordial of darkness.
“Apollo,” Erebus said in a voice that echoed like the void, “I’ve been patient long enough. Return to me, or there will be consequences.”
“You dated Erebus?” Athena asked, incredulous.
“I didn’t date him,” Apollo protested. “It was more… a one-time thing.”
Erebus’s eyes narrowed. “It was not a one-time thing.”
---
The Olympian Response
Chaos erupted as more of Apollo’s exes began appearing. There was Hyacinthus, his mortal lover who had been tragically killed and now radiated an aura of sorrowful obsession. There was Daphne, who had fled to avoid his advances but now seemed oddly possessive of his attention. Even some of the Muses appeared, arguing with one another over who had inspired him the most.
Zeus finally stood, his voice booming over the commotion. “Enough!”
The room fell silent, though several of Apollo’s exes continued to glare at one another.
Zeus turned to his son, his expression a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Apollo, your love life is a threat to the balance of Olympus. Do you realize how many beings—powerful beings—are ready to start wars over you?”
Apollo shrugged. “What can I say? I’m popular.”
“It’s not popularity,” Hera snapped. “It’s recklessness. You’ve entangled yourself with beings who don’t know how to let go.”
---
A United Front
As the council deliberated, Apollo’s exes began forming factions, each group insisting that they had the greatest claim to him. It was only through the combined efforts of Hera, Athena, and Hestia that a full-scale war was averted.
In the end, Apollo was forced to make amends—or at least try to placate his former lovers. With a charm that only he could muster, he promised each of them some form of recognition, whether through songs, shrines, or personal visits.
“Don’t think this gets you off the hook,” Artemis told him afterward, shaking her head. “You need to be more careful.”
Apollo grinned at her, unrepentant. “Come on, Arty. What’s life without a little excitement?”
She groaned, stalking away, while the rest of the council watched him with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation.
---
The Aftermath
Even after the chaos settled, rumors of Apollo’s romantic escapades continued to ripple through Olympus.
The other gods began looking at him with a mix of admiration and jealousy, marveling at how the Sun God had managed to leave such an indelible mark on so many hearts.
As for Apollo, he returned to his golden chariot with a satisfied smirk. He was the god of the Sun, Music, and Poetry, after all—and if his life was a chaotic, melodramatic song, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 13: The Sun's Gambit
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun's Gambit"
The Titan War raged on, shaking the heavens and the earth. The younger gods, led by Zeus, clashed with their predecessors, the Titans, in a battle that threatened to tear reality apart. Amidst the chaos, Apollo found himself separated from his siblings on the battlefield.
The golden god of the Sun fought valiantly, his arrows piercing through the ranks of Titans like rays of light cutting through darkness. But even he was not immune to exhaustion, and as he reached for another arrow, the ground beneath him split open.
“Got you,” a deep, malevolent voice rumbled.
Before Apollo could react, chains of darkness wrapped around his body, pulling him into the abyss.
---
In Kronos's Lair
When Apollo regained consciousness, he was in a dimly lit chamber. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, and the oppressive presence of the Titan King filled the space.
“Welcome, little god,” Kronos sneered, stepping out of the shadows. His golden eyes glowed like molten lava, his form towering and terrifying.
Apollo, despite his fear, forced a smirk onto his lips. “Kronos. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but honestly? You could use better interior decorators.”
Kronos chuckled, his laugh a low, rumbling sound that echoed off the walls. “Still cheeky, even in chains. I see why you’ve always been Zeus’s favorite. But that won’t save you now.”
Apollo’s wrists burned as he tugged at the bonds holding him. They were made of pure darkness, unbreakable even for a god. “So what’s the plan? Torture? Ransom? Or are you just lonely and needed some sunshine in your life?”
Kronos’s grin widened. “Oh, I have plans for you, Sun God. Your power is crucial to my victory. But before that…” He leaned closer, his presence suffocating. “Perhaps I’ll break you first.”
---
Apollo’s Gamble
Apollo’s heart raced, but he didn’t let it show. He knew Kronos’s strength far outweighed his own, but the Titan had one fatal flaw: his pride. And Apollo was nothing if not resourceful.
He let his body relax, his golden eyes meeting Kronos’s molten gaze. “Break me?” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost seductive. “That seems like a waste of time and effort, doesn’t it? Surely the great Titan King has better things to do.”
Kronos tilted his head, intrigued. “You think flattery will save you?”
Apollo smiled, slow and deliberate, his beauty radiating even in the dim light. “Who said anything about flattery? I’m just stating facts. You’re the king of the Titans. You could have anyone you wanted… anything you wanted. So why waste your energy on breaking me when you could… enjoy me instead?”
Kronos’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.”
“Boldness is kind of my thing,” Apollo said, stepping closer despite the chains. His voice dropped, a golden thread of temptation weaving through his words. “You don’t need to fight me, Kronos. We could be allies… or more.”
---
Turning the Tables
The Titan King’s hesitation was brief, but it was enough. Kronos reached out, brushing a clawed finger under Apollo’s chin. “You’re clever, little god. But I’m not so easily fooled.”
Apollo suppressed the shiver that ran down his spine. He tilted his head slightly, letting his golden curls cascade over his shoulder. “Who’s trying to fool you?” he said, his voice a melodic whisper.
As Kronos leaned in, Apollo struck. Summoning every ounce of his divine power, he released a burst of light so bright it momentarily blinded the Titan.
Kronos roared, staggering back, and Apollo seized the opportunity. Using the distraction, he slipped free of the weakened chains and sprinted toward the exit.
“You’ll regret this!” Kronos bellowed, his voice shaking the chamber.
Apollo didn’t look back. He burst out of the lair and into the battlefield, his heart pounding as he made his way back to his siblings.
---
Reunion and Aftermath
When Apollo finally reached the other Olympians, they were mid-battle, their faces lighting up with relief at the sight of him. Artemis was the first to reach him, her silver arrows ready.
“Apollo! What happened?” she demanded, her tone a mixture of worry and anger.
“I ran into Kronos,” Apollo said, breathing heavily. “He tried to keep me, but…” He flashed a grin, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s just say I convinced him to let me go.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but there was no time for questions. The battle raged on, and Apollo took his place beside his family, his golden arrows flying true.
---
Kronos’s Obsession
Back in his lair, Kronos nursed his bruised ego. The Sun God had escaped, but the memory of Apollo’s beauty, his wit, and his audacity lingered.
“You’ll come back to me,” Kronos muttered, his molten eyes glowing with determination. “One way or another, you’ll be mine.”
And though Apollo didn’t know it, he had unwittingly planted the seeds of obsession in the Titan King’s he
art—a dangerous game, but one that only the god of the Sun could play and survive.
Chapter 14: The Light of the Moon
Chapter Text
Title: "The Light of the Moon"
Luna Lovegood always knew there was something special about her mother. Xenophilius Lovegood, her eccentric yet loving father, often spoke of Selene Lovegood as if she were a celestial being.
“She had a glow about her,” he would say, his eyes misting over. “Your mother could light up the darkest night with just her presence.”
To Luna, her mother wasn’t just the beautiful, kind woman who taught her about magical creatures and brewed potions in their cozy home. Selene Lovegood was magic personified—ethereal, otherworldly, and impossibly radiant.
---
The Truth About Selene
Selene Lovegood was not her real name. She had chosen it when she descended into the mortal world, needing a quiet life far from the chaos of Olympus and her many responsibilities. Selene was, in fact, Apollo, the Greek god of the Sun.
After millennia of navigating divine drama, Apollo had decided to walk among mortals, to experience life without the weight of immortality and his golden chariot. Taking on the guise of Selene, he found solace in the English countryside, where he met Xenophilius Lovegood.
To Apollo’s surprise, Xenophilius was unlike any mortal he had encountered. He didn’t worship her beauty or try to win her affections with grand gestures. Instead, he saw her as a person, valuing her thoughts and marveling at her knowledge of both magic and the stars.
For the first time in eons, Apollo felt truly seen.
---
Luna’s Birth
When Luna was born, Apollo held her tiny, delicate form and felt something he hadn’t experienced in millennia: fear. Not of battle, not of Titans or monsters, but fear of losing something so precious.
“She’s perfect,” Xenophilius whispered, kissing Apollo’s cheek.
“She’s a miracle,” Apollo replied, his golden aura momentarily flaring before he pulled it back. He had to be careful. His divine nature could endanger both his husband and child.
But Luna was special. Even as an infant, she had an otherworldly quality, her silver eyes holding wisdom beyond her years. Apollo suspected her magical core was influenced by his own divinity, but he kept that suspicion to himself.
---
Luna’s Childhood
Luna’s childhood was filled with wonder. Her mother taught her about constellations and played music so enchanting it made the flowers bloom. Selene had an uncanny knack for healing injuries, calming storms, and making sunlight linger just a little longer on gray days.
“Mummy, how do you know so much?” Luna asked one day, watching her mother mend a broken broomstick with a touch.
Selene smiled, her eyes soft. “The world whispers its secrets to those who listen.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.
---
The Accident
The day Selene Lovegood died was the day Apollo’s mortal guise unraveled.
Apollo had been experimenting with a potion designed to enhance Luna’s magical sensitivity. But something went wrong—a miscalculation, perhaps, or interference from an external force. The potion exploded, and while Luna was unharmed, Selene was caught in the blast.
Xenophilius rushed in to find his wife cradling their daughter, her glow fading as she whispered something to Luna. By the time he reached them, Selene was gone.
---
The Aftermath
Apollo’s return to Olympus was bittersweet. He could no longer remain in the mortal world without risking exposure, but leaving Luna and Xenophilius was the hardest decision he had ever made.
From his divine perch, Apollo watched over Luna, ensuring that sunlight always warmed her face and that her path was lit even in the darkest times. He sent her dreams filled with songs and starlight, hoping to remind her of her mother’s love.
---
Luna at Hogwarts
Luna’s time at Hogwarts was marked by her peculiarities, but she never minded being called odd. She wore her mother’s memory like a cloak, a constant reminder that being different was a gift.
When others laughed at her belief in creatures like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, she smiled and thought of her mother’s voice: “The world whispers its secrets to those who listen.”
---
The Reunion
One evening during Luna’s fifth year, she wandered into the Forbidden Forest, drawn by a song only she could hear. The melody was hauntingly familiar, filled with warmth and longing.
In a clearing bathed in moonlight, a radiant figure stood waiting.
“Mummy?” Luna whispered, tears streaming down her face.
Apollo, in his true form, knelt before her. “Hello, my little moonbeam.”
Luna ran into his arms, and for the first time since Selene’s death, she felt whole again.
---
Epilogue
Though Apollo could not remain with Luna permanently, he visited her often, disguised as a ray of sunlight or a gentle breeze. And while Luna never told anyone about the god of the Sun being her mother, she carried that secret close to her heart, a reminder that she was loved by both the heavens and the earth.
Chapter 15: The Sun's Hidden Light
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun's Hidden Light"
In a world where race determined one’s fate, Apollo found himself reborn as a female Dark Elf, the once radiant Sun god now cast in the shadows of this new world. She had been reincarnated into the world of The Trash of the Count's Family, a tale that blended politics, power struggles, and prejudice. As a Dark Elf in this world, she had learned quickly that her kind was despised, considered lesser beings by the dominant races of humans. The sunlight, once her closest ally, was now a distant memory, hidden deep within her soul.
However, this world had one shining light—King Zed Crossman.
---
A Forbidden Love
Zed Crossman, the king of a powerful kingdom, had long been known for his strategic mind and ability to unite people from different backgrounds. Despite his seemingly perfect reign, there was something different about his love for Apollo. From the moment they met, Zed had been captivated by her quiet beauty, her grace, and the unspoken sadness in her eyes.
"Your Highness, I do not deserve such attention," Apollo once said, her voice a soft echo in the palace's grand hall, her dark elf features a sharp contrast to the royal blonde hair and blue eyes that the Crossman family was known for.
"Perhaps," Zed replied, his voice warm and full of affection. "But you're the one I chose."
And so, despite the whispers and objections of his nobles, King Zed made Apollo his queen. They were a perfect match in many ways—her quiet strength balanced his charisma, and her hidden magic, though subtle, complemented his political acumen.
---
A Son and an Heir
After their marriage, Apollo gave birth to their first son, Alberu Crossman. He was the heir to the Crossman throne, a child with the potential to change the world, but there was one secret Apollo could not bear to reveal: Alberu was secretly a Dark Elf, just like his mother.
She had known from the moment she first held him that he would inherit her hidden bloodline. His golden locks and blue eyes, though striking, would never be enough to hide the truth from the world. In a kingdom where the purity of one's bloodline was everything, a Dark Elf heir would face unimaginable prejudice.
To protect him, Apollo crafted a delicate yet powerful necklace, one that could conceal Alberu's true form from the eyes of others. It was woven with her own magic, a gift from the Sun god himself—a protection to hide the part of Alberu that could destroy his future.
“Wear this, my son,” Apollo whispered as she fastened the necklace around Alberu’s neck, her voice filled with a quiet sorrow. “This world is not kind to those who are different. You must never let them see who you truly are.”
Zed, unaware of the necklace’s true power, looked on with pride, believing his son to be an embodiment of the perfect heir. But Apollo knew the weight of their secret—her son was not just an heir to the throne, he was a bridge between two worlds, one that would never accept him.
---
The Crossman Family and the Curse of the Sun God
As Apollo adapted to her life as Queen, she learned more about the Crossman family’s legacy. The Crossman bloodline had been blessed by the Sun god in this world, a blessing that was meant to shine a light on their kingdom, ensuring prosperity and peace. This power had been passed down through generations, and Apollo’s role in their family was crucial—though the Olympians had forgotten much of their divine history, she remembered. She was the one who kept the blessing alive.
But Apollo had never expected the gods to call upon her again. She had hoped to stay hidden, to protect her family and her son from the world’s cruelty. Yet, as time passed, the call of her divine nature grew louder, and the Olympians began to demand her return.
Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and the others had not forgotten Apollo, and they were not pleased with his prolonged absence. The Sun god was needed to restore balance to the divine realm—without him, the celestial cycle was slowly falling apart. The gods could not tolerate her silence any longer.
Apollo received the summons in the dead of night, a magical portal appearing in the royal chambers of the Crossman castle. Zed, ever protective, rushed to her side, but Apollo could not hide the truth from him. She was not merely a queen. She was a god, and the gods would not allow her to remain in this mortal world for long.
“Why do they need you?” Zed asked, his eyes filled with fear. “You’re my queen, Apollo. Our son needs you. I need you.”
Apollo placed a hand on his cheek, her dark elf features softening in the moonlight. "Zed, my love, I am the Sun god in disguise. The world calls for me to return to the divine realm, and if I refuse... there will be consequences. But I cannot bear to leave you, or Alberu, or this life we’ve built.”
Zed’s heart shattered at the thought of losing her, but he understood. He had always known there was more to his queen than met the eye. He had loved her fully, even with the knowledge that she was different.
“I cannot make you stay, Apollo,” Zed said, his voice thick with emotion. “But if you must go... promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Promise me that you will return to us, to me, and to Alberu. Our family is not whole without you. I will wait for you. I will always wait for you.”
Apollo nodded, though her heart ached at the thought of leaving them behind. “I promise.”
---
The Gods’ Demands
The Olympians were not kind in their demands. Apollo was summoned to Olympus, where the gods awaited her return with an air of authority that she could never challenge.
“You have been absent for far too long, Apollo,” Zeus boomed, his voice full of anger and authority. “The balance of the heavens is in danger. You are needed to restore order. You cannot hide in this world any longer.”
“I never wished to hide,” Apollo replied, her voice calm but resolute. “But I cannot abandon the family I’ve built, nor the son I’ve borne.”
Hera, standing beside Zeus, eyed her coldly. “Your mortal attachments make you weak, Apollo. You must choose. Your family or your duty.”
Apollo’s eyes flashed with a quiet fury, but she did not respond. She had made her choice long ago, even if it had cost her more than she was willing to admit.
---
The Choice Between Two Worlds
Apollo stood before the gods, her heart torn. She had left behind her life as a Dark Elf queen to serve the Olympian gods, but the price of her service was high. She could not ignore her love for Zed and Alberu, the family she had built with her own hands. Yet, duty called her to Olympus.
She had to choose, but the choice was not as simple as the gods believed. Apollo was torn between two worlds, both of which she had come to love.
In the end, Apollo knew what she had to do. She would fight for her family, for the Crossmans and the love she had found in Zed. Her divine power would not be left to decay in the heavens—it would return to the world where it belonged. And in the end, she would find a way to ensure that Alberu’s heritage would be hidden from the world, so that he could live without fear of persecution.
No matter what the gods demanded, Apollo would always be thes un that warmed his family’s world, even if he could never again fully return to them.
Chapter 16: Apollo's New Companion
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo's New Companion"
Apollo, the radiant Sun god, had always been a lover of all things beautiful and majestic. From the golden fields of the earth to the shimmering stars in the sky, there was nothing that failed to catch his eye. Yet, in the endless expanse of his divine existence, there was one thing that Apollo had never experienced before: companionship.
He had known many gods, many creatures, and even humans who sought his warmth, but Apollo had never once owned a pet. Perhaps it was because he had always been surrounded by the celestial wonders of Olympus, but after spending centuries in the company of fellow gods, Apollo realized that even gods needed something more personal, something constant—something to call his own.
---
The Unexpected Encounter
It was a calm day on Olympus when Apollo made the decision. He had walked the halls of the grand palaces, through the lush gardens, and across the marble courtyards when something—no, someone—caught his attention.
As Apollo wandered into the grove at the edge of the realm, he felt the unmistakable hum of magic in the air. The trees swayed as if whispering to each other, and in the distance, a faint rumbling sound echoed through the air. Curious, Apollo ventured closer.
There, nestled between the roots of an ancient oak tree, was a creature unlike any Apollo had ever seen: a small dragon, its scales a shimmering blend of gold and orange, radiating warmth in a way that mirrored Apollo’s own fiery nature. The dragon was curled up, its eyes closed in peaceful sleep, its tail wrapped tightly around itself.
Apollo couldn't help but smile. The dragon's presence felt oddly familiar, as if it had always been meant to cross paths with him. It was a creature of fire, much like himself, but also one of mystery and freedom.
---
The Bond Begins
Apollo approached the dragon carefully, kneeling beside it. The creature’s fiery eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, there was a quiet exchange between them. Apollo’s golden glow brightened, casting warmth over the small dragon, who stretched its wings, revealing intricate patterns that sparkled like the sun.
"Hello, little one," Apollo said softly, his voice carrying the warmth of the sun. "What are you doing here?"
The dragon blinked, letting out a soft rumble that seemed to vibrate through Apollo’s chest. It tilted its head, almost as if in acknowledgment of the god's presence, before curling closer to him. Apollo smiled.
"You’re lost, aren’t you?" Apollo murmured. "Or perhaps... you’ve come to find me."
He reached out a hand, and to his surprise, the dragon leaned into his touch. It nuzzled his fingers gently, as if seeking comfort from the god of light. Apollo’s heart warmed at the connection, and in that moment, he knew that this was no ordinary creature. This was his companion, one that had come to be with him, to share in the radiance that Apollo could offer and perhaps to offer something in return.
“I’ll take you with me,” Apollo decided aloud, his voice full of certainty. "You belong at my side."
The dragon let out a soft chirp in response, almost as if agreeing.
---
The Dragon’s Name
Apollo took the dragon back to his temple, a place bathed in golden light and adorned with the finest of the earth’s treasures. The creature, whom Apollo had begun to call Helios, after his own celestial nature, was content to bask in the sunlight that streamed in from the open doors, its scales glowing in the warmth.
As the days passed, Apollo and Helios grew inseparable. They spent hours together—Apollo would play his lyre while Helios would chase the beams of light around the temple, sometimes even breathing small puffs of fire into the air. They would walk the gardens of Olympus, Helios’ wings beating lightly in the breeze, casting shadows on the ground as they passed.
“I’ve never had a pet before,” Apollo mused one day, watching his dragon leap through the air and twist playfully. "But you, Helios... you’re more than just a pet. You’re my companion, my light."
Helios chirped in approval, resting his head on Apollo’s lap. The dragon’s eyes sparkled like molten gold, reflecting the warmth and love Apollo had for him.
"You're unlike any creature I've ever known," Apollo said, brushing a lock of hair from his face. "Just as the sun is unlike any star."
---
The Fire Within
One afternoon, as Apollo practiced his archery near the cliffs of Olympus, a sudden darkness swept across the sky. A distant storm brewed on the horizon, lightning crackling through the clouds. A deep growl echoed from behind him, and Apollo turned to find Helios standing at his side, his wings spread wide, his eyes narrowed in warning.
“What is it, Helios?” Apollo asked, his senses sharp as he felt the growing unease in the air.
The dragon growled again, this time more fiercely, as if sensing something even Apollo had missed. A dark energy—unnatural and heavy—was approaching. From the depths of the storm, dark figures began to emerge, their silhouettes barely visible against the angry sky.
“Who dares to threaten Olympus?” Apollo snapped, his radiant form now glowing with divine fury. He drew his bow, his fingers brushing against the golden string as he readied an arrow of pure sunlight.
Helios growled again, his body tensing. The dragon’s scales shimmered, and from deep within its chest, a fiery light began to grow, swirling in anticipation of battle. Apollo smiled.
“We fight together, my friend,” Apollo said, his voice low but filled with determination. "You have the fire of the sun within you, and so do I."
With a mighty roar, Helios launched himself into the air, flames bursting from his maw as he soared into the storm. Apollo followed, releasing his arrow that blazed through the sky like a streak of sunlight. Together, they were unstoppable—Apollo’s light and Helios’ fire combined into a force of nature that sent the dark figures fleeing into the distance.
---
A New Beginning
As the storm cleared, Apollo and Helios landed gracefully on the mountain top, their bodies glowing with the aftermath of their battle. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow across the land. Apollo gazed at his companion with pride.
“We did it, my friend,” Apollo said, his smile radiant as ever. “Together, we are unstoppable.”
Helios nuzzled him affectionately, a soft purr escaping his throat. Apollo chuckled, running a hand through the dragon’s shimmering scales.
“You’re not just a pet, Helios. You’re my partner, my family. And no matter what the world throws at us, we’ll face it together.”
And so, Apollo’s days grew brighter. With Helios by his side, the Sun god had found something that transcended the immortality of the gods—a bond that would last for eternity, forged in light and fire, a companion whose loyalty and strength matched his own.
Apollo had finally found the one thing he had always yearned for: someone who could stand with him in the brilliance of the sun, no matter where it led them.
---
The Reactions of the Gods
When the other gods first learned of Apollo's new companion, their reactions were as varied as their personalities.
Zeus, ever the patriarch of Olympus, had a skeptical eyebrow raised when Apollo introduced Helios. “A dragon, Apollo? You have an entire world of divine creatures at your fingertips, and you choose a dragon? How quaint.”
But there was a trace of amusement in his voice, and Apollo could tell that, despite his gruffness, his father wasn’t opposed to the idea. It was just... unexpected.
Hera was surprisingly impressed. “I never would have thought you’d take a creature like this as your companion,” she said, eyeing the dragon with a critical gaze. “But I suppose it fits you—fiery, radiant, and always a little unpredictable.”
Apollo smiled, his golden eyes shining brightly. "I think Helios is the perfect fit for me. He's as much of a light-bringer as I am."
Artemis, Apollo’s twin sister, was immediately smitten with the dragon. “I’ve always preferred creatures of the wild, Apollo,” she said, gently petting Helios’ scales. “I must admit, I’m a bit jealous. He’s absolutely beautiful.”
Ares, ever the warrior, grunted in approval. “Seems like a strong ally,” he said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind having him in battle.”
But Athena, ever the strategist, eyed Helios with interest. “A dragon... how intriguing. We may have use for him one day, Apollo. Perhaps we should find a way to train him for Olympus.”
The reaction that made Apollo’s heart flutter, however, came from Hermes. “Finally, someone to compete with me when it comes to getting attention!” he teased, winking at Apollo. “Just wait until I take him for a ride. We’ll leave all the other gods in the dust.”
Apollo laughed, shaking his head. “Helios is mine, Hermes. Keep your distance.”
And as the days went on, it became clear: Helios was no mere pet. He was Apollo’s partner in both light and battle, and the gods of Olympus soon realized that the bond between them was unbreakable. Together, they would light the way for Olympus—whether in the golden light of day or the fierce fire of war.
Chapter 17: Golden Boy of Olympus
Chapter Text
Title: "Golden Boy of Olympus"
Apollo had always been special. From the moment of his birth, the Sun God radiated an aura of charm and grace that endeared him to everyone around him. His golden hair, warm smile, and melodic voice seemed to cast a spell on the gods of Olympus. While all the Olympians were powerful and unique, there was something about Apollo that made him impossible to resist.
He was the favorite, and everyone knew it.
---
A Loving Family
From a young age, Apollo had captured the hearts of his family.
Zeus, the King of the Gods, adored his son. Despite his often stormy temperament, Zeus had a soft spot for Apollo. “My boy,” he would say, ruffling Apollo’s golden curls, “you are the light of Olympus. You carry my strength and your mother’s beauty. There’s no one quite like you.” Zeus was quick to lavish Apollo with gifts: the finest golden chariot, a bow crafted by Hephaestus himself, and even a lyre blessed by the Muses.
Hera, though known for her strictness, couldn’t help but indulge Apollo. She would often have the finest ambrosia and nectar prepared for him, going as far as to personally ensure his robes were perfectly tailored. “You’re too thin,” she would chide, piling more food onto his plate. “A god of your stature must look his best at all times.”
Artemis, Apollo’s twin sister, was fiercely protective of him. While she often teased him about his vanity, she couldn’t deny her love for her brother. “If anyone dares to insult Apollo,” she once declared, stringing her silver bow, “they’ll have to deal with me.” She frequently joined him on hunting trips, making sure to show him her best techniques while secretly admiring his skill.
Even the normally aloof Hades had a soft spot for Apollo. When Apollo visited the Underworld, Hades would grumble about the brightness he brought to his realm, but he would secretly order Persephone to prepare the gardens for him. “Don’t tell anyone,” Hades would mutter, handing Apollo a rare gem from his treasury. “But I suppose it’s... pleasant to see you.”
---
Spoiled Beyond Measure
Apollo wasn’t just loved; he was spoiled. When he wanted something, the gods bent over backward to provide it.
Once, Apollo mentioned in passing that he admired the wings of Hermes’ sandals. Within days, Hermes had gifted him a custom pair, complete with gold accents that matched Apollo’s aura. “Don’t get used to it,” Hermes said with a grin, though everyone knew he would give Apollo anything.
Another time, Hephaestus spent weeks forging a miniature sun to hang in Apollo’s temple, just because the god of light had expressed a desire for “something to brighten the nights.”
Even Poseidon, who was not known for his patience, found himself catering to Apollo’s whims. When Apollo wanted to visit the ocean, Poseidon summoned his finest sea creatures to entertain him, and he personally crafted a pearl-encrusted throne for Apollo to sit on.
“You’re too kind, Uncle,” Apollo said with a dazzling smile. Poseidon only chuckled. “Anything for you, boy. You brighten even the depths of my ocean.”
---
Envy Among the Gods
Of course, not everyone was thrilled with Apollo’s favoritism.
Ares often grumbled about the attention Apollo received. “Why does he get all the praise?” Ares fumed. “I’m the god of war! I deserve the respect!” But even Ares couldn’t stay angry at Apollo for long. When Apollo gifted him a golden sword engraved with a hymn to his strength, Ares begrudgingly admitted, “You’re alright, golden boy.”
Athena tried to be above it all, but even she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy when Zeus praised Apollo’s artistry over her strategies. Still, she often found herself helping Apollo with his poetry, offering critiques that she swore weren’t because of his irresistible charm.
---
The Golden Heart
Despite being spoiled, Apollo was far from selfish. He loved his family dearly and went out of his way to share his blessings.
When Demeter lamented the lack of sunlight for her crops, Apollo personally guided the sun to shine longer over her fields. “Anything to help, Aunt Demeter,” he said with a warm smile, earning a rare hug from the goddess of the harvest.
When Dionysus was mocked by mortals for his wild festivals, Apollo composed a song in his honor, a melody so divine that it silenced all critics. “You’re a god of joy,” Apollo told him. “Let them see the beauty in that.”
Even when Artemis tried to push him away, insisting she needed no one, Apollo would patiently sit by her side, sharing stories and laughter until she admitted she enjoyed his company.
---
A Radiant Legacy
Apollo’s golden presence lit up Olympus in more ways than one. He was a reminder of the gods’ unity, a symbol of their love and strength. His family’s favoritism wasn’t just because of his beauty or talent; it was because Apollo had a heart that shone brighter than the sun itself.
As he played his lyre one evening, the gods gathered to listen, their bickering and rivalries forgotten in the harmony of his music. Zeus watched with pride, Hera with affection, and Artemis with quiet joy. Even the stars seemed to sparkle a little brighter, as if honoring the golden boy of Olympus.
For Apollo, being spoiled wasn’t about the gifts or attention—it was about the love he felt from his family, a love he returned tenfold with every note he played and every ray of light he shared.
Chapter 18: Mom of Olympus
Chapter Text
Title: "Mom of Olympus"
---
Apollo hadn’t planned to become the adoptive parent of half the cosmos. It just… happened.
The first time it occurred, it was innocent enough. Apollo had been wandering through a forest when he found a trembling nymph hiding beneath a tree. Her name was Chloris, and she had narrowly escaped being caught by a mortal hunter. Seeing her fear, Apollo immediately stepped in.
“You’re safe now,” he said gently, kneeling to her level. “No one will hurt you while I’m here.” He shielded her with his golden aura, and when she hesitantly leaned into his embrace, he knew he couldn’t leave her. He brought her back to his temple, giving her a home and promising her safety.
It was the beginning of something much bigger.
---
Adopting Everyone
Word spread quickly across the mortal and immortal realms: Apollo would take you in, no questions asked.
When a young satyr was mocked by his peers for not being swift enough, Apollo found him sobbing by a stream. “Speed doesn’t matter,” Apollo assured him, wiping his tears. “You have other gifts, and I’ll help you find them.”
When a harpy, shunned even by her own kind, was discovered starving on a mountaintop, Apollo brought her to his temple and made sure she was fed and cared for.
Even monsters weren’t exempt. A battered cyclops, fleeing from vengeful mortals, stumbled upon Apollo by accident. Instead of recoiling in fear or disgust, Apollo offered him a hand. “You’re not a monster,” he said firmly. “You’re just misunderstood.”
Then there were the Titans. After the war, many of the defeated Titans were left to wander, hated and feared by all. Apollo didn’t care. When he found Selene, the Titaness of the Moon, weeping over her lost power, he knelt beside her and said, “You’re still beautiful, and the night is yours to reclaim.”
Even Hecatoncheires, terrifying beings with a hundred hands, found solace in Apollo’s kindness. “You’re strong,” he told one of them, Briareus, who had been hiding in shame. “And strength is nothing to be ashamed of.”
---
"Mom" Apollo
It wasn’t long before everyone started calling Apollo “Mom.”
At first, Apollo tried to correct them. “I’m not your mom,” he would say with an exasperated smile. But they were insistent.
“You protect us.”
“You care for us.”
“You love us.”
Eventually, he gave up. “Fine,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Call me whatever you like.”
His “children” took this title very seriously. They weren’t just grateful to Apollo—they were possessive. Anyone who even looked at Apollo the wrong way would find themselves facing an army of fiercely loyal beings, from Titans to naiads to harpies.
---
Conflict on Olympus
The other gods were not pleased.
“Why are there so many monsters in your temple?” Athena demanded, glaring at the assortment of beings lounging in Apollo’s domain.
“They’re not monsters,” Apollo said, crossing his arms. “They’re my family.”
Zeus was furious. “You can’t just adopt everyone, Apollo! That cyclops you’re coddling once attacked my temple!”
“He was hungry and desperate,” Apollo shot back. “Maybe if you’d shown him some kindness, he wouldn’t have done it.”
Even Hera, who was often indifferent to Apollo’s antics, was aghast. “You’ve turned Olympus into a refuge for the rejected!”
“They’re not rejected here,” Apollo said calmly. “They’re loved.”
---
The Possessive "Children"
Apollo’s adoptive family was fiercely protective of him.
When a mortal poet tried to criticize Apollo’s music, a flock of naiads stormed the man’s village, demanding an apology.
“Speak ill of our mom again,” they hissed, “and you’ll regret it.”
When Ares made a snide comment about Apollo’s “softness,” a Titan who Apollo had taken in stepped forward. “Say that again,” she growled, cracking her knuckles. Ares wisely backed down.
Even Artemis, Apollo’s twin sister, struggled to get time with him. “You’re always surrounded by them,” she complained, gesturing to the crowd of beings that followed him everywhere.
“They need me,” Apollo said with a shrug.
“I’m your sister!” Artemis snapped. “I need you too!”
---
Apollo’s Perspective
For Apollo, it wasn’t about defying Olympus or making a statement. He simply couldn’t bear to see anyone suffer.
“They’re hurt,” he explained to Hermes one day as they watched a group of Apollo’s “children” repair his temple. “And if I can help them heal, why shouldn’t I?”
Hermes, who often teased Apollo, was uncharacteristically quiet. “You’re too good for us, you know that?” he said finally.
Apollo laughed. “I’m not. I just care too much.”
---
The Final Straw
The tipping point came when a group of Apollo’s “children” refused to let Zeus into Apollo’s temple.
“You can’t keep me out of my own son’s domain!” Zeus thundered.
“He’s our mom,” a nymph replied defiantly. “And we don’t want you upsetting him.”
Zeus was livid, but Apollo merely shrugged when confronted. “Maybe if you were kinder, they’d respect you more,” he said pointedly.
---
A New Normal
Eventually, the gods learned to live with Apollo’s ever-growing family. They grumbled and complained, but deep down, even they couldn’t deny the positive change Apollo brought to Olympus.
Under his care, former enemies found peace, outcasts found belonging, and even the most broken spirits began to heal.
And Apollo? He was happy. His temple might have been chaotic, but it was filled with laughter, love, and light—a true reflection of the god who had brought them all together.
“You’re a softhearted fool,” Zeus muttered
one day, watching Apollo teach a group of naiads how to play the lyre.
Apollo just smiled. “Maybe. But I’m your fool.”
Chapter 19: Golden Goddess of Olympus
Chapter Text
Title: "Golden Goddess of Olympus"
---
Apollo woke up feeling... different. As he glanced at his reflection in the polished golden mirror of his temple, he realized why. His usual sharp, masculine features had softened. His golden hair cascaded down his back in shimmering waves, and his eyes—still radiant and bright—seemed larger, framed by lashes that any nymph would envy. His body, too, had changed, adorned with the unmistakable curves of femininity.
He blinked. “Well, this is new.”
He wasn’t unfamiliar with changing forms—he had spent time in his female form before, usually by choice. But this time, it felt... stuck. No matter how much he concentrated, he couldn’t shift back.
---
The Trouble Begins
At first, Apollo tried to brush it off. He continued his duties as usual: guiding the sun, healing the sick, and playing his lyre. But it wasn’t long before he noticed the way the other gods were looking at him.
Poseidon was the first to comment. “Apollo,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you’ve always been radiant, but this form... it suits you.”
Apollo chuckled nervously. “Thanks, Uncle. It’s temporary, I think.”
But Poseidon wasn’t the only one.
Ares started appearing more often, offering to spar with Apollo—a rarity for the war god. “You’re distracting like this,” he admitted with a grin. “But I’m not complaining.”
Even Hermes, who usually spent his time teasing Apollo, seemed tongue-tied. “You’re, uh, glowing more than usual,” he stammered, avoiding Apollo’s gaze.
And then there was Zeus.
---
The King of the Gods
Zeus was... possessive. He had always been proud of Apollo, his golden son, but now, that pride took on a dangerous edge.
“Come sit by me, Apollo,” Zeus commanded during one of the Olympian feasts, his eyes lingering on Apollo in a way that made the other gods tense.
Apollo hesitated, but he complied, his heart racing. He had faced monsters and Titans without fear, but the way his father was looking at him now made his stomach churn.
“You’re even more beautiful than Leto was when I first met her,” Zeus murmured, just loud enough for Apollo to hear.
---
The Gods Lust After Him
It wasn’t just Zeus. Soon, the entire pantheon seemed to be vying for Apollo’s attention.
Dionysus sent Apollo rare wines, each bottle more extravagant than the last. “Drink with me,” he purred, his smile suggestive.
Hephaestus forged a golden necklace in the shape of the sun, presenting it to Apollo with uncharacteristic shyness. “It’s... nothing compared to your radiance,” he muttered.
Even Hades—usually indifferent to the affairs of Olympus—invited Apollo to the Underworld. “You’d bring light to even my darkest halls,” he said, his gaze intense.
---
A Growing Problem
The attention was overwhelming. Everywhere Apollo went, he was met with lingering gazes, flirtatious remarks, and outright propositions.
His twin, Artemis, was furious. “They’re all acting like fools!” she snapped, glaring at the gods who hovered around Apollo. “And Zeus! He’s your father, for Olympus’ sake!”
Apollo sighed, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t ask for this, Artemis.”
“I know,” she said, her expression softening. “We’ll figure out how to fix this. Until then, stick close to me. I’ll keep them in line.”
---
An Attempted Solution
Apollo sought out Hecate, the goddess of magic, hoping she could reverse whatever had caused the transformation.
“This isn’t just a spell,” Hecate said after examining him. “It feels... primordial. Something ancient is at play here.”
Apollo groaned. “So, I’m stuck like this?”
“For now,” she said, her tone sympathetic. “But I’ll keep researching.”
---
Zeus Crosses the Line
The breaking point came during another feast. Zeus, emboldened by wine and surrounded by the sycophantic laughter of his court, placed a hand on Apollo’s thigh.
“You’re wasted on the sun,” he said, his voice low. “You belong by my side.”
Apollo froze, his blood running cold. “I’m your child,” he said, his voice firm despite the fear curling in his chest.
Zeus smirked. “On Olympus, power matters more than blood.”
Before Zeus could say anything else, a silver arrow embedded itself in the table between them.
---
Artemis to the Rescue
“Touch him again,” Artemis growled, her silver bow drawn, “and I’ll put an arrow through your throat.”
The room fell silent. Even Zeus hesitated under Artemis’ glare.
“He’s under my protection,” she continued, her voice icy. “And if any of you—any of you—think about laying a hand on him, you’ll have to answer to me.”
Apollo’s eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you, sister.”
---
A Temporary Peace
For now, Artemis’ intervention seemed to keep the other gods at bay. Apollo stayed close to her, finding solace in her unwavering support.
But the tension lingered. The gods were still watching, their desires barely concealed. And Apollo knew it was only a matter of time before the situation boiled over again.
As he sat beside Artemis, staring out over the shimmering expanse of Olympus, he made a silent vow: he would find a way to fix this, to reclaim his freedom and put an end to the gods’ dangerous obsession.
Until then, he would endure. Because that’s what he did. He was the Sun God, after all—a beacon of light, even in the darkest of times.
Chapter 20: The Shovel Talk
Chapter Text
Title: "The Shovel Talk"
---
Apollo had always been protective of his children, especially Will. As the Sun God, he cared deeply for his children and watched over them like a hawk—especially when it came to matters of the heart. So when Apollo found out that Will had started a relationship with Nico di Angelo, he couldn't help but feel a bit concerned. After all, Nico was mysterious, brooding, and, well... a little intimidating. Apollo had never been the kind of father to hold back, so he decided it was time for a little chat with Nico.
---
The Conversation Begins
Apollo found Nico sitting near the edge of the camp, gazing out at the horizon, his dark eyes distant as always. Will was off talking with some other campers, and it seemed like the perfect time for Apollo to have a word with the son of Hades.
Nico didn't notice Apollo's approach until the god of the sun was standing directly in front of him, arms crossed and a stern look in his eyes.
"Nico," Apollo started, his voice steady but serious. "I think we need to have a little chat."
Nico's brows furrowed in confusion, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he simply stood up, making eye contact with the god. "What about?"
Apollo’s eyes softened just a little, though the intensity in them remained. "I know about you and Will."
The mention of Will made Nico stiffen. He wasn’t the type to express his feelings openly, especially in front of someone as effusive as Apollo.
"I know you two are... together," Apollo continued, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern. "And as his father, I want you to understand something very clearly."
---
The Shovel Talk
Nico shifted on his feet uncomfortably, sensing the tension in the air. Apollo took a deep breath before he let it out slowly, his gaze unwavering.
"If you hurt my son," Apollo began, his voice suddenly more serious, colder, "I will make sure the sun burns hotter than you can handle."
Nico blinked, trying to process what Apollo had just said. "You can't be serious," he muttered.
"Oh, I’m very serious," Apollo said, taking a step closer. "You see, Nico, I may be the God of the Sun, but I'm also a father. And no one, no matter how dark or mysterious they may be, hurts my kids. If you even think about causing Will pain, I will not hesitate to burn the entire Underworld to the ground to get to you."
The dark energy that usually surrounded Nico seemed to shift slightly, a flicker of unease passing through his usual indifference.
Apollo took another step forward, his tone unwavering. "Will is everything to me. He is my light. I won’t allow anyone to dim that, not even you."
---
Nico’s Response
Nico looked away, his expression hardening for a moment as he fought with the emotions Apollo’s words stirred within him. For a moment, he thought about arguing, about defending himself, but something stopped him. Apollo’s words were not just threats—they were promises, filled with an intensity that Nico couldn’t ignore.
“I would never hurt Will,” Nico said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I care about him more than anything.”
Apollo studied Nico closely, his eyes softening just a touch. He could sense the honesty in Nico’s words, but the protective instincts of a father weren’t something that could be ignored.
“I hope that’s true, Nico,” Apollo said, his voice quiet but firm. “Because I will be watching. And I’ll always be there to protect him if I need to.”
---
The Unlikely Understanding
Nico let out a quiet breath, his shoulders relaxing just a little. He met Apollo’s eyes again, the weight of the conversation settling in.
“I get it,” Nico said softly. “You’re just looking out for him. I understand that.”
Apollo’s face softened. “Good.”
For a long moment, there was silence between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Apollo and Nico had an unspoken understanding now. Apollo knew that Nico wasn’t the type to hurt Will, but he needed to make sure that Nico understood the depth of his love and protection for his son.
Finally, Apollo smiled, clapping Nico on the shoulder in a gesture that was more fatherly than anything else.
“Now that we’ve had our talk,” Apollo said with a grin, “I think you’d better treat my son well, or I might just have to give you a little extra sunlight every time you try to brood. And believe me, you won’t like it.”
Nico stared at him for a moment before cracking a reluctant smile. "You really are something else, Apollo."
“Don’t forget it,” Apollo said with a wink, before turning to leave. “Take care of him, Nico. Or I’ll be back.”
As Apollo walked away, Nico stood there for a moment, his thoughts swirling. He wasn’t sure what was more unsettling—the fact that Apollo had so openly threatened him or how much he respected that Apollo cared for Will so fiercely.
But at least now, Nico knew where he stood. And he had every intention of making sure he never had to face Apollo’s wrath. For Will, he would do anything.
Chapter 21: The Totally Not Evil Sun God
Chapter Text
Title: "The Totally Not Evil Sun God"
---
It was a warm afternoon on Mount Olympus, and Apollo was basking in the glow of his own magnificence—both literal and metaphorical. As the Sun God, it was his divine right to shine brighter than anyone else, but today he felt the need to make a point.
Gathered in the main hall, Artemis, Dionysus, and Hermes were reluctantly listening to Apollo's newest self-proclaimed anthem: "How Apollo Is Not Evil and Definitely the Best God."
Apollo stood on a raised dais, a radiant golden lyre in hand, as he strummed an overly dramatic chord.
"Alright, everyone," he began, his voice dripping with charm. "It has come to my attention that some of you—" He gestured vaguely at his siblings. "—may have suggested that I am... evil. Or manipulative. Or anything other than the paragon of virtue and goodness that I obviously am."
Artemis rolled her eyes. "You are manipulative, Apollo. Just last week, you tricked Hermes into covering your shift guiding the sun chariot by pretending you had a cold."
"I did have a cold!" Apollo protested.
"You were singing show tunes when I found you," Artemis deadpanned.
Hermes snickered from his seat, lounging lazily against the armrest. "And let's not forget when you convinced a mortal bard to write an entire epic about you being the most handsome god. The title was literally ‘Apollo, the Handsomest God.’"
"It was accurate," Apollo shot back, flipping his golden curls dramatically. "But fine. Since you’re all clearly misinformed, I’ve prepared a song to clear my name."
Dionysus groaned, sipping from his goblet of wine. "Oh gods, not another one of your songs."
Apollo ignored him, strumming his lyre once more. "This one’s a masterpiece. I call it, 'The Most Least Evil God.’"
---
The Song
Apollo struck a dramatic pose, his voice smooth and confident as he began to sing:
"Here's some other adjectives
People use to describe me
Unduplicitous, unmalicious
Unconniving, unnasty!"
Artemis raised an eyebrow. "You're clearly just adding 'un' to words that describe you."
Apollo paused mid-strum, looking scandalized. "Who? Me?!" He gasped theatrically, clutching his chest.
Dionysus raised his goblet. "Yes, you."
But Apollo wasn’t deterred. He continued, pacing the hall like a bard performing for an enthralled crowd (even if this crowd was more annoyed than captivated).
"I'm Apollo the Sun God
The most least evil God you'll ever meet
And if you make eye contact with me
I totally won't have you executed immediately!"
Artemis folded her arms. "Except for that one time with Marsyas."
Apollo waved dismissively. "Details, Artemis. Ancient history."
"‘Cause that’d be evil."
Artemis: "Evil."
Dionysus: "Evil,"
Apollo smirked. "Evil, and that's so not me."
---
The Aftermath
By the time Apollo finished his song, he stood with his arms spread wide, awaiting applause. The room, however, was silent save for the sound of Dionysus pouring himself more wine.
"Well?" Apollo said, his grin unwavering. "What do you think?"
Hermes raised a finger. "I think that song was as self-serving as it gets."
Artemis nodded. "Agreed. Also, you literally are malicious. Remember when you cursed Cassandra just because she rejected you?"
"She hurt my feelings!" Apollo defended.
"And the time you turned that poor boy Cyparissus into a tree because he was mourning his pet deer?" Dionysus chimed in.
"That was poetic and artistic!"
Artemis sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Apollo, we love you, but you might want to consider that being ‘not evil’ isn’t the same as being ‘good.’"
Apollo huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine. But for the record, I am the most virtuous god on Olympus."
"Virtuous?" Hermes said with a grin. "That’s a bold claim for someone who once seduced half a village in one week."
Apollo waved a hand dismissively. "What can I say? I’m irresistible."
Dionysus smirked. "Irresistible, yes. But not exactly innocent."
---
The Epilogue
Despite their teasing, Apollo couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. Sure, his siblings might have pointed out a few... blemishes on his otherwise spotless record, but deep down, he knew they adored him.
And even if they didn’t admit it, he was pretty sure they’d all be humming "The Most Least Evil God" later.
After all, who wouldn’t?
With a satisfied smile, Apollo strummed his lyre again and began composing his next masterpiece: “How Everyone is Secretly Jealous of Apollo.”
Chapter 22: The Garden of Eternal Love
Chapter Text
Title: "The Garden of Eternal Love"
---
Apollo walked through the quiet fields of Olympus, his golden robes flowing with the soft breeze. The sun dipped low in the horizon, painting the skies with hues of gold and crimson. In his hands, he held a single sprig of laurel, its delicate leaves trembling as if sensing his emotions. It was a bittersweet token, a reminder of Daphne, the nymph who had fled from his love and become forever entwined with the earth.
He had lost so many. Lovers taken by time, fate, or his own divine shortcomings. Each loss felt like an arrow through his heart, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of their memory. It was in these moments of grief and longing that Apollo found solace in his garden—a place he had created to immortalize those he loved.
---
The Garden
Nestled in a secluded corner of Olympus, hidden from prying eyes, lay Apollo's garden. It was no ordinary garden, for every plant that grew there bore a story, a soul, and a love. The laurel tree stood tall and proud at its center, a constant reminder of Daphne's beauty and resilience. Surrounding it were a variety of plants, each unique and vibrant, representing lovers whose lives had intertwined with Apollo's.
The garden was his sanctuary, a place where he could honor those who had been taken too soon.
---
Transformations of Love
As Apollo walked through the garden, he stopped by a patch of hyacinths. Their vibrant purple blooms swayed gently, filling the air with a subtle, sweet fragrance. He knelt beside them, his fingers brushing the soft petals.
"Hyacinthus," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I tried to save you. I should have been faster."
The memories of the Spartan prince filled his mind—their laughter, their moments under the sun, and the tragedy of the discus that had taken his life. Apollo had refused to let Hyacinthus fade into oblivion, so he had turned him into the flower that now bore his name.
Further down the path, Apollo paused by a bed of sunflowers. Their golden faces turned perpetually toward the sun, a reflection of Clytie, the water nymph who had loved him so deeply it consumed her. Her unrequited love had driven her to despair, and Apollo, moved by her devotion, had transformed her into a sunflower so she could forever follow him across the sky.
---
A Legacy of Love
Apollo's garden was not just a collection of plants; it was a chronicle of his failures, his passions, and his unyielding love. There was the slender cypress tree, standing tall and somber, a tribute to Cyparissus, the boy who had mourned his stag so deeply that Apollo had turned him into a tree to ease his grief.
There were anemones, their fragile petals a reminder of Adonis, whose death had been the result of the gods' jealousy and cruelty. Apollo had fought to save him, but even the Sun God's powers had limits.
And there were countless others—flowers, trees, and shrubs—each holding the essence of someone Apollo had loved, someone he refused to forget.
---
A Visit from Artemis
One evening, as Apollo tended to his garden, his sister Artemis appeared, her silver light casting a serene glow over the plants. She watched him in silence for a moment, her usually sharp gaze softened by concern.
"Brother," she said, breaking the quiet, "you can't keep doing this to yourself."
Apollo straightened, brushing soil from his hands. "Doing what?"
"Clinging to the past," she replied, gesturing to the garden. "This... this is beautiful, but it's also a prison. You're trapping yourself in your grief."
Apollo looked at her, his golden eyes weary. "I don't see it that way. This garden isn't a prison; it's a sanctuary. It's how I honor them, Artemis. How I keep them alive."
Artemis frowned, but she couldn't argue with the love and dedication that radiated from the garden. "And what about you? Who will honor you when you're gone?"
Apollo laughed softly. "Gods don't die, Artemis."
"Maybe not in body," she said quietly, "but in spirit? You already look like you've lost something of yourself."
---
The Eternal Garden
Apollo didn't respond, his gaze returning to the garden. He knew Artemis was right in her way, but he couldn't stop. To let go of this garden would be to let go of the love and joy those who had passed had brought him. He couldn't do that—not yet, maybe not ever.
As the sun set and Apollo's golden light bathed the garden in a warm glow, he whispered to the plants around him. He told them stories, sang them songs, and promised them they would never be forgotten.
For as long as the sun rose in the sky, Apollo's garden would bloom, a testament to the god who loved too deeply and the souls who had shaped his heart.
Chapter 23: The First Light
Chapter Text
Title: "The First Light"
---
The sun rose slowly over the horizon, casting golden rays across the lands of Olympus. It was a sight many had grown accustomed to, the sun's warmth painting the skies in shades of amber and gold. But for those who truly knew its origin, they understood that this was no ordinary sunrise. It marked the beginning of something greater, the arrival of the first-born of Zeus, the mighty god who ruled the skies.
Apollo was born on a morning like this—his first breath carried by the wind that swept across the mountain peaks. His mother, a radiant Sun nymph named Helia, held him close as the light around them shimmered, and his golden hair reflected the brilliance of the dawn. Helia had been a creature of light, pure and radiant, with a heart full of warmth and love. And now, she had given birth to the son of Zeus, the god of thunder and the king of all gods.
Zeus had not been there to witness the birth, as he had not yet claimed his son in the eyes of the world. He was a god of many affairs, his attentions divided between his many pursuits and his powerful throne. But that did not lessen the importance of Apollo's birth. It was said that the child born of a god and a nymph would possess great power, and Apollo's potential was limitless.
---
The First Encounter
Zeus had heard the news of his son's birth from the moment it happened, but he had been distant, unwilling to acknowledge the child as his own. His love affairs were numerous, his attention fleeting, and the birth of Apollo was no exception. It was Helia, the Sun nymph, who raised Apollo, her love and warmth guiding him as he grew.
Yet, as Apollo matured, the undeniable truth began to surface—he was the son of Zeus. The traits of his father were evident in his sharp intellect, his natural leadership, and his undeniable charisma. Apollo had inherited his father's godly beauty, his golden locks a reflection of the sun itself, and his radiant energy could light up the entire world.
One day, as Apollo practiced his archery on the slopes of Mount Olympus, he sensed a presence—an aura of power unlike any he had felt before. Looking up, he saw him—Zeus, standing tall against the backdrop of the sky, his figure imposing and powerful.
"Apollo," Zeus called, his voice booming across the open air. "You have grown strong."
Apollo paused, lowering his bow. The moment was both surreal and deeply familiar. He had heard stories of his father, of his grandeur and his rule, but this was the first time they had truly met face to face. His mother had often spoken of Zeus—his strength, his power, his temper. She had loved him once, but she had also warned Apollo of his father's volatile nature.
Zeus approached with the air of a king, his presence commanding and unwavering. "You are mine, Apollo. A child of both the sun and the heavens," Zeus said, his voice softer now, though still filled with authority.
Apollo stood tall, his gaze unwavering. "I know who I am, Father."
There was a moment of silence as the weight of their connection settled between them. Apollo had never been one to seek the approval of others, especially not of a father he barely knew. And yet, standing before the king of gods, he felt a deep sense of curiosity about what his father had to offer him.
Zeus smiled, but there was something cold in his eyes. "You are destined for greatness, Apollo. You will rise above all others and claim your place among the gods."
---
A Bond Forged in Light
Over time, Apollo and Zeus developed an understanding, though not one that could be called affectionate. Zeus would call upon his son from time to time, offering guidance in the ways of ruling, of power, and of influence. Apollo, ever dutiful, listened to his father, though he never fully trusted him.
Apollo’s heart, though, was tied to something else—his love for the sun, his devotion to truth and justice, and his innate desire to heal and protect. Unlike his father, who ruled with thunder and fear, Apollo ruled with compassion and warmth. He was the bringer of light, the god of music, of healing, and of prophecy. He had inherited the sun's radiance, not only in form but in spirit.
Still, Zeus, though proud of his son’s many achievements, could not help but feel a certain possessiveness over Apollo. As the years passed, it became clear that Apollo was a force to be reckoned with in his own right, and that realization stirred something within Zeus—a mix of pride and jealousy.
And so, their relationship remained strained, a mix of mutual respect, unspoken tension, and a shared understanding that they were connected by blood and by fate. Apollo would never be just another god on Olympus, but rather one who walked his own path, lighting the way for others, regardless of the approval of his father.
---
A Legacy of Light
As Apollo stood atop the mountain at dawn, watching the sun rise once again, he felt a sense of peace that he had never known before. His journey had been one of discovery, of coming to terms with who he was and the legacy he carried. He was the son of Zeus, but he was also his own god, one who would not be defined by anyone but himself.
The light of the sun was his to command, and with it, he would shape his destiny.
He thought of his mother, Helia, who had nurtured him with love and care, and of the many people he had helped along his journey—demigods, mortals, and immortals alike. Apollo had chosen his own path, and he would walk it with strength and conviction, unburdened by his father’s expectations.
For Apollo knew, as the first light of dawn spread across the sky, that he was more than just the son of Zeus. He was Apollo, the god of the sun, the god of truth and light, and no one—no matter their power or status—could ever take that from him.
And with that thought, Apollo took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the sun fill his soul, ready to face whatever the future might hold.
Chapter 24: The Mortal Sun
Chapter Text
Title: "The Mortal Sun"
---
The world had changed so drastically for Apollo that it felt like the sun had been ripped from the sky. Once a powerful god, a shining beacon of light, Apollo now wandered the Earth as a mere mortal. His once-golden hair was now a simple brown, his ethereal beauty muted, and his godly powers stripped away by Zeus' decree. It was a punishment, one that came after Apollo had defied his father in a way that Zeus could not tolerate.
Apollo was left to wander, unsure of what his new purpose was. He had no divine strength to heal, no radiant light to warm the earth. All he had were his memories and the longing for something—anything—that could restore his sense of belonging.
---
The Meeting
It was in the bustling streets of New York City that Apollo first encountered him. The city, a sprawling labyrinth of steel and concrete, seemed so foreign to Apollo now. Gone were the days of Olympus, of laughing with the gods and basking in the glory of the sun. Now, Apollo found himself walking among humans, faceless and nameless.
But then, he met Alexander Cross.
Alexander was a man unlike any Apollo had encountered before. Tall, confident, and effortlessly charming, he radiated an aura of power that was unmatched by anyone Apollo had known. He was a trillionaire—one of the wealthiest men in the world, a business magnate who had built an empire from the ground up. His presence was commanding, his demeanor smooth and composed. But it wasn’t just his wealth or power that drew Apollo in—it was the warmth in his eyes, a depth that made Apollo feel as if he could be seen for the first time since he had fallen from Olympus.
Their meeting had been unexpected, as Apollo had found himself in a café, nursing a cup of coffee and lost in his thoughts, when Alexander had approached him. There was something about Apollo’s quiet melancholy that had caught his attention.
“Are you lost?” Alexander had asked with a smile, his voice deep and soothing.
Apollo had looked up, startled, and for a moment, he had forgotten how to speak. It had been years since anyone had paid attention to him like this. “I… I suppose I am,” he had said, offering a hesitant smile.
Alexander had sat down across from him, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t seem like the type to get lost.”
Apollo had laughed softly. “Not anymore.”
It was the start of something unexpected.
---
A Growing Bond
Days turned into weeks, and Apollo found himself spending more time with Alexander. The two shared meals, conversations, and long walks through the city. Alexander never pressed Apollo for details about his past, and Apollo, for the first time in a long while, felt safe enough to be vulnerable.
As they spent time together, Apollo began to realize that the pain of being mortal, of losing his godhood, wasn’t as sharp when he was with Alexander. Alexander saw him—not as a god, but as a person. He treated Apollo like he was worth something, something valuable. They laughed together, shared stories, and enjoyed each other’s company without the weight of the world pressing down on them.
Apollo found himself drawn to Alexander in ways he couldn’t fully explain. There was a warmth in the billionaire’s touch, a sense of peace in his presence that calmed the storm inside Apollo. Alexander, in turn, seemed enchanted by Apollo’s quiet beauty and introspective nature. His humor and kindness lit up Alexander’s world in a way that no amount of money or power ever had.
It wasn’t long before their connection deepened. They shared their first kiss on a rooftop, with the city skyline stretching out before them. Apollo had never imagined himself falling for someone like this—not a mortal, not someone so far removed from the divine realm he had once known. But Alexander had somehow become everything to him.
“I never thought I’d find someone who makes me feel alive,” Alexander whispered as they broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other. “You’ve changed everything.”
Apollo smiled, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. “Maybe I’m the one who’s changed,” he murmured. “You’ve made me feel like… like I belong again.”
---
Building a Life
As the weeks turned into months, Apollo and Alexander built a life together. They traveled the world, experiencing new places and new things, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. Apollo, though mortal, still carried the essence of his divine self in subtle ways—his passion for music, his ability to heal with a touch, and his gift for bringing light into even the darkest corners of the world. Alexander admired Apollo’s strength and grace, even though he didn’t know the full truth of Apollo’s past.
It wasn’t long before Apollo found himself pregnant—a gift that came in the most unexpected form. He had never imagined becoming a parent, let alone in this mortal world, but the idea of a child with Alexander filled him with joy. Their child would be the combination of their love, a new life born out of the bond they had built.
When Apollo told Alexander, the billionaire was overjoyed. “We’ll build a family,” he said, his eyes shining with excitement. “We’ll make a home for our child, full of love.”
And so, they did.
They moved into a luxurious home, surrounded by gardens and vast, open spaces. Apollo decorated their home with plants, flowers, and artworks—things that reminded him of his past life and of the beauty he still found in the world. Alexander, for his part, made sure Apollo wanted for nothing, ensuring that they were comfortable and cared for.
The days were filled with joy, with small moments of happiness that built upon each other. The outside world, with all its chaos and problems, felt like a distant memory. For Apollo, life with Alexander was everything he had ever wanted—and more than he could have ever imagined.
---
A Family
As the months passed, Apollo’s belly swelled with life. Alexander was by his side every step of the way, supporting him through the ups and downs of pregnancy. When their son, named Helios after Apollo’s ancient connection to the sun, was born, their lives changed in ways they hadn’t expected.
Alexander held their son in his arms, his eyes filled with awe and wonder. “He’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.
Apollo smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace. “He’s ours.”
And in that moment, Apollo realized that despite everything—despite being cast down from Olympus, despite losing his godly powers—he had found his place in the world. He had found love, family, and a home in Alexander. Together, they would raise their son in a world full of challenges and struggles, but Apollo knew that no matter what came their way, they would face it together.
For the first time in years, Apollo felt the warmth of the sun inside his heart. It wasn’t the same golden light that had once fill
ed him as a god, but it was enough. And that was all that matters.
Chapter 25: The Eternal Child
Chapter Text
Title: "The Eternal Child"
---
Apollo hated it. He really did. But he couldn’t argue with his family, especially when they used that tone—the one that was too soft, too sweet, and far too persuasive for him to ignore.
He’d been through countless situations where he had to act as the god of the sun, radiating power and control, but nothing made him feel more helpless than when the gods decided to keep him in his child form.
It had all started as a joke, of course. One of those harmless pranks that went way too far. It had been a simple spell cast by Athena—just a little flick of the wrist, a soft incantation, and suddenly, Apollo had been stuck in his child body.
He had the same sharp golden eyes, the same dazzling smile, but his form was small, no taller than a human child of six or seven. His once-grand stature was reduced to a soft, cherubic appearance that only made the gods' protective instincts go into overdrive.
At first, it had been a minor inconvenience. Apollo had assumed it was a temporary condition, something that would wear off within a few days. But no. The gods, in all their wisdom (or lack thereof), decided that it was far too adorable to return Apollo to his original form.
“Look at him!” Hermes had laughed, ruffling Apollo’s golden hair. “He’s so cute! He looks like a baby sunbeam!”
Apollo had tried to resist the praise. “I am not a child!” he had protested, pouting and crossing his arms over his tiny chest. “This is humiliating!”
But the gods—his family—had taken that as an invitation to spoil him even more.
---
The Spoiling Begins
It started with the little things. Zeus would hand him a shiny golden apple every morning, the sweetness of the fruit luring Apollo into accepting it without much protest. Demeter insisted on bringing him freshly baked bread, just like she used to for the other Olympians, but Apollo knew it wasn’t for him alone—it was a token of her overprotectiveness.
“Eat up, my little ray of sunshine,” she would say, kissing the top of his head.
Hera, usually so stern and regal, had been the first to buy him toys—magical toys that danced, glowed, and made sounds. Apollo tried to act unimpressed, but the sparkling unicorn figurine she had given him for his “sixth birthday” had somehow found its way into his bag of belongings. He would secretly play with it when no one was looking.
Even Artemis, his twin sister, who was always more serious and independent, had joined the ranks of the spoiling gods. She insisted that Apollo only wear the finest silks—light, airy, and soft, in colors of gold and blue, always making him look like a little prince.
“You’re still my baby brother, Apollo,” she’d say, brushing his hair tenderly. “You’ll always be my little sun.”
Apollo had tried to argue, even told Artemis that he wasn’t a baby anymore, but Artemis just smiled and hugged him, squeezing the air out of his tiny lungs. “You’ll never grow out of being my little sun,” she had said, her voice soft but resolute.
And then there was Poseidon.
Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea, had always been Apollo’s favorite uncle. But even Poseidon couldn’t resist the urge to treat Apollo like a baby in his child form. He would sweep him off his feet and carry him around on his shoulder like a toy, never missing the opportunity to show him off to the other gods.
“You’re so tiny, little nephew,” Poseidon would say with a grin, holding Apollo like a doll. “You look so much cuter when you’re smaller.”
Apollo couldn’t help but blush under the attention, even as he tried to squirm away from his uncle’s grip. It was impossible to escape the affection that surrounded him. His uncles, aunts, and even the other gods couldn’t help but shower him with love and attention.
---
The Babying Intensifies
It didn’t stop at toys and treats. Soon, the gods began to treat him as though he was incapable of doing anything for himself. They insisted on feeding him, often choosing the most elaborate and extravagant meals, piling his plate high with sweet cakes, nectar, and ambrosia.
“He can’t lift his own plate, dear,” Aphrodite would say with a smile, handing him another slice of cake. “Let him enjoy himself, it’s the least we can do for the sun god.”
Apollo would try to argue, but the more he protested, the more the gods seemed to enjoy babying him. They would coo over him, fuss over his hair, and brush the dirt off his tiny sandals. The more he tried to act like an adult, the more they treated him like a helpless infant.
“You’re so cute when you try to act grown-up,” Dionysus would tease, lifting Apollo into his arms and spinning him around. “But you’re still our little sunbeam.”
---
Zeus’s Overindulgence
Perhaps the worst culprit was Zeus himself. As Apollo’s father, he doted on him relentlessly. He would hover around Apollo all day, offering him indulgent gifts—glistening pearls, golden trinkets, and even a chariot made of clouds, designed just for him.
“A gift for my little boy,” Zeus would say, ruffling Apollo’s hair as he presented his extravagant offerings. “You deserve the world, Apollo. You’ve always been my brightest star.”
Apollo would try to pull away from his father’s embrace, but Zeus wouldn’t hear of it. He would carry Apollo around like a precious artifact, ensuring that everyone saw him in his childlike form, showing off how “adorable” his son was.
And the worst part was, Apollo was starting to enjoy it. At first, it had been humiliating, but after weeks of being spoiled, of never needing to lift a finger, Apollo found himself growing comfortable in the role they had placed him in. He had always been the god of truth, of enlightenment, of knowledge—yet in his child form, all that mattered was being loved and adored.
“Fine,” Apollo grumbled one day, when the gods were cooing over him once again. “I’ll accept your gifts. But you all have to promise not to do this forever.”
The gods laughed and agreed, their smiles wide and filled with affection.
“We’ll keep you as our little sunshine for as long as we can,” Hera said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Apollo’s face. “You’ll always be our baby.”
And despite everything, Apollo couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just this once, it wasn’t so bad being the eternal child. After all, he had never been this loved in all his existence.
Chapter 26: Twice Upon the Earth
Chapter Text
Title: "Twice Upon the Earth"
---
The arrow lodged in Apollo's side burned like molten fire. Blood seeped through his mortal flesh, staining the ground beneath him. Each breath felt like dragging shards of glass through his lungs. He stumbled forward, his legs barely holding him up, and cursed his mortal state for the thousandth time.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not here, not now. He was Apollo, god of the sun, light, music, and prophecy—even if that felt like a distant dream in this fragile, human form.
“Lester!” Meg’s voice broke through the haze of pain. She was fighting off a Cyclops several feet away, her twin golden swords flashing in the dim light. “Don’t you dare die on me!”
He wanted to reassure her, to shout back something witty, but all he could manage was a pained grunt. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching the wound in his side. His vision blurred, and the sounds of battle became distant, like a storm raging miles away.
As he lay there, a memory surfaced—a story his mother, Leto, had told him when he was just a young godling.
“If you are ever in dire need, my son,” she had said, her voice as soft and serene as moonlight, “strike the earth twice. It is said that the King of the Underworld himself will answer the call.”
It was a myth, of course. A fragment of old superstition whispered among mortals. Hades wasn’t one to answer the whims of those who summoned him, let alone a disgraced god in mortal form. But Apollo was out of options. His strength was fading, his consciousness slipping, and if he didn’t do something soon, Meg would be left to fend for herself.
What was the harm in trying?
With trembling hands, Apollo raised his fist. The ground beneath him was hard and unyielding, but he didn’t care. He brought his fist down with all the strength he could muster, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm.
Nothing happened.
“Figures,” he muttered bitterly, his voice weak. “Just an old story.”
But he wasn’t done yet. Gritting his teeth, he raised his fist again. This time, he poured every ounce of desperation, every shred of hope, into the motion. The second strike echoed louder than it should have, reverberating through the ground like a gong.
The world went still.
The Cyclops froze mid-swing, its massive club inches from Meg’s face. The wind ceased to blow, and the trees stood silent as if holding their breath. Even the air around Apollo seemed heavier, laden with an unnatural chill.
A shadow spread across the battlefield, darker than night, swallowing the light of the sun. It coalesced into a towering figure clad in obsidian robes that shimmered like the void between stars. His eyes burned like twin embers, and his presence radiated an aura of power so profound it made the earth tremble.
Hades, King of the Underworld, had answered the call.
He looked down at Apollo, his expression unreadable. “You dare summon me, sun god?” His voice was a low rumble, carrying the weight of eons. “Do you know the price of such insolence?”
Apollo tried to speak, but his voice faltered. He swallowed hard and forced himself to meet Hades’ gaze. “I... I didn’t summon you out of arrogance. I... need help.”
Hades raised an eyebrow. “Help?” His gaze flicked to the Cyclops and then to Meg, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Your plight is not my concern.”
“Please,” Apollo whispered, his voice cracking. “I can’t let her die. I... I’ll pay whatever price you demand. Just save her.”
For a moment, Hades said nothing. His gaze softened, ever so slightly, as he studied Apollo’s battered form. “You’ve fallen far, haven’t you?” he said quietly. “The mighty Apollo, brought to his knees.”
Apollo didn’t respond. He didn’t have the strength.
Hades sighed and knelt beside him, placing a cold hand on Apollo’s forehead. “You are lucky that I do not hate you as much as I hate some of our other family members,” he said. “Consider this a favor, not to you, but to the world. Your death would disrupt the balance far more than you realize.”
With a wave of his hand, the wound in Apollo’s side began to close. The searing pain subsided, replaced by a soothing numbness. The shadows around them shifted, and the Cyclops let out a roar before dissolving into ash.
Meg rushed to Apollo’s side as soon as the battlefield returned to normal. “Lester!” she cried, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”
Apollo tried to sit up, but his body felt like lead. “I’ve... been better,” he muttered.
Hades rose to his full height, his dark robes billowing around him. “You owe me, sun god,” he said, his voice cold. “Do not forget this debt.”
Before Apollo could respond, Hades vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur and the lingering chill of the Underworld.
---
Aftermath
Later, as they rested by a campfire, Meg stared at Apollo, her expression unreadable. “You hit the ground twice,” she said. “You actually called Hades.”
Apollo shrugged, wincing as he adjusted his bandages. “It was a long shot.”
“You could have died!” she snapped. “Do you know how dangerous that was? What if he hadn’t helped? What if he’d taken you instead?”
Apollo gave her a tired smile. “Then I guess I’d be the prettiest soul in the Underworld.”
Meg glared at him, but her eyes were filled with concern. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said softly.
Apollo leaned back against a tree, closing his eyes. “No promises,” he said. “But at least now I know the myths are true.”
And as he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder what price Hades would demand for his intervention—and how much Apollo would have to pay to keep those he cared about safe.
Chapter 27: Eclipsed Love
Chapter Text
Title: "Eclipsed Love"
---
The 1930s were a strange time for Apollo. The world below Olympus was in turmoil, but it was also alive with music, innovation, and the quiet hum of change. It was during one of his occasional trips to the mortal world that he met Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The young man was magnetic in a way that Apollo couldn’t quite explain. He was clever, ambitious, and had an air of mystery that drew the sun god closer. It wasn’t long before Apollo, in one of his many mortal disguises, introduced himself as a traveler named Sol.
Tom, an orphan at Wool’s Orphanage, was drawn to Sol as well. He was different from everyone else in Tom’s bleak world. Sol was radiant, almost too perfect, but kind in a way that others weren’t.
For months, the two spent their days exploring the streets of London. Sol taught Tom about the stars, music, and the beauty of the world, while Tom shared his dreams of power and his hatred of the weakness he saw in those around him. Apollo found Tom’s sharp intellect and determination fascinating, even if it bordered on dangerous.
But Apollo wasn’t blind. He saw the darkness in Tom, the festering anger and ambition that went beyond what was natural for a mortal. Yet, Apollo couldn’t bring himself to leave. Tom was a puzzle, a contradiction of brilliance and shadow, and Apollo loved him for it.
Their time together felt eternal, as if the sun itself had paused in the sky. But nothing lasted forever.
---
The Disappearance
One day, Tom was simply gone. Apollo searched everywhere—Wool’s Orphanage, the streets they used to walk, even the magical places he had sensed Tom visiting in secret. It was as if the young man had vanished into thin air.
Apollo’s heart ached in a way it hadn’t for centuries. The god of truth and prophecy could not even see what had become of the mortal he had come to love. Something—or someone—was obscuring Tom from his divine sight.
With a heavy heart, Apollo returned to Olympus. He threw himself into his duties, but his thoughts often wandered to the boy with dark eyes and a cunning smile.
---
Years Later
The 1940s brought chaos to the mortal world. Wars raged, and death loomed over humanity. Apollo, still watching from Olympus, caught glimpses of a man who resembled Tom. But this man was no longer the bright, ambitious boy he had loved. He was someone else entirely—someone darker, crueler.
It wasn’t until whispers of a wizard named Lord Voldemort reached Olympus that Apollo realized the truth. His Tom had become a monster, consumed by his thirst for power.
Apollo’s siblings noticed the change in him. He was quieter, more contemplative, and often disappeared to watch the mortal world. Artemis, his twin, finally confronted him.
“You’re distracted,” she said, crossing her arms as they stood on a balcony overlooking the mortal realm. “What’s bothering you?”
Apollo hesitated. “I met someone, years ago. A mortal.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met plenty of mortals.”
“This one was... different,” Apollo admitted. “I loved him, but he’s not the same anymore. He’s become something terrible.”
Artemis’s gaze softened. “Love can be blinding, brother. But it’s not your fault. Mortals make their own choices.”
“Do they?” Apollo muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Or do we gods shape their paths without even realizing it?”
---
Present Day: A Chance Encounter
Decades passed, and Apollo tried to forget Tom, burying himself in his music, his art, and his children. But fate had other plans.
During a rare visit to the mortal world in the late 1990s, Apollo found himself in a magical forest. He had been tracking a disturbance—an imbalance in the magical energy that even the gods had noticed.
That’s when he saw him.
Tom—no, Voldemort—stood in a clearing, his serpentine features illuminated by the pale moonlight. He radiated power and malice, a far cry from the boy Apollo had loved.
Voldemort’s crimson eyes locked onto Apollo’s golden ones, and for a moment, there was silence.
“You,” Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “I remember you. Sol.”
Apollo’s heart twisted at the name. “Tom,” he said softly, ignoring the wand Voldemort pointed at him. “What have you become?”
“What I was always meant to be,” Voldemort replied, his voice cold. “You abandoned me.”
“I didn’t abandon you,” Apollo said, stepping closer. “You disappeared. I searched for you.”
Voldemort laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “Don’t lie to me. You’re just like the rest of them—using mortals for your amusement and discarding them when they’re no longer useful.”
“That’s not true,” Apollo said, his voice breaking. “I loved you.”
For a brief moment, something flickered in Voldemort’s eyes—something human. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Love is a weakness,” he spat. “And I am beyond weakness.”
Apollo stood there, his divine heart breaking all over again. “You’ve become a stranger to me, Tom,” he said quietly. “But I still see the boy I loved, somewhere deep inside you.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Voldemort said, raising his wand.
Apollo didn’t flinch. He didn’t run. He simply stood there, his golden light dimming as Voldemort cast a curse.
But as the spell shot toward him, Apollo whispered, “I forgive you.”
The curse hit, but Apollo’s divine nature absorbed the blow. When the light faded, Voldemort was alone in the clearing, the god of the sun gone as if he’d never been there.
---
Epilogue
Back on Olympus, Apollo sat by the hearth, staring into the flames. He had returned to his immortal form, but his heart still felt heavy.
“Will you ever tell the others?” Artemis asked, sitting beside him.
“No,” Apollo said. “They wouldn’t understand.”
Artemis placed a hand on his shoulder. “You loved him, brother. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
Apollo nodded but said nothing. He would carry the memory of Tom Marvolo Riddle with him forever, a bittersweet reminder of the boy who had once captured the heart of a god.
Chapter 28: The Golden Legacy
Chapter Text
Title: "The Golden Legacy"
---
James Potter had always been different. His friends chalked it up to his natural charisma, his unerring knack for charm, and his innate ability to shine brighter than anyone else in the room. What they didn’t know—what even he didn’t know—was that his brilliance was not entirely mortal.
James was the son of Apollo, the god of the sun, prophecy, and music, and Fleamont Potter, a descendant of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain.
---
A Secret in the Potter Family
Fleamont Potter had always been a reserved man, and he had his reasons. He carried a secret that even his beloved wife, Euphemia, didn’t know. Years before, during a summer trip to Greece, Fleamont had met a radiant stranger named Apollo. They shared a whirlwind romance under the golden Mediterranean sun, a love that was fleeting but unforgettable.
When Apollo left, he promised Fleamont a gift—a child who would be extraordinary, someone who would carry the divine spark of the sun god himself. Months later, Euphemia gave birth to James, a boy whose presence seemed to light up every room he entered.
Fleamont never told anyone the truth. How could he explain that his son was half-divine, born of a love that transcended mortal understanding?
---
James at Hogwarts
From the moment James stepped foot in Hogwarts, it was clear he was destined for greatness. He wasn’t just talented; he was magnetic. His charm was almost supernatural, drawing people to him effortlessly.
His professors marveled at his abilities. He excelled in Charms and Transfiguration, but what truly set him apart was his skill in Divination. Despite the subject’s dubious reputation, James had an uncanny ability to predict events with startling accuracy.
Sirius Black, his best friend and partner in crime, often joked about it. “You’re not just lucky, Prongs. It’s like you’ve got some cosmic cheat code.”
James laughed it off, but deep down, he felt there was something unusual about himself. He didn’t dwell on it, though. He was too busy pranking Slytherins, playing Quidditch, and trying to win over Lily Evans.
---
The Sun God’s Presence
James’s divine heritage began to manifest in subtle ways as he grew older. His reflexes were unnaturally quick, his eyesight sharper than anyone else’s, and his natural warmth was almost literal—he radiated heat, especially when he was angry or excited.
But the most significant sign of his parentage came in the form of dreams.
In his sixth year, James began having vivid dreams of a golden-haired man surrounded by light. The man’s voice was soothing yet commanding, and his presence filled James with a sense of belonging he couldn’t explain.
“James,” the man said in one dream, his voice echoing like a song. “You are more than you realize. The blood of gods runs through your veins.”
James woke up in a cold sweat, the words seared into his mind. He didn’t understand them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were important.
---
A Revelation
The truth came out one evening during the summer before James’s seventh year. Fleamont, who had been unwell for months, finally decided to tell his son the truth.
“James,” Fleamont said, his voice weak but steady, “there’s something you need to know about your heritage.”
James listened in stunned silence as his father explained the story of Apollo and the summer they had spent together.
“You’re his son,” Fleamont said, tears in his eyes. “You were always meant for greatness, James. But you must be careful. The world of gods is not kind, and your connection to them may bring dangers you cannot imagine.”
James was overwhelmed. He had always known he was different, but this? He was the son of a god?
“Does Mum know?” he asked.
Fleamont shook his head. “No. I wanted to protect you both.”
---
The Weight of Divinity
As James returned to Hogwarts for his final year, the knowledge of his divine heritage weighed heavily on him. He began to notice things he had overlooked before—how the sunlight seemed to follow him, how animals behaved strangely in his presence, how his temper flared hotter and faster than it should.
His friends noticed the change in him, too.
“Prongs, you’ve been acting weird,” Sirius said one evening in the Gryffindor common room. “What’s going on?”
James hesitated but eventually decided to tell them. Sirius, Remus, and Peter listened in stunned silence as he recounted what his father had told him.
“So, you’re... a demigod?” Remus asked, his voice cautious.
“Apparently,” James said, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it explains a lot, doesn’t it?”
Sirius grinned. “Explains why you’re such a show-off, that’s for sure.”
The group laughed, but the revelation only deepened their bond. They swore to keep James’s secret, no matter what.
---
An Unexpected Visit
One crisp autumn evening, as James practiced Quidditch alone on the pitch, a figure appeared out of the shadows.
“Hello, James,” the man said, his voice melodic and warm.
James froze, recognizing the man from his dreams. “You’re him,” he said. “Apollo.”
The god smiled, his golden aura illuminating the dark night. “I’ve been watching you, my son. You’ve done well.”
James felt a surge of emotions—anger, confusion, awe. “Why now?” he demanded. “Why tell me this now, after all these years?”
Apollo’s expression softened. “Because the time is coming when you will need to embrace who you are. There are forces in this world, both mortal and divine, that would seek to use you or destroy you. You must be ready.”
James swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing,” Apollo said. “You are my son, and I love you. That is enough. But remember this: you are not alone. I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me.”
---
Epilogue
James Potter would go on to marry Lily Evans and fight bravely in the First Wizarding War. He never told Lily about his divine heritage, but his strength, courage, and radiant personality left a lasting legacy.
Years later, when his son, Harry, stood in the same Quidditch pitch, he often felt a strange warmth in the air, as if someone was watching over him.
Unbeknownst to him, Apollo was there, watching over his grandson, a reminder that the light of the sun never truly fades.
Chapter 29: A Wave of Love
Chapter Text
Title: "A Wave of Love"
---
Apollo had always prided himself on his composure. He was the god of light, prophecy, and the arts—untouchable in his brilliance. Yet today, fate had other plans.
The scene was chaotic, a friendly squabble turned reckless between Eros and Hermes. Hermes had swiped one of Eros’ golden love arrows, and in the ensuing chase around Olympus, the arrow flew from Hermes’ grip. It spun through the air, glinting ominously in the sunlight, before landing squarely in Apollo’s chest.
---
The First Glimpse
Apollo stumbled backward, clutching at his chest. A strange warmth bloomed inside him, unlike the radiant heat of his sunlit core. His heart raced, his vision swam—and then everything came into focus.
Standing a few feet away, watching the chaos with mild amusement, was Poseidon.
Poseidon, with his wild sea-green eyes, his beard that shimmered like ocean foam, and his muscular frame that exuded power and grace. The god of the sea was leaning casually against his trident, his lips curled into a smirk as he observed the aftermath of the arrow’s misfire.
Apollo’s breath hitched. Poseidon was... perfect. Beautiful. Divine.
“Uncle,” Apollo breathed, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
Poseidon turned, raising an eyebrow. “Apollo? You look pale. Did Hermes finally prank you into oblivion?”
Apollo didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped closer, his golden eyes wide and adoring. “You’re... magnificent.”
The entire courtyard fell silent. Hermes froze mid-sneak, Eros’ bow still in hand. Even Zeus, who had been nearby, glanced over with an expression that could only be described as horrified curiosity.
Poseidon straightened, tilting his head. “Magnificent?”
Apollo nodded earnestly. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen. The way your trident catches the sunlight, the way the sea breeze follows you—it’s mesmerizing.”
Hermes dropped the bow, and Eros looked like he was debating whether to laugh or flee.
---
Poseidon’s Amusement
Poseidon’s smirk widened. He stepped closer to his nephew, his curiosity piqued. “Well, this is new. You’re usually so focused on your own perfection to notice mine.”
Apollo flushed, and Poseidon couldn’t help but find the sight endearing. “That’s because I was blind before,” Apollo admitted, his voice trembling. “But now... now I see clearly. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Eros cleared his throat, stepping forward cautiously. “Uh, Lord Poseidon? It seems my arrow may have... um... caused this.”
Poseidon waved him off. “I don’t think it’s a problem,” he said, his tone light. “In fact, I rather like this new version of Apollo.”
---
The Obsession Deepens
Over the next few days, Apollo’s behavior became even more intense. He followed Poseidon everywhere, bringing him gifts of golden sunflowers and intricate harps crafted from sunlight. He wrote poems and sang songs dedicated to the sea god, his voice filled with longing and adoration.
Poseidon, for his part, found it all deeply entertaining. He had always been fond of Apollo, but seeing his radiant nephew so devoted to him was a delightful novelty.
One evening, as the sun set over the Aegean, Apollo approached Poseidon with yet another gift—a golden seashell that glowed faintly in the twilight.
“For you,” Apollo said softly, his eyes shining with love.
Poseidon took the shell, his smirk softening into something gentler. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“For you, always,” Apollo replied, his voice trembling with sincerity.
---
The Other Gods’ Reactions
The other gods were less amused.
Zeus stormed into Poseidon’s palace one evening, his thunderous voice shaking the walls. “What is the meaning of this? Why is Apollo neglecting his duties to chase after you?”
Poseidon leaned back in his coral throne, his expression bored. “He’s not neglecting anything. He’s just... focused.”
“He’s obsessed!” Zeus roared.
Poseidon smirked. “Is it really so bad to have a little admiration from one’s nephew? You should try being more approachable, brother.”
Hera, who had been listening from the shadows, snorted. “This will end badly. Mark my words.”
Meanwhile, Artemis was livid. She confronted Poseidon in his domain, her silver arrows bristling. “What have you done to my brother?”
Poseidon shrugged. “I’ve done nothing. He’s the one bringing me gifts and serenading me. Maybe you should talk to him.”
---
The Climax
Despite the other gods’ protests, Apollo’s devotion to Poseidon only grew. The sea god, surprisingly, began to reciprocate in small ways—spending more time with Apollo, indulging his whims, and even showing him hidden parts of the ocean that no other god had seen.
One day, as they stood together on a secluded beach, Poseidon turned to Apollo, his expression serious. “Apollo,” he said, “do you truly feel this way, or is it just the arrow?”
Apollo hesitated. The love he felt was all-consuming, but was it real? “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But even if the arrow started it, my feelings now... they’re mine.”
Poseidon studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Then let’s see where this takes us.”
---
Eros’ Intervention
Eros eventually came forward with a solution to break the arrow’s effect. But when he offered it to Apollo, the sun god refused.
“I don’t want to stop feeling this way,” Apollo said firmly. “Even if it began with the arrow, it’s real to me now.”
Poseidon smiled, placing a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “Then we’ll let the fates decide.”
---
Epilogue
Over time, the gods adjusted to the strange new dynamic between Apollo and Poseidon. While some found it scandalous, others couldn’t deny that the two gods seemed... happy.
As for Apollo, he continued to write songs and poems for Poseidon, his love for the sea god unwavering. And Poseidon, for all his initial amusement, found himself deeply caring for his radiant nephew in return.
Perhaps, he thought, love—whether born of an arrow or not—was as unpredictable and powerful as the sea itself.
Chapter 30: The Birth of Apollina
Chapter Text
Title: "The Birth of Apollina"
---
In the endless tapestry of gods and goddesses, few were as radiant as the children of Leto. She, the Titaness of motherhood, had given birth to two children who were destined to shine—Artemis, her silver-hearted daughter, and Apollina, her golden-haired daughter.
Apollina was not born with the brilliance of the sun’s rays, nor the silver sheen of the moon. Instead, she was born with a quiet grace, like a rose bathed in sunlight, delicate yet unyielding. She was a beauty, not of physical perfection alone, but of a deeper, quieter kind, the kind that inspired those who gazed upon her to pause and wonder.
Leto, although expecting a son, embraced her daughter with all the love of a mother who had long been deprived of peace. It was as if the stars themselves had woven her fate into a new thread, one where she would walk the world not as a son of the great Zeus, but as a daughter of him.
Her mother had already seen Artemis grow into the fierce protector of the wilds, the virgin huntress who captured hearts without ever realizing it. Now, she would see another child rise—one that was destined to be the most radiant of them all.
---
The Early Years
From the very beginning, Apollina was treated as a precious gem by her mother. Leto saw the fragile beauty in her daughter, and she cherished every smile, every giggle, every gleam of curiosity in her bright blue eyes. It was Leto’s first instinct to protect her child, to nurture her with the love of a mother who knew what it was like to suffer under Zeus’ wrath and the judgment of the gods.
Zeus, as expected, was not pleased with the birth of a daughter. A female god was not what he had hoped for when he had promised Leto that her child would be the greatest to ever walk the earth. But Apollina, though born a girl, was destined to prove the gods wrong in ways they could not imagine.
Artemis was the first to witness her younger sister’s potential. She had watched her grow from a tiny, delicate thing into a girl who could command the attention of even the oldest gods, her golden hair as bright as the sun, and her eyes shimmering with an unknowable depth. Apollina was, in every way, a natural wonder.
---
The First Trial
Despite her beauty, Apollina was a quiet child. She would sit for hours gazing at the horizon, as if she could see the very future unfold in the clouds. Her intuition, sharp as a blade, led her to a path that no one had expected.
As Apollina reached her adolescence, the gods took notice of her unique connection to the sun. They had expected her to simply become a goddess of beauty or light, but Apollina’s soul was more. She could see the sun’s path like no other. She could call upon its warmth to heal, to grow, and to protect. She had an inner strength that shone from the inside out, an energy that swirled in the air around her like an invisible force.
One day, while walking through the wilds, Apollina met a creature who would change her fate forever. It was a griffin—majestic, golden, and as ancient as the mountains themselves. The beast had been wounded, its wing broken in a fight with another creature, and it lay helpless on the ground.
Apollina approached it with care, her heart reaching out in sympathy for the creature that was as proud as the sun itself. She placed her hands on the griffin’s wing, whispering softly to it. A golden light began to pulse from her hands, slowly mending the wing until it was fully healed. The griffin, stunned by the kindness of this young girl who had never asked for anything, rose to its feet.
“You are like the sun,” the griffin said, its voice low and rumbling. “You shine in ways others cannot.”
Apollina smiled, her heart swelling with an unfamiliar feeling. She had done something selfless—something that would forever change her. And as the griffin took flight, circling above her, Apollina realized that she was not just a daughter. She was meant to be a healer, a bringer of light to the world in ways that no one had imagined. She was Apollina, the Sunbringer.
---
The Growing Power
Years passed, and Apollina’s power grew. She was loved by the mortals and revered by the gods. Her golden light had healing properties, and she used it to cure the sick, mend broken hearts, and bring warmth to the coldest corners of the earth.
Her beauty was still the stuff of legends, but what made Apollina unique was her kindness, her ability to connect with others in ways that her mother’s side of the family never could. She would speak to animals, whispering to the winds, and bringing peace to troubled lands. In a world full of strife, Apollina was a balm, a salve that soothed the pain of the world.
But even the gods could not stand idly by. Zeus, still uncomfortable with his daughter’s radiance, would often question her place in the grand order of things.
“Why do you insist on healing the world?” Zeus would ask, his tone laced with suspicion. “You’re a daughter, not a son. You’re meant to be adored for your beauty, not your abilities.”
But Apollina would simply smile, her golden hair shimmering with the warmth of a thousand suns.
“I am more than my beauty, Father. I am the light that heals, the light that grows. I am everything the world needs.”
And despite his reluctance to admit it, Zeus was forced to recognize the truth in her words. Apollina’s power could not be denied, and soon, the other gods began to see her not as a simple daughter but as a goddess in her own right, a force that could not be ignored.
---
A Daughter of the Sun
As Apollina matured, she took her place in the pantheon of gods, respected and adored by all who met her. She was not just the daughter of Zeus and Leto, but the radiant being who brought hope, healing, and warmth wherever she went. Her beauty was still unmatched, but her inner light shone brighter than anything she could have ever imagined.
And so, Apollina—daughter of Leto, the Sunbringer—became a goddess in her own right. She was not defined by the sun’s brilliance but by the light that emanated from her soul. She would forever be a symbol of hope, warmth, and love, and the world would forever be better for her existence.
---
Epilogue: The Legacy of Apollina
While Apollina’s legacy continued to grow, her story became one of the most revered tales in the pantheon. Her healing powers were sought after by both gods and mortals alike, and her name was whispered in awe for centuries to come. She would go on to become a protector of those in need, a radiant figure who could not be dimmed by the shadows of doubt or jealousy.
In the end, Apollina would never truly be a “sun god” as the others defined it. Instead, she would redefine what it meant to shine in the world—not with harsh light, but with the warmth and comfort that the world needed.
Chapter 31: Apollo, The Adoptive Parent of All
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo, The Adoptive Parent of All"
---
In the halls of Camp Half-Blood, where the demigods trained and fought, there was one figure who stood above the rest in both kindness and presence. He was not just the god of the sun, the god of prophecy, or the bringer of light—no, to many of the demigods, Apollo was something far more personal. He was their parent. Their protector. Their mom or dad.
It all began when Apollo first visited the camp, trying to fulfill his divine duties and connect with his children. Initially, he had been concerned about their safety, their well-being, and the harsh lives they had to lead as children of the gods. But what Apollo found was more than just a camp filled with warriors; he found a broken, misunderstood family—a family that needed love, care, and guidance, something the gods rarely offered.
---
The First Signs
It wasn’t long before Apollo started to spend more time with the demigods. He’d offer healing whenever anyone got injured in their training sessions. He’d give advice on how to handle the struggles they faced with their divine parentage. He even began to throw what he called “sunshine picnics,” where they would sit under the warmth of the sun, eat sweet fruit, and simply enjoy a moment of peace and quiet away from the constant battles.
"Everyone deserves a bit of sunshine in their lives, especially here," Apollo would say, smiling down at his children. "You’re all my family, after all."
It wasn’t just the younger demigods who were drawn to him. Even the older ones, those who had experienced tragedy and loss, found comfort in Apollo’s presence. It was as if his light didn’t just illuminate the physical world; it illuminated their hearts, too.
---
The Becoming
As the months passed, the demigods began to grow attached to Apollo. They’d come to him for advice, for comfort, for a listening ear. Slowly but surely, they began calling him Mom or Dad.
To Apollo, it wasn’t a burden. In fact, it filled him with a sense of joy he hadn’t known in centuries. He had always known the gods to be distant, cold, and unfeeling, but here, with his children—his real children—he found the love that had always been missing in his immortal existence.
"Mom, can you help me with this?" Will Solace, his son, would ask, his face lit up with that all-too-familiar smile.
Apollo would chuckle, kneeling beside Will and brushing his blonde hair out of his face. "Of course, my dear. You know I’m always here for you."
And so, it went for months. Apollo became a constant fixture in the camp, his radiant presence offering solace to every demigod he encountered. His children grew stronger, not just in their combat skills but in their hearts. He wasn’t just a god to them—he was their parental figure, the one who would never abandon them, the one who understood them better than anyone else.
---
A Family United
One evening, Apollo decided to throw one of his signature sunshine picnics, bringing all the campers together for a lighthearted feast. The campgrounds were buzzing with laughter and excitement as Apollo made sure every child was included, making sure no one felt left out.
"Mom, could you tell us a story?" asked Piper McLean, one of Apollo's daughters, her eyes sparkling.
Apollo grinned. "Ah, you want one of my legendary tales, don’t you? Well, let me tell you about the time I had a very unexpected encounter with a very unpredictable mortal king."
As Apollo launched into the tale, the demigods gathered around him, completely entranced. To them, this wasn’t just a story—it was the type of nurturing care they had longed for. Apollo’s voice was soft and comforting, the warmth of the sun radiating from him, wrapping them all in a feeling of safety.
But it wasn’t just the stories or the comfort. It was the way Apollo made them all feel understood, even when they felt most lost. He would offer advice without judgment, speak words of encouragement that made them feel like they could conquer anything.
---
The Special Moments
There were quiet moments, too, when Apollo would sit with the demigods, his golden aura softening in the evening light. When they needed to talk, when they needed reassurance, he was there. When they needed a hug, he would wrap them in his arms, holding them close like a parent should.
"Mom, I don’t think I can do it," one of the campers, a girl named Selene, admitted one evening, sitting beside Apollo by the campfire.
Apollo rested his hand on her shoulder. "What’s troubling you, dear?"
She looked down at the ground, her voice filled with doubt. "I just don’t feel like I’m strong enough. I’m afraid I’ll fail everyone."
Apollo leaned closer, speaking softly. "Strength doesn’t come from fighting alone. It comes from knowing when to ask for help, from trusting those around you. And right now, you’ve got your family. You’re never alone in this, Selene. Never."
Selene looked up at Apollo, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Mom," she whispered.
Apollo smiled warmly, feeling a sense of fulfillment that no battle or divine victory could ever bring. "Anytime, my child."
---
The Jealous Gods
Not everyone was happy with Apollo’s newfound role as the camp’s adopted parent. The other gods, especially Zeus, were confused by Apollo’s deepening attachment to the demigods. The Olympians had never been known for their nurturing sides, and seeing Apollo taking on the role of parent to mortals—who were often seen as nothing more than tools in the gods’ grand plans—left some uneasy.
"Why do you spend so much time with them?" Zeus demanded one day, his voice thick with suspicion. "They are not your family, Apollo."
Apollo’s gaze hardened, a rare thing for him. "They are my family. They need me, and I need them. I give them something that none of you do—love."
Zeus frowned, his anger rising. "You’re becoming too attached to them. You’re a god, not their parent."
Apollo stood tall, his radiant presence overwhelming. "They are my children, Zeus. And I will not abandon them the way the rest of you have abandoned them."
The gods grumbled, but Apollo’s resolve was firm. He would not let anyone take away his role as a parent to those who needed him most.
---
A Family Forever
And so it was that Apollo continued to be the father and mother figure to his children, the demigods of Camp Half-Blood. They loved him fiercely, and he loved them in return, protecting them from harm and teaching them to believe in themselves. No matter what happened on the battlefield, Apollo would always be there for them.
"Mom, thank you," Jason Grace said quietly one day, his hand resting on Apollo’s.
Apollo smiled at him, brushing a hand through his golden hair. "You don’t have to thank me, Jason. I’m always here for you, for all of you."
And in that moment, surrounded by his children, Apollo realized that perhaps, in a world full of divine turmoil and mortal conflict, this—this was the one thing that truly mattered: family.
Chapter 32: The Sun God and the Spartan King
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun God and the Spartan King"
---
The arena of the gods was alight with anticipation. The next match of the Record of Ragnarok was set: Apollo, the radiant god of the sun, against Leonidas, the fierce Spartan king who had defied the gods themselves in his mortal life.
As Apollo entered the arena, his golden form practically glowing, the crowd erupted in cheers. His every movement was graceful, his radiant smile disarming. Meanwhile, Leonidas stood tall, his powerful frame emanating an aura of unshakable resolve. He glared at Apollo with a mix of wariness and disdain.
The combatants stood across from one another, the tension thick in the air. Brunhilde, standing among the Valkyries, smirked. "This will be interesting," she murmured to herself.
---
The Encounter Begins
Apollo tilted his head, a playful grin forming on his lips as he studied the mortal before him. "Ah, so you’re Leonidas," he said, his voice as smooth as honey. "I’ve heard stories of your strength and bravery. You’re even more impressive in person."
Leonidas narrowed his eyes. "Save your flattery, god. I’m not here to chat. I’m here to fight."
Apollo chuckled, stepping closer, his radiant presence making the air around him feel warm. "Fight? Oh, Leonidas, why waste such energy on violence? Life is too short—especially for mortals—to spend it on such dreary things."
Leonidas growled, raising his spear. "If you think you can charm me into surrender, you’re mistaken, god."
But as Apollo’s golden eyes met Leonidas’s, the Spartan felt a flicker of hesitation. There was something about the god—his beauty, his confidence—that unsettled him.
---
The Seduction
Apollo’s smile deepened as he closed the distance between them, unarmed and unbothered. "Oh, Leonidas, you misunderstand me. I have no interest in defeating you. In fact, I admire you."
"Admire me?" Leonidas scoffed, though his grip on his spear faltered.
"Of course," Apollo replied, his voice like a melody. "Your strength, your passion, your defiance—it’s captivating." He circled Leonidas slowly, his golden hair catching the light, his gaze never leaving the Spartan’s. "You’re a warrior, yes, but also a leader, a protector. That kind of spirit... it’s rare."
Leonidas found himself lowering his spear slightly, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with battle. "What are you playing at, god?"
"No games," Apollo said, stopping directly in front of him. "I simply find you... fascinating." He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Leonidas’s cheek. The Spartan tensed but didn’t pull away.
---
The Escape
The audience watched in stunned silence as the supposed battle turned into something entirely different. Whispers filled the air, and even the gods looked on with confusion—or amusement, in Loki’s case.
"What is Apollo doing?" Thor muttered, gripping his hammer.
Loki smirked, lounging in his seat. "Oh, isn’t it obvious? He’s decided seduction is a better strategy than combat. Honestly, I can’t blame him. Look at Leonidas—he’s practically drooling."
Leonidas, for his part, was struggling to keep his composure. "You think you can distract me with pretty words and a prettier face?"
Apollo leaned closer, his lips mere inches from Leonidas’s ear. "Who said I was trying to distract you? Perhaps I’m just offering... a different kind of challenge."
Before Leonidas could respond, Apollo’s arms wrapped around him, and in a flash of golden light, they disappeared from the arena.
The crowd erupted in chaos.
"What just happened?" Zeus bellowed, rising from his throne.
Loki laughed, clapping his hands. "Oh, this is rich. Looks like we’re going to have another demigod in the family soon. A Spartan prince, perhaps?"
Brunhilde pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is not how this was supposed to go."
---
The Aftermath
Apollo and Leonidas reappeared far from the arena, in a secluded grove bathed in sunlight. The Spartan stumbled back, glaring at the god. "What are you doing? We were supposed to fight!"
Apollo shrugged, reclining against a tree with a radiant smile. "And ruin that handsome face of yours? I couldn’t possibly. Besides," he added, his tone softening, "why fight when we could... get to know each other better?"
Leonidas hesitated, his warrior instincts at war with the strange pull he felt toward the sun god. "You’re insane," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
Apollo chuckled, patting the grass beside him. "Come, Leonidas. Sit with me. Tell me about yourself, about your life, your dreams. I want to know everything."
And against all odds, the Spartan king found himself lowering his spear and sitting beside the radiant god.
---
Back in the Arena
The gods were still in an uproar over Apollo’s sudden departure, while Loki continued to laugh, thoroughly entertained.
"Well," he said, wiping a tear from his eye, "I suppose we’ll call this match a draw. Or perhaps a victory for Apollo in his own... unique way."
Thor sighed. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"
"Not when it’s this entertaining," Loki replied with a grin.
---
Epilogue
Weeks later, rumors began to spread of a golden-haired child born to a Spartan king and an unknown woman, a child with radiant features and an otherworldly glow.
And in Olympus, Apollo smiled to himself, knowing he had left a piece of his light in the mortal world once again.
Chapter 33: The Sun’s Descent into Darkness
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun’s Descent into Darkness"
---
The journey to Tartarus was not one Apollo had taken lightly. His golden chariot, usually a symbol of his radiance, had been left behind as he ventured into the dark abyss. He had come seeking answers, a way to prevent another war, and perhaps even closure. But most of all, he had come seeking Kronos—the primordial force of destruction and his grandfather.
The gods had warned him not to go. Artemis had pleaded with him to stay in Olympus. Zeus, for once, had shown a glimmer of concern. But Apollo was determined. He had to confront the lingering shadow of Kronos to ensure peace for Olympus.
---
The Encounter
The air was thick with malevolence as Apollo descended into the heart of Tartarus. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and the ground pulsed beneath his feet like a heartbeat. Finally, he reached the great chains that bound Kronos, the once-mighty Titan King.
Kronos, though bound, exuded an aura of raw power. His eyes glinted with malice and cunning as they landed on the sun god.
“Well, well,” Kronos drawled, his voice a deep rumble that echoed through the void. “What brings the golden child of Olympus to my prison?”
Apollo stood tall, his radiant presence defying the oppressive darkness. “I came to ensure you remain here, powerless and defeated. But I also came seeking knowledge. You’ve seen the rise and fall of gods and Titans alike. Tell me how to prevent another war.”
Kronos chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Apollo’s spine. “Ah, knowledge always comes with a price, little sunbeam. Are you willing to pay it?”
---
The Temptation
Kronos’s words were laced with a strange allure. Despite his better judgment, Apollo found himself drawn to the Titan’s commanding presence. It was a dangerous game, but Apollo was nothing if not curious and bold.
“Name your price,” Apollo said, his voice steady.
Kronos’s smirk deepened. “I want a taste of the light that the Olympians have denied me for eons. A moment of your radiance in this pit of despair.”
Apollo hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn back. But he also knew that Kronos’s cooperation could mean the difference between peace and chaos. Against his better judgment, he stepped closer.
---
A Forbidden Night
What began as a dangerous negotiation spiraled into something far more intimate. Apollo, stripped of his usual confidence, found himself ensnared by Kronos’s charisma and power. The chains that bound Kronos seemed to fade away in the heat of the moment, and Apollo’s radiance lit up the darkness of Tartarus in ways it never had before.
For one night, the sun god and the fallen Titan were equals, their connection a volatile mix of light and shadow.
---
The Aftermath
Apollo left Tartarus the next morning, shaken and burdened by what had transpired. He swore never to speak of it, burying the memory deep within him. But weeks later, he began to notice the signs: the nausea, the fatigue, the strange sensation of a second heartbeat within him.
He was pregnant.
The gods noticed his sudden secrecy and pallor. Artemis cornered him first, demanding answers, but Apollo deflected. It wasn’t until Hera, ever watchful, pieced the puzzle together that the truth was revealed.
“Who is the father, Apollo?” Hera’s voice was cold, her eyes sharp.
Apollo hesitated before whispering, “Kronos.”
The room erupted in chaos. Zeus’s roar of rage shook the heavens, while Hera and Poseidon exchanged stunned glances. Athena’s face was a mask of disbelief, and Artemis looked betrayed.
“You went to Tartarus? To him?” Zeus bellowed, lightning crackling around him.
“I did what I thought was necessary to protect Olympus!” Apollo snapped, his usual charm replaced by raw emotion.
---
The Titans Learn the Truth
The revelation didn’t stay confined to Olympus for long. Somehow, the Titans imprisoned in Tartarus learned of the child. Whispers spread like wildfire among the chained beings, and the news filled them with both hope and fury.
Hyperion, Titan of the Sun, laughed darkly. “So our precious Olympian sun god has turned to the true light.”
Oceanus, ever calm, mused, “The child could be a bridge—or a weapon. What will Kronos do with this knowledge?”
Kronos, for his part, was both amused and intrigued. The thought of his legacy continuing through the very bloodline of Zeus was a delicious irony.
---
A Dangerous Future
Apollo’s pregnancy became a focal point of tension among the gods. Zeus wanted the child destroyed, fearing it would bring about another Titanomachy. Hera, however, saw potential in raising the child as an Olympian.
As for Apollo, he was torn. The child growing within him was innocent, a strange mix of light and shadow. Despite the circumstances of its conception, he felt a fierce protectiveness for it.
The Titans, meanwhile, began plotting, their eyes set on the unborn child as a symbol of their resurgence.
---
Epilogue
Apollo stood on the edge of Olympus, gazing down at the mortal world. His hand rested on his growing belly, his golden glow dimmed but still present. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing: he would protect his child, no matter what.
And in the depths of Tartarus, Kronos smiled, his chains rattling softly. The sun had brought him a glimmer of hope, and he intended to use it to its fullest.
---
The balance between light and darkness had shifted, and the world would never be the same.
--
Part 2: "The Sun's Obsession: Shadows Unleashed"
---
Years Later
The years following Apollo’s daring escape from Tartarus had been marked by tension. The child born of light and shadow, named Theron, had become the God of Duality—a unique entity capable of embodying both creation and destruction. Theron was powerful but enigmatic, straddling the line between the Olympians and Titans.
Olympus treated him with caution. The gods admired his radiant abilities inherited from Apollo, yet they feared the darkness in his veins. Despite their wariness, Theron was fiercely loyal to his parent, Apollo, who had raised him with unconditional love.
But whispers of Kronos’s name persisted in the shadows of Olympus. The Titans’ chains had weakened, their influence growing, and it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.
---
The Escape
One fateful night, Olympus trembled as the gates of Tartarus shattered. A crack of dark energy split the Underworld, and Kronos emerged from his prison. His golden eyes burned with fury and desire, and his first thought was not of revenge against Zeus or the Olympians.
It was of Apollo.
The memories of that forbidden night had festered within Kronos during his imprisonment. What had started as a moment of manipulation had grown into a dangerous obsession. Apollo’s radiance, beauty, and defiance had consumed Kronos’s thoughts, and now, free from his chains, he would have what was his.
---
The Confrontation
Apollo was the first to sense Kronos’s escape. He stood on the steps of Olympus, his bow shimmering in his hand, golden light pooling around him. Theron stood beside him, his eyes glowing an unsettling mix of sunlight and shadow.
“You should stay back,” Apollo told his son, his voice calm but firm.
Theron shook his head. “He’s my father too. I’m not letting you face him alone.”
Before Apollo could respond, the air grew heavy, and Kronos appeared before them. His towering figure radiated power, his once-worn chains now forged into armor that shimmered with otherworldly light.
“Apollo,” Kronos said, his voice deep and intoxicating. “I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”
Apollo narrowed his eyes, refusing to show any weakness. “You have no claim here, Kronos. Leave before I force you back into Tartarus.”
Kronos laughed, a low, chilling sound. “Force me? Oh, Apollo, you misunderstand. I’m not here for war—unless your precious Olympians make it so. I’m here for you and our child.” His eyes shifted to Theron, a glint of pride and possessiveness flickering within them.
Theron bristled. “I’m not your pawn, Kronos. My loyalty is to my mother.”
Kronos’s expression darkened for a moment before softening as he turned back to Apollo. “You’ve raised him well. He’s strong. Just like you.”
---
The Obsession Unleashed
Kronos began appearing everywhere Apollo went. Whether it was on the mortal plane, Olympus, or even during Apollo’s brief visits to the Underworld, Kronos was always there, watching. He didn’t attack—he didn’t need to. His mere presence was enough to unsettle the gods, especially Zeus.
The other Olympians were enraged by Kronos’s audacity, but Kronos made it clear: his quarrel was not with them.
“I’m here for Apollo,” he would say with a chilling smile, “and I will not harm what’s mine.”
Zeus was livid. The thought of his son being claimed by the Titan he had defeated eons ago was unbearable. He demanded Apollo hide or fight, but Apollo refused.
“I won’t cower,” Apollo declared. “And I won’t let you dictate my life.”
---
A Twisted Family
Kronos made attempts to connect with Theron, who remained wary but curious about his Titan heritage. Despite his misgivings, Theron found himself drawn to Kronos’s power and promises of a world where he didn’t have to be torn between light and shadow.
Apollo noticed the growing bond and confronted Kronos in a secluded glade on the mortal plane.
“What are you doing to him?” Apollo demanded, his golden bow aimed at Kronos.
Kronos smiled, unfazed by the weapon. “I’m showing him the truth—that he doesn’t have to choose between the Olympians and the Titans. He can be more than what they want him to be.”
Apollo’s hands shook, but his voice remained steady. “Stay away from him.”
Kronos stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “I can’t stay away from you, Apollo. You’ve haunted me since that night. You’ve infected me with your light, and now I can’t live without it.”
Apollo glared, but his resolve wavered under Kronos’s intense gaze. “You’re delusional.”
“Perhaps,” Kronos murmured, his voice softening, “but I’m also determined. I will have my family back, Apollo. Whether you accept it or not.”
---
The Battle for Theron
The situation reached its peak when Theron, torn between his parents, decided to leave Olympus. He sought solace in the mortal world, but his departure triggered a confrontation between the gods and Titans.
Kronos saw Theron as a symbol of unity between their bloodlines, while Zeus saw him as a threat. The other Olympians joined Zeus, demanding Theron’s allegiance, while Kronos rallied the remnants of the Titans to protect his son.
Caught in the middle, Apollo tried to mediate, his heart breaking as his family fractured further.
“You’re tearing him apart!” Apollo screamed at both sides, his golden aura flaring. “This isn’t about Theron—it’s about your pride and fear!”
---
A Fragile Resolution
In the end, it was Theron who made the choice. He declared himself a neutral party, a god who would bridge the gap between Titans and Olympians. His decision forced both sides to back down, though the tension remained.
Kronos retreated, but not before promising Apollo, “This isn’t over. I will return for you.”
Apollo, exhausted and heartbroken, returned to Olympus with Theron, vowing to protect his child at all costs.
But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the lingering fear—and the spark of something more—that Kronos would keep his promise.
Chapter 34: Hephaestus vs. Aphrodite: The Ultimate Drama
Chapter Text
Title: "Hephaestus vs. Aphrodite: The Ultimate Drama"
The grand hall of Olympus was alive with tension as Aphrodite and Hephaestus stood at opposite ends, their voices raised in a heated argument. Every god and goddess had gathered, their usual squabbles forgotten as the scandal unfolded.
“You dare accuse me, Hephaestus?” Aphrodite spat, her beauty glowing even in anger. “When you’ve never truly been enough for me?”
Hephaestus’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists. “Enough? You mean while you’re sneaking around with him?” He jabbed a finger toward Ares, who leaned smugly against a marble pillar, unbothered by the chaos. “Do you know how humiliating it is to catch my wife with my own brother?”
Aphrodite scoffed, her arms crossed. “Well, maybe if you could satisfy me like he does, I wouldn’t have to go looking elsewhere!”
A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Hermes, seated with a bowl of ambrosia, choked on his drink. Hera raised an eyebrow, her usual disdain briefly replaced with intrigue.
Apollo, lounging at the edge of the gathering, watched with a sly grin. He twirled a strand of his golden hair, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
“You think Ares satisfies you?” Hephaestus shot back, his face red with fury. “What does that brute have that I don’t?”
Aphrodite smirked, about to retort, when Apollo stood up, his golden robes shimmering. He sauntered toward the center of the room, his grin widening. “Oh, darling,” he purred, addressing Aphrodite, “don’t answer that question. You’re just going to embarrass yourself further.”
Aphrodite glared at him. “What are you talking about, Apollo?”
Hephaestus folded his arms, his gaze shifting to the Sun God. “Stay out of this, Apollo.”
Apollo ignored him, turning his full attention to Aphrodite. “You’re sitting here, bragging about Ares, but honey, let me tell you something. Hephaestus?” Apollo gestured dramatically toward the god of the forge. “He may not look like he gets bitches, but let me tell you—that dick was 11 inches.”
Silence.
Every single god stared at Apollo, mouths agape. Even Ares, usually brimming with confidence, looked momentarily stunned.
“Wait,” Hermes muttered, leaning forward. “Did… did Apollo just—”
“Yes, Hermes, I did,” Apollo said breezily, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “I’ve lived a long, long life, and let’s just say Hephaestus is a… surprising man. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention, Aphrodite.”
Hephaestus turned beet red, a mixture of embarrassment and pride flickering across his face. “Apollo, why would you—”
“Don’t worry about it, Heph,” Apollo said with a wink. “Just thought everyone needed a little perspective.”
Aphrodite’s face twisted in fury. “You’re lying!”
“Oh, sweetie,” Apollo said with mock sympathy, “do I look like I need to lie?”
Aphrodite stammered, her composure cracking, while Ares glared at Apollo. “You really think that’s funny?” the war god growled.
Apollo smirked. “No, I think it’s hilarious.”
At that, the hall erupted into chaos. Hera tried to restore order, Zeus groaned loudly about the dysfunction of his family, and Dionysus doubled over in laughter, spilling his wine everywhere.
Meanwhile, Hephaestus quietly walked out of the hall, a small, victorious smile on his face for the first time in centuries.
Later that evening, the rumor of Hephaestus’s surprising… attributes spread across Olympus, leaving Aphrodite fuming and Apollo more entertained than ever.
Especially since he and Hephaestus are going to have some fun together later.
Chapter 35: The Sun Sings Alone 🎵🎵
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun Sings Alone"
---
Apollo sat alone in the quiet meadow just beyond the Olympian palace, his lyre resting lightly in his hands. The golden glow of the setting sun reflected off his skin, casting a halo around him as he plucked at the strings. He thought he was alone—wanted to be alone—but the gods had a habit of not respecting boundaries.
He needed this moment. The weight of his existence had been bearing down on him more than usual, the centuries of loss, betrayal, and loneliness pressing like a vice around his chest. So, he did what he always did when the words he couldn’t speak threatened to consume him—he sang.
With a deep breath, he began to play, his voice soft and full of melancholy:
---
[Verse 1]
"I was born in the shadow of shame,
A son of light with a borrowed name.
My mother’s tears carved rivers in stone,
She bore me fleeing, scared and alone.
Delos held me when no one would dare,
Her trembling sands became my first prayer.
But what is a prayer when the heavens just sneer?
A gift of the sun, yet born into fear."
---
He closed his eyes as the music carried him away, unaware of the figures gathering behind the nearby trees and bushes. Artemis, her face pale and stricken, clutched her silver bow tightly. She had come to find her brother, worried after sensing his despair, and had accidentally stumbled upon his song.
The others had followed her.
Hermes leaned against a tree, his usual smirk replaced by a somber expression as he listened. Dionysus stood rigid, his goblet untouched in his hand for once. Even Hera and Zeus lingered, silent shadows amidst the golden light, drawn by the raw vulnerability in Apollo’s voice.
---
[Chorus]
"I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies."
---
Artemis bit her lip, guilt stabbing at her heart. How had she not seen the cracks in her brother’s radiant facade? She prided herself on being his twin, his closest ally, and yet here he was, baring his soul to the empty meadow because he thought no one cared enough to listen.
Zeus’s jaw tightened as the words hit him. He had never imagined his golden son felt this way—had never bothered to ask. The thought that Apollo, the pride of Olympus, the god of light and music, felt so… small, was almost unbearable.
---
[Verse 2]
"I slew the serpent, Python fell,
With each strike, I sank closer to hell.
Victory’s taste is bitter, not sweet,
The blood on my hands, the song incomplete.
My sister’s arrows fly true and fast,
She stands strong where I falter and crash.
And my father looks down with his storm-clad eyes,
A god of gods, but no father of mine."
---
Hera flinched at the line, her eyes darting to Zeus. The king of gods stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Apollo. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. What could he say? Deny the truth? Comfort his son with empty promises? He had never been a father to Apollo—not the way a father should be.
Hermes lowered his head, guilt gnawing at him. He’d always teased Apollo, poking fun at his theatrics and arrogance, never realizing those behaviors were armor.
---
[Chorus]
"I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies."
---
A tear slipped down Artemis’s cheek as Apollo’s voice cracked on the final note. She wanted to run to him, to throw her arms around him and tell him he wasn’t alone. But the words felt lodged in her throat. How could she claim to understand his pain when she had missed it for so long?
Dionysus, usually indifferent to the affairs of his family, felt a pang of something he rarely experienced: shame. Apollo had always been kind to him, always extended a hand when no one else would. And here he was, singing about burdens he carried alone.
---
[Bridge]
"Oh, my lovers, so many, so few,
Hyacinth, Daphne, I still dream of you.
You withered, you ran, or you turned into stone,
Leaving me in the cosmos alone.
Did you see the cracks beneath my smile?
The hollow laughter, the gilded guile.
For each embrace that I let slip away,
A piece of me crumbled, day by day."
---
Zeus clenched his fists as the names of Apollo’s lost lovers rang through the air. He had seen his son’s heartbreaks, the mortals and gods who had left him, betrayed him, or been taken from him. But he had never realized how deeply those wounds had cut. Apollo had always seemed so resilient, so untouchable.
---
[Chorus]
"I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies."
---
Apollo’s fingers slowed on the strings as he sang the final lines, his voice barely above a whisper:
---
[Outro]
"Oh, Mother, you gave me this curse and this crown,
Artemis, I see you, your light never drowns.
Zeus, do you see me? Or am I just ash?
A fleeting spark from your thunderous wrath.
And now I wander, unbound and alone,
Chained to a fate not even my own."
---
The last note lingered in the air as Apollo sighed, placing the lyre on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair, unaware of the gods frozen just beyond the tree line.
“Why do I even bother?” he muttered to himself, his voice filled with quiet despair.
Before anyone could react, Artemis stepped forward, her bow forgotten at her side. “Apollo…” she began, her voice trembling.
Apollo jumped, spinning around to face her. His golden eyes widened in shock as he saw the group behind her, their faces etched with guilt, sorrow, and something he couldn’t quite place.
“You were… listening?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Yes,” Artemis said, stepping closer. “We heard everything.”
For once, Apollo had no witty retort, no radiant smile to mask his feelings. He stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as the gods approached him one by one.
Zeus placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, his usual arrogance replaced by something almost apologetic. “Apollo… I—”
But Apollo shook his head, stepping back. “Don’t. Please. Just… let me be alone.”
“Not this time,” Artemis said firmly, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Not ever again.”
And for the first time in centuries, Apollo allowed himself to cry.
---
The gods never forgot that day, and neither did Apollo. For while his song had been one of despair, it became the catalyst for something he never thought he’d have: family.
--
https://youtu.be/B6U1lNTMkJk?si=KZz-bQzx77XfGaQs
https://suno.com/song/228eb382-14d0-4e52-961f-5c11d689553e
Title: "Burning Bright, Fading Fast"
(Melancholy acoustic melody begins, soft and haunting)
[Verse 1]
I was born in the shadow of shame,
A son of light with a borrowed name.
My mother’s tears carved rivers in stone,
She bore me fleeing, scared and alone.
Delos held me when no one would dare,
Her trembling sands became my first prayer.
But what is a prayer when the heavens just sneer?
A gift of the sun, yet born into fear.
[Chorus]
I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies.
[Verse 2]
I slew the serpent, Python fell,
With each strike, I sank closer to hell.
Victory’s taste is bitter, not sweet,
The blood on my hands, the song incomplete.
My sister’s arrows fly true and fast,
She stands strong where I falter and crash.
And my father looks down with his storm-clad eyes,
A god of gods, but no father of mine.
[Chorus]
I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies.
[Bridge]
Oh, my lovers, so many, so few,
Hyacinth, Daphne, I still dream of you.
You withered, you ran, or you turned into stone,
Leaving me in the cosmos alone.
Did you see the cracks beneath my smile?
The hollow laughter, the gilded guile.
For each embrace that I let slip away,
A piece of me crumbled, day by day.
[Chorus]
I burn so bright, but it never lasts,
Chased by shadows of my past.
I sing of truth, but I’m drowning in lies,
A golden god with fading skies.
[Outro]
Oh, Mother, you gave me this curse and this crown,
Artemis, I see you, your light never drowns.
Zeus, do you see me? Or am I just ash?
A fleeting spark from your thunderous wrath.
And now I wander, unbound and alone,
Chained to a fate not even
my own.
(Music fades to silence, like the setting sun.)
Chapter 36: Apollo's Therapy Plea
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo’s Therapy Plea"
Apollo stood in the center of the sunlit temple, golden rays reflecting off his glowing form. His usually playful demeanor was replaced by something rarely seen—genuine frustration. With a heavy sigh, he dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together in a dramatic gesture, looking toward the sky.
“Ancestors, hear my plea,” Apollo began, his voice echoing through the chamber. “Make my family go to therapy. They won't accept they are batshit crazy!”
A sudden stillness filled the air, followed by a collective gasp. Behind him, Artemis, Zeus, Hera, Ares, and several other gods materialized in flashes of divine light.
“Did he just pray to the Titans and primordials?” Artemis hissed, her silver eyes wide with disbelief.
“We are not batshit crazy!” Hera snapped, crossing her arms. “How dare you, Apollo?”
“Excuse me,” Apollo turned around with an exaggerated shrug, “but have you met us? I’m literally the god of truth, and let me tell you, it’s not looking great for us.”
Zeus stepped forward, thunder crackling faintly in the distance. “What exactly are you implying, Apollo?”
“Oh, let me break it down for you, Dad.” Apollo stood, gesturing wildly as he began his rant. “First of all, you threw Hephaestus off Mount Olympus because he didn’t meet your aesthetic standards. Hera, you schemed to destroy every child Dad ever had with another woman—and that’s a lot of children, by the way. Artemis refuses to address her trust issues. Ares solves everything with violence. And Dionysus—”
“Leave me out of this,” Dionysus muttered, taking a long sip of wine.
“—drinks his problems away,” Apollo finished, rolling his eyes.
A low rumble echoed throughout the temple as the ground beneath them trembled slightly. The gods exchanged uneasy glances.
“Was that an earthquake?” Artemis asked cautiously.
“No,” Apollo said with a groan. “That’s the Titans and primordials answering my prayer.”
At that moment, shadows began to swirl, and the forms of Nyx, Gaia, and Cronus emerged in a burst of ancient, untamed power. The gods instinctively took a step back.
“Did someone summon us for family drama?” Nyx said with a smirk, her voice dripping with dark amusement.
“Oh no,” Zeus muttered under his breath.
Gaia tilted her head, looking at Apollo with an almost maternal expression. “You asked us to make them go to therapy?”
“Yes!” Apollo said, pointing at his family. “Look at them! They’re a mess. They’re the reason mortals came up with the term ‘toxic family dynamics.’”
Cronus chuckled darkly, his golden eyes gleaming. “This is rich. The Olympians bickering like children. Therapy, you say? Perhaps it’s overdue.”
Zeus stepped forward, lightning sparking in his hand. “This is none of your concern, Father.”
“On the contrary,” Cronus said, grinning, “this is delightful. I’d love to see you all unpack your issues.”
Gaia raised a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Perhaps therapy is what you need.”
“Absolutely not,” Hera snapped.
“You can’t force us!” Ares growled, clenching his fists.
“Actually, we can,” Nyx said, her eyes glowing ominously. “And we will.”
With a snap of her fingers, the gods suddenly found themselves seated in a large, ethereal therapy room. The walls shimmered like starlight, and a primordial being, glowing with a soothing golden light, entered the room holding a clipboard.
“Welcome to divine therapy,” the being said in a calm voice. “I’m Hypnos, and I’ll be your therapist today. Now, who wants to start?”
The gods all turned to glare at Apollo.
“What?” Apollo said innocently. “This is for your own good.”
“This is your fault,” Zeus muttered.
“And you just proved my point!” Apollo shot back.
As the session began, Apollo leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face.
Maybe his family wouldn’t change overnight, but it was a start.
---
Title: "Divine Therapy, Part 2"
The therapy room shimmered with cosmic light as Hypnos, the primordial god of sleep and now an unexpected therapist, settled into his glowing chair. The Olympians, seated in a semicircle, fidgeted uncomfortably. Apollo lounged smugly, arms crossed, while his siblings and parents shot daggers at him with their eyes.
“Now,” Hypnos began, flipping through his golden clipboard, “last session we established that...well, everything is a mess.”
“No kidding,” Artemis muttered, glaring at Apollo.
Apollo beamed. “You’re welcome. I’m just here for truth and self-improvement.”
“You’re here because you prayed to the Titans and primordials to meddle,” Hera snapped.
“Not helping, Hera,” Hypnos said in a sing-song tone, jotting something down. “Let’s begin. Zeus, would you like to start?”
Zeus scowled. “Why should I? I don’t need therapy.”
“Really?” Hypnos raised a brow. “Let’s revisit a few key moments. Throwing Hephaestus off Mount Olympus. Countless affairs with mortals, nymphs, and goddesses. An obsession with control that borders on paranoia. Care to elaborate?”
Zeus crossed his arms and slumped back into his chair. “I’m the King of the Gods. It’s my job to keep order.”
Apollo coughed. “And by order, you mean chaos?”
“Shut it, boy,” Zeus growled.
“See?” Apollo said, throwing his hands in the air. “This is why we’re here.”
“Alright, alright,” Hypnos said, scribbling furiously. “Let’s move on. Hera, how do you feel about Zeus’ behavior?”
Hera scoffed. “How do I feel? How do you think I feel? He’s spent eternity humiliating me!”
Zeus muttered under his breath, “Maybe if you weren’t so controlling—”
“What was that?” Hera snapped, her eyes blazing.
“Time out!” Hypnos said, holding up his hands. “Let’s try constructive communication. Hera, use ‘I feel’ statements.”
“I feel like throttling him,” Hera said coldly.
“That’s...a start,” Hypnos said with a nervous laugh.
Apollo leaned toward Artemis. “This is better than watching mortals’ reality shows.”
Artemis elbowed him. “You’re making it worse.”
“Alright, moving on,” Hypnos said, rubbing his temples. “Ares, how do you process conflict in a healthy way?”
Ares blinked. “I punch it.”
Hypnos sighed. “And when that doesn’t work?”
“I punch harder.”
Hypnos pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll circle back to that.” He turned to Artemis. “You’ve been quiet. How do you feel about your family dynamics?”
Artemis straightened in her seat. “I feel like I’m the only one here who isn’t insane.”
Apollo gasped dramatically. “Excuse me?!”
“You prayed for this, didn’t you?” Artemis shot back.
“Yes, but that’s because I care!” Apollo said, placing a hand over his heart. “Unlike some people, I want to fix our family.”
“You call this fixing?” Dionysus grumbled, gesturing around the room. “I was halfway through a bottle of wine before you dragged us here.”
Hypnos jotted something down. “Dionysus, let’s talk about your coping mechanisms.”
“Let’s not,” Dionysus replied, raising his goblet.
The session continued in chaos, with each god either deflecting, arguing, or outright refusing to engage. Hera and Zeus bickered endlessly. Ares kept challenging Hypnos to a duel. Dionysus fell asleep halfway through, and Artemis shot down every attempt at vulnerability with cold logic.
And through it all, Apollo sat with a serene, smug smile.
“Why are you so happy about this?” Artemis finally snapped.
“Because,” Apollo said, leaning back with a grin, “this is exactly what we needed. Look at us! We’re talking. Sharing. Connecting.”
“Yelling,” Hypnos muttered under his breath.
“Details,” Apollo said dismissively.
Hypnos sighed, setting down his clipboard. “Alright, let’s wrap this up with a final exercise. Everyone, say one nice thing about someone else in this room.”
The gods groaned.
“This is pointless,” Ares muttered.
“Just try,” Hypnos urged. “Zeus, you first.”
Zeus hesitated, then said gruffly, “Hera’s good at...uh...being organized.”
Hera glared at him. “Wow. So heartfelt.”
“Your turn, Hera,” Hypnos said quickly.
Hera sighed. “Fine. Zeus is...occasionally competent.”
Apollo clapped. “Progress!”
“Alright, Apollo,” Hypnos said. “Your turn.”
Apollo smiled warmly. “I love all of you, even if you’re all completely insane. And I’m glad we’re here, even if it’s a little painful.”
The room went silent.
“Wow,” Artemis said softly. “That was...unexpectedly genuine.”
“I know,” Dionysus muttered. “Creepy.”
“Alright,” Hypnos said, standing. “That’s enough for today. I’ll see you all next week.”
“Next week?!” the gods shouted in unison.
Apollo grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure we all show up. Right, family?”
The gods glared at him, but deep down, maybe, just maybe, they didn’t entirely hate the idea.
---
Title: "Divine Therapy, Part 3: Apollo’s Truth"
The therapy room was silent. Too silent. Hypnos shifted uncomfortably in his seat, golden clipboard in hand, as the gods exchanged wary glances. Apollo sat at the center of the group, his usual glowing demeanor dimmed. He wasn’t lounging or smirking like usual. His shoulders were tense, his golden curls falling into his eyes.
“Apollo,” Hypnos said gently, “you’ve been pushing everyone to open up, but you’ve avoided sharing anything about yourself. How do you feel about your place in this family?”
Apollo didn’t respond immediately. His fingers traced invisible patterns on the armrest of his chair. Finally, he let out a soft, bitter laugh.
“My place in the family?” he repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s a funny question.”
The gods leaned in slightly, curious despite themselves.
Apollo looked up, his golden eyes duller than anyone had ever seen. “Do you want the truth? Fine. Let’s talk about my place. I’m the golden boy, the favorite. The god everyone calls when they need something. Healing? Call Apollo. A prophecy? Call Apollo. A goddamned plague? Oh, who else but Apollo?”
“Apollo—” Artemis started, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“No, Artemis. Let me finish,” he said, his voice trembling. “You all look at me and see this perfect, glowing, golden figure. But do you know what it’s like to always be on? To always be the one who’s supposed to shine? To always be the one people expect to fix things?”
The room was painfully quiet.
“I’m not allowed to be angry or sad or broken,” Apollo continued. “Because I’m the Sun. I’m supposed to light the way, even when I’m burning myself out in the process.”
He laughed again, a sound that was more heartbreak than humor. “You know what the worst part is? You all say you love me. You say I’m important. But the moment I make a mistake—one wrong prophecy, one misstep—you’re all ready to throw me to the wolves. Or, you know, turn me mortal.”
Zeus stiffened. “Apollo—”
“Don’t,” Apollo snapped, his voice sharp. “You turned me mortal, Father. Twice. Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? To lose my power, my identity, my self—because I wasn’t perfect enough for you?”
Zeus looked away, his jaw clenched.
“And you, Artemis,” Apollo said, turning to his twin. “You’re the only one who’s ever really understood me, but even you... Even you expect me to hold it all together. You say I’m dramatic, that I overreact, but maybe I wouldn’t have to if someone, anyone, asked me how I was doing for once.”
Artemis looked like she wanted to argue, but the words died on her lips.
“And the rest of you?” Apollo continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. “You laugh at me, mock me, call me vain or shallow or reckless. But do you know why I act that way? It’s because if I don’t keep smiling, if I don’t keep pretending everything’s fine, I’m afraid I’ll shatter.”
His voice broke on the last word, and he quickly looked away, blinking back tears.
“Apollo,” Hera said softly, her tone unusually gentle.
He shook his head. “No. It’s fine. Really. I just... I just needed to say it.”
Hypnos cleared his throat, his voice calm but firm. “Thank you for sharing that, Apollo. That took a lot of courage.”
Apollo laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well, courage doesn’t fix centuries of being everyone’s golden boy and no one’s person.”
The gods sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to say.
Finally, Artemis reached over, placing a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much you were carrying.”
Apollo gave her a small, sad smile. “It’s not your fault. It’s just...how things are.”
Zeus cleared his throat, his voice heavy with uncharacteristic guilt. “Apollo, I—”
“Don’t,” Apollo interrupted. “Not yet. I’m too tired to deal with you right now.”
Zeus nodded, the weight of his son’s words settling heavily on his shoulders.
Hypnos stood, addressing the group. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s give Apollo some space.”
One by one, the gods filed out, their usual bickering and arrogance replaced with an uncomfortable silence. Artemis lingered, giving Apollo’s shoulder a squeeze before leaving.
When the room was empty, Apollo leaned back in his chair, letting out a shaky breath.
For the first time in centuries, he felt...lighter. Not fixed, not whole, but maybe, just maybe, on the path to healing.
Chapter 37: A Match Made in Fire and Sun
Chapter Text
Title: A Match Made in Fire and Sun
The gods of Olympus were in uproar. The gossip echoed across the golden halls, whispered with disbelief and curiosity. Apollo, the Sun God, the eternal bachelor and charmer of mortals and gods alike, was married?
It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as anything ever did on Olympus. Hermes had overheard a mortal’s prayer. Not to Apollo, but for Apollo. It had mentioned a name no one recognized: Kol Mikaelson.
Hermes, ever the mischief-maker, immediately relayed the information to the rest of the gods.
"Apollo’s got a husband?” Aphrodite nearly choked on her nectar. “How could I not know about this? I’m the goddess of love!”
Hades, who had joined the gathering out of sheer boredom, raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps because Apollo knew you’d meddle.”
“Or perhaps,” Hera said coolly as she entered the room, her golden crown glinting under the sunlight, “because it’s none of your business.”
The room fell silent.
“Hera,” Zeus began cautiously, “you knew?”
“Of course, I knew. I’m the goddess of marriage,” Hera said, her tone dripping with superiority. “Apollo and Kol have been married for centuries.”
“Centuries?” Artemis exclaimed, her silver eyes wide with shock. “How did he hide this from me? I’m his twin!”
Hera smirked. “He didn’t hide it. You simply didn’t notice. Perhaps you were too busy with your own pursuits.”
The gods were too stunned to reply, so Hera continued. “Kol Mikaelson is no ordinary mortal. He’s a vampire. An Original, to be precise. Dangerous, impulsive, and fiercely protective of what’s his. He and Apollo are quite the match.”
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sharp crack of Zeus’s thunderbolt striking the floor. “A vampire? He married a vampire?”
“Yes,” Hera said calmly. “And before you say something foolish, Kol is powerful, clever, and devoted to Apollo. You would do well to respect their union.”
At that moment, the golden doors to the throne room swung open, and Apollo strolled in, his radiant aura dimmed slightly by the weight of annoyance. He was dressed in his usual golden tunic, his hair glowing like molten sunlight. But what caught everyone’s attention was the man at his side.
Kol Mikaelson was strikingly handsome, with sharp cheekbones, dark hair, and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He walked with an easy confidence, his hand resting possessively on Apollo’s waist.
“Well,” Kol drawled, his accent lilting and rich. “It seems the family meeting started without us, darling.”
Apollo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kol, please. I told you this would happen if Hermes overheard.”
Kol grinned, unrepentant. “And I told you it’d be entertaining. Look at their faces.”
The gods were indeed staring, their expressions ranging from shock to curiosity to outrage. Zeus looked as though he was about to explode.
“Apollo,” Zeus thundered, “explain yourself!”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “Explain what? That I fell in love? That I found someone who doesn’t see me as just the Sun God but as a person? Someone who makes me laugh, who challenges me, who actually cares about me?”
“You married a vampire!” Zeus bellowed.
“And you married your sister,” Kol said with a smirk. “Should we compare the two?”
The room fell silent again, Hera stifling a laugh behind her hand.
“Kol,” Apollo warned, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.
“What?” Kol said innocently. “Just pointing out the obvious.”
Artemis finally broke the tension, stepping forward to hug her twin. “I’m happy for you, Apollo. Truly. I just wish you’d told me.”
Apollo softened, returning the hug. “I’m sorry, Artemis. I didn’t want to put Kol in danger. You know how...volatile our family can be.”
Artemis nodded, understanding. “Well, if he makes you happy, then I’ll support you.” She turned to Kol, her gaze piercing. “But if you hurt him—”
Kol held up his hands, his grin genuine. “I’d never. Apollo’s my everything.”
Aphrodite sighed dreamily. “Alright, I approve. They’re adorable together.”
Zeus, however, was not so easily swayed. “This is unacceptable!”
Hera’s patience finally snapped. “Enough, Zeus. You’ve married whom you pleased. Apollo has the right to do the same. Kol is his husband, and you will respect that.”
Zeus glared, but Hera’s gaze was unyielding.
Apollo stepped forward, his usual light returning as he smiled at his husband. “Come on, Kol. Let’s leave them to their bickering. I have a sun to set.”
Kol grinned, leaning in to kiss Apollo’s cheek. “Lead the way, my love.”
As they left, hand in hand, the gods watched in silence.
“Well,” Hermes said after a moment, “this was the best family drama I’ve seen in centuries.”
Hades smirked. “Agreed.”
Chapter 38: The Oracle's Secret
Chapter Text
Title: The Oracle's Secret
The war between the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix was at its peak, and the air seemed heavy with the weight of uncertainty. In the midst of it all, Ronald Weasley, one of Harry Potter's closest friends, had become a figure of intrigue, though no one—aside from himself—knew the true nature of his connection to the divine.
Ronald Weasley, though far from ordinary, never expected to be burdened with the title of oracle. The truth was that Apollo, the Sun God, had chosen him long ago, gifted with the ability to see prophecies—though not in the usual way. Apollo had placed his essence in Ron at a young age, knowing that the boy would grow to become a powerful ally in the fight against the darkness. But, of course, Ron had no idea. To him, the strange visions and cryptic dreams had always felt like nothing more than a passing oddity.
That is, until one fateful day when it all came to the surface.
It was late in the war, and the battle had become far more personal for the Weasley family. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and the rest of their friends had been captured in the midst of a failed mission, thrown into a dank, cold room within the heart of Malfoy Manor, awaiting whatever fate Voldemort had in store for them. The dark wizards had been busy with their own preparations, certain that the moment would soon arrive where they would crush the resistance once and for all.
But Ron, of all people, would find himself at the center of something far more dangerous than he could have ever predicted.
He had been sitting quietly, hands bound, trying to block out the chaos swirling in his mind, when it happened. The familiar, warm feeling of Apollo's presence washed over him. A divine energy, both calming and terrifying, surged through him. Ron’s heart began to pound, his chest constricting as though he could barely breathe.
Hermione had noticed his shift in demeanor, her brow furrowed. "Ron? What’s wrong?" she whispered urgently, her eyes wide with concern.
But before Ron could answer, his lips parted, and words began to spill out of his mouth without his control. They were not his words—they were prophetic, ringing with a depth of knowledge and power that even he couldn’t comprehend.
"A child of the sun,"
Ron said, his voice strange and distant,
"Will cast a shadow greater than all.
The serpent shall rise, and the light shall fade, but the bond shall remain.
The flame will burn, and the end is near...
Until the moon rises, and the sun returns."
The room fell silent, the words echoing like a curse in the cold, stone chamber. No one spoke for a long moment, but the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps made their way toward the prisoners.
From the shadows, the Dark Lord himself emerged, his pale, twisted face lit by the flickering candlelight. The coldness of his presence sent a shiver down Ron's spine as the words he'd spoken reverberated in his mind like an unbearable weight.
"You…" Voldemort hissed, his voice dripping with venom as his eyes locked onto Ron. "You dare to speak in riddles? Tell me, boy, do you even know what you just said?"
Ron’s hands clenched, and though fear twisted his insides, there was something else: the pull of Apollo's power, filling him with a sense of purpose, as if he were a mere vessel through which the prophecy flowed. He knew the answer, but speaking it aloud felt like something dangerous.
"I… I didn’t mean to," Ron stammered, still reeling from the shock of the words that escaped him. "I don’t know what I said. But—"
Voldemort narrowed his eyes, moving closer to the redhead. "A child of the sun…" he repeated. "The sun... Apollo." He seemed to contemplate the words, as if they held more significance than he was letting on. "Apollo," he murmured darkly, the name leaving his lips like a curse. "So it is true. The prophecy speaks of a greater power, one that may lead to my downfall." His eyes flashed with sudden, terrifying clarity. "And you are tied to it."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance, realizing something had shifted. Ron wasn’t just a random prisoner caught up in the war—he was a key player in something far more significant, something that the Dark Lord could never have anticipated.
"Tell me," Voldemort hissed again, his grip tightening on Ron’s chin as he forced the boy to look at him. "What is this bond you speak of? What do you know about my destiny?"
Ron struggled to break free of the cold, suffocating grip, but the words came before he could control them again.
"Your doom... is inescapable," Ron said, the words spilling from his mouth in a detached, almost trance-like state. "The serpent you seek will rise, but its reign will end in darkness. Only the light can save you, but not in the way you think. The sun... the sun has already left you."
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, furious. "You speak of the prophecy. Of the power that could destroy me." He raised his wand, and a dark energy pulsed in the room. "What do you mean by the ‘sun’?" he demanded. "What do you know of this power? Tell me!"
"I…" Ron’s head swam with the intensity of the words, the vision still spinning in his mind. "It’s not you... not yet." He gasped, fighting to break free from the trance-like state he was in. "It’s... it’s Harry," he whispered, barely able to speak the name.
At that moment, something inside him snapped. He wasn’t just Apollo’s oracle; he was Apollo’s voice. The weight of the prophecy had never felt more real than it did now.
Voldemort’s face twisted into a horrible grin. "Potter?" he sneered. "You believe the boy is the one to defeat me? How laughable. The prophecy belongs to me, not him."
Ron’s eyes glazed over, and for a split second, he saw Apollo himself, his radiant figure standing far beyond the walls of the room, looking down at him with a serene, almost pitying expression.
The moment ended as quickly as it had come, and Ron’s voice returned to him, raw and strained. "The sun has already set, Voldemort. There is no way for you to escape the light of truth."
The room fell silent once more, but now the tension was thick with unspoken understanding. Voldemort didn’t speak again. He couldn’t, for the weight of what had been said had shaken him to his core.
The prophecy was out, and Ron was no longer just a victim caught in the crossfire. The gods had chosen him, and now, even the Dark Lord knew that no matter how many battles were fought, the truth of Apollo’s power could not be hidden forever.
---
In the aftermath of the capture, the other members of the Order and the Death Eaters both realized that Ron Weasley was not just another boy. He had seen the future—he had been the vessel for a prophecy that tied him to the ultimate showdown between light and dark. His destiny had always been tied to the sun, but now, it was clear that he was far more important to the war than anyone had ever imagined.
As the days passed, and the war came to an end, Ron continued to serve as Apollo’s oracle, the burden of the prophecy weighing heavily on him. But through it all, he never stopped being the heart of the Golden Trio, the one who stood with Harry and Hermione, never faltering in his loyalty.
Apollo’s prophecy had come to pass, and even the darkest of nights could not last forever.
Chapter 39: The Hunger of the Sun
Notes:
Question could one of you make a reaction fic of one of the chapters I have posted? It would be very fun and interesting to read!
Chapter Text
Title: The Hunger of the Sun
For centuries, the truth about Apollo and his children had been whispered in hushed tones among the gods. Zeus had turned a blind eye, Hera had sighed in disapproval, and Hestia had mourned the loss of innocence. But no one dared confront the Sun God about his... unique appetites.
Apollo, bright and radiant, the bringer of light and truth, was a cannibal.
---
The demigods at Camp Half-Blood always admired Apollo's children. They were talented musicians, incredible healers, and some of the most beautiful people anyone had ever seen. But there was something unnerving about them, an aura that sent shivers down spines when they smiled just a little too wide or lingered too long over someone who caught their interest.
It wasn’t until Will Solace accidentally revealed the truth that everything changed.
---
It was a quiet evening at the Big House when Will sat across from Chiron, his face pale and his hands trembling. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s just... he tasted so good.”
Chiron froze, his tail flicking anxiously behind him. “Will,” he said slowly, “what are you talking about?”
Will swallowed hard, his throat dry. “My boyfriend... he broke up with me last week. I was heartbroken. And then... I don’t know, I—” He choked on his words, his eyes filling with tears. “I couldn’t stop myself. I— I ate him.”
The centaur stared at him, horrified. “You what?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Will’s voice was desperate now. “I thought it was just a dream, but when I woke up, his body... his body was gone. And I wasn’t hungry for days after.”
The realization hit Chiron like a thunderbolt. He had seen this before, long ago, when one of Apollo’s first children confessed to the same dark craving. Back then, the gods had intervened, swearing him to secrecy.
---
News of Will’s confession spread quickly. The demigods were in shock, but the gods... the gods had known all along.
In the Olympian throne room, the council gathered to address the issue.
“This is ridiculous,” Athena said, her voice sharp. “We’ve turned a blind eye for centuries, but now it’s affecting the mortal world.”
Ares smirked, leaning back in his throne. “What’s the big deal? So the kid’s got a taste for flesh. Happens to the best of us.”
“It is not normal,” Artemis snapped, glaring at her brother. “Apollo, how could you let this happen? Your children are supposed to represent the best of humanity, and instead, they’re... they’re monsters!”
Apollo, lounging in his golden throne, didn’t seem fazed. “Oh, come on, Artemis. Don’t be so dramatic.” He smiled, his teeth unnervingly white. “It’s not like we’re out here eating everyone. Just... a nibble now and then. And only people we care about. It’s poetic, really.”
“Poetic?!” Poseidon roared, his trident clattering against the marble floor. “You’re eating your lovers, Apollo! That’s not poetry; it’s insanity!”
“Is it, though?” Apollo countered, tilting his head. “Think about it. To consume someone you love is the ultimate act of devotion. They become a part of you, forever.”
Hera’s lips curled in disgust. “You’ve always been selfish, Apollo. This... this is beyond even you.”
Zeus raised his hand, silencing the room. “Enough.” He turned his stormy gaze to his son. “Apollo, this behavior cannot continue. You are a god of light and truth. Cannibalism is beneath you.”
Apollo’s golden eyes flashed with anger. “Beneath me? Father, you’ve done far worse. Don’t pretend to sit on a moral high ground.”
---
At Camp Half-Blood, the demigods were in chaos. They began to avoid the Apollo cabin, whispering rumors of what the children might do if they got too close. Even Chiron seemed wary, though he tried to maintain order.
Will Solace, ostracized and ashamed, retreated into himself. But deep down, he felt the hunger growing. He wasn’t alone. Many of Apollo’s children had begun to feel it—the gnawing need for flesh, the craving that couldn’t be ignored.
And Apollo? He was unbothered.
One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, he gathered his children in the forest, far from prying eyes.
“My darlings,” he said, his voice soft and soothing, “don’t be ashamed of who you are. The world will never understand us, but that’s okay. We’re special, you and I.”
“Is it true?” one of his daughters asked, her voice trembling. “Do you eat people too?”
Apollo smiled, kneeling to meet her gaze. “Of course. It’s in our nature.”
“But... why?”
“Because,” he said, his golden aura glowing brighter, “love is the most powerful thing in the world. And to consume someone you love... it’s the purest expression of that love.”
The children looked at him, uncertain but captivated. They trusted him, even when the rest of the world didn’t.
---
Back on Olympus, the gods continued to debate how to handle the situation. But no matter what they decided, one thing was clear: Apollo and his children were not like the others.
They were bright. They were beautiful.
And they were hungry.
Chapter 40: Broadcast of the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: Broadcast of the Sun
Olympus had seen brighter days—literally. Since Apollo’s fall from grace, the mountain had grown quieter, the drama a bit less sparkly, and the broadcasts downright dull. Sure, the other gods carried on, but none could match Apollo's charisma.
And then...
“Salutations, Olympians!” Apollo’s voice echoed across the throne room like a songbird breaking a winter’s silence. The gods froze. “Good to be back on the mountain!”
Hermes dropped his caduceus, Aphrodite gasped, and Zeus groaned loudly.
“Yes, I know it’s been a while,” Apollo continued, stepping into the chamber like he owned it, his golden hair gleaming and his robes trailing sunlight. “Since someone with style treated Olympus to a proper broadcast!” He spread his arms wide, a theatrical grin lighting up his face. “Olympians, rejoice!”
From a shadowed corner, Commodus, the self-proclaimed golden boy of Olympus’s new media circuit, rolled his eyes. “What a dated voice,” he sneered, crossing his arms.
Apollo arched a perfect brow, his grin widening. “Instead of a clout-chasing, mediocre, horrible emperor?”
“Come on!” Commodus barked, stepping forward.
Apollo waved him off lazily, like shooing a pesky fly. “Is Commodus insecure? Pursuing allure? Fitting between this fad and that?” Apollo’s tone dripped with mockery. “Is nothing working?”
Commodus growled. “Ignore his chirping!”
But Apollo was on a roll. “Every day, he’s got a new format!”
The other gods tried (and failed) to suppress their laughter as Commodus’s face turned crimson.
“You’re looking at the future!” Commodus snapped, pointing a finger at Apollo. “He’s the shit that comes before that!”
Apollo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Oh no, not the future!” He laughed, turning to the gods. “Is Commodus as strong as he purports? Or is it based on his support?” He leaned in conspiratorially. “He’d be powerless without the other emperors.”
Commodus clenched his fists. “Oh, please!”
“And here’s the sugar on the cream!” Apollo said, his voice gleaming with triumph. He turned, pointing a golden finger straight at Commodus. “Him and I were previous lovers.”
The room exploded into chaos.
“Hold on!” Commodus shouted, his voice cracking.
Apollo, basking in the uproar, smirked. “I killed him and now he’s pissy! That’s the tea.”
The gods howled with laughter, tears streaming down Aphrodite’s cheeks. Even Hades cracked a rare grin.
Commodus sputtered incoherently, and Apollo gave a gracious bow. “You’re welcome, Olympus. The Sun is back.”
Zeus, pinching the bridge of his nose, muttered under his breath, “This is why I exiled him.”
Apollo only winked. “Oh, Daddy, don’t be jealous. You know I’m the favorite.”
Chapter 41: The Breaking of Chains
Chapter Text
Title: The Breaking of Chains
Apollo—no, Lester Papadopoulos—had endured countless humiliations since his fall. As punishment for his arrogance, Zeus had cast him down into mortality, stripping him of his godly power. But nothing in his immortal life could have prepared him for the torment of Caligula.
The emperor-turned-Triad-leader was relentless. Each lash of the whip, each sneering word, was a knife to Apollo’s pride. Bound and broken, Lester sat slumped in the center of the throne room on Caligula’s ship, his mortal body barely holding together.
“You’re pathetic, Lester,” Caligula sneered, pacing in front of him. “The mighty Sun God reduced to this? No wonder your father cast you down.” He laughed cruelly, snapping his fingers to summon another flame-wreathed whip.
Apollo flinched, biting back a cry as the weapon struck his shoulder. “That’s enough!” Meg’s voice rang out, fierce and defiant.
“Stay out of this, girl,” Caligula hissed, turning to the demigod standing nearby, chained and defiant. “You’ll get your turn.”
Lester coughed weakly, his vision blurring. The chains around his wrists felt heavier with every passing moment, as if they were draining what little energy he had left. “You… won’t… win,” he rasped.
“Oh, but I already have,” Caligula said with a smirk. “Your godly siblings abandoned you. Your precious Camp Half-Blood can barely keep itself together. And you? You’re nothing. A shell of what you once were.”
Lester’s chest heaved, a flicker of anger igniting within him. “You… don’t understand… what it means to be a god.”
“Enlighten me,” Caligula mocked, raising the whip for another strike.
The fire in Lester’s chest grew hotter, brighter. Memories of who he was—who he still was—flooded his mind. He wasn’t just a god of the sun; he was a god of music, prophecy, healing, and truth. He was a god who had endured millennia of trials and betrayals and still stood tall.
“No…” Lester whispered, his voice growing stronger. “You don’t understand what it means to be me.”
Before Caligula could react, a burst of light erupted from Lester’s chest, blinding and all-encompassing. The chains around his wrists disintegrated as raw magic poured out of him, golden and radiant, filling the room with heat and power.
Caligula screamed, stumbling backward. “What is this?!”
“It’s me,” Apollo said, his voice no longer weak or broken. His mortal body glowed, cracks of light spreading across his skin as the power of the Sun God surged through him. “And I’ve had enough of you.”
With a final, deafening cry, the light consumed Caligula, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.
The room fell silent. The chains binding Meg shattered, and she ran to Lester, who was slumped on the ground, the glow fading from his skin.
“Apollo?” Meg asked, her voice trembling.
Lester looked up at her, exhaustion etched into his face. “I told you… I’m not done yet.”
Outside, the sun shone brighter than it had in days.
Chapter 42: The First Kiss of Prophecy
Chapter Text
Title: The First Kiss of Prophecy
The meadow was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the breeze through the tall grass and the distant bleating of sheep. Branchus, a humble shepherd, had always found solace in this place. He would often bring his flock here to graze, using the tranquil hours to lose himself in thought.
But today, something unusual caught his eye.
In the center of the meadow, beneath the shade of a large olive tree, lay a figure unlike any he had ever seen. His golden hair shone like threads of sunlight, his skin seemed to glow faintly, and his face was a masterpiece of perfection—serene and untouched by the worries of the mortal world. Branchus stopped in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat.
Who could this be? A traveler, perhaps? Or a divine being resting among mortals?
Branchus couldn’t tear his eyes away. There was something magnetic about the figure. Without thinking, his feet carried him closer.
As he drew near, he noticed more details: the gentle rise and fall of the figure’s chest as he slept, the faint curve of his lips, the aura of peace surrounding him. Branchus knelt down, unable to resist the pull of curiosity and admiration.
He reached out a trembling hand, then stopped himself. What was he doing? This was madness. But the longer he looked, the more he felt compelled, as if the very air around the figure was whispering to him, urging him forward.
Before he could second-guess himself, Branchus leaned down and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss to the figure’s lips.
The reaction was immediate.
The man stirred, his golden eyes snapping open. They locked onto Branchus, filled with surprise, curiosity, and something unspoken.
Branchus scrambled back, his heart pounding in his chest. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
The figure sat up, his movements fluid and graceful. A smile spread across his face, warm and amused. “You are bold for a mortal,” he said, his voice like the melody of a lyre. “Do you know who I am?”
Branchus shook his head, too awestruck to speak.
“I am Apollo,” the god continued, “son of Zeus, god of the sun, music, and prophecy.”
Branchus paled. He had kissed a god. A god. He fell to his knees, bowing his head. “Forgive me, my lord! I didn’t mean to offend you!”
Apollo chuckled, a sound that seemed to make the world brighter. “Offend me? No, dear mortal, you have not offended me.” He leaned forward, lifting Branchus’ chin so their eyes met. “You have awakened me in the most delightful way.”
Branchus’ cheeks burned. “I… I was captivated. Your beauty, your presence—it was too much for a simple shepherd like me.”
“And yet, it was your boldness that brought you here,” Apollo said, his gaze softening. “Few mortals would dare to do what you have done. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Branchus,” he whispered.
“Branchus,” Apollo repeated, tasting the name as if it were a fine wine. “You have shown me affection, and for that, I will grant you a gift.”
Apollo reached out, and a golden staff appeared in his hands. He placed it in Branchus’ trembling grip.
“This staff marks you as my chosen,” Apollo said. “With it, I grant you the gift of prophecy. You shall see truths hidden from others and guide those who seek answers. Go to Didyma and serve as my priest. There, you will build a sanctuary in my name, and I shall watch over you.”
Branchus looked at the staff, then back at Apollo, tears streaming down his face. “I… I don’t deserve this.”
“Nonsense,” Apollo said, brushing a tear from Branchus’ cheek. “You have a kind heart, and your devotion moves me. Take this as a token of my favor.”
Before Branchus could respond, Apollo leaned forward and kissed him, this time with intention and tenderness. The world seemed to pause, the sun shining brighter as the god’s warmth enveloped him.
When Apollo pulled away, he smiled. “Go now, Branchus. Fulfill your destiny. We will meet again.”
With that, Apollo stood and vanished in a flash of golden light, leaving Branchus alone in the meadow, clutching the staff tightly.
From that day forward, Branchus dedicated his life to Apollo, becoming his most devoted priest at Didyma. The sanctuary he built became a place of great renown, and his prophecies were sought by mortals and gods alike.
Yet, in the quiet moments, Branchus would often look to the sky, his heart yearning for the golden god who had changed his life forever.
Chapter 43: The Serpent Slayer
Chapter Text
Title: The Serpent Slayer
The temple was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made the air feel heavy. The priests of Delphi huddled in the shadows, their prayers whispered fervently to the gods above. No one dared to move closer to the chamber where the monstrous serpent, Python, had taken refuge.
The creature’s presence corrupted the sacred site. The air stank of death, and the ground trembled with each shift of its massive coils. This was no place for mortals.
And yet, a small figure padded into the temple.
Golden-haired and cherubic, the toddler radiated an aura of pure light. Chubby fingers clutched a small golden bow, and his wide, innocent eyes glimmered with determination. This was no ordinary child. This was Apollo, the newborn god of the sun, music, and prophecy—barely a year old and already on a mission.
The priests froze, unsure whether to worship or to panic.
"Is that...?" one stammered.
“It is,” another whispered. “The son of Zeus.”
“Why is he here? The Python—”
Before they could finish, a deafening hiss echoed through the temple. The monstrous serpent uncoiled itself, its massive head lowering to inspect the tiny intruder. Its emerald eyes gleamed with malice, its forked tongue flicking in and out.
Apollo tilted his head, unbothered by the towering creature. He took a wobbly step forward, his toy lyre clinking softly.
Python roared, a sound that shook the very foundations of the temple. The priests screamed and fled, leaving the toddler alone with the beast.
But Apollo didn’t flinch.
His small hand reached out, and the lyre vanished, replaced by a radiant golden bow. A quiver of arrows appeared at his back, each one glowing with divine light. The baby god’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing in focus.
Python lunged, its massive jaws opening to swallow him whole.
Apollo’s first arrow struck true, piercing the serpent’s eye. It screamed in agony, thrashing wildly, but the godling was undeterred. He loosed another arrow, and another, each one finding its mark with terrifying precision.
Python’s massive body coiled and writhed, smashing into the temple walls, but Apollo stood his ground, the golden aura around him growing brighter with each strike.
The battle was over in minutes.
With a final, guttural roar, Python collapsed, its massive form falling limp. Blood pooled around the temple floor, and the oppressive darkness that had plagued Delphi lifted.
The toddler god stepped forward, climbing onto the serpent’s head with surprising agility. He grabbed hold of one of his arrows and yanked it free, his tiny hands smearing with blood.
Then, dragging the massive arrow behind him, he began to walk out of the temple.
The priests, who had been watching from a distance, gasped in horror as the baby emerged.
He was covered in gore, his golden curls matted with blood, his tiny feet leaving crimson prints as he walked. But his expression was calm, almost serene. In one hand, he clutched the arrow. In the other, he held a severed piece of the serpent’s hide as if it were a trophy.
The priests dropped to their knees.
"Hail Apollo!" one cried, his voice trembling. "The Slayer of Python!"
“Hail the god of prophecy!” another echoed.
Apollo ignored them, his eyes scanning the horizon. His mission was complete, and he had reclaimed the sacred site for himself and his mother.
But as he walked away, dragging the evidence of his victory behind him, the mortals couldn’t help but shudder.
This was no ordinary god. This was a being of terrifying power, one who could slay monsters before he could even speak in full sentences.
The baby god smiled faintly, the sunlight around him growing brighter as he disappeared into the distance.
The legend of Apollo, the Slayer of Python, had just begun.
Chapter 44: The Hidden Light
Chapter Text
Title: The Hidden Light
Apollo didn’t know when his fondness for Admetus turned into something deeper. Perhaps it was during the quiet evenings spent tending the flocks together, the golden sunlight painting the fields as Admetus laughed at one of Apollo’s dry remarks. Or perhaps it was the way Admetus spoke—his voice filled with genuine kindness, even for a stranger like Apollo, who had arrived at his palace as a disgraced god.
Exiled from Olympus for defying Zeus, Apollo had sought refuge in Thessaly, where Admetus ruled as king. The mortal didn’t treat him as a servant despite the punishment Zeus had imposed. Instead, Admetus welcomed him, offering warmth and friendship when Apollo expected nothing but disdain.
It was in those days, surrounded by simple joys, that Apollo realized how much brighter the world seemed with Admetus in it.
But he was a god. And gods could not afford the vulnerabilities of love—especially not with mortals, whose fleeting lives burned out too quickly.
So Apollo hid his feelings, wrapping them in smiles and gestures of friendship. He convinced himself it was enough to simply be near Admetus, to watch him laugh, to hear him dream of a future with Alcestis, the woman he hoped to marry.
When Admetus confessed his fears of losing Alcestis to another suitor, Apollo saw an opportunity to prove his devotion in the only way he could.
“I will help you win her,” Apollo said one evening, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest.
Admetus looked at him with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” Apollo replied, forcing a smile. “What are friends for?”
The plan was simple: Alcestis’ father, King Pelias, had decreed that only the man who could yoke a lion and a boar to a chariot would win her hand. Impossible for any mortal. But not for Apollo.
With his divine power, Apollo tamed the beasts and helped Admetus fulfill the challenge. Alcestis was wed to Admetus in a grand ceremony, their joy lighting up the palace like the sun itself.
Apollo stood in the crowd, applauding with the others, even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest.
“Are you well, friend?” Admetus asked later, finding Apollo alone in the palace gardens.
“I am,” Apollo replied, his golden eyes fixed on the stars. “I’m happy for you.”
Admetus smiled, placing a hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“You already have,” Apollo said softly, turning away before Admetus could see the tears threatening to spill.
---
Years passed, and Admetus’ happiness became Apollo’s solace. He watched from the shadows as the king and queen built a life together, their love as radiant as the sunlight Apollo commanded.
But mortality was cruel, and Admetus’ life began to wane. The thought of losing him—the one mortal who had ever made Apollo feel truly seen—was unbearable.
Apollo sought out the Fates, confronting them in their shadowy lair.
“I would speak with you,” he demanded, his voice ringing with divine authority.
The Fates regarded him with cold, unfeeling eyes.
“What do you want, Sun God?” one asked, her voice as sharp as the threads she wove.
“I want you to spare Admetus,” Apollo said. “Extend his life.”
The Fates exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable.
“We can grant your request,” another said slowly, “but only if someone willingly takes his place in death.”
It was a cruel bargain, but Apollo knew Admetus and Alcestis loved each other so deeply that one would surely step forward.
When the time came, Alcestis offered herself without hesitation.
Admetus was devastated, begging his wife not to sacrifice herself, but her mind was set. She died in his place, her soul claimed by Thanatos, the god of death.
Apollo watched it all from the heavens, guilt clawing at him. He had saved Admetus, but at what cost?
Unable to bear the pain of seeing his friend suffer, Apollo descended to the underworld. He confronted Thanatos and demanded Alcestis’ return.
Thanatos sneered. “Why should I obey you, Apollo? This woman belongs to me.”
Apollo’s golden light flared, illuminating the darkness of the underworld. “Because if you don’t, I will ensure you never claim another soul again.”
Faced with the full fury of the Sun God, Thanatos relented. Alcestis was returned to the land of the living, and Admetus was reunited with his beloved wife.
Admetus wept with gratitude, falling to his knees before Apollo. “I owe you everything,” he said. “How can I ever repay you?”
Apollo reached out, gently lifting Admetus to his feet. “You owe me nothing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Just...live. Be happy.”
As he walked away, the weight of unspoken words pressed heavily on Apollo’s heart. He would never tell Admetus how he truly felt, never burden him with a love that could never be returned.
But even as he returned to Olympus, a quiet voice whispered in his mind, reminding him of the moments they had shared. Moments that, however fleeting, were enough to sustain him.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Chapter 45: The Light That Reveals
Chapter Text
Title: The Light That Reveals
The throne room of Olympus was filled with its usual grandeur: golden pillars, shimmering lights, and the powerful presence of the Olympian gods. Yet today, it felt heavier, the air taut with tension as Apollo stood in the center, his golden eyes blazing with an uncharacteristic fury.
“Is this what we’ve become?” Apollo’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as a dagger. “A pantheon of hypocrites who cling to their power while ignoring the damage we inflict on everything we touch?”
The gods exchanged uneasy glances, murmurs rippling through the room. Zeus, seated on his mighty throne, narrowed his eyes. “Watch your tone, boy.”
Apollo let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, forgive me, Father, for daring to speak the truth. But maybe it’s time someone did. Let’s start with you, shall we?”
Zeus’ thunderous aura flared, but Apollo stood his ground.
“You rule as if your authority is divine, but how much of it is earned? How many lives have you ruined because you couldn’t control yourself? How many children have you fathered, only to abandon them? Mortals look to you for guidance, yet all they see is a tyrant who takes what he wants and leaves chaos in his wake.”
The room fell deathly silent. Zeus’ face darkened, but before he could respond, Apollo turned to Hera.
“And you, Stepmother. You’re the goddess of marriage, yet you’ve turned it into a weapon. How many innocent mortals and demigods have suffered because of your jealousy? You punish Zeus’ lovers and children for his infidelity, as if they had a choice in the matter. Is that justice?”
Hera’s lips thinned, but she said nothing, her cold gaze fixed on the floor.
Apollo’s fiery gaze swept the room, landing on Poseidon. “Uncle, you’re no better. How many cities have you destroyed in your fits of rage? How many mortals have drowned because you felt slighted? You demand respect, yet you wield your power like a child throwing tantrums.”
Poseidon’s trident crackled with energy, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched.
Apollo’s focus shifted to Demeter. “You let your grief consume you to the point that the entire world suffered. Yes, Persephone was taken from you, but how many mortals starved while you wallowed in your pain? You call yourself the Earth Mother, but where was that love when they needed you most?”
Demeter looked away, her expression pained.
“And Ares,” Apollo continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “You revel in bloodshed and call it honor. But war isn’t glorious; it’s destructive. You don’t care who suffers, as long as you can satisfy your bloodlust. What kind of god does that make you?”
Ares growled, but Apollo didn’t stop.
“Athena,” he said, turning to the goddess of wisdom. “You pride yourself on your intelligence, yet you manipulate mortals into wars and schemes that serve your agenda. How wise is it to use your gifts for destruction rather than peace?”
Athena’s expression was unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes.
Apollo turned to his twin, Artemis. His voice softened, but the weight of his words remained. “Even you, Sister. You claim to protect the innocent, but how often have you let your pride blind you? You’ve punished mortals for the smallest infractions, for daring to exist in your presence. Is that the justice you stand for?”
Artemis flinched, her usual stoic demeanor faltering.
Finally, Apollo stepped back, addressing them all. “We were meant to be guides, protectors, inspirations for mortals to aspire to. Instead, we’ve become their nightmares. We demand their worship but give them nothing in return. We claim to love them, but what kind of love is this?”
Zeus rose from his throne, his voice booming. “Enough! You speak as if you’re without fault, Apollo. Are you truly so blameless?”
Apollo’s laughter was hollow, self-deprecating. “Blameless? No. I’ve made my share of mistakes—my arrogance, my pride, my failures as a father, and my selfishness as a lover. I’ve hurt people I cared about, mortals and gods alike. But at least I can admit it. Can any of you?”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Apollo’s golden glow dimmed as he turned toward the exit. “We have the power to be better. To heal instead of harm. But it starts with accountability, something none of you seem willing to face.”
As he walked away, his voice echoed through the hall. “Maybe one day, you’ll prove me wrong. But until then, don’t expect me to stay silent.”
For a moment, the gods sat frozen, the weight of Apollo’s words sinking in. Some bristled with indignation, others with shame.
And in the midst of it all, the Sun God’s light shone brighter than ever, casting its unrelenting truth upon Olympus.
Chapter 46: The Golden Threads of Legacy
Chapter Text
Title: The Golden Threads of Legacy
The Burrow was buzzing with life as it always did, the scent of Molly Weasley's cooking wafting through the air and the chatter of her children filling every corner. Yet, there was an air of mystery that lingered over the family, a legacy they had never truly understood—until now.
It began with a box, tucked away in the attic, hidden beneath layers of forgotten belongings. Bill and Charlie had been exploring when they stumbled upon it. The box was ancient, made of wood that shimmered faintly in the light, carved with runes they didn’t recognize.
“Mum, what’s this?” Bill asked, carrying it down to the kitchen.
Molly turned, her eyes widening at the sight. “Where did you find that?”
“In the attic,” Charlie replied. “It looks... important.”
Molly hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she took the box. “It’s time, then,” she murmured.
“Time for what?” Ginny asked, her curiosity piqued.
Molly set the box on the table and looked at her children, her face serious. “There’s something about our family you don’t know—something magical and ancient.”
She opened the box, revealing a golden quill, a lyre, and a pair of winged sandals. The room fell silent as the Weasleys stared at the objects.
“These belonged to our ancestors,” Molly said softly. “Our family is descended from two of the most powerful gods of Olympus—Apollo and Hermes.”
Fred and George exchanged wide-eyed glances. “You’re joking, right?” Fred asked.
“I wouldn’t joke about this,” Molly replied, her voice firm. “Our red hair, our knack for creativity and cleverness, our love for music and invention—it all comes from them.”
“Wait,” Ron interjected. “You’re saying we’re related to gods?”
“Not just related,” Molly explained. “Their blood runs through our veins. Apollo, the god of the sun, music, and prophecy, and Hermes, the god of speed, wit, and trickery, are our ancestors. We carry their gifts, their strengths... and their responsibilities.”
Arthur, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward. “It’s why our family has always been so close. We inherited Apollo’s warmth, Hermes’ cleverness, and their loyalty to those they love.”
Percy frowned. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“We didn’t think it was necessary,” Molly admitted. “The magic in our blood has always been subtle, manifesting in small ways. But with everything happening in the wizarding world, it’s time you knew the truth.”
Fred picked up the lyre, strumming it lightly. The instrument glowed, filling the room with a melody so beautiful it brought tears to their eyes. “Well, this explains a lot,” he said with a grin.
“And the sandals?” George asked, slipping them on. He vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing seconds later with a plate of cookies from the kitchen.
“Definitely Hermes’ blood,” Ginny said, laughing.
“But what about prophecy?” Ron asked. “Does that mean we can see the future?”
Molly hesitated. “Apollo’s gift of prophecy is rare and unpredictable. It doesn’t manifest in every generation. But if it does... you’ll know.”
As the Weasleys marveled at their newfound heritage, Harry and Hermione arrived, curious about the commotion.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Ron said, filling them in.
Hermione’s eyes lit up with excitement. “That explains so much! Your family’s resourcefulness, your ability to think on your feet—it’s all connected.”
Harry smiled. “Well, if anyone deserves to have godly ancestors, it’s the Weasleys.”
Over time, the Weasleys began to embrace their legacy, using their inherited gifts to help in the fight against Voldemort. Ginny’s speed in Quidditch became unparalleled, Fred and George’s inventions grew even more ingenious, and Ron’s tactical mind sharpened in battle.
But it wasn’t just their abilities that stood out—it was their unwavering love for one another, a testament to the warmth of Apollo and the loyalty of Hermes. Together, they proved that their family’s legacy wasn’t just about magic or power—it was about the bonds that held them together, stronger than any spell.
And in the end, it was that love and unity that made them truly divine.
Chapter 47: The Arrow That Pierced the Heart
Chapter Text
Title: The Arrow That Pierced the Heart
Apollo stood on the balcony of his temple, basking in the warmth of the sun as it set on the horizon. He had always loved this time of day, when the sky was painted in shades of gold and crimson. It was when he felt the most like himself—radiant, confident, and adored by all. His music echoed through the temple, lifting the spirits of all who heard it.
But today, his music faltered.
He could feel it—something was wrong. The way the wind shifted, the way the air thickened with tension. He should’ve known.
"Do you always have to make things so difficult?" a voice purred from behind him.
Apollo turned, his golden eyes narrowing as he faced the god standing in the shadows—Eros, god of love. The mischievous grin on his face sent a chill down Apollo’s spine.
"Eros," Apollo said with a forced smile. "What is it you want this time?"
"You’re so rude," Eros teased, stepping closer, his presence more intoxicating than any perfume. "Can’t I simply check in on my favorite target?"
Apollo’s lips twitched. "Target? You mean you’ve been meddling with my love life again."
Eros grinned wider. "You make it so easy, Apollo. Everyone loves you. Even I can’t resist your charm." He stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Apollo’s chest. "But that’s the problem, isn’t it?"
Apollo felt a shiver of discomfort run through him, but he quickly masked it with a deep breath. "I don’t need your help, Eros. My love life is fine without your interference."
Eros cocked his head, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Is it really, though? You’ve been alone for so long, Apollo. All those admirers, and yet none of them stick around, do they?"
Apollo’s jaw clenched, but he refused to let Eros see how much the words stung. "I don’t need anyone to stick around. I’m perfectly fine on my own."
But Eros wasn’t finished. "Ah, but what if you don’t have a choice? What if you’re destined to suffer through endless bad relationships just to keep you from realizing something?"
Apollo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you talking about, Eros?"
Eros stepped back, his wings fluttering lightly as he lifted his bow. "I’m talking about love, Apollo. I’m talking about you and me."
Apollo froze. "What?" His voice was barely a whisper, the confusion and anger mixing into a boiling cauldron of emotion. "You can’t be serious."
Eros’s grin deepened, his fingers caressing the string of his bow. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, Apollo. But you’re always surrounded by so many people, so many distractions. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. You’ll find that the next few lovers you meet will all be… a little less than ideal. They’ll drive you crazy, make you question everything you thought you wanted."
Apollo's heart sank as the truth hit him. "You’ve been sabotaging me."
Eros’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "I wouldn’t call it sabotage. I just wanted you to see that no one else could make you feel the way I do."
Apollo took a step back, his anger growing with each passing second. "You’ve ruined everything! You’ve made me into some pathetic fool, jumping from one disaster to the next, all because of your selfish little games!"
Eros raised an eyebrow, his tone still playful. "You say that now, but you’ll see. Eventually, you’ll come to me. You’ll realize I’m the one you’ve always needed."
"No," Apollo spat, his voice trembling with rage. "I don’t want you! I never wanted you to play with my heart, to turn my life into some twisted joke!"
Eros’s eyes flashed, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something darker behind his usually carefree facade. "You’ll regret those words, Apollo. You can run from me, you can deny me, but you’ll never escape me. Not for long."
With that, Eros disappeared, leaving Apollo standing alone on the balcony, his heart pounding in his chest.
He hated this. He hated how everything he thought he knew about love had been warped by Eros’s twisted games. He had always prided himself on being the god of truth, on shining light on the world’s secrets. But this? This was a truth he didn’t want to face.
His mind raced as the memories of his failed relationships resurfaced—each one a disaster, each lover a reminder of how he was always searching for something he could never find. And now, he knew why.
Eros had been playing with him, setting him up for failure, making him feel like he was always chasing something out of reach.
Apollo clenched his fists, the weight of his anger pressing down on him like the sun’s unforgiving rays. "I will not let him win," he muttered under his breath. "I will not let him control me."
But the damage had already been done. He had been used, manipulated, made to doubt everything he had ever believed in.
For the first time in centuries, Apollo wasn’t sure of himself. He wasn’t sure if he could ever love again, not without the haunting presence of Eros lingering in the back of his mind, pulling the strings of his heart.
He was the god of beauty, of truth, of the sun itself—but even he couldn’t escape the pain of love.
Chapter 48: The Divine Prankmaster
Chapter Text
Title: The Divine Prankmaster
Apollo leaned back on his golden throne, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His plan was flawless. Absolutely flawless. If he was going to get yelled at later, he might as well make it worth it.
Artemis walked into the throne room, immediately suspicious of her twin’s expression. "What are you planning now?"
"Me?" Apollo gasped, feigning innocence. "Why do you always assume I’m planning something?"
"Because you look like a toddler who just found out what glitter is," she replied flatly.
Apollo waved her off. "Relax, Artie. Just sit back and enjoy the show."
Step One: The Trojan Swan
The first victim was Zeus. Apollo had used his masterful craftsmanship to construct a giant, lifelike swan—Zeus’s favorite form when he wanted to woo mortals. Inside the swan, Apollo had planted a spring-loaded mechanism. The moment Zeus approached the swan to admire its beauty (or to plan his next romantic escapade), it would launch glitter bombs.
"Dear Chaos," Zeus said, raising an eyebrow as he approached the swan on the edge of the throne room. "What is this magnificent creature?"
"Just a tribute to your…uh…legendary escapades," Apollo said, barely suppressing a laugh.
The swan squawked loudly and—BOOM! Glitter exploded everywhere, covering Zeus from head to toe. His once-pristine toga now sparkled like a disco ball.
"APOLLO!" Zeus bellowed, shaking his fist as glitter rained down on the throne room.
Apollo bolted out of the room, cackling.
Step Two: Dionysus’s Wine Surprise
For Dionysus, Apollo replaced every amphora of wine in the god’s storeroom with grape juice. As soon as Dionysus poured himself a goblet during a feast, he spat it out dramatically.
"This is…fruit punch?! Who did this?" Dionysus demanded, holding up the offending goblet like it was poison.
Apollo, sitting nearby, raised his glass with a cheeky smile. "Hydration is important, Dio. You're welcome."
Step Three: Ares’s Makeover
Apollo wasn’t afraid of a little danger, which was why he snuck into Ares’s war tent and swapped out the god’s armor with a bright pink tutu and matching ballet slippers.
When Ares stomped into the next council meeting, ready to intimidate everyone, the room erupted into laughter.
"Why is everyone—" Ares looked down and froze. "APOLLO!"
Apollo doubled over laughing, tears streaming down his face. "You look…adorable!"
Step Four: Poseidon’s Ocean Mishap
For Poseidon, Apollo enchanted the seas so that every time Poseidon tried to rise dramatically out of the waves, he would instead be catapulted into the air like a dolphin doing tricks.
When Poseidon finally caught up to him, soaked and fuming, Apollo shrugged. "I thought you liked making a splash."
The Grand Finale: Hera’s Throne
Apollo’s pièce de résistance was reserved for Hera. He enchanted her throne to give random compliments whenever she sat down.
"My queen, your beauty is unparalleled," the throne announced as Hera took her seat during a council meeting.
"About time someone recognized my worth," Hera said smugly.
"Except for Aphrodite’s hair, which is slightly shinier," the throne added.
The entire room went silent.
Hera slowly turned to glare at Aphrodite, who smirked. "I had nothing to do with this."
Hera’s gaze landed on Apollo.
"Uh, I think it’s malfunctioning," Apollo said, inching toward the door.
The throne continued, "And Zeus’s abs are more defined—"
"APOLLO!" Hera roared, rising from her throne as Apollo sprinted out of the room.
Epilogue: The Aftermath
Apollo sat on the roof of his temple, laughing uncontrollably as the sun set. Sure, he’d probably be smited a few times over the next week, but it was totally worth it.
"Totally worth it," he repeated to himself, sipping on a goblet of actual wine (which he’d stolen from Dionysus).
Artemis appeared beside him, shaking her head. "You’re going to get killed one of these days."
Apollo grinned. "Maybe. But I’ll die fabulous."
Chapter 49: A Crown of Flowers
Notes:
Guys please pick one of the chapters to be reacted to. I am going to try and make a reaction fic again 😅 Please also leave some info about what you want in the reaction. I will try my best to get them done.
Chapter Text
Title: A Crown of Flowers
Apollo sat in his temple, the golden rays of the sun filtering through the open windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow. His lyre rested on his lap, untouched, as he gazed down at the small bundle of flowers before him. Each petal carried a story—a memory of love lost.
Hyacinth. Daphne. Cyparissus. Coronis.
They were all here, intertwined in a delicate crown of blossoms that adorned his hair. Each flower was a tribute to someone he had loved, someone who had been taken from him too soon.
Hyacinth
The purple petals of the hyacinth flower shimmered faintly as if mourning alongside him. Apollo reached up to touch it gently. Hyacinth had been so young, so full of life and joy. The memory of the discus, the tragic accident, and the blood that seeped into the earth to give birth to this flower still haunted him.
“You deserved so much more,” Apollo whispered. “I failed you.”
Daphne
Nestled beside the hyacinth was a sprig of laurel. Daphne’s story was different, but the pain was the same. She had run from him—not out of hatred, but out of fear of a love forced upon her by Eros’s cruel arrow. When she had begged her father to save her and transformed into a tree, Apollo had sworn to honor her forever.
“You’ll always be my laurel, my eternal victory,” he murmured.
Cyparissus
The dark green cypress leaves brushed his cheek. Cyparissus had been so beautiful, so fragile. His grief over the death of his stag had been unbearable, and Apollo had granted his wish to die and remain in mourning forever. The cypress tree became his monument, and now its leaves adorned Apollo’s crown.
“Forgive me for not saving you,” Apollo said, his voice trembling.
Coronis
A white carnation peeked out from the crown, stark against the brighter flowers. Coronis, the mother of his son Asclepius. She had betrayed him, yes, but Apollo had loved her nonetheless. Her death by Artemis’s hand had been a wound that never fully healed.
“I should have protected you,” he admitted, closing his eyes.
The Others
There were so many others—unnamed mortals, fleeting lovers, brief moments of happiness snatched away by fate. Each flower represented a fragment of Apollo’s heart, torn away but never forgotten.
He wore them all proudly in his hair, a crown of love and loss, of beauty and pain.
---
The Other Gods
The gods often whispered about Apollo’s floral crown. Some mocked him for his sentimentality.
“Always so dramatic,” Ares scoffed one day, eyeing the flowers.
But Artemis defended her twin fiercely. “At least he remembers his lovers. What do you do, Ares? Forget their names as soon as you leave their beds?”
Even Aphrodite, who was no stranger to love and loss, sometimes stared at the crown with a mixture of envy and sorrow.
---
The Mortals
In the mortal world, stories spread about the sun god’s crown of flowers. Poets wrote about his unyielding love, and artists painted him with blossoms in his golden hair. Mortals began to associate certain flowers with Apollo, planting hyacinths and laurels in their gardens as symbols of devotion.
---
Apollo’s Thoughts
Late at night, when Olympus was quiet, Apollo would sit by the hearth in his temple, plucking at his lyre. He would hum softly, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of heartache.
“My love is eternal, even if they are not,” he would say to himself. “They deserve to be remembered.”
And so, the crown grew with each passing age, a testament to the god of the sun and the love he gave so freely, despite the pain it always brought him.
As the sun rose each morning, Apollo carried their memory with him, lighting up the world with the warmth of a love that would never fade.
Chapter 50: The Sun and the Jackal
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun and the Jackal
Olympus buzzed with excitement as the grand party unfolded. All the pantheons had gathered for this rare convergence of gods, and the air was electric with divine energy. Laughter, music, and the clinking of celestial goblets filled the hall as gods from every corner of the world mingled.
Apollo stood by a golden column, sipping nectar, radiating an effortless charm that drew glances from every direction. His golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and his laurel crown sat tilted at an almost rakish angle. He basked in the attention but remained unaware of the storm about to walk through Olympus’s doors.
Suddenly, the grand hall went silent. A rhythmic thumping echoed through the chamber as golden trumpets blared a triumphant tune.
“Make way! Make way for Prince Anubis!” shouted a servant, their voice booming.
The crowd parted, revealing a procession so opulent it seemed to drag the stars down from the heavens. Anubis himself strode at the center, dressed in flowing black robes trimmed with shimmering gold, his jackal ears twitching slightly in amusement. His kohl-lined eyes sparkled with mischief, and his sly grin made it clear he was here with purpose.
---
The Procession
Behind Anubis marched a parade of wonders:
75 golden camels adorned with jeweled saddles.
Purple peacocks fanning their tails as if to outshine the gods themselves.
Exotic animals from realms no one had heard of, led by proud handlers.
Bands of musicians playing an intoxicating tune.
Anubis halted before Zeus, bowing slightly in mock reverence. “Lord of the Sky, I come with gifts for your hospitality.” He snapped his fingers, and servants unloaded treasures of gold, rare spices, and priceless artifacts at Zeus’s feet.
Zeus arched a brow but said nothing, clearly impressed by the display. “Welcome, Prince of the Egyptian pantheon,” he said with a regal nod. “What brings you to Olympus this fine evening?”
Anubis straightened, his grin widening. “I heard your Sun God was particularly… radiant. I thought it only proper to see for myself.”
---
Apollo’s Reaction
Apollo choked on his drink. He coughed, turning toward the entrance as Anubis’s piercing gaze locked onto his. The Egyptian god’s confident smirk grew as he strode toward Apollo, ignoring the whispers of the other gods.
Artemis, standing nearby, folded her arms and glared at Anubis. “Don’t even think about it, jackal.”
Anubis paused, tilting his head toward her with a grin. “And you must be the famed Huntress. I mean no offense, milady. I simply wish to… admire.”
Artemis rolled her eyes but didn’t stop him.
---
The Encounter
Anubis stopped before Apollo, his grin softening into something warmer. “The stories didn’t do you justice,” he said, his voice smooth and deep.
Apollo blinked, caught off guard. “Well, I can’t blame them. It’s hard to capture perfection in words.”
Anubis chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “And modest too. How charming.”
“You’re not the first to be enchanted by my light, Anubis,” Apollo replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “But I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting the Prince of the Dead to bring an entire menagerie just to flirt.”
The crowd watched with bated breath as the two gods exchanged words, their chemistry crackling like the sun meeting the shadows.
---
The Reactions
Hera whispered to Zeus, “He’s going to start a war if he keeps this up.”
Zeus smirked. “Let them fight over him. It’s entertaining.”
Ares leaned toward Aphrodite. “Should we place bets on how long it takes before Apollo strings him along?”
Aphrodite giggled. “Oh, please. Apollo’s practically swooning. It’s adorable.”
Meanwhile, Loki from the Norse pantheon watched the scene unfold with a sly grin. “This is why I came to this party,” he muttered, sipping his drink.
---
The Conclusion
Anubis extended a hand toward Apollo. “Care to join me for a stroll, Sun God? Perhaps you can show me the finest views Olympus has to offer.”
Apollo hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. “Just don’t get jealous when you realize the finest view is right in front of you.”
As the two gods disappeared into the garden, the hall erupted into chatter. The other gods couldn’t decide whether to be amused, concerned, or outright jealous.
And somewhere in the back, Loki laughed. “Make way for Prince Anubis indeed.”
Chapter 51: The Possessive Sun
Notes:
Ngl I'm starting to run out of titles I was going to name this The Sun's Obsession but I already have one named that 😭
Chapter Text
Title: The Possessive Sun
The Olympian throne room was silent. Too silent. Even Zeus, the King of the Gods, appeared uneasy as he shifted on his throne. No one dared speak as Apollo paced before the gathering, his golden hair catching every flicker of sunlight, his radiant aura burning brighter than usual. His eyes, however, were anything but warm. They glowed with a furious intensity, golden irises reflecting the storm raging within him.
"They're mine," Apollo said, his voice low but reverberating like thunder through the chamber. "Every single one of them. My children."
"Apollo," Athena began cautiously, her tone careful, "no one is disputing that. But your… behavior of late has raised concerns."
"Concerns?" Apollo turned on her, his expression a mix of incredulity and anger. "What concerns, Athena? That I care too much? That I protect them too fiercely?"
"You’ve been smiting mortals who so much as look at your children the wrong way," Artemis interjected, her silver gaze sharp. "It’s… excessive."
"Excessive?" Apollo repeated, his tone rising. "Do you know what it’s like to watch your children die? Again and again, century after century? To see them suffer, mocked by mortals who can’t comprehend their brilliance? They’re my light—my creations. They deserve the world."
---
The Signs
It had started subtly. Apollo, known for his charm and carefree nature, became increasingly involved in the lives of his children. At first, they welcomed it—who wouldn’t want the God of the Sun taking a personal interest in their success? But it wasn’t long before his presence became… overbearing.
Will Solace had been the first to notice. The son of Apollo couldn’t so much as treat a scraped knee in the infirmary without feeling his father’s watchful eyes on him. Apollo hovered constantly, praising Will’s work to anyone who would listen, but also glaring daggers at anyone who dared question him.
“You’re the best healer at Camp Half-Blood,” Apollo would say, ruffling Will’s hair like he was still a child. “No one else compares. They’re lucky to have you.”
Will had laughed nervously the first few times. “Uh, thanks, Dad. But it’s a team effort—”
“Nonsense!” Apollo would interrupt. “If they can’t match your brilliance, that’s their fault.”
---
The Breaking Point
The tension finally came to a head when Kayla Knowles, another of Apollo’s children, returned from a quest injured. Apollo appeared at Camp Half-Blood within minutes, blazing like the midday sun.
"Who dared harm her?" he demanded, his voice shaking the very earth.
Kayla, still bandaged and pale, tried to calm him. "Dad, it’s okay. It was a hydra—"
"I’ll obliterate it!" Apollo snarled, his hands already glowing with power.
Chiron had stepped in then, his tone firm. "Apollo, this is not the way. Your children are demigods—they face danger. It’s their fate."
"No," Apollo snapped, turning on Chiron with a look that made even the centaur flinch. "It doesn’t have to be. I’ll rewrite their fates if I have to."
---
The Intervention
The other Olympians decided it was time to intervene.
"You’re smothering them," Artemis said bluntly as she confronted Apollo in his golden palace.
"They’re my children, Artemis," Apollo replied, his voice softer but no less intense. "I won’t apologize for loving them."
"Loving them doesn’t mean controlling their lives," she argued. "They’re mortals, Apollo. They have to live—"
"And die?" Apollo cut her off, his voice breaking. "Do you know how many graves I’ve stood by, Artemis? How many times I’ve had to bury my own children? I can’t… I won’t let it happen again."
"You can’t stop it," she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Mortals die. It’s the way of the world."
Apollo shook his head, his golden tears falling silently. "Not my children. Not anymore."
---
The Spiral
Apollo’s obsession only deepened. He began visiting his children daily, shielding them from any danger, real or imagined. He gifted them enchanted weapons, golden armor, even blessings to extend their lifespans. But his presence became suffocating.
One by one, his children began to pull away, longing for the freedom to make their own choices—even if it meant making mistakes.
"Dad," Will said one day, standing in front of the sunlit cabin. "You have to stop."
Apollo blinked, stunned. "Stop what?"
"Hovering. Controlling. I love you, but… I can’t live like this."
Apollo’s face fell. "I’m only trying to protect you."
"I know," Will said softly. "But sometimes, you have to let us protect ourselves."
---
The Turning Point
Apollo sat alone on the beach that night, his golden glow dimmed. Artemis found him there, staring out at the horizon.
"I just… I wanted to keep them safe," he whispered.
"I know," she said, sitting beside him. "But you can’t protect them from everything. That’s not love, Apollo. That’s fear."
For the first time in centuries, Apollo allowed himself to cry—not the radiant tears of a god, but the raw, broken sobs of a parent who loved too much and couldn’t bear to let go.
And as the sun rose the next morning, Apollo resolved to cha
nge. He would always love his children, but he would learn to love them enough to let them live.
Chapter 52: Secrets of Sun and War WTM
Notes:
WTM for reaction fic
Yeah I am really losing my touch with reaction fics...I mean I usually just make obsessive and toxic reactions, so this was hard for me to make 😅
Chapter Text
Title: Secrets of Sun and War
---
The grand hall shimmered with ethereal light, the marble floor glowing faintly as if alive with its own power. The air was thick with anticipation, and for once, Olympus was silent. No banter, no arguments—just an uneasy stillness that even the most reckless god wouldn't dare to break.
The Fates had summoned them.
A wide circle of stone stood in the center of the hall, glowing gold as strands of thread wove in and out of it, forming intricate patterns that seemed almost alive. Around the circle sat the Olympians, their usual grandeur subdued by the gravity of the moment. Zeus, sitting rigid in his throne, glanced at Hera, whose expression was unreadable. Poseidon leaned forward, his trident resting against his knee, while Hades, rarely seen on Olympus, stood in the shadows near the edge of the gathering, his dark robes blending with the dim light.
The demigods arrived next, led by Chiron. Percy Jackson was among them, his usual sarcastic quip dying in his throat as he took in the sight of the assembled gods. Annabeth stood close beside him, her gray eyes scanning the scene with sharp focus, her mind already working overtime. Grover shuffled nervously behind them, clutching his reed pipes. Others followed—Clarisse, Nico, Thalia, and many more, each wearing varying expressions of curiosity and apprehension.
"Why are we here?" Percy whispered to Annabeth, his voice barely audible.
Before she could answer, a loud, reverberating voice echoed through the chamber.
"Because the threads of destiny have grown tangled," said Clotho, her figure materializing on the glowing circle. She was joined by her sisters, Lachesis and Atropos, who flanked her, their ageless faces solemn and commanding. The three Fates, wielders of destiny, stood together as one, their very presence commanding silence.
"The tapestry of fate is no longer stable," Lachesis continued, her voice carrying an almost musical quality. "The choices of gods and mortals alike have caused ripples far beyond what we foresaw."
Atropos stepped forward, her shears glinting in the light. "There are truths you must all witness, actions you must understand. For if left unchecked, these threads will unravel completely."
A murmur spread through the crowd, but Clotho raised her hand, silencing them. "We have called you here to watch what was, what is, and what could be. What you learn will determine the course of your futures."
"Watch?" Zeus rumbled, his tone suspicious. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
The Fates shared a look, then Clotho waved her hand. The circle before them glowed brighter, and an image began to take shape within its golden threads—a scene that felt so real, so vivid, it was as though they were standing inside it.
"This is not just watching," Clotho said, her voice heavy with meaning. "This is witnessing. And you will see things that may change everything you thought you knew."
The gods and demigods leaned forward, their curiosity outweighing their fear.
And so, the first vision began.
---
Secrets of Sun and War
For centuries, Olympus had thrived on its drama, secrets, and divine chaos. The gods' interactions were a source of constant amusement—and occasional disaster—for mortals and immortals alike. Yet, amidst the chaos, one secret remained untold: Ares, the God of War, and Apollo, the God of the Sun, were married.
---
"Wha-" Percy sputtered not seeing how the charming Sun God could get with that bastard.
Annabeth frowned probably trying to make sense of how they would get together.
'Well...that is certainly a shock..." Nico muttered gripping Will's hand, who was a complete mess hearing this.
Athena raised an eyebrow. "Marriage? Between them? The God of War and the God of Light? I thought I’d heard everything."
Hera clenched her fists, her glare shifting between the two gods. "How dare you keep something like this from me? I am the goddess of marriage, after all!"
Poseidon snorted, leaning back in his throne. "Hilarious. War and sunshine—now that’s a storm waiting to happen."
Hades, who had been standing silently in the shadows, gave a low chuckle. "A union forged in chaos. Fitting."
Meanwhile, Hermes burst out laughing. "Well, that explains why Ares hasn't tried to punch Apollo in centuries. Marriage therapy?"
---
The Flirting Feud
Ares was a notorious flirt. His dalliances with Aphrodite and mortal women were common knowledge among the Olympians. Though Apollo pretended not to care, his simmering anger often manifested in his own playful retaliation.
One day, during a grand feast on Olympus, Ares had been caught whispering sweet nothings to Aphrodite while stealing glances at her. Apollo, seated a few seats away, watched the exchange with narrowed golden eyes.
Two could play this game.
As the feast continued, Apollo turned his attention to Hephaestus, Aphrodite’s husband and the god of the forge. The Sun God leaned in close, his golden hair catching the light, and whispered something that made Hephaestus laugh—a rare and booming sound that echoed across the hall.
Ares noticed immediately. His dark eyes locked on Apollo, his jaw tightening. When Apollo placed a hand on Hephaestus’s arm, Ares slammed his goblet onto the table, silencing the room.
“Something wrong, Ares?” Apollo asked innocently, his voice dripping with honey.
Ares glared at him, his voice low and growling. “Not at all, dear husband.”
A shocked silence followed as the other gods froze in place. Zeus, seated at the head of the table, raised an eyebrow.
“Husband?” he repeated.
Apollo sighed, realizing their secret had been unintentionally revealed. “Yes, father. Husband.”
---
Piper had a smirk on her face, she might not enjoy drama all that much but it is certainly entertaining.
Leo burst out laughing at this, "I can-- Apollo flir...m..dad...Ares freaking-" Yeah they really can't understand Leo when he is dieing of laughter.
Jason signed making sure Leo does not actually die to laughing and lack of breath.
Aphrodite smirked, leaning closer to Ares. "You never could resist me, could you?"
Hephaestus, who had remained quiet, muttered under his breath, "Why am I always the pawn in these games?"
Apollo’s golden eyes flickered with mischief as he began his retaliation. Artemis, seated beside him, rolled her eyes. "Can you not make this worse?"
When Ares slammed his goblet down and revealed the truth, the hall fell into stunned silence. Zeus, who had been in the middle of drinking, choked and sprayed nectar across the table. "What?!"
---
The Revelation
The days that followed were a whirlwind of chaos. The Olympians were outraged, amused, or indifferent, depending on their personalities. Hera was livid at being left out of the loop. Aphrodite, however, seemed more amused than anything, while Hephaestus simply chuckled and went back to his forge.
Zeus, for his part, was both angry and impressed. “You managed to hide this for centuries?” he bellowed.
Apollo shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult. No one expects the Sun and War to be compatible.”
Ares smirked. “But we are. Perfectly.”
Despite the initial uproar, the gods eventually accepted their marriage. However, the drama was far from over, especially when their demigod children began to piece together the truth.
---
Dionysus raised a goblet. "Here’s to secrets that are more entertaining than my wine!"
Hera’s voice thundered through the hall. "You kept this from me, your queen? I demand an explanation!"
Zeus looked between Apollo and Ares, his brow furrowed. "This changes nothing. You’ll both still answer to me."
Apollo quipped with a grin, "Of course, Father."
---
The Step-Sibling Shock
The mortal world was no less chaotic than Olympus. The demigod children of Ares and Apollo, scattered across various camps and quests, had long known of each other’s existence. They often met during battles or gatherings, exchanging wary glances but never suspecting a deeper connection.
It wasn’t until a particularly eventful reunion at Camp Half-Blood that the truth came to light.
Clarisse, one of Ares’s most formidable daughters, was sparring with a boy named Helios, who was as radiant as his divine father, Apollo. The two often clashed, their rivalry fueled by their parents’ contrasting domains.
“You’re not bad with a spear, sunshine,” Clarisse said, wiping sweat from her brow.
“And you’re not entirely hopeless,” Helios retorted, smirking.
Before their banter could escalate, Chiron, the camp’s immortal centaur trainer, approached them with an announcement.
“Campers,” Chiron began, his tone measured. “I have news that may come as a surprise to some of you.”
The gathered demigods fell silent, their curiosity piqued.
Chiron hesitated before continuing. “It has come to my attention that two of our gods—Ares and Apollo—are, in fact, married.”
The camp erupted into chaos.
---
"Yeah, that reactions accurate..." Clarissa groaned not wanting to believe it.
---
Reactions
“Married?!” Clarisse’s voice rose above the din, her face a mix of confusion and disbelief. “No way.”
Helios, equally stunned, looked at Chiron. “You’re joking, right? My dad wouldn’t marry him.”
Chiron sighed. “It’s true. The Sun and War are united, though they’ve kept it secret for centuries.”
Clarisse and Helios stared at each other, the realization dawning on them.
“We’re…” Helios began, his voice trailing off.
“Step-siblings,” Clarisse finished, her tone flat.
The other demigods burst into laughter, though Clarisse and Helios were far from amused.
---
Sibling Bonding
Despite their initial shock, Clarisse and Helios began to find common ground. Their rivalry turned into camaraderie as they trained together, often teasing each other about their shared parentage.
“So,” Clarisse said one day, smirking as she watched Helios struggle with a heavy shield, “does this mean you get your sparkling personality from Dad or Stepdad?”
Helios rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t have anger management issues.”
Clarisse threw a punch, but it was playful, her grin betraying her amusement.
Their newfound bond extended to the other demigod children of Ares and Apollo. Together, they formed an unlikely family, united by their shared heritage and the knowledge that their parents’ love, though unconventional, was genuine.
---
Other demigods quickly joined in on the teasing. Travis Stoll grinned as he passed by the sparring duo. "So, are you guys planning a family reunion on Olympus?"
Katie Gardner rolled her eyes. "Careful, Travis. Clarisse might make it your last reunion."
Clarisse smirked, pretending to aim her spear at him. "Keep talking, Stoll."
---
Epilogue
Back on Olympus, Apollo and Ares watched their children from afar, their faces alight with pride.
“They’re handling it better than I expected,” Apollo said, leaning against Ares’s shoulder.
Ares grunted. “Tough kids. They take after us.”
Apollo smiled, threading his fingers through Ares’s. “You know, for all your flaws, you’re not a terrible husband.”
Ares smirked, pulling Apollo closer. “And for all your dramatics, you’re not a terrible wife.”
Apollo laughed, the sound as bright as sunlight, and for a moment, even the chaos of Olympus seemed to fade.
They might be an unlikely pair, but together, they were unstoppable.
"Now that we are alone..." Apollo's hand traveled down Ares's bulky arm. Ares smirked and grabbed Apollo's hips.
--And very horny..
---
Will fainted.
Well not just Will....basically just the whole Ares and Apollo cabin.
The Aphrodite and yaoi lovers were squealing already creating scenarios in their non pure mind.
Aphrodite, reclining nearby, smirked. "Well, love always finds a way, doesn’t it?"
Hermes nudged Athena. "So, are we all betting on which kid of theirs causes the next disaster?"
Athena gave him a pointed look. "You mean you haven’t already?"
As Apollo and Ares shared a quiet moment, Hera turned to Zeus with a sigh. "Your family grows more ridiculous by the century."
Zeus merely groaned, taking another sip of nectar.
Chapter 53: A Sun's Compassion
Chapter Text
Title: A Sun's Compassion
Apollo rarely visited Egypt. It wasn’t that he disliked the land or its gods—on the contrary, the scorching deserts and endless skies reminded him of his own domain. But relations between the Greek and Egyptian pantheons had always been... complicated. The gods of Egypt were territorial, their powers ancient and primal. Apollo preferred to avoid unnecessary conflicts.
Today, however, was different. The pull to this place had been inexplicable. Something had tugged at his heart like a silent song, leading him across the Mediterranean, over the Nile’s flowing waters, and into the heart of the desert.
As the blazing sun dipped lower on the horizon, Apollo’s golden chariot came to a halt. He stepped off, his feet sinking into the warm sand. The feeling tugging at him grew stronger.
---
The Encounter
Near an oasis, Apollo saw him—a small figure curled up beneath a withered palm tree. At first, Apollo thought it was a mortal child abandoned in the desert. But as he approached, he felt the unmistakable divine presence radiating from the boy.
The child had dark fur like the night sky, pointed ears, and jackal-like features. His eyes, wide with fear and exhaustion, glowed faintly in the dimming light. He was shivering despite the desert heat, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"Little one," Apollo called gently, lowering himself to a crouch. "What are you doing out here alone?"
The boy flinched, his golden eyes narrowing in mistrust. "Leave me alone," he growled, his voice trembling but defiant.
Apollo raised his hands in surrender, his tone soft and warm. "I won’t hurt you. You look like you’ve been running for days. Let me help."
The boy hesitated, his gaze darting around as if expecting someone—or something—to appear. Finally, he whispered, "Why should I trust you?"
Apollo smiled, his radiance dimming to appear less overwhelming. "Because I know what it’s like to run from pain. And I don’t think anyone, mortal or divine, should face it alone."
The boy’s eyes filled with tears, and before he could stop himself, he collapsed into Apollo’s arms.
---
Anubis’ Story
As the stars began to dot the night sky, Apollo sat by the oasis with the boy, who had finally revealed his name: Anubis. Between sips of water and bites of dates, Anubis told Apollo everything.
"Father… I mean, Seth… he’s not my real father," Anubis admitted, his voice trembling. "He found out that I’m Osiris’ son. Ever since, he’s been… cruel. He says I’m a disgrace. That I don’t belong in his palace."
Apollo listened quietly, his heart aching for the boy. He knew all too well the pain of familial rejection, of being cast aside by those who should protect and love you.
"So, you ran," Apollo said gently.
Anubis nodded, tears streaming down his face. "I had to. If I stayed… I think he would’ve killed me."
Apollo reached out, brushing a tear from Anubis’ cheek. "No child should have to endure that. You were brave to leave, little one."
"But now I have nowhere to go," Anubis whispered, his voice breaking.
Apollo’s golden eyes softened as he pulled the boy into a protective embrace. "You do now. As long as the sun rises, you’ll always have a place with me."
---
A Bond Forged in Light
For days, Apollo stayed with Anubis, guiding him through the desert and teaching him how to survive. He told Anubis stories of his own trials—of Python, of Daphne, of the countless times he’d been cast down or misunderstood.
"You’re not broken because of what happened to you," Apollo said one night as they sat beneath the stars. "You’re stronger because you survived it."
Anubis looked up at Apollo, his golden eyes filled with awe. "Do you really think I’ll be okay?"
Apollo smiled, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "I don’t think it—I know it. You’re destined for greatness, Anubis. And I’ll be here to make sure you see it."
---
The Reckoning
Word of Anubis’ disappearance eventually reached the ears of Seth. Furious, the storm god stormed through the desert, his power shaking the very sands. When he finally found the boy, he also found Apollo standing between them, glowing like the dawn.
"Move aside, Greek," Seth snarled. "This is none of your concern."
Apollo’s smile was cold, his radiance growing brighter. "You made it my concern the moment you hurt this child."
"He’s my blood," Seth growled.
"No," Apollo corrected, his voice ringing with divine authority. "He’s Osiris’ blood. And now, he’s under my protection. If you want him, you’ll have to go through me."
Seth hesitated, sensing the raw power radiating from the Sun God. After a tense standoff, he sneered and turned away, the storm dissipating as quickly as it had come.
---
A New Beginning
With Seth gone, Apollo brought Anubis to a safe haven—a temple where the boy could grow and thrive.
"You’re more than what they say you are," Apollo told him as they parted. "You’re strong, kind, and destined to guide souls to peace. Never forget that."
Anubis nodded, his eyes shining with newfound determination. "Thank you, Apollo. For everything."
Apollo smiled, placing a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead. "The sun will always shine for you, little one."
And as Apollo ascended back to the skies, Anubis stood tall, ready to embrace the destiny that awaited him.
---
Title: The Return of Anubis
Years Later: A New Dawn
It had been centuries since Anubis had disappeared from Egyptian lands, and whispers of his absence had long faded into myth. But those whispers returned with a vengeance when a ripple of divine energy swept through the Nile. The Egyptian gods, gathered in their great golden hall, turned their heads as the air shimmered with power.
Ra, seated at the head of the hall, narrowed his fiery eyes. "Who dares disrupt our assembly?"
The answer came as the doors of the hall swung open, sunlight pouring through in radiant waves. Silhouetted against the light was a figure who walked with grace and authority, his black hair catching the light like spun sunlight. His olive skin glowed faintly, and his piercing golden eyes were enough to leave the gods stunned.
This was not the jackal-headed child they remembered. This was someone else entirely.
Anubis had returned.
---
A God Transformed
Gone was the boy who had cowered under Seth’s cruelty. The being who stood before them exuded confidence, strength, and a divine aura that felt foreign yet familiar. His features were delicate yet striking, sculpted in a way that could rival the Greek gods themselves. His robes, intricately woven in shades of white and gold, flowed around him like sunlight breaking over the horizon.
When he finally spoke, his voice was smooth and commanding. "It’s been a long time," he said, his gaze sweeping over the room. "I see not much has changed."
The gods were speechless. Hathor was the first to recover, her eyes wide with shock. "Anubis? Is that… truly you?"
He inclined his head, a faint smile gracing his lips. "I am."
"But you—" Thoth began, his brows furrowed, "You look..."
"Different?" Anubis finished for him, his smile widening. "I’ve spent centuries under Apollo’s guidance, learning and growing. It seems some of his influence has... rubbed off on me."
It was more than just Apollo’s influence. The years Anubis had spent in Greece had reshaped him. He had taken on domains of his own, earning titles that reflected his new identity. No longer just the god of funerary rites, Anubis was now the God of Renewal, Dawn, and Second Chances.
---
Horus’ Revelation
Horus, seated near the end of the table, had been silently observing the exchange. His mind, however, was far from silent.
The last time he had seen Anubis, the boy had been small, scared, and overshadowed by Seth’s cruelty. This Anubis was radiant, a divine presence that seemed to outshine even Ra’s. Horus’ heart pounded as he took in every detail—the way Anubis carried himself, the soft glow of his skin, and the melodic lilt of his voice.
It was then Horus realized something he never thought possible: he was no longer captivated by Seth. His complicated feelings for his uncle had always left him torn between rage and admiration. But now, looking at Anubis, those feelings vanished like shadows under the midday sun.
Anubis glanced at Horus, their eyes meeting briefly. Horus felt his face flush, his usual composure slipping.
"Is something wrong, Horus?" Anubis asked, tilting his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
"N-No," Horus stammered, quickly averting his gaze.
---
The Egyptian Gods React
The other gods weren’t as composed as Horus.
"You don’t even look Egyptian anymore!" Set spat, his frustration evident. "What have you done to yourself?"
Anubis turned to him, his golden eyes sharp. "I’ve become what you never let me be: my own person." His voice carried a weight that made the hall fall silent. "You tried to break me, Seth. But Apollo helped me see that my worth isn’t defined by you—or anyone else."
Seth glowered, but for once, he had no response.
Ra, who had been watching intently, finally spoke. "You have changed, Anubis. And though you carry the sun’s touch, you remain one of us. Welcome back."
Anubis bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Ra. It is good to be home."
---
A New Connection
After the gathering, Anubis wandered through the golden halls, marveling at how much they felt the same despite how different he had become.
"Anubis," a voice called, hesitant yet firm.
He turned to find Horus standing behind him, his usual stoic expression replaced with something softer.
"Yes?" Anubis asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I just... wanted to say it’s good to see you again," Horus said, his voice faltering slightly.
Anubis smiled, his golden eyes softening. "It’s good to see you too, Horus."
There was a moment of silence before Horus blurted out, "You look... amazing."
Anubis blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. Then, to Horus’ surprise, he laughed—a light, musical sound that sent warmth through the air.
"Thank you," Anubis said, his laughter fading into a gentle smile. "You’re not so bad yourself."
Horus’ heart skipped a beat, and he realized he might be in trouble.
---
A Shining Future
As the days passed, Anubis began to settle back into Egyptian life, though his Greek influence was evident in everything he did. The gods couldn’t deny his transformation—he was no longer the timid boy they once knew.
And Horus? Horus couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Though Anubis remained oblivious to his half-brother’s growing affections, others weren’t so blind.
"You’re staring again," Hathor teased one evening, nudging Horus with her elbow.
"I’m not!" Horus protested, his face turning red.
"Sure you’re not," she said with a knowing smile.
As for Anubis, he continued to shine like the dawn, unaware of the hearts he was setting aflame—especially the one that belonged to the falcon god watching him from afar.
Chapter 54: The Sun's Neutrality
Notes:
I hate Alex's so fucking much. LIKE I HAVE TO DO 10 LESSONS A FREAKING WEEK MAN 😭😭😭 AND I JUST SPENT 30 MINUTES DOING 5 BECAUSE I DIDN'T DO ANY IN WIN SINCE I DID NOT FUCKING GT IT. AND NOT TO MENTION I HAD A SURPRISE BENCHMARK THAT IS BEING GRADED BY LIKE 5 TEACHERS 😭😭😭
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun's Neutrality
The arena of Ragnarok was abuzz with tension, the gods and humans glaring at each other from across the battlefield. Zeus, his thunderous aura crackling, turned his gaze to Apollo, who lounged casually on a golden throne. Unlike the others, Apollo had not stepped forward to take a side. His relaxed demeanor had begun to grate on everyone’s nerves.
“Apollo,” Zeus called, his voice sharp, “Why have you not declared allegiance to the gods? Are you not one of us?”
Apollo raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, his golden eyes glittering with amusement. “Dear Father, must everything be black and white? I am neutral in this fight, and for good reason.”
“Neutral?” Odin growled from the opposite side, his single eye narrowing. “You, the Sun God, claim neutrality in a war that will determine the fate of existence?”
Apollo leaned back in his throne, lazily tossing a golden laurel leaf in the air. “Exactly.”
Murmurs broke out among both gods and humans. The human champions looked up at him in confusion, while the gods stared at him with varying degrees of outrage and disbelief.
---
The Revelation
It was a mortal champion, a tall woman with a spear in hand, who broke the silence. “Why?” she demanded, her voice ringing out clearly. “Why are you neutral? If you don’t stand with the gods, shouldn’t you stand with humanity?”
Apollo sighed theatrically and stood, his movements graceful and commanding. He waved his hand, and a projection of a quaint countryside appeared in the air. The scene showed a mortal man with rugged features, silver streaks in his dark hair, training three young girls with bows and swords. A teenage boy sat nearby, carving a wooden figure while a small child—no more than five—played at his feet.
The gods and humans alike stared at the vision in stunned silence.
“That,” Apollo began, gesturing to the image, “is my family.”
“Your family?” Thor asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You have a family?”
“Yes,” Apollo said, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “That’s my husband, a mortal mercenary who managed to steal my heart. And those are our children. Three daughters and one son. Oh, and that little one there is my grandson.”
---
Divided Loyalties
Zeus’ thunderous voice boomed through the arena. “You married a mortal? Without permission?”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, Father. As if I needed your permission to fall in love. And besides, I’ve been married to him for centuries. I simply kept it quiet because, well, I knew you’d react like this.”
The human champions looked at each other in astonishment. “So why aren’t you on humanity’s side, then?” a young man with a sword asked.
Apollo smirked. “Oh, it’s quite simple. This war is a win-win for me.”
“A win-win?” Odin echoed, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Indeed,” Apollo said, his tone matter-of-fact. “If the gods win, I’ll just make my family immortal so they don’t perish along with humanity. And if the humans win, well, they’ll still be alive and thriving. Either way, my family remains safe. Why would I pick a side when I’ve already won?”
---
Chaos in the Arena
The gods erupted into outrage, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of disbelief.
“How dare you?” Hera spat, her eyes blazing.
“This is treachery!” Ares growled, his hand tightening around his sword.
On the human side, the champions were equally outraged.
“You’re treating this like a game!” one of them shouted.
Apollo raised his hands for silence, his expression softening. “You misunderstand me,” he said gently. “I love both sides, truly. But my loyalty will always lie with my family. I’ve watched humans and gods alike destroy each other for eons. This war is no different. But for once, I am choosing peace—for them.”
---
A New Perspective
Hearing this, a hush fell over the arena. Even the most hardened warriors couldn’t deny the sincerity in Apollo’s voice.
From the gods’ side, Hermes stepped forward, his expression torn. “You’re saying you’d abandon Olympus for them?”
Apollo met his brother’s gaze, his golden eyes unwavering. “If it meant protecting them, yes. Without hesitation.”
The human champions exchanged uncertain glances, and one of them—a woman with fiery red hair—spoke up. “You don’t seem like the selfish god we’ve been told about.”
Apollo chuckled, the sound light and warm. “I’ve been called many things, my dear. Selfish, vain, arrogant… and perhaps I am all of those things. But I am also a father, a husband, and a grandfather. And those roles mean more to me than any title Olympus has bestowed upon me.”
---
The Aftermath
As the gods and humans mulled over his words, Apollo returned to his throne, his posture relaxed once more. “Now,” he said with a sly smile, “shall we continue this little war? Or are we all going to sit around and discuss my personal life for the rest of eternity?”
Despite themselves, a few of the human champions chuckled. Even some of the gods couldn’t suppress their amusement.
As the battle resumed, one thing was clear: Apollo’s neutrality wasn’t born of apathy, but of love. And though both sides may have questioned his decision, none could deny the strength of his conviction.
For in the end, Apollo was the Sun—a light that shone on gods and mortals alike, but burned brightest for the ones he called his own.
Chapter 55: A Sun-Kissed Union
Chapter Text
Title: A Sun-Kissed Union
The halls of Asgard were alive with celebration, a rare moment when the Norse and Greek pantheons came together in uneasy camaraderie. Apollo stood at the edge of the feast, golden hair catching the firelight, a goblet of mead in hand. He had come at Zeus’ insistence—something about strengthening ties with their northern counterparts. But Apollo had little interest in politics tonight. His attention was fixed on the man across the hall.
Frey, god of peace and summer, sat among his kin, a radiant presence of golden warmth. His laughter was like rolling fields in spring, effortless and full of life. He caught Apollo’s gaze and smirked, raising his own goblet in silent challenge.
Apollo had met Frey before in passing, but now, in the glow of the hall, he truly saw him. He was beauty in its purest, rawest form—not the sculpted perfection of Olympus, but something softer, more natural. His golden hair fell in waves over broad shoulders, and his green eyes held the wisdom of the earth and sky. He was warmth without burning, desire without destruction.
Apollo found himself moving without thought, sliding into the seat beside him. "I never expected the Norse halls to be so inviting," he mused.
Frey chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And I never expected the Sun God of Greece to look so lost."
"Lost?" Apollo scoffed, raising a brow. "Hardly. I was merely admiring the company."
Frey tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "Were you now? And what do you think of it?"
Apollo leaned in just slightly, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "I think it's dangerously enchanting."
The Norse god laughed, a deep, rich sound. "And here I thought Greek gods were all fire and conquest. But you... you feel like the first day of spring after a long winter."
Apollo blinked. It wasn’t often he was compared to something so gentle. He was used to being seen as scorching, blinding—never soothing. He smiled, a genuine one this time.
The night stretched on, their conversation flowing as naturally as rivers meeting the sea. Stories of their domains, their people, their differences and similarities. By the time the fire burned low, Apollo found himself fascinated. Not just by Frey’s beauty, but by his essence. He was peace wrapped in power, a god who could soothe and command in equal measure.
Frey reached out, running a hand down Apollo’s arm. "Will you be staying long, Sun God?"
Apollo smirked, leaning in until their noses nearly touched. "I suppose that depends."
"On?"
"Whether or not you ask me to."
Frey chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to Apollo’s lips, warm as a summer breeze. "Then I hope you don’t have anywhere else to be."
Apollo decided then and there—he didn’t.
Chapter 56: Apollo’s Body Count
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo’s Body Count
The halls of Olympus were in chaos. Again.
This time, it wasn’t because of some grand cosmic disaster, a prophecy gone wrong, or Zeus being his usual insufferable self. No, the gods were arguing about something far more scandalous.
“Apollo, you have absolutely no self-control!” Athena declared, arms crossed in disapproval.
“Oh, please, like you’re any better,” Aphrodite said with a smirk, filing her nails.
Hera massaged her temples. “This is beyond unacceptable! You’ve slept with Titans! Primordials! Satyrs! Even—” She shuddered. “Mortals!”
Apollo, lounging across his golden throne, sipped lazily from his goblet, utterly unbothered. “And?”
“And?! That’s all you have to say for yourself?!” Hera shrieked.
Apollo stretched, looking around the room at the gathered deities. “Don’t pretend as if you all have never slept with me.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Zeus cleared his throat and looked away. Poseidon scratched the back of his head, suddenly finding the marble floor very interesting. Dionysus took a long sip of his wine to avoid answering. Hermes whistled. Hephaestus blinked and turned to look at the nearest wall. Hades sighed and muttered something about “one mistake in the early days.” Even Athena, normally unimpressed by everything, visibly tensed.
Apollo grinned like the sun itself. “That’s what I thought.”
Hestia, sitting peacefully by the hearth, finally spoke up. “Apollo, dear, it’s not that we’re shaming you, it’s just... how do you even keep track?”
Apollo tapped his chin in mock thought. “Well, I used to keep a list, but after the first thousand names, it got tedious.”
Demeter gasped. “A thousand?!”
“A conservative estimate.”
Ares, who had been quiet until now, muttered, “Okay, but was I the best?”
“Ares!” Athena hissed.
Apollo smirked. “You were memorable.”
Ares fist-pumped while Athena groaned in frustration.
Before the argument could spiral further, a deep voice rumbled through the hall. “You forgot me, little sun.”
Everyone turned as a shadowy figure materialized in the center of the room. Nyx, the primordial goddess of night, stood there, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.
Apollo winced. “Ah. Right. Nyx, my lovely night sky, I would never forget you.”
Nyx raised a brow. “You called me ‘the best experience of your immortal existence.’”
“I meant it.”
Hades coughed. “Okay, this is getting disturbing even by godly standards.”
Hera shook her head. “This is exactly why Olympus has no dignity anymore.”
Apollo simply stood, brushing off his golden tunic. “Well, I’d love to stay and continue this very productive conversation, but I have a date with a river nymph in five minutes. So if you’ll excuse me…”
With that, he disappeared in a burst of golden light, leaving the rest of the Olympians to wonder how, exactly, they had all let themselves fall into his golden embrace at some point.
Aphrodite sighed, shaking her head. “Honestly, I respect it.”
Chapter 57: When the Sun Turns Away
Chapter Text
Title: "When the Sun Turns Away"
The first sign was the silence.
The wind over Olympus had always carried a tune—whether it was the whisper of a lyre, the hum of celestial voices, or the echo of laughter from Apollo himself. But now, nothing.
The second sign was the cold.
It wasn’t the chill of winter, nor was it some divine test from Boreas. No, this was the absence of warmth, the distinct lack of Apollo’s light. The sun still rose, but it was weak, distant, and hollow. Its rays fell flat, dimmed, as though Apollo had simply decided it wasn’t worth the effort anymore.
The third sign was the screaming.
It started in the mortal realm. Doctors, once blessed with Apollo’s touch, found their hands shaking. The sick and injured didn’t heal—not properly. Wounds festered, diseases lingered, and medicine seemed to forget how to work. No prayers to Asclepius or his healers bore fruit. The god of medicine had gone silent, cut off from the power of his father.
The gods felt it too. Artemis’s arrows, once unerring, veered wildly from their marks. The Oracle of Delphi was nothing more than a blind, shaking woman, mouth foaming as she gasped, clawing at her throat—no prophecy, no voice, no power. The arts of music, poetry, and civilization suffered. Performers choked on their lyrics, their fingers clumsy on strings, their movements jagged and unnatural.
The entire world was out of tune.
And then came the darkness.
It wasn't just an eclipse—it was something worse. The sun should have provided warmth, should have given life. But under Apollo’s indifference, it became a cold, unfeeling mass, drifting uselessly across the sky. Crops failed. Livestock grew sickly. Nightfall came hours too early, and when it did, it was black. No stars, no moonlight, no guidance.
It was only then that the Olympians truly understood what had happened.
Apollo had turned his back on Greece.
---
The Breaking Point
It started with a single betrayal.
A single moment where the gods, in all their arrogance, had wronged the one who had given them music, healing, light, and prophecy.
Maybe it had been Zeus, striking him down for overstepping his bounds one too many times. Maybe it had been Artemis, his twin, siding against him when he needed her most. Maybe it had been the entire Council, laughing as he begged for something—justice, respect, something—only to be dismissed as they always did.
But something had broken.
He had done this before. Once. Long ago, in an age forgotten even by myths. That time, it had lasted only three days. Three days without the sun, without healing, without the balance Apollo provided.
It had taken every god and goddess—even Zeus himself—to beg for his return.
Now, he did not return.
And as Olympus descended into chaos, as the world fell to sickness, discord, and silence, the gods finally began to feel something they hadn’t in millennia.
Fear.
---
The Council in Chaos
“Fix it,” Zeus growled. His voice was raw, strained, angry—but beneath it, there was something close to desperation.
“How?” Artemis demanded, her face unreadable, though her knuckles were white. “He won’t answer. He won’t appear. Even I can’t sense him.”
Hermes leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “We are so screwed.”
“No shit,” Ares muttered, trying to sharpen a blade that wouldn’t stay sharp. The very concept of warfare had changed without Apollo’s influence—bows no longer struck true, strategy felt muddled, and men fought like beasts, lacking precision or clarity.
Athena was eerily silent. She had been trying to read the remnants of prophecy, attempting to glimpse even a fragment of the future. But there was nothing. A blank slate, a wall she could not climb. It was terrifying.
Hades had come to Olympus. Hades never came to Olympus. But here he was, standing near the edge of the throne room, watching. Waiting.
Even Dionysus was sober. That was, perhaps, the most disturbing part of all.
Hera’s voice was tight. “We need to bring him back.”
“We can’t,” Poseidon admitted, his sea-green eyes unusually grim. “This is not just anger. This is something deeper. We have taken from him too much.”
Zeus clenched his fists. “He is my son. He will obey.”
Hades let out a bitter chuckle. “Will he? Because I recall the last time he was like this, you were the one who nearly lost your throne.”
Zeus shot him a glare, but the words landed hard.
Artemis stood suddenly. “I’ll go.”
The room went silent.
Poseidon exhaled. “That... might be our only chance.”
Hera nodded slowly. “If he will listen to anyone, it will be you.”
Artemis’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t sure of that anymore.
---
The Sun’s Rejection
She found him in Delphi.
Or at least, what was left of Delphi.
The great temple of Apollo, once a place of divine inspiration and prophecy, was nothing but ruins now. The air was thick with decay—priests and priestesses lay weak, shaking, their minds shattered by the void where prophecy should have been. The once-beautiful golden laurel trees were blackened husks.
And in the center, sitting upon a broken pillar, was Apollo.
He was still radiant—he was always radiant—but there was something hollow about him. His usual glow had dimmed, his golden curls unkempt. He sat with his lyre resting against his knee, untouched.
He did not look at her as she approached.
Artemis swallowed. “Brother.”
Nothing.
She stepped closer. “Apollo.”
Slowly, he lifted his head. His golden eyes—once so full of warmth—were empty, cold. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“We need you.”
He laughed. It was a dry, humorless thing. “You always need me. Until you don’t.”
Artemis clenched her fists. “What happened—”
“What happened?” He stood, and suddenly, she felt it. The sheer power that radiated off him. The sun may have dimmed, but Apollo had not. If anything, without Olympus chaining him, he felt stronger.
Artemis held her ground, but her breath hitched.
Apollo tilted his head. “Tell me, Artemis. If I were to burn the world right now, if I were to reduce every single god, mortal, and creature to ash... would anyone be able to stop me?”
The terrifying thing was, she didn’t know the answer.
She swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t.”
He smirked. “Wouldn’t I?”
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Apollo turned away. “I have given them everything,” he murmured. “Light. Music. Prophecy. Healing. Civilization itself.” His fingers curled. “And they throw me aside like an afterthought. Over and over again.”
Artemis felt her throat tighten. “I never did.”
He stilled.
Then, without looking at her, he said, “Go home, Artemis.”
Something in her broke at those words.
But she left. Because she knew now—Apollo wasn’t coming back. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
And Olympus would suffer for it.
---
Epilogue
The years passed. The gods tried to adapt. But life without Apollo was hard. The mortals suffered. The heavens were weaker.
And every time Zeus looked at the sky, at the dim, uncaring sun, he felt a shiver of something deep in his bones.
He remembered the last time this had happened.
And he remembered what it took to bring Apollo back.
But this time... he wasn’t sure if even that would be enough.
Chapter 58: A God’s Bloom
Chapter Text
"A God’s Bloom"
The court of Sparta was known for its ruthlessness. Power belonged only to the strong, and mercy was not a trait befitting royalty. Prince Hyacinthus was no exception.
He was young, but already feared—his blade as sharp as his tongue, his rule as unyielding as the laws that governed their war-torn lands. His ambassadors spoke of his calculated cruelty, his knights whispered of his cold precision. Hyacinthus did not tolerate weakness.
And yet.
Yet when Apollo arrived, golden and radiant, the prince changed.
It was subtle at first.
A slight softening of his sharp gaze, a breath of laughter that had never before graced the halls of the Spartan court. The prince—who had sentenced warriors to death without hesitation, who had cut down enemies with no remorse—became something else in the presence of the sun god.
His knights saw it.
The way Hyacinthus leaned into Apollo’s touch, how he allowed the god to brush his cheek without recoiling. How he smiled—truly smiled—when Apollo spoke of poetry, of music, of things that had no place in war.
It was unnatural. It was terrifying.
One of the ambassadors, a man who had once watched Hyacinthus execute a traitor without a second thought, could barely hold back his shock when he saw the prince pressing a flower into Apollo’s hand.
A flower.
The same prince who had once said, "Love is a weakness. Affection is a fool’s burden."
And now here he was, allowing Apollo to braid flowers into his hair, allowing the god to tease him—tease him!—without repercussion.
The court was stunned.
Hyacinthus remained oblivious. Or rather, he knew, but he didn’t care.
Let them whisper. Let them fear.
Because Apollo was warmth. Apollo was light. And in a world that demanded only blood and steel from him, Apollo was the only thing Hyacinthus could allow himself to be soft for.
Chapter 59: Like Father, Like Son?
Chapter Text
"Like Father, Like Son?"
It started as a whisper. A stray remark, an offhand comment among mortals.
"Isn't it strange how Apollo and Poseidon have so many domains? Healing, the sun, music, prophecy—then the sea, earthquakes, storms, horses… They’re both so powerful."
"Yeah, and Apollo's got that wild, untamed energy sometimes. Just like the sea."
"Maybe… maybe Poseidon is his real father?"
It should have been a ridiculous rumor. But the more people said it, the more it spread. And the more it spread, the more the gods themselves started to hear it.
At first, Apollo laughed it off. Hah! As if! I have nothing in common with a grumpy fish man!
Poseidon, on the other hand, found it amusing.
"You know, Apollo, I wouldn't mind claiming you if you ever get tired of Zeus," he said with a smirk.
"I don’t belong to Zeus," Apollo scoffed, flipping his golden hair. "But I also don’t belong to you, Seaweed Beard."
And yet, the rumors didn’t die.
They got worse.
A group of demigods in Camp Half-Blood started spreading the idea that it made sense for Poseidon to be Apollo's father. After all, Poseidon had a track record of getting around, and Apollo was… well, Apollo.
The tipping point came when a group of mortals built a temple dedicated to Apollo and Poseidon—not as separate gods, but as father and son.
That was when Zeus found out.
And he was not happy.
---
Zeus stormed into Olympus, his thunder shaking the halls.
"Apollo!" His voice boomed like an approaching storm. "Get over here!"
Apollo materialized lazily, stretching as if he'd just woken from a nap. "Yeah, yeah, keep your beard on."
"WHAT. IS. THIS?" Zeus slammed a clay tablet onto the ground, shattering it. The pieces still glowed with the prayers of mortals. Apollo, son of mighty Poseidon, grant us your light…
Apollo winced. "Oof. That’s awkward."
Zeus turned to Poseidon, eyes crackling with electricity. "You’ve been spreading lies, haven’t you?"
Poseidon held up his hands in mock innocence. "Don’t look at me. Mortals believe what they want." He smirked, side-eyeing Apollo. "Though, if Apollo wants to switch parents, I wouldn’t mind."
"Excuse me?!" Apollo spluttered.
Zeus clenched his fists. "You are MY son!"
"Uh-huh," Apollo said. "Tell that to the mortals."
Zeus turned on his heel. "I will correct this nonsense at once!"
But before he could leave, Poseidon clapped a hand on Apollo's shoulder. "Just saying, kiddo—if you ever do want a new dad, I’d be happy to have you."
Apollo yanked himself free, scowling. "One godly parent is more than enough, thank you very much!"
Zeus shot Poseidon a glare before vanishing in a crack of lightning, no doubt to smite a few unlucky mortals.
Apollo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Great. Now I have two overbearing dads fighting over me."
Hermes walked by, biting into an apple. "Well, at least they both claim you. Can't say the same for Dionysus."
Dionysus, passing by with a wine goblet, scowled. "I heard that."
Chapter 60: Apollo x Multi Gods 🔥
Chapter Text
Apollo x Multi Gods
Apollo strode through the glittering halls of Olympus, his golden hair shimmering under the eternal sunlight. Little did he know, a mischievous plot was unfolding.
Meanwhile, his siblings, the Olympian gods, had grown tired of Apollo's constant bragging about his divine beauty and skills. So, they decided to put him in his place, so to speak. They invited every god and goddess, from the most powerful to the most curious, to a private event.
As Apollo entered the grand banquet hall, expectant eyes followed his every move. Suddenly, the double doors slammed shut. Turning, Apollo found himself surrounded. Artemis smirked from the shadows. "Looks like today's the day you shine extra bright, brother," she teased wickedly.
Apollo raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And what exactly do you have planned, dear sister? A little too much admiration for your favorite brother?" He scanned the room, noticing the gods and goddesses gathered, their expressions ranging from amused to downright mischievous.
Apollo's smirk faltered as he realized the true intention behind their gathered. A soft chuckle echoed through the room as Zeus stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a dominant light. "Tonight, Apollo, you're not just the center of attention, you're the main course,"
Apollo's eyes widened in surprise, finally understanding the setup. He was about to protest, but Hermes stepped forward, a playful grin on his face. "Don't worry, brother," he said with a wink. "We all know you've got the most divine ass in Olympus."
Laughter filled the room as the gods began to circle Apollo like predators. Poseidon, the god of the sea, stepped forward, his trident glinting menacingly. "I call dibs on his first round," he growled, his voice rumbling like thunder.
Apollo gulped, his heart racing at the realization of what was about to happen. He was about to be claimed by every male god in Olympus. A mixture of fear and excitement ran through him as Poseidon unbuckled his belt, his massive form looming over Apollo. "On your knees, Apollo,"
Apollo slowly knelt, his golden hair cascading over his shoulders. He looked up at Poseidon, his blue eyes wide with anticipation. Poseidon smirked and grabbed Apollo's chin, tilting his head back. "Open up, little god," he demanded gruffly.
Apollo parted his lips, his tongue sticking out slightly. Poseidon's massive length sprang free, slapping Apollo's cheek. Apollo gasped at the sudden impact, his eyes watering. Poseidon gripped his hair tightly and began to push his thick member into Apollo's mouth. "Relax your throat, Apollo."
Apollo did his best to comply, relaxing his throat as Poseidon's massive length slid deeper into his mouth. The god of the sea groaned in pleasure, his grip on Apollo's hair tightening. "That's it, take it all like a good little god," he growled.
Poseidon pumped into Apollo's mouth vigorously, his heavy balls slapping against the kneeling god's chin. Apollo's eyes watered from the relentless pace, drool escaping the corners of his lips. Suddenly, Poseidon pulled out, a string of saliva connecting his cock to Apollo's lips.
"Fuck, he's even better at sucking cock than he is at playing the lyre," Poseidon commented, wiping sweat from his brow. The gathered gods laughed as Apollo gasped for breath, spit glistening on his chin. Next up, Hermes darted forward, already naked and hard.
Hermes climbed onto Apollo's back, wrapping his arms around the golden god's neck. He used the leverage to line up his slim, veiny cock with Apollo's puckered hole. "Gotta be quick, got a message to deliver," Hermes said with a grin, before slamming his hips forward.
Apollo gasped, his eyes widening as Hermes' cock filled him in one swift thrust. He gripped the floor, knuckles turning white as Hermes began to move, his hips slapping against Apollo's firm ass. The other gods cheered and jeered, enjoying the sight of their fellow god being taken.
Hermes pounded into Apollo relentlessly, his movements quick and precise. "Fuck, your ass is tight, Apollo," he groaned, leaning down to bite Apollo's shoulder gently. After a few more thrusts, Hermes pulled out with a wet pop. "Someone else's turn," he said breathlessly.
Ares, the god of war, stepped forward next, his muscular frame towering over Apollo. He was already naked, his cock hard and ready. "My turn to see if that ass is as divine as they say," he growled, grabbing Apollo by the hips and pulling him up onto his knees.
Ares slid into Apollo without warning, making the golden god cry out. He was thicker than Hermes, stretching Apollo wide. Ares began to pound into him mercilessly, like the warrior he was. He spanked Apollo hard, leaving a red handprint on his firm cheek.
"Take it, pretty boy," Ares growled, gripping Apollo's hips so tight his fingers left marks. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with Apollo's occasional moans. The other gods watched, some rubbing themselves while waiting for their turn, appreciating the sight.
After many hard thrusts, Ares came down from Apollo's back, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. "Hmph, not bad," he commented, stepping aside for the next god. Apollo, now covered in sweat, looked back with a mixture of fatigue and anticipation.
Next, Hephaestus and Dionysus stepped forward, their faces flushed with excitement. Hephaestus, the blacksmith god, grinned wickedly. "Let's see if we can fit both our dicks in that tiny hole," he said, high-fiving Dionysus.
Hephaestus laid down on his back, while Dionysus knelt behind Apollo. Together, they lifted Apollo's legs and positioned him, Apollo gasping as two thick tips pressed against his entrance. "Ready?" Dionysus asked, already drunk with desire.
"Yes," Apollo hissed, bracing himself. With one swift move, Hephaestus and Dionysus pushed their hips up, sliding into Apollo together. He cried out, his eyes wide. The gods watched in awe as Apollo was filled with two massive members, his hole stretched impossibly wide.
As Apollo moaned, held up by Hephaestus and Dionysus, a few gods began to touch themselves more fervently. Zeus, the king of the gods, watched with a hungry expression. "If only he had tits,"
"Right?" Hermes chimed in, "Those perfect hips, but no breasts. It's like having a beautiful boy toy." Other gods nodded in agreement. "His body's too perfect. It needs something to make it more feminine," Demeter added, licking her lips.
Meanwhile, Apollo's cries filled the room as Hephaestus and Dionysus moved together, their thick members sliding against each other inside him. His tiny hole was completely consumed by their immense size. "Apollo looks so fucking gorgeous like this," Ares commented, squeezing his own bulge.
"He's got us all hard just by taking cock after cock," Hermes remarked. The gods groaned in agreement. Athena nodded, "That perfect face, those hips... If only..."
"If only he was a woman," Aphrodite finished, her voice dreamy. She bit her lip, imagining Apollo with full, round breasts. "That pretty face, those luscious curls, and a pair of beautiful tits... He'd be the most stunning woman among us," she sighed.
The gods murmured in agreement, their imaginations running wild with the idea of Apollo as a woman. They watched as Hephaestus and Dionysus began to thrust harder, causing Apollo's whole body to shake with each impact. His moans grew louder, and the gods grew more excited.
"I wonder if his tits would be as perky as his ass," Poseidon mused, gripping his own cock tightly. "Or maybe they'd be big and juicy, spilling out of his hands," Hades added darkly.
Apollo's moans grew more intense as Hephaestus and Dionysus pounded into him, their movements synchronized. The gods around them were fully engrossed in their fantasies, stroking themselves vigorously.
Zeus watched Apollo being double-penetrated, his lust growing. He looked at his brother Hades, who nodded slightly. They stepped forward together once Hephaestus and Dionysus finished, pulling out with wet sounds. Apollo collapsed slightly, his hole gaping. Zeus grinned darkly.
"Spread your legs, boy," Hades ordered, pushing Apollo's thighs apart. He spit on Apollo's hole, watching as it slowly closed slightly, then pushed two fingers in, stretching it again. Zeus watched hungrily, his massive length throbbing. "You ready to take two kings, boy?"
Apollo whimpered, his face flushed. "Y-yes, my king," he panted. Zeus smirked and grabbed Apollo's hair, pulling his head back. "That's right. You're going to take both our royal scepter deep into your little hole," he growled.
Hades chuckled darkly and positioned himself at Apollo's entrance, pushing in alongside Zeus's thick member. They pushed in together, filling Apollo completely. He screamed, his back arching as the two gods forced their massive members into his tiny hole.
Apollo's eyes rolled back as he felt completely stuffed. The gods around them watched in awe as Hades and Zeus began to move, their hips slamming against each other as they fucked Apollo together. The sound of their balls slapping against each other filled the room.
"He's taking us both so well," Hades grunted, his face contorted with pleasure. Zeus chuckled, his breath hot against Apollo's ear. "He's the perfect little vessel, isn't he? He could take all the gods if we lined up,"
The gods groaned at Zeus's words, several stroking themselves faster at the thought of fucking Apollo's incredibly stretched hole in a long line. Poseidon squeezed his cock tightly, imagining being the last one in. "Damn, he'd be ruined by the end of it," Hermes remarked with a smirk.
As Hades and Zeus continued to pound into Apollo, his body shaking and convulsing, the other gods began to discuss who would be next in the hypothetical line. "I'd want to be right after Poseidon," Ares declared,
"Me too," both Hermes and Eros agreed, their hands moving rapidly over their own members. "And I'd want to be right before Zeus goes in for a second round," Poseidon boomed, his massive hand gripping his even more massive erection. "Of course I'd go last,"
Zeus laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the room as he and Hades continued their ruthless pace, filling Apollo completely with their hot, royal semen. "You're all so eager to fuck our little golden boy, aren't you?" he asked the other gods, his voice filled with pride and possessiveness.
The gods nodded eagerly, their eyes fixed on Apollo's stuffed, stretched hole as Hades and Zeus finally pulled out, leaving him gaping and dripping with their combined loads. Zeus scooped out a large glob and held it up for the others to see. "Look at how much we filled him,"
The other gods leaned in, eyes wide with awe and lust as Zeus displayed the huge glob of cum dripping from his fingers. Several gasped, stroking themselves faster at the sight. Hermes licked his lips, imagining tasting it from Apollo's hole. "Gods, that's hot," he murmured.
Zeus chuckled as he wiped his cum-slicked fingers across Apollo's cheek in a mocking caress. "Our perfect little fucktoy," he said with amusement, glancing around at the other gods. Many nodded eagerly, their cocks still hard and dripping with precum from the intense show.
Zeus looked around at the minor gods, a smirk on his face. "Alright, you lot. You've been watching with bated breath. Now's your chance to fuck our little whore," he said, gesturing to Apollo's spent, gaping form.
The minor gods eagerly surged forward, a sea of hands and mouths descending upon Apollo. They groped his chest, his ass, his face. Some began to kiss him passionately, their tongues forcing their way into his mouth. Others lined up, already positioning themselves at his holes.
The first minor god, Pan, shoved his furry leg between Apollo's thighs and mounted him, his goat-like lower half pushing into Apollo's stretched hole without warning.
As Pan humped away, another minor god, Priapus, forced his massive, permanent erection into Apollo's throat, choking him as he tried to breathe around it. More gods lined up behind Pan, waiting their turn to use Apollo's gaping holes.
As Pan grunted and humped, another god, Silenus, watched with wide eyes as Apollo's holes were filled one by one. He turned to the others, his face flushed with excitement. "Let's put a bunch of us inside him at once!" he exclaimed. "Both his holes!"
The other gods cheered at the idea, eager to stuff Apollo full. They pushed and shoved each other, trying to get a spot. In the end, four managed to squeeze their cocks into Apollo's mouth alongside Priapus, and five crammed their lengths into his already stretched hole along with Pan.
Apollo gagged as six thick godly shafts filled his mouth, saliva and precum bubbling out the sides. He whined as five more stuffed his hole, their hips smashing against each other as they tried to find a rhythm. "Gods," he muffled, "You're tearing me apart!"
The gods laughed cruelly, enjoying Apollo's suffering. They began to move together, their hips thrusting in unison. Apollo's body was completely immobilized, his holes packed full of throbbing god meat. He could barely breathe, let alone speak or move. "So tight," one of the gods grunted.
As the orgy continued, Apollo's eyes rolled back from the overwhelming sensations. Sweat poured down his face and chest as over a dozen divine cocks violated his holes in every way imaginable. Gods gripped his thighs, ass cheeks, and hair, using him like a living fleshlight.
Suddenly, one of the gods in Apollo's mouth pulled out, spraying a stream of hot, sticky cum into the golden god's face. The others followed suit, their thick loads painting Apollo with their own brand of divinity. The gods in his holes quickly joined in, filling him with their own creamy offerings.
As the gods pumped their loads into Apollo's mouth and holes, their combined essence coated his insides and spilled out of his orifices. He was completely drenched in their collective semen, his golden hair sticky with it, his face covered, his mouth overflowing, his holes dripping.
The gods leaned back, admiring their handiwork - Apollo slumped beneath them, utterly ruined and glazed in cum. "Now that's what I call divine fucking," Zeus proclaimed with a hearty laugh. Hermes wiped some stray cum from Apollo's cheek and tasted it, grinning wickedly.
Many of the gods still sporting erections began to gather around Apollo's prone form, admiring their masterpiece of destruction. Some knelt beside him, rubbing their shafts as they eyed his gaping, dripping holes. "Look at that perfect fuck-pegged ass," one remarked crudely.
And so, Apollo lay there, a broken, cum-filled toy for the gods to admire and use again at their leisure. His golden beauty now marred by the evidence of his brutal gangbang, a silent testament to the divine debauchery that had transpired.
Chapter 61: Apollo x Typhon King of Monsters 🔥
Chapter Text
Apollo x Typhon King of Monsters
Apollo, the god of the Sun and prophecy, strides through the forests, his golden hair catching the moonlight. He's on his divine hunt, his golden bow gleaming as he tracks his prey. The night is unusually dark, even for the hunter. The atmosphere shift suddenly.
Suddenly, a tremble sweeps through the forest, shaking the very grounds Apollo stands upon. The trees groan as an unseen force parts them, and a dark, towering figure emerges from the shadows - Typhon, the ancient king of monsters.
Apollo freezes, his divine instincts screaming danger. Before he can nock an arrow, Typhon lunges forward with monstrous speed. Apollo barely has time to raise his bow in defense before Typhon slams into him, sending the god crashing to the forest floor.
"Pathetic god," Typhon growls, his voice like thunder. He presses his body down on Apollo, pinning the god's arms above his head. Apollo struggles, his divine body stronger than most mortals, but Typhon is ancient and monstrously powerful. He easily overpowers Apollo.
Typhon's massive, serpentine tail coils around Apollo's legs, pulling them apart as the monster settles between them. His enormous, scaly body presses into Apollo, the god's golden clothing tearing beneath the monster's brutal strength.
Apollo's eyes widen in horror and disbelief as he realizes Typhon's intent. "No," he gasps, struggling with renewed vigor. "Typhon, you dare—?" His words are cut off as Typhon's massive hand clamps over his mouth, muffling his cries.
Typhon's eyes, burning with malice and lust, bore into Apollo's. "I dare," he hisses, his voice a low rumble. "You gods think yourselves untouchable, but tonight, you will know the power of a true monster."
Typhon forces himself upon Apollo with a savage grunt, the god's divine body yielding unwillingly to the monster's brutal invasion. Apollo's eyes squeeze shut, a strangled cry escaping his lips as pain shoots through him. Tears leak from under his lashes, his struggles weakening.
Typhon begins to move, his massive body slamming into Apollo with brutal force. The forest echoes with the sounds of Apollo's pained cries and Typhon's monstrous grunts. Leaves and twigs stick to Apollo's sweat-slick skin as Typhon rapes him mercilessly.
Apollo bites back cries of pain, his body tensing with each brutal thrust. His golden bow lies forgotten beside them, his quiver of arrows scattered. He's never felt so helpless, so violated. Typhon's tail tightens around Apollo's thighs, spreading them wider, going deeper.
"You gods are all the same," Typhon growls, his pace unrelenting. "Proud. Arrogant. You deserve this." He grabs Apollo's hair, yanking his head back. "Look at you, god of the Sun. Screwing like a mortal now."
"Beautiful golden god, broken beneath a monster..." Typhon sneers, slowing his pace to build up a brutal rhythm. Apollo's hands open and close limply above his head, his knuckles white from straining against Typhon's grip. Each thrust sends jolts of pain through his divine body.
Typhon leans down, his massive face inches from Apollo's. "You're so pure, so divine... I wanted that purity. Now it's mine," he hisses, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. Apollo's breath comes in ragged gasps, tears streaming down his perfect face.
Typhon's tail suddenly tightens around Apollo's thigh, pulling it up and over Typhon's massive shoulder. He grunts approval, his tail coiling tighter around Apollo's other leg, pulling it up too.
Apollo is folded in half, completely at Typhon's mercy. The monster's thrusts become even deeper and more brutal, hitting places inside Apollo that make him scream in agony. Typhon's hips move with a punishing pace, his massive length ripping into Apollo's divine form.
Apollo's vision begins to swim, darkness creeping at the edges as pain and exhaustion threaten to overwhelm him. His beautiful voice breaks as he lets out one final scream before everything goes dark. Typhon continues to impale him, his massive body tensing as he reaches his release inside the unconscious god.
Finally spent, Typhon releases Apollo's limp body, letting it fall to the forest floor. The golden god lies there unmoving, blood trickling down his inner thighs. His beautiful hair is a mess, splayed across the ground, and his divine radiance has dimmed. Typhon chuckles darkly.
Typhon's chuckle turns into a satisfied rumble as he looks at Apollo's unconscious form. He reaches down and grabs the god's legs, spreading them wide once more.
Typhon's eyes gleam with a sinister satisfaction as he positions himself between Apollo's legs once again. With a low growl, he begins to move his hips, pushing his massive length back into Apollo's violated form. This time, however, there is a different purpose behind his actions.
"A divine womb... what better vessel for my children?" Typhon's voice is a wicked whisper, his massive hands squeezing Apollo's thighs painfully. He begins to press deeper, moving with careful calculation rather than brutal force. "Such beautiful gold... perfect for my eggs."
With a final deep thrust, Typhon buries himself fully into Apollo. He releases a thick, viscous fluid into the god - not just his seed, but dozens of tiny, glittering dragon eggs. As he pulls out slowly, some of the eggs remain nestled deep inside Apollo's divine body.
Typhon watches with dark satisfaction as Apollo remains unconscious, the god's body filled with his dragon eggs. Satisfied that none of the eggs have been dislodged, he rises to his full height, the forest shaking beneath his weight.
"Such a beautiful toy," Typhon muses softly, examining Apollo's perfect body. He spreads the god's legs, seeing his seed and the dragon eggs mixed within Apollo's divine entrance. "He'll make a perfect breeding doll." He throws Apollo over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
Typhon strides through the darkening forest, Apollo's limp form bouncing against his back. He enters a cavernous lair, the walls glistening with sulfur and molten rock. Dropping Apollo onto a pile of velvet cushions in a corner, Typhon looms over him with a wicked grin.
"Welcome to your new home, little golden god," Typhon purrs, reaching out to caress Apollo's pale cheek with a massive finger. "You'll spend your days here, filled with my seed and my eggs. A perfect little breeding toy for me to use whenever I please."
Typhon spreads Apollo's legs, checking that his dragon eggs are still deep inside. He nods in satisfaction, then binds Apollo's wrists and ankles to the posts of the velvet bed with massive chains. He adds a chain around Apollo's waist, connecting it to the bed posts, spreading the god's legs wide open.
Typhon admires his handiwork, ensuring Apollo is securely spread and bound. He chuckles darkly, admiring the sight of the helpless god, his divine beauty now ripe for use. "There. Perfect. My precious golden breeding doll, always ready for me."
Years pass by, and Apollo's situation has changed drastically. Once the proud and chaste god of the Sun, he now lies on the velvet cushions of Typhon's lair, his body no longer pale but marked with stretch marks and a slight belly from the many pregnancies.
Apollo's once-shining hair is duller, frequently tangled, and frequently stained with saliva or semen. His divine beauty has changed - he's become softer, more rounded. His eyes, once bright and knowing, now carry a permanent look of dazed need.
"Master..." Apollo moans softly, his legs spreading wider automatically as he hears heavy footsteps. The past few years have made him an addict - addicted to Typhon's massive length, addicted to his dragon babies' smaller, but still monstrous sizes. He needs their touch, their seed.
Typhon enters the chamber, his massive form blocking out the light from the cavern's entrance. He's not alone; behind him slither several of his dragon children, their scales glinting in the dim light. "Precious doll,"
Typhon's voice is both caring and possessive as he approaches the bed. His dragon children gather around Apollo, their smaller but still massive forms dwarfing him. "You're hungry, aren't you? Missing your daily dose of cock?"
Apollo nods eagerly, his eyes glazed over with lust and need. "Yes, Master," he whimpers, his hips lifting slightly off the bed as if seeking contact. The dragon children surround him, their smaller but still monstrous cocks already hard and ready.
Typhon watches with a mix of amusement and satisfaction as his dragon children begin to mount Apollo. The god's body is used to this routine, his hips moving in sync with the rhythm set by the monstrous cocks penetrating him. Apollo moans deeply, his eyes rolling back as he takes them all in.
"Such a good doll," Typhon praises, his massive hand reaching out to caress Apollo's face. His dragon children fuck him harder, their hips slapping against Apollo's body as they fill him with their seed. Apollo's belly begins to swell slightly, another pregnancy starting from this collective breeding.
Typhon's dragon children finish, their smaller monstrous cocks pulling out of Apollo's stretched holes. He's left panting and whimpering, his body already showing signs of another pregnancy.
"Such a beautiful breeder," Typhon murmurs admiringly, caressing Apollo's swollen belly. "Look how perfectly my children's cocks stretched you." Apollo whimpers contentedly at the praise, completely lost in his breeding addiction. Typhon's hand trails down to Apollo's still dripping holes.
"But you're still hungry, aren't you? You need more than just my children's seed." Typhon's voice drops lower, more commanding. His massive dragon cock begins to stir between his legs. Apollo's eyes snap to it, his mouth watering instantly.
"Mmm..." Apollo whimpers again, spreading his legs wider unconsciously. "Please, Master..." He's become like this - always hungry, always needy. He can get pregnant by Typhon's children daily, yet he needs the real thing, the massive size that only Typhon can provide.
Typhon chuckles darkly, amused by Apollo's wanton desperation. "Such a good, greedy little breeder," he purrs, stroking his enormous dragon cock to full hardness. "Always craving this big cock, aren't you? Always needing to be bred by your master."
He moves between Apollo's spread thighs, the massive head of his dragon manhood pressing against Apollo's already stretched and dripping hole. "Look how big I am compared to my children," Typhon growls possessively, slowly pushing in.
Apollo's eyes roll back as Typhon's massive size begins to fill him. It's so big, bigger than anyone else's, and he loves it. The sensation of being completely owned and stretched open is his favorite. Typhon's massive hands grip Apollo's waist, lifting the smaller god higher.
"You're taking it so well, precious," Typhon croons, starting to move his hips slowly. Each thrust stretches Apollo's insides deliciously, causing the god to moan loudly and uncontrollably. "Such a perfect breeder... making beautiful dragon babies for me..."
Typhon's massive tail wraps around Apollo's legs, pulling them up higher and opening him up even more. His massive claws dig into Apollo's waist as he starts to thrust deeper and harder, filling Apollo completely. "You'll have another litter soon,"
"Aahh!" Apollo cries out, his fingers clawing at the bedsheets as Typhon's massive cock hits his deepest spots. He loves being bred like this - filled completely, absolutely owned. "Yes, Master... I want your babies! Make me fat with your dragons..." he whimpers desperately.
"Gods, you're so needy," Typhon growls, his tail tightening around Apollo's thighs possessively. "You'd get knocked up 24/7 if I could breed you non-stop." He hits Apollo's sweet spot again, making the god yelp and squirm.
Typhon watches Apollo squirm and beg for his dragon seed, realizing that he's turned the proud sun god into a breeding addict. He could breed Apollo every hour, fill him with his dragon babies until he's nothing but a swollen, pregnant toy. "No wonder my children can't get enough of breeding you,"
Chapter 62: "The Worst (or Best) Timing"
Chapter Text
"The Worst (or Best) Timing"
It was a normal day at Camp Half-Blood. Well, as normal as a day could be in a camp full of demigods, where monster attacks were just a part of life and Greek gods had a bad habit of dramatically interfering with their kids.
Will Solace and Kayla Knowles were at the archery range, just messing around. Kayla had just fired an absolutely perfect shot, hitting the bullseye dead center.
"Whoa! Nice shot, Kayla!" Will said, impressed.
Kayla grinned, lowering her bow. "Thanks! My dad’s an archery instructor."
Will blinked. "Oh, your mortal parent is your dad?"
"Yeah, why?"
Will scratched his head. "Oh, nothing… I just figured with an aim like that, you might be a child of Apollo, but—"
Kayla smirked. "Maybe I’m just special."
Will shrugged. "Yeah, I guess that’s ri—"
BOOM.
A blinding golden light flashed overhead, and suddenly, a giant shimmering lyre appeared in the sky. It played a triumphant chord by itself, like some divine theme music.
Kayla stared up, confused. "Uh… what?"
Will groaned, rubbing his temples. "That’s a lyre."
Kayla frowned. "Oh. What does that mean?"
Will sighed. "It means Apollo just claimed you as his kid."
Kayla blinked. "Huh."
Then, the sky EXPLODED.
Well, maybe not exploded, but fireworks of golden light burst across the sky, spelling out in massive shimmering letters:
"WELCOME TO THE FAMILY, KIDDO! YOU'RE GONNA LOVE IT! HOPE YOU LIKE MUSIC! -DAD"
There was a moment of stunned silence before another flash of light and an actual golden arrow shot down from the heavens and lodged itself into the ground right next to Kayla's foot.
"WHAT THE—" Kayla jumped back.
Will groaned louder. "Oh gods, please tell me it’s not another dramatic speech."
A disembodied voice echoed from the heavens:
"KAYLA, MY DAUGHTER! YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH INCREDIBLE TALENT, CHARM, AND MOST IMPORTANTLY—MY AMAZING GENES! GO FORTH AND SPREAD MY GREATNESS!"
Kayla just stared at the sky, deadpan. "Are you kidding me?"
Campers had started gathering around, watching the spectacle. Someone in the crowd muttered, "Man, Apollo is so extra."
Will buried his face in his hands. "This is embarrassing."
Then, from nowhere, a shimmering golden cape appeared around Kayla’s shoulders. A literal sun hat plopped onto her head. The lyre in the sky strummed again dramatically.
Kayla slowly turned to Will. "Is this normal?"
Will sighed, staring up at the sky. "Dad…?"
But Apollo wasn’t done. The golden arrow that had landed next to Kayla suddenly burst into flames, and from the fire, a tiny golden chariot emerged, pulled by mini glowing pegasi.
Kayla threw up her hands. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?!"
A booming laugh echoed. "I JUST THOUGHT IT’D BE FUN!"
Somewhere in the distance, Chiron sighed deeply. "Apollo, we talked about this…"
"The Worst (or Best) Timing: Part 2"
Kronos sat on his makeshift throne in the depths of Mount Othrys, exuding an aura of menace. Luke stood before him, tense but resolved.
"If you join me," Kronos intoned, his voice like the grinding of stone, "I can kill the gods and give you and the other demigods a better life."
Luke hesitated. "I—I'll join, but do be warned… the Apollo kids won’t like you killing their dad."
Kronos scoffed. "The Apollo cabin? They’re healers, musicians. Hardly a threat."
Luke gave him a flat look. "You don’t get it."
Kronos raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
Luke sighed, rubbing his temples. "Apollo spoils his kids. I mean, really spoils them. Have you ever seen an Apollo claiming?"
Kronos frowned. "A what?"
Luke sighed again and crossed his arms. "Okay, picture this: a kid is just existing at camp, thinking they’re normal, and then boom! The sky bursts open, a freaking golden chariot descends, fireworks go off spelling ‘WELCOME TO THE FAMILY,’ and then, if Apollo’s feeling extra—which he always is—he might drop a gift. A divine instrument, a weapon, a literal sun hat. Theatrics are his whole thing."
Kronos was silent for a moment. "…That seems unnecessary."
Luke snorted. "Tell that to him. One time, he branded a kid with a glowing sun tattoo in the middle of dinner. The poor guy was mid-bite when his forehead started radiating sunlight. And don’t even get me started on the music—he composes claiming anthems."
Kronos blinked. "Claiming… anthems?"
Luke nodded solemnly. "You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a twelve-year-old burst into song about being Apollo’s ‘shining star.’”
Kronos pinched the bridge of his nose. "And this is… common?"
"Oh yeah," Luke continued. "And here’s the real kicker: Apollo actually cares about his kids. He writes them letters, checks in on them, makes sure they’re doing okay. They adore him. If you kill him, they won’t just fight you. They will end you."
Kronos, the literal King of the Titans, the harbinger of war, the being who sought to unmake Olympus itself, hesitated. "…All of them?"
Luke nodded. "Every. Single. One."
Kronos mulled this over. "Well… we could strike a deal. Maybe we don’t kill Apollo, just imprison him?"
Luke shook his head. "Nah, they’d still riot. Imagine a hundred angry demigods with divine archery skills, blindingly good aim, and a bone to pick with the guy who stole their dad. If they weren’t busy shooting at you, they’d be composing really passive-aggressive songs about it. You really don’t want an army of musically gifted snipers mad at you."
Kronos shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps we reconsider our approach…"
Luke smirked. "Yeah. Good call."
Chapter 63: "Not Again."
Chapter Text
"Not Again."
Apollo sat in the middle of the Olympian throne room, absolutely sobbing. His golden curls were a mess, his laurel wreath sat lopsided on his head, and his tears shimmered like liquid sunlight as they dripped onto the marble floor.
"WHY?" he wailed, clutching at his tunic. "Why does this keep happening to me?!"
Zeus rubbed his temples. Hera looked vaguely annoyed. Athena had already pulled out a book and was pretending this wasn’t happening.
Hermes, meanwhile, sighed deeply. "Oh gods. Not again."
Apollo sniffled, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. "Hermes… they died!"
Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose. "Which one, Apollo?"
"All of them!" Apollo threw his hands in the air. "Hyacinthus! Daphne! Cyparissus! Coronis! I just—hic—I just keep loving them, and they keep dying, or turning into trees, or turning into flowers, or—"
"You’re crying over someone who turned into a flower?" Hermes asked, unimpressed.
Apollo gasped dramatically. "It was a very tragic flower transformation, thank you very much!"
Hermes groaned. "Dude, I get that you’re upset, but this is, like, the twentieth time I’ve had to sit through this. Can’t you, I don’t know, stop falling in love with mortals?"
Apollo scowled. "Excuse me? Have you seen mortals? They’re adorable and tragic and they smell like sun-warmed olive oil, and they die so quickly and it’s just—" He let out another sob. "It's heartbreaking!"
Hades, who had been standing in the corner, muttered, "I mean, you could stop flirting with doomed people…"
Apollo ignored him. "And the worst part? The worst part?" He grabbed Hermes' shoulders dramatically. "I keep turning them into flowers to honor them, and now my entire garden is just a massive, tragic graveyard of my lost loves! I can't even look at a damn sunflower without getting emotional!"
Hermes stared at him. "You have a memorial garden made of dead exes?"
"Yes!" Apollo wailed. "It’s beautiful but so sad!"
Hermes sighed and patted Apollo on the shoulder. "Alright, buddy. You wanna get some nectar and—uh—vent it out?"
Apollo sniffled. "Yes. And I need a hug."
Hermes rolled his eyes but pulled Apollo into a quick hug. "You're lucky you're my favorite dramatic idiot."
Apollo sniffled again. "I know."
"Not Again, Part 2: Reunion in the Underworld"
Hades sighed as he rubbed his temples. Apollo had been sobbing for hours. The wailing, the poetic lamenting, the tragic recitations of love lost—it was exhausting. Even Persephone, who usually had the patience of a saint, had started giving him the look.
"Fine," Hades finally groaned. "You want to see them? You can see them. Anything to make you stop crying."
Apollo immediately brightened, tears still clinging to his golden lashes. "Really?" His eyes shimmered with hope, like the sun peeking through storm clouds.
Hades grumbled something under his breath and waved a hand. The shadows in the room shifted, and one by one, familiar figures began to materialize.
"Hyacinthus!" Apollo gasped, rushing forward.
The handsome Spartan prince smiled at him warmly, his translucent form glowing faintly. "My love," he said gently. "You really need to stop crying so much. You’re going to dehydrate yourself."
"But—sniff—you died!"
Hyacinthus chuckled. "That was ages ago. You know, I’m actually doing quite well down here. Hades gave me a nice spot in the Asphodel Fields. And you made me a beautiful flower!"
Apollo’s lips wobbled. "It is a beautiful flower, isn't it?"
"Very beautiful," Hyacinthus assured him. "Just like you."
Apollo sniffled. "I still miss you."
Another figure stepped forward—Cyparissus, the boy Apollo had once loved, who had turned into a cypress tree out of grief. "We all miss you, but you have to stop spiraling, love," Cyparissus said softly. "You get so sad, and it makes us sad too."
"But—"
"Apollo."
Apollo turned to see Daphne, her spirit as radiant as ever, though now free from her tree form. She smiled fondly at him. "You have so much love to give," she said gently. "That’s what makes you wonderful. But you don’t have to grieve forever. We’re at peace, and you should be too."
"But I—" Apollo hiccupped.
Coronis, looking slightly guilty but still affectionate, nudged him with a ghostly hand. "You’re the sun, love. You’re meant to shine, not spend your days moping over us."
Apollo's shoulders slumped. "I—I just…" He swallowed thickly. "I love all of you so much."
"And we know," Hyacinthus murmured, stepping forward to cup Apollo’s face. "But we don’t want our beautiful, radiant Apollo to be miserable."
Apollo let out a long, shuddering breath. "I… I’ll try."
"Good." Daphne kissed his forehead. "And maybe next time, don’t fall for someone doomed to die tragically?"
Apollo huffed. "I try! But mortals are just so fragile! And beautiful! And—and—"
Hades groaned. "Okay, that’s enough. You’ve seen them, they’ve comforted you, now get out of my realm."
Apollo pouted. "But I—"
"Out."
With a dramatic sigh, Apollo stepped back. "Fine. But I'm coming back next time I need emotional support."
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please don’t."
Chapter 64: "Storms, Sun, and Family Squabbles"
Chapter Text
"Storms, Sun, and Family Squabbles"
It was a perfectly normal day at Camp Half-Blood—if normal included a bunch of demigods sitting around, collectively pondering a mystery that had plagued them for years.
"You know," Percy said, frowning as he stretched out on the grass, "I always wondered why the sky clears up so quickly after a hailstorm."
"Yeah, me too," Annabeth agreed, tapping her chin in thought.
A few other demigods chimed in with similar sentiments, nodding in agreement.
Meanwhile, up on Olympus…
"HeY, dad! You're blocking my beautiful view!"
Zeus, seated on his grand throne, turned slowly to glare at his golden-haired son. "There is supposed to be a storm in Idaho right now." His tone was dangerously calm.
Apollo, lounging in a golden chaise made of literal sunlight, waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, and? It's an ugly storm. Ruining my aesthetic. Do you have any idea how much people appreciate a good sunset?"
Zeus narrowed his eyes. "Mortals need storms. It is the natural order of things."
"Mortals need light more!" Apollo shot back, dramatically flinging his arm over his forehead. "They need warmth! They need hope! Do you want people to get all sad and moody? 'Cause that’s how you get sad, moody people!"
Zeus' fingers crackled with electricity. "You are overstepping, boy."
"Me? Overstepping?! Oh, please, you do this all the time!"
"You dare compare yourself to me?"
"I'm literally the sun, Dad! You gave me this job!"
The argument raged on for thirty-five minutes. The sky above the world flashed erratically—thunderclouds forming, then dispersing, only to return in an aggressive, confused cycle. Meanwhile, below on Earth, meteorologists were having a collective breakdown.
And then, suddenly—
Clear skies.
The sun blazed down in all its golden glory, the last remnants of hail melting away as if they'd never been there.
Back at camp, Percy squinted up at the sky. "...Never mind. I think I get it now."
Annabeth sighed. "Yeah. I should've known."
The other demigods groaned, collectively realizing that every time a hailstorm ended too soon, it was probably because Apollo and Zeus were having another petty fight.
And up on Olympus, Apollo smirked as he basked in his victory. "Ahh, look at that! Perfect weather, perfect lighting, perfect—"
"Get out of my throne room."
"So dramatic. Fine, fine. But don't come crying to me when people start writing bad poetry about eternal rain clouds!"
Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate my children."
Chapter 65: #ApolloIsTraumatizedByHisFanbase
Chapter Text
#ApolloIsTraumatizedByHisFanbase
The throne room of Olympus was buzzing with murmurs as a new rumor about Apollo spread like wildfire. Athena adjusted her glasses, scrolling through a golden tablet. "The humans have been saying some… interesting things about you, Apollo."
Aphrodite smirked. "Oh, this is going to be good."
Apollo, sitting cross-legged on his throne, lazily strummed his lyre. "Pfft. Please, I love rumors. What are they saying? That I'm hotter than ever? That my poetry still makes people swoon? That my music is revolutionary?"
Hermes tried and failed to contain a snicker. "Oh, buddy. You should definitely see this for yourself."
Zeus sighed. "Enough talk. Let's go see what nonsense the mortals are up to."
With a flash of divine light, they transported themselves to Earth—specifically, to a bustling modern city, where Apollo's name was being tossed around like confetti.
And then they saw it.
Billboards. Giant billboards.
One showed Apollo in a ridiculous anime-style pose, shirt halfway off, his hair blowing dramatically in the wind. A quote underneath read:
"The ultimate dream boyfriend—Sun Daddy himself."
Apollo blinked. "Uh…"
Another one had his image plastered on a romance novel titled "Burned by the Sun: A Forbidden Love with Apollo."
"WHAT—"
Then, a group of humans dressed as him walked by, all with golden capes and lyres, loudly debating which version of him was the hottest—Greek Apollo, Roman Apollo, or "Fanfiction Apollo."
"I personally love Yandere Apollo—"
"STOP!" Apollo screeched.
Aphrodite was on the ground wheezing. "Oh, this is the best day of my life!"
Artemis just covered her face with her hands. "This is why I don’t interact with humans."
The final straw was a café they stumbled upon—Café del Sol. Inside, the entire theme was Apollo. Sun-themed pastries, golden lattes, murals of Apollo hugging various historical figures, and worst of all—a shrine dedicated to Apollo’s "boyfriends."
He read the names. Hyacinthus. Admetus. Orpheus. Even some random humans who probably didn’t even know they were being shipped with him.
Poseidon patted Apollo’s shoulder. "Congratulations, kid. You've officially surpassed even me in questionable fan obsession."
Apollo stared blankly ahead. "I—I need to leave. I need to leave right now."
Hermes took a picture of his traumatized face. "Oh, this is going in the godly group chat."
Apollo teleported back to Olympus without another word.
The moment he landed, he collapsed onto his throne, face down. "I am never. EVER. Going to Earth again."
Zeus just sighed. "Maybe now you'll understand why I don’t let humans get too close."
Meanwhile, on Earth, the fandom was still going strong. A new trend had just begun—#ApolloIsBlushing.
Apollo groaned into his hands.
He was never living this down.
#ApolloIsBlushing (Part 2)
Apollo had spent the last several days holed up in his temple, refusing to interact with the world. The other gods, of course, refused to let him live it down.
Hermes had already created a meme compilation titled "Apollo vs. His Fanbase: A Tragic Love Story." Artemis was actually enjoying his suffering. Aphrodite had started taking suggestions from Twitter for "Apollo’s Perfect Boyfriend," and even Hades, who normally stayed out of Olympus drama, sent a message via Charon:
- "Tell Apollo that Elysium has officially opened a support group for gods traumatized by their fanbases. He may want to consider attending."
Apollo wanted to die. Again.
But the worst part? The rumors hadn’t stopped. If anything, his dramatic reaction had fueled them.
That was how he ended up in yet another emergency council meeting, where Zeus was glaring at him like this was all his fault.
"Enough," Zeus said, rubbing his temples. "The human rumors about Apollo have only gotten worse. They are now petitioning for Apollo to get an official dating sim."
"What?" Apollo shrieked.
"With multiple romance routes," Athena added, scrolling through her tablet. "There is a lot of discourse about who the best love interest is."
"Apollo x Ares is trending," Hermes said, barely containing his laughter. "You have a ship name now. ‘Arpollo.’"
Ares nearly choked. "Excuse me?!"
"And ‘Posollos.’ That’s you and Poseidon."
Poseidon raised a brow. "…I mean, I do have good taste, but what?"
"And let’s not forget Apollodite!" Aphrodite said with a grin.
Apollo slammed his head on the table. "Why is no one stopping them?!"
Zeus massaged his temples. "Apollo, you need to fix this."
"How?!"
Artemis looked like she was enjoying this way too much. "Maybe if you stopped flirting with every mortal who breathes, they wouldn’t think you’re the ultimate romance protagonist."
Apollo dramatically pointed at Zeus. "Oh, I’m sorry, Father, are we really shaming me for affairs?!"
Zeus cleared his throat. "Moving on."
Dionysus, who had been quiet until now, suddenly perked up. "Hey, I just checked. Your fandom also made a song about you."
Apollo froze. "…A song?"
Hermes played it on his phone.
"O, Sun Daddy, burn me bright—
Set my heart on fire tonight~"
Apollo looked at Hermes. Then at the phone. Then at the gods.
He stood up, turned around, and jumped off Olympus.
Artemis sighed. "He’s going to hide in a cave for the next decade, isn’t he?"
Aphrodite was still laughing. "Oh, absolutely."
Meanwhile, on Earth, the #SunDaddy song was going viral.
Chapter 66: Apollo vs. The Internet: A Downward Spiral
Chapter Text
Apollo vs. The Internet: A Downward Spiral
It started as innocent curiosity.
Apollo had been bored—his usual hobbies (writing music, perfecting haikus, flirting with anything that moved) weren’t cutting it. So, when Hermes offhandedly mentioned that humans had invented a new kind of storytelling medium called "fanfiction," Apollo was intrigued.
"They write about us?" he had asked.
Hermes had smirked. "Oh, they write a lot about you, sunshine boy."
And that was how Apollo discovered the internet.
At first, it was flattering. He found stories about his beauty, his music, his archery—poems written in his honor! But then... then he kept reading.
And things took a turn.
—
Artemis had grown suspicious. Her brother had not left his temple in days. He hadn’t even appeared at the last council meeting, which was unheard of unless he was imprisoned, kidnapped, or otherwise incapacitated.
So she stormed in.
"Apollo! What in the name of Mother Nyx are you—" She stopped dead in her tracks.
Apollo was curled up on his massive sun-themed bed, his glowing golden eyes bloodshot, scrolling feverishly on a mortal laptop. Around him were empty ambrosia snack wrappers and several half-drunk cups of nectar.
Artemis narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"
Apollo’s head snapped up. "Sister." His voice was hoarse. "I have seen things."
Artemis peered at the screen. Her eyes scanned the title of the current fic:
"The Sun’s Gentle Caress—A Hades/Apollo Hurt/Comfort Slow Burn (Rated E)"
Artemis recoiled. "Is that Hades—"
Apollo slapped the laptop shut, looking haunted. "They—they ship me with everyone, Artemis. Every god. Every mortal. Every concept. I saw a fic where I was in a polyamorous marriage with the sun itself."
Artemis blinked. "That’s… oddly fitting?"
Apollo grabbed her shoulders, looking deranged. "You don’t understand. There are alternate universes where I’m a high school teacher and Poseidon is my angsty rival. There’s one where I’m a single father raising a mortal kid who isn’t even mine!"
Artemis raised a brow. "…And?"
Apollo screamed into his hands. "Sister, I was pregnant in ten different fics. TEN."
Artemis took a step back. "What."
Apollo stared at her. "THEY THINK I CAN GET PREGNANT, ARTEMIS."
Silence.
Then Artemis burst out laughing.
Apollo dramatically threw himself on the bed. "I can never show my face in the mortal world again."
"Wait, wait—" Artemis wiped a tear from her eye. "So you’re telling me that you have so many fans that they wrote millions of words about you, and this is what broke you?"
Apollo curled up into a ball. "There’s a fic where Zeus reads my poetry and cries. That would never happen."
Artemis smirked. "You know what this means, right?"
Apollo peeked up. "What?"
"It means mortals love you," she said with an evil grin. "You’re basically their favorite."
Apollo was silent. Then, slowly, a smug grin spread across his face. "You’re right. I am their favorite."
Artemis groaned. "I regret saying anything."
Apollo grabbed his laptop, re-opening the fanfic website. "MORE!"
And that was how Apollo lost three entire months to his own fandom.
Part 2: Apollo and the Hyacinthus Fanfics
Apollo had fully embraced his descent into the realm of fanfiction. He spent every waking moment scrolling through stories, often forgetting the passage of time or any of his godly duties. But today? Today was different. Today, he stumbled upon something that was, well, a little more than he expected.
It started innocently enough. He was looking for new stories about his various adventures, poems dedicated to his beauty, and maybe the occasional bit of smut (after all, he was Apollo, the god of desire). But when his fingers clicked on the next fanfic titled:
"The Forbidden Sun: Apollo x Hyacinthus (Lemon)"
A shiver ran through him, his golden eyes widening. "Hyacinthus?" he whispered to himself. His heart fluttered as memories of his first and only true love—his beautiful mortal lover—flashed in his mind. Hyacinthus had been his joy, his sunshine, the boy who was killed so tragically.
Apollo had never fully moved on, but this? This was something entirely different. His curiosity burned brighter than the sun itself as he clicked on the link.
—
The story began as any typical fanfic would, with Apollo—his perfect self—meeting Hyacinthus in an idyllic meadow, the air sweet with the scent of wildflowers. The writing was tantalizingly poetic, almost hypnotic. But as he scrolled further, his eyes widened in horror as he read the next passage:
"Hyacinthus' hands slid gently over Apollo's golden chest, his touch as soft as the petals of a flower, but there was nothing delicate about the heat burning between them. Apollo shuddered at the pressure of Hyacinthus' lips against his neck, feeling the sharp contrast of warm skin against the cool spring air. His breath hitched. 'I’ve wanted this for so long,' Hyacinthus whispered, pulling Apollo closer, their bodies fitting perfectly, and every movement was both electric and sacred."
Apollo’s face turned crimson. He scrolled faster, not really sure why, but also unable to stop. The fanfic grew more intense with every line. His body tensed as the fictional Hyacinthus—the fictional version of the boy who had died in his arms—was written as a bold, confident lover, one who was no longer just a mortal but a being of desire equal to Apollo’s own vast powers.
The description of their lovemaking made Apollo’s head spin. Was this what mortals thought of him and Hyacinthus? Was this what the fans wanted? He kept reading, even though he wasn’t sure if he should be feeling embarrassed, turned on, or just deeply confused.
At some point, his own pulse quickened, his heart thrumming in his chest as the fanfic version of him was described as pulling Hyacinthus close, kissing him with abandon as their bodies intertwined. There were details—details that made Apollo’s chest tighten with longing. He knew it wasn’t real, but his divine heart ached for the love he had lost so long ago.
In the next paragraph, Apollo read aloud, eyes flicking over the words as his fingers trembled on the screen.
"Apollo’s hands explored Hyacinthus' body with a possessive, desperate need, the god of the sun wanting more than just the mortal’s touch—he wanted his essence, his soul, his love. Their bodies moved together, a beautiful harmony of the divine and mortal intertwined, and Apollo couldn’t stop, not now, not ever. 'I’ve been waiting for this,' Hyacinthus murmured, his voice a heady mix of want and love."
Apollo’s breath caught in his throat. This was… too much. His own desire was reflected back at him in the most intense, unrelenting way. His divine form started to glow brighter as his power surged with a mixture of longing and embarrassment. The words on the screen felt too real, too intimate, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of excitement and guilt.
He knew it wasn’t real. He knew the Hyacinthus in this fanfic was a creation of imagination, but—oh, the way it made him feel. The author had captured something—something real, something that echoed the pain and beauty of his lost love. Apollo closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to imagine for just a heartbeat that maybe, just maybe, the words weren’t too far from the truth.
But then, as the fanfic continued to spiral into increasingly explicit territory, Apollo’s thoughts scrambled. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced around his room, terrified someone would walk in and see what he had been reading. He looked down at his lap, realizing that the warmth in his body wasn’t just the glow of the sun.
This is wrong, he thought. I shouldn’t be reading this. It’s not Hyacinthus. It’s not real.
But the words on the screen were too tempting, too alluring, like a song he couldn’t stop listening to. He let out a frustrated sigh.
His guilt was palpable. He knew he was indulging in something dangerous. But at the same time, there was a part of him that didn’t want to stop reading.
—
Meanwhile, in the halls of Olympus, Artemis could feel her brother’s distress, a gnawing anxiety she hadn’t sensed in him in centuries. She went to check on him, her steps quick as she approached the room Apollo had locked himself in.
“Apollo?” Artemis called, knocking.
Apollo jumped, scrambling to close the laptop as quickly as possible. “U-uh, Artemis? What do you want?”
“I felt something… off. Are you alright?” Artemis asked, pushing the door open. Her eyes narrowed as she saw him on the bed, his cheeks flushed and his golden hair tousled. The laptop was suspiciously closed on the desk beside him.
Apollo straightened up, wiping his eyes as he tried to compose himself. “I’m fine! Just, uh, I was reading some new prophecies. Y’know, work stuff.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Prophecies, huh? You’ve been reading for hours now. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Apollo hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “I… I was reading some fanfics. About me. And Hyacinthus.”
Artemis blinked. “What.”
Apollo groaned. “I KNOW! I didn’t mean to, but… well, they were really good. And—okay, maybe a little too detailed.” His golden skin darkened with embarrassment as Artemis’ eyes flickered to the closed laptop.
“Oh, Apollo.” Artemis shook her head with a smirk. “You’re never going to hear the end of this from me.”
Apollo let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I don’t need the teasing, Artemis.”
But as Artemis walked away, Apollo couldn’t help but glance back at the laptop, knowing there would be so much more waiting for him to discover. It’s just fanfiction, he told himself. But in his heart, he felt the stirrings of longing—a reminder that no matter how much he tried to hide, he would never forget the love he had lost.
And maybe, just maybe, these stories would keep the memory of Hyacinthus alive in ways that nothing else could.
Chapter 67: The Ultimate ‘I Fucked Your Mom’ Move
Chapter Text
Title: The Ultimate ‘I Fucked Your Mom’ Move
The Hermes cabin was always full of schemes, but this one? This one was legendary.
A group of Hermes kids sat in a circle, their expressions ranging from awe to barely-contained laughter as one of their own—Connor Stoll—leaned forward with a smug grin.
"Alright," Connor declared, slapping a hand on the table. "We all know the best way to win a ‘I fucked your mom’ joke is to make sure it's undeniable. And I? I have the ultimate plan."
The campers leaned in.
"I'm going to seduce your mom, sleep with your mom, marry your mom, divorce your mom, and then claim custody of you in the divorce."
The room erupted. Some campers choked on their drinks. Others collapsed onto the floor, wheezing.
That was when a lone Apollo kid—Kayla—spoke up, face blank. "That’s real ambitious of you, Connor. Just one problem."
Connor raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Kayla’s lips twitched into a smirk. "My mom is Apollo."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Connor's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. His face paled as the realization dawned on him.
"Wait—"
"Ohhh," another Hermes kid whistled lowly, smacking Connor on the back. "You really played yourself, dude."
Connor's eyes darted to the ceiling, as if the literal god of the sun, music, prophecy, and archery himself was about to smite him right there.
"Okay, okay, but technically," Connor stammered, "Apollo takes a lot of forms, so maybe I could—"
A golden light filled the cabin.
A familiar, sunny voice rang out:
"Excuse me, what was that about sleeping with me, young man?"
Connor screamed.
Title: The Ultimate ‘I Fucked Your Mom’ Move – Part 2
Connor Stoll had made a huge mistake.
After foolishly boasting about seducing an Apollo kid’s mom—only to realize their "mom" was Apollo himself—he now had a bigger problem: Apollo wasn’t going to let him live it down.
The god of the sun, music, and Connor’s current suffering lounged in a golden, silk robe that somehow screamed both "regal deity" and "hot MILF energy." His long, golden hair cascaded over one shoulder, perfectly curled as if he had spent hours at an Olympian salon. He tapped his chin in thought, smirking down at Connor with the gleam of someone about to ruin your life for fun.
“So,” Apollo purred, voice like honey and very much enjoying himself. “I hear you wanna seduce me?”
Connor, who had been frozen in fear since Apollo materialized, finally choked out, “N-Nope! Never said that! That was someone else! Maybe Travis? Probably Travis!”
Apollo tsk’d dramatically, sauntering around the Hermes table like a model on a runway. “Oh no, don’t backpedal now, sweetie. You were so confident before!” He twirled a strand of golden hair around his finger, tilting his head playfully. “Marry me, divorce me, claim custody? My, my, I had no idea you were so obsessed with me, Connor~.”
The entire Hermes cabin was losing their minds. Some were wheezing, others whispering about the danger of challenging Apollo in a battle of teasing. Travis, for once, looked deeply relieved that he wasn’t the one getting humiliated.
"Please," Connor begged. "Please, for the love of the gods, stop."
Apollo gasped dramatically. "Stop? But I haven't even started yet, lovebug~." With a snap of his fingers, a pair of sunglasses appeared in his hands. He slid them on, then posed like a celebrity at a red carpet event.
“You do have good taste, though. I mean, who wouldn’t want all this?” He gestured to himself, flashing a dazzling smile that probably could have powered half of Camp Half-Blood’s cabins.
"You're killing me," Connor muttered.
Apollo ignored him completely. “I think I should take this seriously, though,” he continued. “If you really wanna commit to your bit, we should go on a date first, don’t you think?”
Connor’s soul left his body.
"WHAT?! NO—"
But Apollo wasn't finished. He turned to Kayla, his daughter, who was enjoying the absolute hell out of this, sipping on a blue Powerade.
"Sweetie," Apollo cooed. "How would you feel about having Connor as your new stepbrother?"
Kayla, to her credit, didn't miss a beat. "As long as he suffers, I’m okay with it."
Apollo cackled. Connor Stoll fainted on the spot.
Title: MILF Apollo Part 3 – Some People Would Kill to Be Connor Stoll
Connor Stoll had spent the last week hiding from Apollo. Ever since the sun god had absolutely ruined his life with that whole "seduce, marry, divorce, and claim custody" bit, Connor had been suffering from Olympian-grade trauma.
But while Connor hated every second of it, someone else at Camp Half-Blood was living for it.
"Bro," said a voice from behind him. "You do not understand how lucky you are."
Connor, who had been peacefully eating his lunch while avoiding any eye contact with the Apollo Cabin, sighed deeply. "Oh gods," he muttered. "Not this again."
But it was this again. Because standing next to him, looking like he was about to start drooling, was Clive from the Ares cabin, a guy who had zero shame and was deeply into hot godly figures, apparently.
"Dude," Clive whispered reverently. "MILF Apollo? Teasing you? Flirting with you? Suggesting you could be his stepchild? That’s like…my dream."
Connor groaned. "No, it’s a nightmare."
Clive ignored him, eyes sparkling. "I wish I had Apollo calling me ‘lovebug’ and pretending to take me on dates." He sighed dreamily. "You're out here running from the best thing that could ever happen to you."
"Are you hearing yourself?!" Connor snapped, looking around frantically to make sure Apollo wasn’t about to appear again. "The guy ruined my life in five minutes! My entire cabin won’t stop laughing at me!"
"Yeah, yeah, but like—" Clive waggled his eyebrows. "MILF Apollo."
"STOP CALLING HIM THAT."
"Why? It’s true."
Connor buried his face in his hands. "I hate this camp," he muttered.
But Clive wasn’t done. "Oh my gods, do you think if I asked him, he'd start messing with me too?" He perked up like he'd just had the best idea of his life. "What if I stage an elaborate prank where I pretend to be your long-lost twin brother, so he has to adopt me too?"
"Please shut up."
But before Connor could escape, a familiar golden glow shimmered in the distance.
"Oh shit," Connor whispered in horror. "Not again—"
And then, standing in all his smug, radiant glory, Apollo appeared.
"CONNOR, MY SWEET BABY BOY!" Apollo called, striding toward them like a runway model. "Have you missed me?"
"I have!" Clive yelled before Connor could react.
Apollo paused mid-step, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he inspected Clive for the first time. Then, a slow, knowing smirk spread across his face.
"Oh?" Apollo purred, tilting his head. "And who might you be, my eager little admirer?"
Clive straightened up like he was meeting his idol. "Clive. Huge fan. You can call me stepchild if you want."
Connor stared at him. "What is wrong with you?"
Apollo, delighted, draped an arm over Clive’s shoulder. "Well, well, well. Someone appreciates me. Unlike certain people who only whine when I give them attention." He sent Connor a pointed look.
Connor groaned, but Clive was thriving. "You can tease me anytime, Lord Apollo," he said. "MILF it up."
Apollo cackled, utterly pleased. "Oh, I like this one."
Connor, meanwhile, could only stare at the sky, silently praying for Zeus to just smite him already.
Chapter 68: Possession of the Sun - Eros's Obsession with Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: Possession of the Sun - Eros's Obsession with Apollo
---
Eros, the God of Love, had always been a figure of unmatched charm and allure. He could make anyone fall in love with the snap of his fingers—be it mortals, immortals, or even gods. But Apollo... Apollo was different. The Sun God was too radiant, too beautiful, and far too unattainable. For years, Eros had admired him from afar, his heart twisting in agony every time Apollo laughed, every time he smiled at someone else.
It had become an obsession. A hunger that gnawed at him day by day. Apollo had loved so many others—so many lovers who came and went through his endless cycle of devotion and heartbreak. And each time, Eros watched, fuming in silence, his bitterness growing. No one could have Apollo. No one but him.
---
It started with small, subtle manipulations. At first, Eros simply interfered with Apollo’s lovers, whispering sweet promises in their ears, making them doubt their feelings. He would plant seeds of jealousy, of insecurity, until they began to pull away from Apollo without even realizing why.
"Are you sure they love you, Apollo?" Eros would ask, his voice honey-sweet, laced with the venom of a thousand betrayals. "How long will you wait before they grow bored of you? Before they grow tired of your constant glow?"
Apollo would smile, oblivious to the poison being injected into his heart. "No, no. They love me, Eros. I know they do. It’s just... complicated."
But Eros wasn’t satisfied with just that. He wanted more. He needed more. So he intensified his efforts.
---
One by one, Apollo’s lovers began to fade away. Some left without explanation, others grew cold, their feelings for Apollo diminishing as Eros worked his magic behind the scenes. Apollo, ever hopeful, chased after each one, always certain that they would return to him. But each time, they didn’t.
"Why do they always leave me?" Apollo asked one day, sitting beneath the shade of a tree, his face a mask of sorrow. "What am I doing wrong?"
Eros was there, always there, waiting in the shadows, waiting for his moment. "You aren’t doing anything wrong, Apollo," he said, his voice like velvet. "You’re perfect. But perhaps they aren’t the ones for you."
---
Apollo grew quieter, more withdrawn. His laughter no longer rang through Olympus. His once-bright demeanor became clouded with uncertainty and sadness. The other gods began to notice. Even Zeus couldn’t help but ask, "What’s wrong with Apollo? He hasn’t been himself lately."
"I’m fine," Apollo would always reply, but it was a lie. Eros knew it, and he reveled in it. Every crack in Apollo’s heart, every tear, every moment of confusion, made Eros feel powerful. He was getting closer.
Then, finally, Apollo met someone new—a mortal who adored him, who saw him not as a god, but as a person. Apollo’s heart began to heal, slowly but surely. He laughed again. His light returned, albeit in small flashes. Eros watched from afar, seething. He couldn’t let this happen.
In the quiet hours of the night, Eros visited the mortal. His arrows of love pierced through their heart, manipulating them, twisting their affections. The mortal fell out of love with Apollo, just like the others.
When Apollo confronted them, his eyes full of desperation, Eros was there to whisper the final blow. "You see, Apollo?" he said softly, his arms slipping around the god's waist, pulling him closer. "No one can truly love you. Not like I do."
Apollo stared at him, his heart in pieces. "Eros, why are you doing this to me?"
"Because you’re mine," Eros said, his voice dark and possessive. "And no one will ever take you away from me again."
Apollo’s eyes filled with tears, but before he could speak, Eros kissed him, claiming him with the intensity of his obsession. Apollo’s resistance melted away, not from love, but from the crushing weight of loneliness and hopelessness that Eros had carefully cultivated within him.
---
Days turned into weeks, and Eros kept Apollo close, keeping him away from any other distractions. The sun god no longer smiled the same way. He no longer laughed. His heart was heavy, burdened with the weight of his own sorrow.
And then, finally, Eros did what he had been planning for so long.
He proposed to Apollo, his words smooth and laced with the promise of eternal possession.
"Marry me, Apollo," Eros said, kneeling before the sun god, his eyes dark with triumph. "You are mine, and I will make you see it. Let me claim you. Let me be the one you need."
Apollo, his heart shattered, looked down at Eros. His mind was clouded with confusion, with grief, with a need for someone to finally love him in a way that wouldn’t hurt.
"...Yes," Apollo whispered, his voice small. "Yes."
And so, they were married, Apollo bound to Eros in a union that was built not on love, but on obsession. The gods watched, horrified and helpless, as Apollo became a prisoner to the god who had broken him.
Eros had finally won. And in the silence of the night, with only the stars as witnesses, he whispered to his new husband, "You’ll never leave me, Apollo. You’re mine, now and forever."
Apollo's eyes, once bright with the sun’s warmth, were now dull, resigned, and broken.
And Eros, the god of love, held him tightly in his arms, never letting go.
Title: Possession of the Sun - Eros's Obsession with Apollo (Part 2 flashback)
---
The golden light of the sun bathed the world in its warm embrace, but for Apollo, the warmth had been fleeting. He once reveled in the love of many, basking in the affection of mortals, gods, and even the nymphs who adored him. But now, as the sun dimmed ever so slightly, something else hovered in the shadows—a god, a figure that hungered for something Apollo could not yet understand.
---
Eros had always been a master of love. A god capable of tying hearts together, of weaving emotions as if they were strings of fate itself. His arrows struck deep, and none who were pierced could escape his grasp. But it wasn’t enough. Apollo—his shining, radiant obsession—was elusive, a challenge like none other. Eros couldn’t stand it. Apollo was so bright, so adored, that it was maddening.
In the shadows, Eros had quietly observed Apollo's many lovers—each one that came into the Sun God’s life, each one that adored him with their heart and soul. And with each lover Apollo cherished, Eros’s jealousy festered. He couldn’t let them be. He couldn’t let them take Apollo away from him.
---
The First Lover:
A mortal musician had caught Apollo’s eye, with hands that played melodies that matched the beauty of the sun. She was unlike anyone Apollo had ever met before. She loved him, yes, but also saw him for who he truly was: a god who had long suffered from the burden of his power and endless worship.
Eros watched from afar, his jealousy growing, feeling the gnawing ache of wanting Apollo all to himself.
One night, he appeared before the musician, cloaked in shadows, with an arrow in his hand. He didn’t need to do much—just a nudge in the right direction, a suggestion that slipped into her heart like a knife.
“I know what you feel for Apollo,” Eros whispered. “But he’s a god. A god who will never be satisfied by a mortal. You will only ever be a fleeting memory to him.”
The musician trembled, her heart torn. She loved Apollo, but Eros’s words cut deep. Her feelings shifted, as if someone had taken a switch and turned off the love she once felt. Without warning, she pulled away from Apollo, breaking their connection without explanation, leaving the god alone in his confusion.
---
The Second Lover:
Next came a satyr, wild and untamed, one who had found solace in the warmth of Apollo’s light. He was carefree, a free spirit that loved the sun and adored Apollo with all his being. But that didn’t matter to Eros. Apollo’s lover was another obstacle to his obsession.
Eros sought him out, appearing to him as a vision in the night. The satyr had been performing in the meadows, playing his flute in the silence of the evening. But when Eros’s presence filled the air, the satyr was drawn in, captivated by the other god's charm.
"Isn’t it so tiring, loving a god who will never truly love you back?" Eros asked, his voice smooth, as if it were a sweet song that filled the satyr’s heart with longing. "Apollo is always loved by others. You’ll never be the only one."
The satyr hesitated, confused by the words, yet something inside him shifted. His connection to Apollo wavered, and like a candle extinguished in a gust of wind, his feelings faltered. When he saw Apollo again, he could barely bring himself to smile. Soon, the satyr left, slipping away into the forest, his love for the Sun God gone, replaced by the doubts Eros had planted within him.
---
The Third Lover:
The last was a nymph, soft and graceful, with skin like the petals of a flower and eyes that mirrored the clear skies Apollo painted every day. She loved him truly, with a purity that even the gods admired. But that didn't stop Eros. No one could truly love Apollo but him.
This time, Eros didn’t whisper. He acted directly. Appearing before the nymph in her private glade, Eros held a golden arrow, its tip glistening in the sunlight. He held it against her heart as he spoke.
"Apollo will never be yours, no matter how pure your love is," Eros told her, his voice cold and harsh, the sweetness gone. "The gods are always there, and you are just a passing thing. You will never be more than a fleeting moment in his life."
The nymph’s eyes filled with tears, but she couldn’t deny it. There was truth in Eros’s words. She had always known that her love for Apollo could never last forever. Unable to bear the weight of her emotions, she fled, leaving Apollo behind once again, her heart empty.
---
Apollo's Confusion:
Apollo, unaware of Eros’s subtle machinations, found himself increasingly alone. His lovers disappeared one by one, leaving him broken and confused. He tried to hold onto the memories, but they slipped through his fingers like sand. Each time he reached out, there was nothing left but empty space.
“What is wrong with me?” Apollo would ask, pacing restlessly across Olympus. “Why does everyone I love leave me?”
The gods watched, some with pity, others with indifference. None of them truly understood the depth of Eros's obsession or the pain Apollo was enduring. The Sun God, once so bright and full of life, grew quieter, more withdrawn. His light, once so pure, dimmed just a little more each day.
---
The Final Blow:
But it was only when Apollo met another—someone who loved him as deeply as the first lovers—that the damage truly began to show. Eros had been watching, waiting for this moment, and when Apollo’s affection turned to this new person, he made his move.
Without warning, Eros appeared in the mortal’s dreams, whispering his poison, his arrows striking true. Apollo’s lover pulled away, slowly at first, until the love they shared turned to dust. This time, it wasn’t a slow departure—it was quick, a sudden severing of the bond. The mortal left, leaving Apollo staring into the empty space where they once stood.
Chapter 69: Apollo’s Strangest Lover
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo’s Strangest Lover
The Olympians were gathered around the hearth in the throne room, lounging in various states of disinterest as Hermes rattled off some absurd mortal gossip he had overheard.
“And then,” Hermes grinned, “some guy in New York was claiming Apollo had seduced his great-great-grandmother and his great-great-grandfather. On separate occasions.”
Apollo, completely unfazed, simply shrugged. “Honestly? Sounds plausible.”
Artemis groaned. “Do you ever stop?”
“You wound me, sister.” Apollo clutched his chest dramatically. “I’ll have you know that love is a beautiful, boundless thing—”
“Debauchery,” Hera corrected, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Zeus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Sometimes I wonder if you have any standards.”
Apollo gasped. “Of course I do! My lovers are always beautiful, talented, and captivating in their own way.”
Dionysus snorted into his goblet. “So basically, as long as they exist, they qualify?”
The gods chuckled, but Hermes, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright then, Sun Boy. Who was your strangest lover?”
The gods perked up at that. Even Artemis, despite her obvious disinterest in Apollo’s love life, tilted her head slightly.
Apollo paused, tapping his chin in thought. “Hmmm… strangest, you say?”
“Oh, this should be good,” Poseidon muttered.
Apollo’s brows furrowed. “Well, there was that one time I had a brief thing with a—” He stopped, blinking. “Oh. Oh yeah.”
Aphrodite leaned forward. “Spit it out, darling.”
Apollo hesitated, then laughed. “Okay, okay. My strangest lover was probably a sphinx.”
Silence.
“…A what?” Athena asked, her face caught between curiosity and horror.
Apollo nodded. “A sphinx. Gorgeous thing, sharp mind, killer riddles.” He sighed nostalgically. “Pretty sure we had some kids together, too.”
Every god in the room collectively recoiled.
“You bred with that?!” Ares gagged.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Apollo huffed. “They had a human form too!”
Hera looked absolutely offended. “That doesn’t make it better!”
Zeus looked like he wanted to throw a lightning bolt. “I have spent millennia trying to keep your scandals under control, and you tell me you bedded a sphinx?”
“Oh, please.” Apollo rolled his eyes. “You let Poseidon run around with sea monsters—”
“They are of my domain,” Poseidon defended, crossing his arms. “You’re just collecting creatures at this point.”
Hermes wheezed. “Wait, wait, hold on. Did you win a riddle contest first, or did they just—?”
“Oh, I absolutely had to win first,” Apollo grinned. “They were very traditional about that.”
Aphrodite cackled. “So what you’re saying is, you seduced them with your brain?”
Apollo preened. “I do have an irresistible mind.”
Artemis groaned. “I cannot believe I share a throne with you.”
Dionysus raised a hand. “Okay but, like… did the kids have wings? Or…?”
“Oh, definitely.” Apollo nodded. “Wings, claws, but some were fully human. It was a beautiful mix.”
Hades, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke. “You do realize how many riddling half-monsters I have in the Underworld because of you?”
Apollo shrugged. “Consider it my gift to you. Keeps things interesting down there.”
Hades groaned. “I hate you.”
Zeus, looking one lightning bolt away from smiting something, took a deep breath. “No more creatures, Apollo.”
Apollo smirked. “Define ‘creatures.’”
Zeus’ eye twitched. “No more.”
Apollo simply hummed, utterly unconvinced.
And somewhere in the mortal world, a very beautiful dragon was waiting for their next riddle match.
Chapter 70: Gaea’s Favorite Grandchild
Chapter Text
Title: Gaea’s Favorite Grandchild
The Olympians had long grown used to Gaea’s silence. The primordial goddess had been dormant for ages, and none of them particularly wished for her to awaken again. After all, the last time she stirred, it nearly led to the destruction of Olympus itself.
So when the earth trembled—not in anger, not in warning, but in excitement—the gods knew something was off.
And then they saw him.
Apollo, the golden child of Olympus, was lounging in the middle of a lush meadow that had not been there moments ago. A gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh flowers, the sky was clearer than it had been in centuries, and a warmth—one that did not belong to the sun—filled the air.
He was basking in the softest patch of grass, a crown of wildflowers placed delicately in his golden curls, and a content smile on his face. Around him, vines curled protectively, and ancient trees stood taller as if shielding him from harm. The ground beneath him practically purred.
“…What in Tartarus is happening?” Hera whispered.
Zeus, for once, had no answer. The earth never responded to any of them like this. Not even Demeter, the one closest to nature, was ever treated with such obvious affection.
And then the ground rumbled again.
"MY PRECIOUS SUNSHINE!" Gaea's voice boomed through the skies, and the Olympians flinched. The voice of the primordial Earth herself was rarely heard. The fact that she was speaking now meant only one thing—she was awake.
And she was in a very good mood.
A second later, the earth itself bloomed beneath Apollo, as a massive ethereal form took shape. Gaea, appearing as a beautiful yet ancient woman with eyes as deep as the forests, emerged. The sight of her alone should have been terrifying. Yet, instead of unleashing destruction, she was smiling.
At Apollo.
"Little sunbeam," she cooed, cupping his face with a massive hand made of earth itself. "Have they been treating you well?"
The Olympians all stared.
Apollo, still relaxed in the grass, let out a soft sigh. “Not really, Grandma.”
If the sky hadn't already been clear, Zeus’s horrified expression might’ve summoned a storm. “Apollo—”
"What?" Gaea’s warmth vanished in an instant, her voice turning dangerous. The ground trembled—not violently, but in warning. The trees shuddered, and even the winds carried an unnatural stillness.
Poseidon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Oh, we’re doomed.
Apollo, either blissfully unaware or completely indifferent to his family’s impending doom, stretched lazily. “I mean, you know how it is, Grandmother. Zeus gets all dramatic, Hera yells at me, Artemis calls me an idiot—”
“Because you are an idiot,” Artemis muttered, though she was very much not trying to get crushed by an angry primordial goddess.
Gaea frowned. “Have they not been cherishing you like they should?” Her gaze swept across the gathered Olympians, sharp and piercing. “My most radiant great-grandchild, the light of this world, neglected?”
Apollo shrugged. “Eh. I manage.”
The ground shook again. A wave of lush greenery spread out beneath him, further reinforcing the very obvious favoritism.
Aphrodite, ever the opportunist, smirked. “Ohhh, Apollo’s the favorite~”
Gaea turned to her, still cradling Apollo’s face. “Of course, he is.” She said this as though it was obvious. “Who else among you sings to the flowers? Who brings warmth to the earth so it may flourish? Who paints the sky with such beauty?”
Apollo preened. “Well, when you put it that way—”
“You’re spoiled, that’s what it is,” Ares grumbled, crossing his arms.
Gaea turned sharply toward him. The entire earth seemed to glare.
Ares paled and immediately looked away. “I mean—very well deserved favoritism, of course.”
“Good.” Gaea smiled and returned her attention to Apollo, gently brushing golden curls from his face. “My little star, you should visit me more often. You don’t need to stay here with them if they don’t treat you right.”
Zeus, who very much did not want to anger Gaea, quickly interjected, “We do treat him well.”
Apollo hummed, unconvinced.
Gaea wasn’t convinced either. “Perhaps I should keep him with me for a few centuries,” she mused. “Just to be sure.”
“No, no, that’s quite alright,” Zeus said, looking mildly panicked. “Apollo belongs here, on Olympus. He has… responsibilities.”
Apollo yawned. “Do I?”
“Apollo,” Artemis hissed. “Do not push this.”
He simply smiled. “Relax, Artemis. I’m just enjoying the moment.”
Gaea stroked his hair, her expression full of fondness. “Come visit me whenever you like, my dear. And if they ever upset you too much… just say the word.”
The Olympians collectively held their breath.
Apollo, the spoiled favorite great-grandchild of the primordial goddess of the Earth, merely grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, Grandma.”
And with that, Gaea faded back into the earth, leaving a very smug-looking Apollo behind.
The Olympians stood in stunned silence.
Hera rubbed her temples. “You would be her favorite.”
Apollo stretched, standing up from his bed of enchanted grass. “What can I say? I’m just naturally lovable.”
Zeus groaned, already sensing the headache this would bring. “Just—just don’t anger her.”
Apollo winked. “Only if you’re nice to me.”
The king of the gods paled.
And just like that, Apollo was now the most untouchable Olympian in history.
Chapter 71: Sunlight in the Underworld
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight in the Underworld
Hades had prepared everything. The trap was set, the arrangements made, and the moment had come to steal himself a bride—Persephone, the radiant daughter of Demeter. But then, in a twist of fate, his gaze landed elsewhere.
Apollo.
Golden, dazzling, warm Apollo. The god of the sun, music, healing—everything that stood opposite to Hades’ dark, silent kingdom. And yet, at that moment, Apollo was laughing, tossing his golden hair, completely unaware of the decision Hades was about to make.
Something in him shifted.
Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps it was a rare whim of his usually iron control. But at that moment, he made his choice.
He took Apollo instead.
---
When Apollo woke, he expected sunlight, birdsong, maybe the warmth of his chariot. Instead, he was wrapped in thick silken sheets, his body resting on something far too plush, surrounded by an eerie, yet oddly comforting, silence. The Underworld.
His golden brows furrowed. "Wait. This—this isn't Olympus. Oh. Oh no."
A deep voice rumbled from the darkness. "You're awake."
Apollo flinched, twisting toward the voice. Hades stood there, dark-robed, imposing, his gaze unreadable.
Apollo blinked at him, then looked around. "Wait… did I die?" He touched his chest. "I don’t think I died. I’m immortal, right? I didn’t—Hades, buddy, pal, did you kill me?"
Hades sighed. "You're not dead."
Apollo frowned. "Then… what am I doing here?"
Hades exhaled, a long, slow thing that spoke of regret and, yet, absolutely no intention of reversing his actions. "I… changed my mind. About Persephone."
Apollo’s mouth dropped open. "You were going to kidnap her but—" He pointed at himself. "—decided me instead?"
Hades did not deny it.
For a moment, Apollo was completely, utterly stunned. "Wow. I’ve never been second choice before. I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered."
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose. "You should be quiet."
Apollo grinned. "Aw, c’mon, Lord of the Dead, you like me, don’t you?"
Hades scowled but did not answer.
Apollo gasped dramatically. "Oh, you do! You big brooding shadow king, you like me!"
Hades sighed again, a man already exhausted. "You are insufferable."
"Yet here I am, in your bed, in your palace." Apollo winked, still utterly unbothered by his predicament. "That must mean something, right?"
Hades turned sharply, his robes swishing as he left the room. "Stay put."
Apollo giggled to himself. "Hades kidnapped me instead of Persephone—oh, Demeter’s gonna flip."
And, despite the cold, despite the darkness, Apollo found himself very entertained by his new situation.
Chapter 72: The Thunder’s Obsession
Chapter Text
Title: The Thunder’s Obsession
The halls of Olympus trembled as thunder growled in the distance, shaking the very foundations of the gods’ palace. The air was thick with static, charged with a tension that sent tremors through the golden pillars and marble floors. Somewhere beyond the clouds, lightning split the heavens, illuminating the throne room in violent bursts of white-hot fury.
Apollo stood in the center of it all, his golden hair gleaming under the eternal sunlight that graced Olympus. Yet, for once, that light did not feel like his own. The familiar warmth of his radiance was swallowed by the oppressive weight of the storm that loomed above. His usual carefree smile was absent, replaced by a cold, unreadable mask.
He had been summoned. He knew why.
Upon the throne of Olympus, Zeus watched him with the patience of a predator. Storm-grey eyes, ancient and unrelenting, bore into him, sharp as a blade honed by centuries of dominion. There was something in that gaze—something possessive, something insatiable.
"You called for me, Father?" Apollo asked, his voice smooth, controlled.
Zeus smirked, an expression that sent an unnatural chill through Apollo’s veins. "Must I have a reason to summon my own son?"
Apollo’s shoulders tensed, though he did not let it show. He had spent millennia perfecting the art of deception before Zeus. "Of course not," he said, measured, "but I assume there is something you wish to discuss?"
Zeus rose from his throne, descending the steps with the effortless grace of a being who had never known hesitation. The air around him crackled with power, the faint scent of ozone lacing his every movement.
"You’ve been spending too much time away from Olympus," Zeus mused, his voice deceptively soft. He reached out, tilting Apollo’s chin up with two fingers, forcing their gazes to lock. "Do you think you can simply ignore your place among the gods?"
Apollo clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to recoil. "I serve Olympus as I always have."
"Do you?" Zeus murmured, his thumb brushing along Apollo’s jawline, a touch that was neither tender nor cruel—only possessive. "You shine too brightly for others, my son. You give them your warmth, your light, your music. But you forget who made you shine in the first place."
A sharp current pulsed through the air, a silent warning.
Apollo’s fingers twitched at his sides, curling into fists. "I am my own god."
Zeus' smirk darkened. "Are you?"
Lightning flashed.
Before Apollo could react, a force like the sky itself closing in seized him—strong hands gripping his waist, pulling him flush against the storm god’s chest. The scent of ozone thickened, clinging to his skin like a second presence, inescapable.
"You belong to me, Apollo," Zeus whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "Always have. Always will."
Rage churned in Apollo’s chest, bright and blistering, but beneath it—buried in the deepest shadows of his defiance—was something far more dangerous.
And Zeus saw it.
He always did.
Chapter 73: The Best Kept Secret in Camp Half-Blood
Chapter Text
Title: The Best Kept Secret in Camp Half-Blood
Camp Half-Blood had many secrets, but none as well-kept as the quiet bond between Apollo and Dionysus. Officially, they were two gods assigned to the camp—one as the camp director, the other as a visiting healer and mentor to the Apollo cabin. Unofficially, however, they were brothers in every sense of the word, bound not just by ichor but by an unspoken understanding of what it meant to care for demigods who needed more than just training with celestial bronze.
And, of course, by their legendary secret sleepovers.
It started as a joke. One night, an exhausted Will Solace had wandered into the Big House, seeking advice on how to handle a particularly stubborn demigod’s injury. Apollo had been there, as he often was, and Dionysus—who pretended not to care—had begrudgingly contributed his own wisdom. Somehow, one conversation led to another, and the next thing they knew, they were gathered around the fireplace, recounting old myths, roasting marshmallows (without a fire hazard, of course), and listening to Will vent about the stresses of being Camp’s de facto medic.
Then, the younger campers started showing up.
First, the kids from Apollo’s cabin. Then a few Dionysus kids who never quite fit in anywhere else. Then a couple of Hermes kids who “accidentally” overheard Will mention it and showed up with sleeping bags. And, before anyone quite knew what was happening, Apollo and Dionysus were hosting what was essentially a divine, underground demigod support group.
There were hair-braiding sessions (Apollo was surprisingly good at it, much to everyone’s shock), impromptu concerts where he’d sing soft lullabies while strumming a lyre, and Dionysus showing an unexpected talent for painting tiny grapevines onto the kids’ nails during manicure nights. The Dionysus cabin, long thought to be aloof and disconnected, found themselves drawn into the warmth of these gatherings, their godly parent revealing a softer, more caring side they had never imagined.
They shared stories, not just the grand heroic myths but the smaller, lesser-known ones—like how Apollo once turned a mortal into a dolphin because he felt like it, or how Dionysus had once won a drinking contest against Ares by replacing his wine with grape juice at the last second. The children laughed, whispered, and for a while, forgot about the dangers waiting outside the camp’s magical borders.
It was a space where the children of gods could just… be. No war, no expectations, no prophecies looming overhead. Just warmth, laughter, and the knowledge that they weren’t alone. Even the campers who weren’t direct children of Apollo or Dionysus found solace in these nights—kids from Athena’s cabin who carried too much on their shoulders, Ares kids who needed a break from always being tough, even a few Hades campers who secretly enjoyed the company but refused to admit it aloud.
And somehow, for years, no one else found out.
Until, of course, they did.
The discovery happened in the most ridiculous way possible. Chiron had noticed an absurd amount of nail polish going missing from the arts and crafts cabin and had gone investigating. The campers had sworn secrecy, but it was hard to keep secrets when caught red-handed (or rather, grapevine-patterned-fingernailed).
The night the secret was revealed, the entire camp ended up gathered outside the Big House, staring in shock as Apollo, Dionysus, and half the demigods at camp sat comfortably in a circle, Apollo painting one of his kids’ nails golden while Dionysus filed another’s nails into neat squares. A plate of half-eaten ambrosia brownies sat in the middle, and someone—probably a Hermes kid—had smuggled in a celestial bronze karaoke microphone for impromptu performances.
“...Well,” Chiron sighed, rubbing his temples. “This explains the missing supplies.”
Zeus, when he inevitably found out, was utterly bewildered.
“Dionysus, I gave you this job to watch over the demigods, not start some kind of divine babysitting service!”
Dionysus, completely unbothered, merely took a sip of his Diet Coke. “And yet,” he said dryly, “they are all still alive. You’re welcome.”
Apollo just grinned, tossing an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Come on, Father. You can’t blame us for wanting to be the cool uncles.”
Even Artemis, upon hearing of the gatherings, had only raised an eyebrow before muttering, “At least they’re keeping the children entertained.” She never admitted it, but a few of her hunters had mysteriously started visiting Camp Half-Blood on the nights when the sleepovers took place.
And though Zeus never admitted it, he never put a stop to the sleepovers either.
Because, at the end of the day, Camp Half-Blood was safer and stronger for the love that had been nurtured in those quiet, secret moments. And maybe, just maybe, that was worth more than any rulebook.
Even if it did mean Dionysus was now in charge of a lot of nail polish.
Chapter 74: The Reaper and the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: The Reaper and the Sun
The wheat fields of Lydia swayed under the golden afternoon light, rippling like an endless ocean. Apollo had always loved this place—the scent of grain, the warmth of the earth beneath his feet, the way the sun embraced the land. But today, the fields were not his alone.
Lityerses stood at the edge of the field, sharpening his sickle with slow, deliberate strokes. The son of Midas was as he always had been—silent, imposing, dangerous.
Apollo approached with a grin, unbothered by the air of menace surrounding the demigod. "You really are dramatic, you know that?" he teased, plucking a stalk of wheat and twirling it between his fingers.
Lityerses barely spared him a glance. "And you never take anything seriously."
Apollo smirked. "Why would I? You always look serious enough for both of us."
The sickle stopped. Lityerses turned, green eyes sharp as a blade. "You shouldn’t be here, Sun God."
"Shouldn’t I?" Apollo stepped closer, his golden tunic shifting with the breeze. "I seem to remember a certain reaper calling out my name just last night."
Lityerses' jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Apollo chuckled, closing the distance between them. "Oh, come on. Don't act all brooding now. You weren’t exactly shy when you had me pinned to the—"
The sickle was at his throat before he could finish. The air between them crackled, a clash of summer heat and looming harvest.
"Say another word," Lityerses murmured, his voice low, "and see what happens."
Apollo merely tilted his head, pressing his throat just slightly against the blade. "You forget who I am, my little reaper."
Lityerses’ breath hitched.
Then, with an irritated huff, he lowered the sickle. "You’re insufferable."
Apollo beamed. "And yet, you keep letting me come back."
Lityerses sighed, defeated. "I must be insane."
"Or," Apollo whispered, leaning in, "you just like the way I make you burn."
The fields swayed once more, the sun hanging just a little lower in the sky.
Chapter 75: Apollo x Percy 🔥
Notes:
I'm running out of ideas for Teleconference so if I can't find an idea soon I'm gonna move on to my new current obsession (let's just say it's a priest in Naruto!)
Chapter Text
Apollo x Percy
In the quiet seclusion of Apollo's temple, the sun god's chambers are bathed in the golden light that only he can command. Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon, stealthily enters through a secret passage known only to them.
Apollo, lounging on his divine bed, looks up from his lyre with a warm smile. "Percy, my dearest. I was beginning to think you'd never arrive." He sets the instrument aside, his blue eyes sparkling with desire as he takes in the sight of his secret lover.
Percy grins, closing the hidden door behind him. "Apollo, you know I can never stay away for long." He slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. "No one suspects a thing, right?"
"Not a soul," Apollo murmurs, sitting up and reaching out to pull Percy into his arms. He nuzzles his face against Percy's chest, inhaling his scent deeply. "They'd never believe the sun god would be so smitten with the sea prince."
Apollo's hands slide up Percy's bare torso as he looks up at him with adoring eyes. "Though honestly, I'd shout it from Mount Olympus if I thought I could keep you." He captures Percy's lips in a passionate kiss, his legs parting to pull Percy between them.
Percy deepens the kiss, his hands roaming down Apollo's sides possessively. He breaks away only to whisper, "You'd cause a divine war if they found out." He chuckles, his fingers hooking in Apollo's waistband. "But who cares?"
"Not us," Apollo agrees, his voice husky. He lifts his hips, allowing Percy to tug his pants down. Apollo's golden skin glows in the soft light as Percy pushes him back onto the bed, climbing atop him like a possessive cat.
Apollo's hands slide up Percy's strong thighs as he looks up at him with lust-filled eyes. "Only you see me like this... soft and needy." He spreads his legs wider, wrapping them around Percy's waist. "Only you get to touch the sun god like this."
Percy's smirk turns into a hungry grin, his gaze filled with love and desire. "And I touch you like a god," he replies, his large hand reaching down to grasp Apollo's hardness gently. he begins to jerk him slowly, making Apollo's breath hitch, his hips twitching.
"Percy..." Apollo hisses through his teeth, his back arching off the bed. "You always know exactly how to make me feel worshipped..." He pants, his golden hair fanning out around his head like a halo. "Percy, please... more..."
Percy chuckles, his thumb brushing over Apollo's tip, spreading the precome. He leans down, capturing Apollo's lips in a deep kiss as he strokes him faster. His other hand reaches between his own legs, freeing himself from his pants to stroke himself in sync with Apollo's rhythm.
Apollo arches into Percy's touch, panting with wanton need. "Fuck, that feels incredible," Apollo gasps, biting his lip as Percy jacks them both faster. The slapping sounds of their cocks fill the chamber, mingling with the erotic symphony of their groans.
Percy's eyes are locked on Apollo's flushed face, his own breath coming in ragged pants. He can feel Apollo's body tensing, his movements becoming more erratic as he approaches the edge. "Come for me, Apollo," Percy commands, his voice low and husky.
At Percy's words, Apollo's body convulses with pleasure, his release spilling over Percy's hand as he cries out Percy's name. The sight of Apollo unraveling beneath him sends Percy over the edge as well, his own orgasm ripping through him as he paints Apollo's stomach with his come.
Just as Apollo lies sated and panting beneath Percy, suddenly the chamber doors burst open. Three teenagers - Will, Kayla, and Austin - stand frozen in the doorway, jaws dropping open in shock and realization.
"DAD!" Austin shouts, his face turning red with embarrassment and anger. Kayla covers her eyes, peeking through her fingers. Will just stands there, mouth agape, taking in the scene of his father spread out beneath Percy, both men still half-naked and sticky with release.
Apollo's eyes widen in mortification, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "Kids! Get out!" he yells, scrambling to cover himself with the sheets. Percy quickly pulls up his pants, trying to look as presentable as possible while still protecting Apollo's modesty.
"Ew, Dad! Gross!" Kayla exclaims, her face screwed up in disgust. "We came to show you our new project, not... not this!" She gestures wildly at the bed, before turning and fleeing the room, Austin and Will hot on her heels.
Apollo buries his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. "Fuck, Percy... They saw everything." He peeks out between his fingers, glancing at Percy with a mix of horror and amusement. "My kids just walked in on their dad getting jerked off by the hero of Olympus."
Percy chuckles, trying to suppress his laughter. He watches Apollo closely, making sure his amusement isn't offensive. "Do you think they'll be scarred for life?" He grins mischievously.
Apollo groans again, dropping his hands from his face. "Percy, this isn't funny. They're going to have therapy bills for sure." He pauses, then starts laughing softly despite himself. "Gods, the look on Austin's face... I'm never going to live this down."
Percy's grin widens as he sees the corner of Apollo's mouth quirk up in a smile. He leans over, kissing Apollo gently. "Well, they'll know their dad has good taste in men at least," he murmurs teasingly.
Apollo rolls his eyes, but can't help laughing at Percy's cheekiness. "Oh, hush. I'm supposed to be the dignified god of the sun, not the slutty dad who gets caught with his trousers down."
"Too late," Percy says, winking. "They saw you spread out like a buffet while I jacked you off." He laughs louder when Apollo throws a pillow at him. "Seriously though, do you think they'll be okay? Kids can be cruel." He sober up slightly.
Apollo sighs dramatically, still flushed from embarrassment but amused by Percy's teasing. "As if we could just continue after that interruption," he scoffs, but there's a playful glint in his eye. "Though gods know I could use another round to take my mind off my children's traumatized stares."
Percy grins mischievously and pulls Apollo back into his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist possessively. "Well, let's give them something else to traumatize them,"
Apollo laughs loudly, throwing his head back. "You're disgusting," he mumbles, but spreads his legs wider around Percy's thighs, grinding down on his growing erection. "Gods, what if they walk in again?" He moans softly as Percy kisses his neck.
"Then let 'em watch," Percy growls, his hands gripping Apollo's backside and pulling him down harder onto his lap. "Then they'll know their dad is not only getting some action he deserves, but also fucking their favorite hero." He bites down gently on Apollo's earlobe.
Apollo gasps at Percy's words and actions, his body responding eagerly. "Fuck, Percy... They might actually hate you more than ever," he pants out, his hips moving restlessly in Percy's lap. "But I don't care, just keep talking like that."
Percy chuckles darkly, his hands squeezing Apollo's ass cheeks as he starts to rock him up and down on his hard length through their pants. "They'll probably think I'm corrupting their pure, innocent dad," he whispers against Apollo's lips. "Making him do dirty things..."
Apollo's breath hitches and his eyes roll back slightly at Percy's filthy words and actions. "Gods, yes... You're corrupting me so good, Percy," he whimpers, his fingers digging into Percy's shoulders. "Make me your dirty little secret, your slutty sun god..."
Percy growls approvingly, squeezing Apollo's ass harder as he thrusts up against him with increasing urgency. "That's right, my slutty sun god," he rasps, biting at Apollo's neck greedily. "Gonna fuck this golden god till he's dripping with cum and begging for more..."
Apollo's nails scratching at Percy's back as he loses himself in the moment, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck, Percy... Fuck, fuck, fuck... I'm so fucking close," he whines, his movements becoming more desperate and erratic.
Percy chuckles wickedly at Apollo's desperate whining, holding him firmly in place as he teases him mercilessly. "Want something, slutty sun god?" he purrs, nibbling on Apollo's lower lip. "Why don't you beg for it properly then?"
"Percy, please," Apollo gasps out, his voice trembling with need. "Just shut up and put your fucking dick inside me already, please! I need it so bad!" He's almost sobbing with desperation, grinding down on Percy's lap like a madman.
Percy throws his head back in laughter, immensely pleased by Apollo's desperate begging. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he grins, swiftly undoing his pants and pulling out his hard cock with a few strokes. "Get these gorgeous legs up, slutty god,"
Apollo quickly complies, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Percy's waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Hurry up, you asshole," he pants, positioning himself to take Percy's cock. "I need it now."
"Such a pretty little whore," Percy teases, his voice rough with desire as he grabs Apollo's hips and pulls him down onto his lap, his thick, hard dick sliding into the golden god's hole with a single, swift thrust. "Fuck, you're so tight."
Apollo cries out sharply as Percy's cock fills him completely, his back arching off Percy's chest. "Fuck, Percy!" he gasps, his fingers clawing desperately at Percy's shoulders. "Gods, I needed that so fucking badly..." He starts rolling his hips, riding Percy energetically.
Percy grips Apollo's hips tightly, his fingers digging into the golden god's flesh as he begins to thrust up into him in steady, powerful movements, his breath coming out in sharp pants. "I bet your precious kids haven't seen you like this," he snorts arrogantly.
Apollo throws his head back, a mix of pleasure and defiance in his eyes. "No, they haven't," he pants, his hips moving faster. "They've never seen their dad like this—so fucking desperate for a cock." He grinds down harder on Percy's length, moaning loudly.
Percy groans deeply, his hips bucking up to meet Apollo's movements. "Fuck, that's hot," he growls. "The great sun god reduced to a cock-hungry slut for my dick." He slaps Apollo's ass hard, leaving a red mark on the golden skin.
"That's right, you fucking asshole," Apollo hisses, the sting on his ass only making him more frantic as he rides Percy faster. "I'm their revered dad, their hero, but when it comes to your dick, I'm nothing but a filthy fucking whore!"
Percy groans deeply, completely intoxicated by Apollo's filthy words, and grabs a handful of Apollo's golden hair, yanking his head back roughly. "Who knew the pure sun god would slut himself out so perfectly for a demigod like me?" he snarls, fucking into him harder.
Apollo's eyes roll back as Percy hits his prostate perfectly, his mouth falling open in a silent scream. "Only... only for you, you bastard," he manages to choke out between moans. "Only your cock can make me act like this... like a fucking whore."
"Damn right," Percy growls possessively, his hands sliding down to spread Apollo's cheeks wider apart as he pounds into him. "You act like such a back-alley whore when you get my dick inside you. Where's the respected god now?" He slaps Apollo's ass again.
Apollo's breath hitches, his body trembling with each powerful thrust. "Gone," he whimpers, his voice barely recognizable. "When I'm on your cock, I'm just a slutty bitch in heat." He grinds down harder, meeting Percy's thrusts with equal fervor.
Percy's eyes roll back in pure ecstasy at the feeling of Apollo's hot, tight hole gripping him so perfectly. "Fuck, you're gonna make me cum," he pants heavily, his movements becoming more erratic. "Gonna fill this whore of a god up with my seed."
Apollo's eyes widen at the thought, his body shuddering with intense pleasure. "Do it," he begs, his voice hoarse with need. "Fill me up, you bastard. Make me your little fucktoy."
With a loud groan, Percy lets go, his hot cum shooting deep into Apollo's hole. "Fuck, yes!" he growls, his fingers digging into Apollo's hips as he continues to fuck into him, forcing every last drop of his hot semen inside the golden god.
Chapter 76: The Sun Needs Sleep
Notes:
So I got snapchat—if anybody wants to friend me on there on username is Sukunomo but it'll pop up with Mara at the top.
Also do please comment that you friend requested me with your username on Snapchat so I don't deny it thinking it's a random person!
(Pls somebody add me I have no friends 😭😭😭)
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun Needs Sleep
Camp Half-Blood was used to chaos. Monster attacks, training mishaps, and Hermes cabin pranks were part of the daily routine. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared the campers for what happened when Apollo was sleep-deprived.
It started subtly. The ever-radiant god of the sun, music, and prophecies had shown up to camp looking... off. His golden hair was unkempt, his toga was slightly askew, and there were dark circles under his usually bright eyes. Even his usual strut had turned into a sluggish shuffle.
“Uh, Dad? Are you okay?” Will Solace had hesitantly asked.
Apollo had merely squinted at him, mumbled something about ‘visions’ and ‘stupid mortal nonsense,’ and waved him off. That should have been the first warning sign.
The second was when Chiron asked Apollo to oversee some archery training. Normally, Apollo would be thrilled to show off his perfect aim, probably while writing a haiku about it. Instead, he groaned and snapped, “They’re my kids; they should already know how to shoot straight. Why do I have to teach them?”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the Ares cabin, who thrived on confrontation, looked alarmed.
Things only got worse from there. He nearly incinerated a Hermes camper who tripped and spilled their lunch on him, muttering something about ‘pathetic mortal coordination.’ He glared at a group of Aphrodite campers just for giggling near him. He told Dionysus to ‘shut up’ during dinner, which made the god of wine nearly spit out his Diet Coke.
By the time Apollo snapped at Nico di Angelo for ‘brooding too loudly,’ Will knew something had to be done before his father turned the camp into a smoldering pile of ash and bad poetry.
“We need to make him sleep,” Will declared, gathering his siblings.
“How?” Kayla whispered. “He’s a god. We can’t just tell him to take a nap.”
“I have an idea,” Austin said. “It’s risky, but it might work.”
One very strategically placed ambrosia-laced cup of chamomile tea later, Apollo finally slumped over in a lounge chair, snoring softly. The entire camp exhaled in relief.
When he woke up eight hours later, looking refreshed and actually glowing, he had no memory of the previous day’s outbursts.
“You all look tense,” Apollo mused. “What happened?”
Will simply patted his shoulder. “Nothing, Dad. Nothing at all.”
Camp Half-Blood agreed never to speak of The Day Apollo Snapped again.
Chapter 77: The Sun and the Beast
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun and the Beast
Apollo scowled as he stomped through the massive, dimly lit halls of the enchanted castle. The candelabras flickered as if whispering to one another, and the shadows stretched long under the eerie glow of the moon. Everything about this place annoyed him—no music, no warmth, and worst of all, no mirrors. He was certain the enchantment had removed them on purpose, probably to spite him.
"Apollo," a deep, growling voice rumbled from behind him.
Apollo turned dramatically, golden curls bouncing, hands on his hips. "What now, Beast? Have you come to throw another tantrum?"
The Beast—Hades, God of the Underworld, cursed into a monstrous form—sighed heavily. His massive frame, covered in dark fur, barely fit through the doorway as he stepped closer. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. "If you’re going to wander, at least stay out of the West Wing."
Apollo rolled his eyes. "Oh, the mysterious West Wing. What will happen if I go? Will I uncover all your tragic secrets? Will I find out why you sulk so much?" He fluttered his lashes dramatically. "Tell me, dear Beast, did some cruel god curse you because you refused their advances?"
Hades bared his fangs in a slight smirk. "You assume too much."
"And you talk too little," Apollo huffed. He turned, golden tunic swishing, and began walking away. "You should try lightening up! Maybe let me open a few windows, put on some music—"
"No."
Apollo groaned loudly. "This is the worst imprisonment ever. I swear, I have been locked in Tartarus, and even that was more entertaining."
Hades watched him go, amusement flickering in his gaze. "And yet," he murmured, more to himself than anyone, "you haven't tried to leave."
Apollo paused just for a moment. Then, with an exaggerated flip of his hair, he continued walking.
"Because I have a hero complex," he muttered under his breath, "and a soft spot for beasts with sad eyes."
Title: The Sun and the Beast – Part 2
Apollo lay sprawled across a luxurious velvet chaise lounge, dramatically sighing for the twelfth time in the past five minutes. His golden tunic was slightly askew, his curls tumbled perfectly over one shoulder, and he looked every bit the tragic, suffering figure he believed himself to be.
"Would it kill you to at least redecorate?" Apollo whined, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "This place is so dark and brooding. What are you, a tragic poet?"
Hades, seated nearby in an ancient armchair large enough to accommodate his cursed form, let out a slow exhale. "You complain too much."
Apollo shot up, glaring. "You kidnapped me—sorry, invited me—to stay here, and you expect me to just accept the doom and gloom? I am a god of light, poetry, music! If I stay in this dreary, cold place for too long, I’ll wither! And what will you do then, huh? Keep my lifeless, beautiful body in a glass case and mourn me forever?"
Hades blinked. "...No."
Apollo gasped, clutching his chest. "You hesitated!"
Hades stood abruptly, his clawed feet clicking against the stone floor. "Enough. You do nothing but complain."
Apollo pouted. "Well, obviously. I don’t do well with boredom." He flopped dramatically again. "And you are boring."
Hades growled lowly. "I have been patient, Apollo, but there are limits."
"Ooooh," Apollo teased, twirling a lock of golden hair, "did I hit a nerve? Are you going to lock me in the dungeon? Chain me up in some tragic show of dominance?" He smirked. "I’d be lying if I said I haven't been in that situation before."
Hades rubbed his temple, muttering something about infuriating sun gods.
Apollo sat up again, swinging his legs over the side of the lounge. "Come on, admit it. You enjoy this."
Hades gave him an unimpressed look.
"You could've let me go," Apollo continued, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Zeus would’ve given you another guest—probably some poor, unfortunate nymph who wouldn’t sass you half as much as I do. But you didn’t. You chose me."
Hades went still.
Apollo leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "Why?"
For a long moment, Hades said nothing. Then, finally, in a low, almost grudging voice, he said, "Because you're the only one who wouldn’t be afraid."
Apollo’s teasing expression faltered.
The tension in the room shifted—just slightly. The air felt heavier, filled with something unsaid. Hades looked at him then, really looked at him, and Apollo suddenly felt the weight of it.
"...Well," Apollo finally said, softer now, "that’s incredibly tragic."
Hades huffed a short laugh. "Says the god who thrives on tragedy."
Apollo smirked again, but this time, it was more thoughtful.
"Touché."
For once, the castle was quiet.
Title: The Sun and the Beast – Part 3
Apollo was bored.
Not just regular bored. Devastatingly, agonizingly, soul-crushingly bored.
For the past week, he had been stuck in Hades’ castle—his prison, his prison-palace, if you will—and despite all his beauty, wit, and undeniable charm, nothing interesting had happened.
Hades, in all his grumpy, brooding glory, had mostly ignored him, retreating into his shadows and duties like some kind of gothic novel love interest. The servants were shades, which meant they weren’t good for conversation or fawning over his divine magnificence. The Underworld had no sun, so there was no chance for his usual sunbathing. And worst of all—
"No music," Apollo whispered dramatically, lying sprawled across the floor of the great hall. "No lyre. No songs. No poetry readings where I make people weep with my talent. What is this life?"
"You're acting like you're dying."
Apollo rolled onto his side and squinted up at Hades, who stood over him with an unimpressed look.
"I am dying," Apollo declared. "Of boredom."
Hades sighed deeply, like he was regretting every decision that led to this moment. "Get up."
"No."
"Apollo."
Apollo squinted at him. "What’s in it for me?"
Hades looked like he was debating whether he had the patience to entertain this argument. Then, after a moment, he said, "I have a library."
Apollo sat up instantly. "What?"
"A library," Hades repeated.
Apollo was on his feet in half a second. "Why didn’t you say so earlier?! Take me to it at once!"
Hades turned, leading him down one of the many dimly lit hallways. "I was hoping you'd stop whining first."
"You wish you didn’t have to hear my voice," Apollo retorted, practically bouncing after him. "Admit it, the castle would be too quiet without me."
Hades muttered something under his breath that Apollo chose to believe was a reluctant agreement.
Then they arrived.
The doors to the library were massive, carved with scenes from ancient history, from mortal lives and deaths to the stories of the gods. But Apollo barely spared the doors a glance, because the moment they swung open—
"By the Muses," Apollo breathed.
It was beautiful.
Shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, filled with books, scrolls, and texts so old they practically hummed with power. The room itself was warm, filled with the faint scent of parchment and ink, and a massive domed ceiling let in an ethereal silver glow, as if reflecting a hidden night sky.
Apollo turned to Hades, eyes wide. "You had this the whole time?"
Hades smirked. "I don't hoard riches like my brothers, but knowledge? That’s worth keeping."
Apollo stared at him for a long moment, then turned back to the library, placing a hand over his heart. "Hades, I take back every mean thing I’ve ever said about you."
"You won’t."
Apollo grinned. "You’re right, I won’t. But I am impressed." He strolled inside, fingers trailing over bookshelves. "Now the real question is, how are you planning to entertain me while I read? You could read me poetry, or better yet, play a game. Ooh, we should play—"
Hades groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is why no one lets you stay in one place for too long."
Apollo just smiled sweetly. "Oh, darling. You kidnapped me. You have to deal with the consequences."
Hades sighed again, already regretting every decision ever made.
Chapter 78: You Can Keep Him
Notes:
I'm in my Hyacinthus, Apollo arc rn
Chapter Text
Title: You Can Keep Him
Zephyrus had always been a little possessive when it came to Hyacinthus. He had spent years trying to woo the Spartan prince, only for Apollo to swoop in with his golden hair, radiant smile, and annoyingly divine everything to steal Hyacinthus' heart.
So, naturally, Zephyrus did what any bitter, love-struck wind god would do—he cornered Apollo in a secluded grove, arms crossed, scowl firmly in place.
"Break up with Hyacinthus," Zephyrus demanded. "He's mine."
Apollo, lounging against a tree with a lyre in his lap, blinked at him slowly. He looked... exhausted. His usually flawless golden skin had faint marks along his throat—definitely not battle scars—and his laurel wreath was crooked, like someone had been tugging on his hair all night.
"Honey," Apollo sighed, rubbing his temples, "I can barely walk from last night. If I even try to break up with him, he will tie me to the bed and not let me leave."
Zephyrus recoiled. "What."
Apollo gestured vaguely at his own disheveled state. "Like, I thought I was getting a Hestia—sweet, kind, warm. But in truth, I got a fucking Kronos." He shuddered. "Last night was terrifying."
Zephyrus opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared at Apollo like he was slowly processing horrors beyond comprehension.
"Never mind," Zephyrus finally muttered, turning on his heel. "You keep him. I don't want him."
Apollo nodded solemnly. "Good call."
Title: You Can Keep Him (Part 2)
Zephyrus was trying—really trying—not to think about the horrors Apollo had accidentally revealed. But the images wouldn’t leave him alone.
Hyacinthus, the sweet, charming prince, who had once giggled and blushed at his compliments, was actually... a nightmare? The kind of lover that left a literal god limping? That had Apollo—the most shameless, lovestruck deity in existence—afraid?
Zephyrus felt sick.
He had spent so long pining for Hyacinthus, plotting ways to steal him away from Apollo, cursing the sun god’s name every time Hyacinthus laughed at one of his stupid, golden jokes—and now?
Now he was rethinking everything.
"Are you still here?" Apollo asked, lazily stretching out his sore limbs. "Because if you are, I could use some ice packs. Or, I dunno, divine intervention—something to keep me from going back to him looking like this."
Zephyrus swallowed, eyeing the faint marks on Apollo’s neck and the very obvious bite on his shoulder. He shuddered. "You’re on your own."
Apollo let out a dramatic groan, falling back onto the grass. "Well, that’s just great. My options are: get devoured again or break up with him and risk being tied to my own bed for the next eternity."
Zephyrus backed away slowly. "I don’t need to hear this. I don’t need to hear this."
"Hey, wait," Apollo called after him. "If you’re giving up on him, does that mean I win?"
Zephyrus shot him a disgusted look. "This isn’t a win, Apollo."
Apollo smirked. "Feels like a win."
Zephyrus stormed off, muttering curses under his breath.
Apollo sighed, watching him go. Then, after a long pause, he muttered to himself:
"...I should really invest in restraints for him this time."
Title: You Can Keep Him (Part 3)
Apollo sat on his golden chaise lounge, draping himself across it dramatically as he nursed a goblet of nectar. He was still sore. Painfully sore.
And worst of all?
He missed Hyacinthus.
"You’re pathetic," Artemis deadpanned, standing over him with her arms crossed. "You’re literally a god. Why are you acting like some lovesick mortal?"
Apollo groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "Because I am lovesick! And possibly suffering from mild kidnapping-related trauma! Do you know how embarrassing it is to be stolen from your own palace by your own lover?!"
Artemis blinked. "...Hyacinthus kidnapped you?"
Apollo let out a strangled noise. "He calls it ‘persuasive romantic gestures.’ I call it a blatant disregard for personal freedom!"
Artemis pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is what you get for choosing mortals over divine beings. At least if you dated someone immortal, you’d have some leverage."
Apollo scoffed. "Oh, please. If Hyacinthus were a god, we’d all be doomed. He’d probably challenge Zeus for the throne, win, and then force me to sit on his lap during every single council meeting."
Artemis made a face. "Gross."
"Exactly!" Apollo threw up his hands. "Do you see my problem now?"
Before Artemis could reply, a shadow loomed over them.
Apollo went rigid.
He knew that shadow.
Slowly, he turned his head—and there stood Hyacinthus, smiling.
The kind of smile that made Zeus hesitate before throwing a lightning bolt. The kind of smile that sent Ares into fight-or-flight mode. The kind of smile that Artemis—a literal goddess of the hunt—recognized as something predatory.
"Hyacinthus," Apollo said, voice cracking. "Hi. What are you doing here?"
Hyacinthus reached down, grabbed Apollo’s wrist, and pulled him up. "Taking you home, obviously."
Apollo let out a very undignified yelp. "B-but I just got here—!"
Hyacinthus arched an eyebrow. "You were sulking."
"I was reflecting," Apollo corrected, trying and failing to free himself.
Hyacinthus simply tugged him closer, expression unreadable. "On how long you can last without me?"
Apollo gulped. "I—uh—n-no?"
Hyacinthus hummed. "Liar." Then, with a final nod to Artemis, he turned and carried Apollo away.
Artemis watched them go, expression caught between mild horror and morbid amusement.
Then, from the distance, she heard:
"ZEUS, HELP ME!"
And then:
"I CHANGED MY MIND—DON’T HELP, DON’T HELP!"
Artemis sighed. "...He’s on his own."
Title: You Can Keep Him (Part 4)
Apollo was back in Hyacinthus’ palace. Again.
And, once again, he was stuck.
This time, it wasn’t ropes or chains. No, Hyacinthus had upgraded.
Apollo sat on a plush bed, wrapped in a thick, luxurious blanket, his arms pinned to his sides. He struggled for a few seconds before flopping back onto the pillows with a groan.
"This," he muttered to himself, "is actually worse than being tied up."
The door creaked open.
Apollo looked up to see Hyacinthus entering the room, carrying a tray of food like he hadn’t just kidnapped Apollo for the third time this month.
"Let me go," Apollo said flatly.
Hyacinthus placed the tray on the bedside table, then leaned over Apollo, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "No."
Apollo let out a very put-upon sigh. "Hyacinthus, this is ridiculous. I am a god! I have responsibilities! Worshippers! An entire Oracle who depends on me!"
Hyacinthus simply lifted a spoonful of honeyed figs and pressed it to Apollo’s lips.
Apollo clamped his mouth shut.
Hyacinthus tilted his head, giving Apollo a look. "You know how this goes, love."
Apollo glared at him.
Hyacinthus smiled.
Apollo gave in.
He ate the figs.
Hyacinthus hummed in satisfaction and placed the tray in Apollo’s lap, keeping the blankets snug around him. Then he sat at the edge of the bed, arms crossed. "So. Tell me, how long were you planning to avoid me?"
Apollo, still chewing, made a vague noise of protest.
Hyacinthus leaned closer. "Because, from what I heard, you were moping in Olympus like a widow, and I distinctly remember saying that if you have any problems, you talk to me."
Apollo swallowed, looking away. "I wasn’t moping."
"You definitely were," Hyacinthus deadpanned.
Apollo pouted. "I just...needed space."
Hyacinthus’ expression softened, just a little. "You want space? Fine." He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to Apollo’s jaw, then his cheek, then his temple. "But you don’t run from me. Understood?"
Apollo’s heart did a very annoying fluttery thing.
He sighed. "...Fine."
Hyacinthus smiled against his skin. "Good."
Apollo pursed his lips. "...Can you at least let me move?"
Hyacinthus chuckled, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling back. "Not a chance, love."
Apollo groaned and flopped back against the pillows. "I hate you."
Hyacinthus smirked. "No, you don’t."
Apollo huffed. "Unfortunately."
Title: You Can Keep Him (Part 5)
The Olympians were worried.
This was not a common occurrence.
Sure, they had their moments—when some monster threatened Olympus, when Zeus threw a tantrum, when Dionysus decided to “experiment” with divine wine again—but this?
This was a whole new level of concern.
Because Apollo was missing.
And not in the usual "I got distracted by my own beauty and forgot to show up to the council meeting" way.
No, this time, it had been weeks.
Hermes was pacing, rubbing his temples. “I mean, sure, Apollo disappears all the time, but usually, he’s just off getting into someone’s bed, not—this.”
Artemis had her arms crossed, scowling. “Something is wrong.”
Zeus looked mildly interested, but not particularly worried. “He’s probably sulking somewhere. He does that.”
Hades raised an eyebrow. “Even I haven’t seen him, and I have half his past lovers in my Underworld complaining about it.”
That was concerning.
Even Hera, who normally had very little patience for Apollo’s dramatics, was frowning slightly. “Has anyone tried to track him?”
Hermes sighed. “I did. His essence is very much present in Sparta, but every time I try to actually find him, something physically stops me. It’s like the universe itself is slapping me away.”
Artemis’ frown deepened. “Sparta?”
Hermes nodded.
Silence.
Then, from the corner of the room, Ares—who had been strangely quiet this entire time—let out a deep, suffering sigh and muttered, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
All heads turned toward him.
Ares pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sparta. That means Hyacinthus.”
The realization hit hard.
Hera immediately looked disgusted. “Oh, not this again.”
Zeus groaned, running a hand down his face. “Why is he like this?”
Hermes blinked. “Wait, wait, wait—you’re telling me Apollo has been kidnapped by his own lover?”
Ares crossed his arms. “That does seem to be the pattern, doesn’t it?”
Artemis looked downright offended. “I told him that mortal was trouble!”
Poseidon tilted his head. “To be fair, Hyacinthus does treat him like a god-king.”
Hades let out a dry chuckle. “That’s because he worships him.”
“And locks him in a palace.” Athena pointed out.
“Details,” Poseidon waved a hand dismissively.
Artemis slammed a fist on the table. “I’m going to Sparta.”
Hermes raised both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold on! Maybe we should think before we charge in.”
Hera scoffed. “Why? Apollo clearly doesn’t mind it. He always goes back.”
“He’s been missing for weeks!” Artemis snapped.
“He’s probably being pampered,” Ares muttered. “Hyacinthus spoils him more than we do.”
Artemis looked outraged at that idea.
Hades simply smirked. “You could barge in, but you’d have to get past Sparta’s defenses. And considering how deeply Hyacinthus worships Apollo, good luck with that.”
Hermes whistled low. “Yeah, no offense, but I like my limbs attached.”
Zeus sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. Let’s wait and see if he returns on his own.”
Artemis scowled but didn’t argue.
Meanwhile, in Sparta—
Apollo sighed dramatically as Hyacinthus fed him another grape.
“You do know they’re probably planning to storm the palace, right?” Apollo said.
Hyacinthus smirked. “Let them try.”
Apollo groaned. “I hate how much I like you.”
Hyacinthus simply kissed his cheek. “I know.”
Chapter 79: The Favorite
Chapter Text
Title: The Favorite
Hyacinthus was dead.
That part, he understood.
One moment, he had been gazing into Apollo’s golden eyes, basking in his love and warmth. The next? Darkness. Cold. And now—
Now, he was here.
The Underworld.
Before him stood a group of people, all wearing various expressions of boredom, mild irritation, or outright exasperation.
Hyacinthus frowned. “…Who are you?”
One of them, a woman with leaves still tangled in her hair, crossed her arms. “I’m Daphne.”
A warrior-looking woman in furs snorted. “Cyrene.”
A regal-looking young man leaned against a pillar. “Ion.”
“Ourea.”
“Ivadne.”
“Cassandra.”
“Thyrie.”
“Rhoeo.”
“Coronis.”
“Dryope.”
Hyacinthus stared at them. The names were familiar.
And then it hit him.
“…Wait,” he said slowly, looking over the group again. “You’re all—?”
“Yep,” Daphne interrupted.
“Apollo’s lovers,” Cyrene confirmed.
Hyacinthus blinked. “…Oh.”
Daphne sighed, rubbing her temples. “Alright, kid, let’s get one thing straight—”
“You aren’t special,” Coronis said flatly.
Hyacinthus frowned. “That’s not—”
“You think you are,” Cassandra drawled. “They all do at first.”
“But he loved me,” Hyacinthus argued.
Ion rolled his eyes. “He loves everyone.”
“Yeah, but—”
Daphne waved a hand. “Look, we’ve been through this before. You died, you meet us, you get over yourself, and then you move on.”
Hyacinthus scowled. “That’s not—”
Then, a sound cut through the air.
It was faint at first, echoing through the Underworld like a distant storm. But it grew louder. More agonized.
Sobbing.
Wailing.
Heart-wrenching, ugly crying.
Hyacinthus turned, eyes widening.
Apollo knelt before his body, golden tears streaming down his face, shaking so violently that even his radiant glow seemed dimmed. His fingers trembled as they stroked Hyacinthus’ cold cheek, his voice cracking as he whispered desperate, incoherent words.
“Hyacinthus, my love—my beautiful, bright, perfect flower—please, please, come back—”
Hyacinthus’ heart ached.
Daphne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Coronis groaned. “Here we go again.”
Ivadne crossed her arms. “I don’t remember him crying like that for me.”
Cassandra scoffed. “I predicted he’d do this, and yet I still feel annoyed.”
Rhoeo wrinkled her nose. “Is he shaking?”
Dryope deadpanned, “He’s a mess.”
Hyacinthus turned back to them, utterly bewildered. “He… He didn’t do this for you?”
They all glared at him.
“No, Hyacinthus,” Daphne said dryly. “He did not.”
Hyacinthus blinked. Then, very slowly, a smirk crept onto his face.
“Well,” he said smugly, crossing his arms. “Looks like I was special after all.”
Daphne groaned. “Oh, fuck off.”
Title: The Favorite, Part 2
Hyacinthus had always known he was beautiful.
It was simply a fact of life—like the sky being blue, the sun being warm, or Apollo being his.
But this?
Watching Apollo, the golden god of the sun, break down completely over him? Wailing, sobbing, clutching at his body like a desperate widow—
It was doing things to him.
Daphne groaned. “Oh, gods, not this again.”
Hyacinthus barely heard her. He was too busy watching.
Apollo looked wrecked.
His golden curls were a mess, his lyre lay forgotten in the dirt, and his hands—normally so steady—shook as they traced over Hyacinthus’ lifeless face.
“My love, my heart, my light—” Apollo wept, pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his lips— “Why did you leave me? Why? I should have protected you, I should have stopped it—”
Hyacinthus felt a shiver go down his spine.
Oh. Oh.
He’d always known Apollo loved him, but this?
This was obsession.
Desperate, worshiping, all-consuming devotion.
And Hyacinthus was thriving.
“Gods,” he murmured, crossing his arms as he smirked. “He really is in pieces, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ion muttered. “Congratulations. You’ve got a god groveling at your corpse. So impressive.”
Hyacinthus turned to them, smug. “Jealous?”
Daphne scoffed. “Hardly.”
Cyrene gave him a look. “You’re turned on right now, aren’t you?”
Hyacinthus grinned.
Cassandra gagged. “Oh my gods.”
Hyacinthus shrugged. “What? Can you blame me?” He gestured at Apollo, who was currently clutching his body and whispering poetry like a madman. “That’s a man who needs me. Worships me.”
“Oh, we can tell,” Ivadne muttered.
Dryope rolled her eyes. “It’s pathetic.”
“I think it’s hot,” Hyacinthus said breezily.
Daphne groaned, rubbing her temples. “I hate you.”
Hyacinthus smirked. “You’re just mad because he didn’t cry like that for you.”
Daphne glared. “You’re insufferable.”
“And his favorite.”
The others groaned.
Meanwhile, Apollo let out another gut-wrenching sob, his golden tears staining the ground, his body shaking like he was falling apart.
Hyacinthus watched, biting his lip.
Gods. He almost wished he wasn’t dead.
He’d love to see what Apollo would do to keep him from leaving again.
Chapter 80: "The Mist Is Down, And So Are the Mortals"
Notes:
I spent like an hour working on this— 😭
Chapter Text
Title: "The Mist Is Down, And So Are the Mortals"
It had been a quiet morning at Camp Half-Blood. The sun was shining, the campers were training, and the gods had mostly kept to their usual antics. But no one expected what happened next.
One moment, everything was normal. The Mist was up, keeping mortals blissfully unaware of the divine world around them. The next, Hecate decided to take a vacation. And, as it turned out, when the goddess of magic was away... the Mist went with her.
It started innocently enough—mortals in New York City began looking up at the sky and noticing the gods.
Zeus had been enjoying a nice thunderstorm in Central Park when he realized that the mortals weren’t screaming and running for cover anymore. No, they were just... staring. And pointing. And some of them were even taking pictures.
"Hera, dear," Zeus said, glancing around as a group of tourists in Times Square marveled at his sky. "I think we have a problem."
Hera, sitting in a café nearby, sighed. “I swear, if anyone starts asking about my 'mysterious' marriage to you again, I’m going to throw them into Tartarus.”
Meanwhile, back at Camp Half-Blood, the demigods and Olympians were getting the news through an emergency divine message from Hermes.
“The Mist is down. Mortals know. Don’t freak out—too much.”
It was clear from the freak-out level that they were, in fact, freaking out a lot.
"Apollo," Percy Jackson said, looking at the god who was literally lounging in the middle of the camp, playing with a sunbeam as if nothing was wrong. "The Mist is down. People... they know we exist. The gods. The monsters. All of it."
Apollo, who had been enjoying the quiet, put his lyre down with a happy sigh. "Hmm? Oh, that's nice! Lala~" He smiled brightly, as if it was any other day, and then winked dramatically at a passing group of demigods. "Look at this perfect golden boy, huh?"
"Are you serious right now?" Annabeth groaned, clutching her head. "Mortals are going to see us, and you—" She pointed at Apollo "—are going to just make it worse."
But Apollo wasn’t paying attention. In fact, he was already turning the situation to his advantage. By the time the news hit that the gods were real, Apollo had already charmed a few world leaders into not only acknowledging his existence but into falling head over heels for him.
On a diplomatic call with a European prime minister, Apollo smiled. "So, darling, how are we feeling about an international alliance? You know, maybe we can spend some more... time together. I promise, I don't bite unless you want me to."
"Uhh, y-yes, of course!" The prime minister stammered, his face flushed.
Meanwhile, Hades was trying to get ahold of his son, who was busy sneaking around the camp trying to avoid the mortals' now-very-public stares. He spotted a group of teenagers pointing excitedly at him and waved awkwardly.
"Why does this feel like the first day of high school all over again?" Nico groaned. "What do they think we are, zoo animals?"
But the real chaos was unfolding when the Olympians, still in their divine forms, started to mingle among the mortals. Poseidon, who had been feeling a little too bold after a long absence, appeared in a surfer's outfit and proceeded to give impromptu ocean lessons in the middle of a subway station.
"Catch the wave, kid!" Poseidon yelled at a confused but enthusiastic mortal, shoving his trident into the air as if he were a reality TV show host.
"No one is ever going to take us seriously again," A random demigod muttered, her arms crossed as she watched her father, Hephaestus, attempt to explain the concept of a "robot" to a very perplexed tech entrepreneur.
But back to Apollo. He was really leaning into this. The moment he realized the mortals had access to the gods, he began appearing everywhere. Random people were finding themselves with crushes on him—world leaders, CEOs, celebrities—and he didn’t mind at all. He was a golden god, after all.
"Hello, darling," Apollo would say, draping an arm around the shoulders of an important ambassador. "Tell me, how do you feel about the sun?"
"I-I feel... enlightened?" the ambassador stammered, completely under Apollo's spell.
Meanwhile, the camp was in full panic mode.
"How are we going to keep our privacy if the world knows about us?" Percy asked, frantically pacing around.
"Why not just embrace it?" Apollo said brightly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I mean, really, what's the worst that could happen? Maybe I'll get a nice statue in the middle of Rome."
"Yeah, with an inscription that says 'World's Hottest God,'" Annabeth muttered under her breath.
Just as the situation seemed to be spiraling out of control, Hermes appeared out of nowhere, grinning ear to ear. "Good news, folks!" he said. "Since the Mist's down, we're officially out of the closet! No more pretending to be your random distant cousins at family gatherings. You’re all gods, baby."
The demigods froze, glancing around at the now-very-visible gods. Apollo, of course, was still grinning like a sunbeam. “See? Told you it would be fun!”
Percy sighed, resting his face in his hands. "This is a disaster."
"More like an opportunity," Apollo countered, still casually tossing around golden sunlight like confetti. “We can start a new cult. I'll be the head priest. Who wants to join?”
But then, just as the world began to process the reality of the gods' existence, something unexpected happened. The mortals, far from rioting, seemed... fascinated. Instead of running screaming into the streets, they began taking selfies with the Olympians. Some asked for autographs. Others offered them free food.
And in the midst of the madness, a certain world leader found himself deep in conversation with Apollo, asking more about his "ideas" on a new international treaty. As Apollo talked about alliances, he had already secured yet another admirer. A brief kiss on the cheek sealed the deal.
"You're impossible," Annabeth said, shaking her head at him.
Apollo just winked. "Lala~ you say impossible, I say inevitable."
And with that, Camp Half-Blood, the gods, and the mortals would never be the same again.
Title: "YouTubers Asking Apollo to Be in Their Videos: Part 2"
The world was still reeling from the Mist being gone, and in the chaos of mortals discovering the gods existed, Apollo had become a superstar. Not that he wasn’t already, but now, instead of just poets and artists dedicating odes to him, he had YouTubers camping outside Olympus, begging for collaborations.
And Apollo? Oh, he was thriving.
1. The Vlog Squad’s ‘24 Hours with a Literal God’ Challenge
Some of the biggest YouTubers had decided that if the gods were real, then obviously, Apollo was the first one they needed in their videos. So, when a group of vloggers managed to contact Hermes (through cash bribes and a very convincing promise of clout), they got Apollo to agree to a 24-hour challenge.
"Alright, guys, today we're spending an entire day with Apollo, the actual sun god," the vlogger announced, panning the camera to Apollo, who was dramatically adjusting his sunglasses.
"I am so excited to be here," Apollo said, flashing the camera his perfect, literally divine smile. "I brought my own lighting, so you won’t need those ring lights, darling."
The vlogger laughed, clearly already charmed. "So, what do you do all day?"
"Spread light, heal people, look absolutely radiant—oh! And sometimes I start wars by accident."
The YouTube comments were unhinged.
→ "Is no one gonna talk about how Apollo casually admitted to starting wars???"
→ "Bro, he’s literally glowing. How is that fair?"
→ "That smile could start another Trojan War."
The vlogger tried to get Apollo to do a ‘normal’ influencer routine—morning skincare, trendy coffee runs, etc.—but every single thing Apollo did was divinely extra.
Apollo’s morning routine? Bathing in sunlight while a literal chorus of nymphs sang his praises.
Coffee run? He summoned a golden chariot and caused a traffic jam.
Chill afternoon? He "accidentally" set a paparazzi’s camera on fire because he "didn’t like the angle."
2. Beauty Gurus Fighting to Do His Makeup
The entire beauty community was in shambles. The moment they saw Apollo’s flawless, glowing, golden skin, every major beauty influencer was fighting for a collab.
"Today, I’m doing the Sun God’s makeup!" one guru announced, her voice shaking with excitement. "Apollo, tell me, how do you keep your skin so perfect?"
Apollo leaned in, giving the camera his signature Godly Smolder™. "Darling, my skin is kissed by the sun itself. I am the skincare routine."
The internet lost its mind.
→ "This man just said ‘I am the skincare routine’ and I believe him."
→ "Imagine being so powerful you don’t even need moisturizer."
→ "Can Apollo drop his own skincare line???"
When the beauty guru actually tried to apply foundation, she realized something horrifying.
The brush didn’t work. The foundation didn’t blend.
Her voice trembled. "Uh… the makeup won’t stick to your skin."
Apollo laughed, flipping his golden curls. "Of course not. My beauty is eternal."
The beauty community cried.
3. Conspiracy YouTubers Analyzing Him
Meanwhile, every single conspiracy YouTuber was frothing at the mouth. Their videos had millions of views.
→ "Is Apollo Secretly Controlling World Leaders? (EVIDENCE)"
→ "Apollo's Powers EXPLAINED – Scientists Are TERRIFIED"
→ "I Spoke to a Real Demigod and WHAT THEY SAID Will Shock You"
One YouTuber did a three-hour deep dive into Apollo’s mysterious charm.
"Guys, I did the research, and literally every world leader who has met Apollo has suddenly started making pro-Apollo policies. Look at this compilation of presidents blushing when he talks to them."
The video cut to seven different world leaders getting visibly flustered when Apollo smiled at them.
The YouTuber slammed the desk. "WHAT IS HE PLANNING?!"
Spoiler: Apollo wasn’t planning anything. He was just hot.
4. The Music Industry Trying to Sign Him
With Apollo suddenly being the most famous person on the planet, music executives were scrambling to sign him to their labels.
Sony Music CEO: "If we sign Apollo, we will own the industry."
Universal Music CEO: "Are you kidding? If we sign him, we’ll control reality."
Every Record Label: fighting for their lives
Meanwhile, Apollo was casually going viral for singing in a random video.
→ "WHO IS THIS MAN AND WHY DOES HIS VOICE SOUND LIKE HEAVEN?"
→ "I heard this and my crops flourished."
→ "My acne is gone. My soul is cleansed. My credit score just went up."
When an interviewer finally asked Apollo if he’d sign with a label, Apollo just laughed.
"Darling, I don’t need a contract," he said, adjusting his golden laurel crown. "Music is already mine."
5. The Livestream That Broke the Internet
Then came the livestream.
Apollo, lounging on a golden couch, decided to go live on every platform at once.
He answered fan questions. He complimented random viewers. He winked at the camera exactly once, and the app servers nearly crashed.
Every YouTube, Twitch, and TikTok chat was a war zone.
→ "APOLLO JUST CALLED ME ‘DARLING’ IM GONNA PASS OUT"
→ "He literally just hummed and my heart stopped HELP"
→ "BRO THE SUN GOD JUST SAID MY NAME I AM ASCENDING"
At the peak of the stream, half the internet was simping. The other half was panicking that Apollo was "too powerful."
Meanwhile, Apollo just kept smiling. "Lala~ This has been fun!"
And with that, he ended the stream, leaving the entire mortal world in chaos.
The Aftermath
The other Olympians were absolutely losing it.
Zeus was trying (and failing) to stop Apollo’s influence. "You’re not supposed to be this famous!"
Dionysus just popped some popcorn and enjoyed the show. "This is the best thing to happen in centuries."
Meanwhile, Apollo? He was just vibing.
"Lala~! Being a modern celebrity is so easy!"
And the world?
Well, the world was forever changed.
Because Apollo wasn’t just a god anymore.
He was an influencer.
And nothing—not even Zeus himself—could stop him now.
Title: "Apollo Goes on Dates + North Korea Wants Him (Part 3)"
By this point, Apollo was the most wanted man on Earth.
Not in a criminal way—no, no, no. The world had simply lost its mind over him. Presidents, celebrities, billionaires, and even dictators wanted a piece of the Golden Boy of Olympus.
And Apollo?
He was having the time of his immortal life.
Date #1: The Pop Star Who Fainted
His first official date since his rise to world fame was with a globally famous pop star. She had practically begged for a date, and Apollo, being the generous god he was, had agreed.
They went to an exclusive rooftop restaurant, where Apollo—literally glowing under the city lights—casually played with his golden goblet of nectar.
The pop star, meanwhile, was struggling to breathe.
"Uh—so, Apollo," she stammered, red-faced, trying not to pass out. "Tell me about yourself?"
Apollo flashed his perfect, devastating smile. "Oh, darling, where to begin? I’ve been alive for millennia, created music itself, and have a fanbase that spans both gods and mortals. But enough about me—what do you do?"
The pop star’s eye twitched.
She was the biggest pop star in the world. And yet, sitting across from the Apollo, she suddenly felt like a local talent show reject.
She opened her mouth to respond—
And then fainted face-first into her steak.
Apollo blinked. "Oopsie. Another one down."
Date #2: The Billionaire Who Proposed Immediately
The second date was with a tech billionaire. The guy had spent millions just to get Apollo to agree to a dinner.
They met at a luxurious private island, where Apollo—lounging in a golden chair—listened as the billionaire nervously rambled.
"So, uh, Apollo, buddy—have you ever considered settling down?"
Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Settling down?"
The billionaire gulped. "Yes. Like, maybe… marrying a mortal?"
Apollo laughed, his sun-kissed curls bouncing. "Oh, sweetie. You wouldn’t survive marriage with me."
The billionaire, already sweating, suddenly pulled out a $50 million engagement ring. "I’ll try!!"
Apollo, sipping his divine nectar, just politely declined and continued basking in his own radiance.
Date #3: The Secret Agent Spy Disaster
For his third date, Apollo was set up with a mysterious, beautiful woman.
She was supposedly just a normal, high-profile model—but Apollo immediately sensed something was off.
"You’re a spy, aren’t you?" Apollo said casually as he sipped his drink.
The woman froze. "...What?"
Apollo grinned. "Darling, please. I can see through deception. You’re definitely a spy sent by some mortal government to seduce me and gain my favor."
The spy nervously laughed. "That’s ridiculous! What country would do that?"
Meanwhile, in the hidden earpiece she was wearing:
"Abort mission. ABORT. HE KNOWS."
North Korea Declares Apollo ‘Supreme Beauty of the World’
And then—because the world wasn’t insane enough yet—the news dropped.
NORTH KOREA WANTS APOLLO.
A leaked document revealed that Kim Jung-un had officially declared Apollo ‘the most divine being ever to exist’ and had personally offered him a position as North Korea’s Eternal Sun Emperor.
The entire world collectively lost it.
→ "BRO, NORTH KOREA IS TRYING TO KIDNAP APOLLO??"
→ "Kim really woke up one day and chose SIMPERY."
→ "Imagine Apollo actually accepting and turning North Korea into a paradise??"
During an emergency press conference, reporters bombarded Apollo with questions.
"Apollo! What are your thoughts on North Korea's offer?!"
Apollo, lounging on his golden throne, just laughed.
"Lala~ It’s flattering, really, but no mortal nation can ever hope to ‘own’ me."
The world sighed in relief.
Meanwhile, Kim Jong-un was fuming.
But what could he do?
You don’t threaten the literal god of the sun.
The Aftermath: The World Can’t Handle Apollo
At this point, every country was losing its mind. World leaders were arguing over who got to host Apollo’s next visit.
Governments were desperately trying to create policies for or against divine intervention.
And through it all, Apollo?
He was just vibing.
"Lala~ Mortals are so dramatic," he said, flipping his golden hair.
Meanwhile, Zeus, watching the chaos unfold, just buried his face in his hands. "This is why we kept the Mist up."
But it was too late.
Because Apollo was too powerful, too beautiful, too famous.
And now?
The world belonged to him.
Title: “Apollo Accidentally Starts a Religion (Part 4)”
At this point, Apollo was unstoppable.
He had already driven the world insane with his beauty. He had already made pop stars faint, billionaires propose, spies self-destruct, and North Korea publicly declare him their “Eternal Sun Emperor.”
And yet—somehow, things got worse.
It Started with a Cult
Nobody knew exactly when it began, but one day, Apollo woke up to find that his fanbase had evolved into something… more.
What was once a simple "Apollo Fan Club" had morphed into an officially recognized global religion.
They called themselves “The Church of the Golden Light.”
They had temples. They had prayer circles. They had official holidays dedicated to appreciating Apollo’s jawline.
And their holy greeting?
“Lala~”
The Olympians React
Naturally, when the gods found out, Olympus exploded into chaos.
Zeus, upon reading a mortal newspaper that stated “Apollo is the True Divine Leader! Join the Light Today!,” nearly had a stroke.
"HE’S. WHAT?!"
Hera sighed. "He’s got a religion now, dear."
"WE ALREADY HAVE RELIGIONS!"
"Yes," Hermes said, holding back laughter, "but this one is specifically dedicated to how hot Apollo is."
Zeus threw a lightning bolt at the sky in frustration.
Meanwhile, Hestia, sipping tea, just shrugged. "At least the mortals are worshipping again."
Poseidon, who had also picked up a newspaper, raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Should I start one too?"
Zeus turned on him. "NO, YOU SHOULD NOT—"
The Mortal World Descends into Madness
The moment Apollo's religion became official, entire governments panicked.
→ Should they recognize the Church of the Golden Light?
→ Should they outlaw it?
→ Would Apollo even care either way?!
Spoiler: He did not.
While mortals were screaming over how to handle the literal god of the sun now being the face of a major world religion, Apollo was…
Well.
He was posing for religious paintings.
“Make sure to capture my left profile,” he told a mortal artist. “It’s my divine angle.”
Meanwhile, a group of devotees nearby collapsed from being in his presence for too long.
“B-Blessings be upon you, Lord Apollo,” they whispered before fainting.
Apollo just smiled. “Lala~”
The United Nations Holds an Emergency Meeting
Things escalated so much that the UN had to hold a global emergency summit specifically titled:
“What Do We Do About Apollo?”
World leaders from every country sat in a tense meeting room, sweating nervously.
“His religion is growing too powerful,” one leader whispered. “Some of my top generals joined it last night.”
“Half my Parliament converted!” another wailed. “They replaced the national anthem with a lyre solo!”
"We must STOP HIM!" a third leader shouted.
Silence.
Then, one official hesitantly asked:
"...How?"
The room fell into despair.
Because everyone knew.
You could not stop Apollo.
He was too beautiful.
Zeus Tries (and Fails) to Intervene
Desperate, Zeus himself descended from Olympus to confront Apollo.
"Apollo, this is OUT OF CONTROL!" Zeus bellowed, appearing in a flash of lightning. "You CANNOT have an entire world religion dedicated to yourself!"
Apollo, lounging on a golden throne made entirely out of donated gold and adoration, just tilted his head.
"Why not?" he asked, shimmering like the literal sun.
Zeus opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Squinted at Apollo’s perfect, radiant face.
"...Damn it."
Even he had to admit Apollo looked divine.
He turned away. "JUST—JUST DON’T START A WAR."
Apollo smirked. "No promises, Father~"
The World Accepts its Fate
After months of trying to fight it, mortals eventually gave in.
Apollo’s religion was too powerful. His influence was too great. His beauty was literally irresistible.
By the end of the year, most of the world had at least one Apollo shrine.
Olympus gave up.
Zeus gave up.
Even Hades, reading about it from the Underworld, just sighed and muttered, "Of course he did."
Meanwhile, Apollo?
He was having the time of his life.
Basking in his adoring followers, getting daily offerings of music and poetry, and having mortal rulers willingly fight over who got to build the biggest temple in his honor.
All while humming happily.
"Lala~"
Title: "Apollo Starts Marrying Random Mortals (Part 4)"
At this point, the world had fully embraced the chaos that was Apollo. The Golden God of the Sun had become an unstoppable force of beauty, charm, and mischief, and the Church of the Golden Light was now an institution around the globe. The world had, in essence, given up on trying to control him.
And Apollo? Well, he was having the time of his eternal life.
But he wanted more.
In typical Apollo fashion, he decided that mere worship wasn’t enough. The mortals needed something bigger, something grander—and of course, something about him needed to shine just a little more brightly.
Thus, he declared the "Weekly Husband Lottery."
The Announcement
One sunny morning, while on a live stream from the Big House (because why not?), Apollo smiled at his camera—radiating sunlight and charm.
"Lala~! So, I’ve been thinking," Apollo began, playing with his golden hair, "I, Apollo, God of the Sun, Music, and Beauty, have decided to select one mortal each week to be... my husband!"
The world paused.
His followers, who had once been content with praying to him, suddenly found themselves screaming in excitement.
"Wait—what?!"
"Did Apollo just say husband?"
"Does that mean I might be chosen?!"
Apollo, still beaming, continued, "Yes! You, too, could become my chosen one. World leaders, CEOs, YouTubers, pop stars, or even those of you in your humble homes—all are eligible to be married to me! Each week, I’ll choose someone new to be the shining beacon of my love."
The mortal world exploded in absolute chaos.
Week 1: The CEO Who Cried (and Got a Free Island)
For the first selection, Apollo chose a tech billionaire—a CEO of a rising global corporation. The man, let’s call him Gerald, had built an empire from the ground up, and his company was on the cutting edge of artificial intelligence.
Apollo, ever the drama king, summoned him to the Big House, where the CEO entered, looking far too nervous for a man worth billions.
"Apollo—your greatness—I am honored," Gerald stammered, his face flushed with excitement and absolute terror.
Apollo flashed a smile that could melt glaciers. "Gerald, you’ve done well in your mortal life. But you, my dear, have been chosen to be my husband for the week."
Gerald fainted.
When he woke up, he was lying in a sunlit bed, surrounded by golden pillows, his phone blown up with millions of notifications.
"Oh, and Gerald?" Apollo added with a wicked grin. "You get a private island as a wedding gift. Don’t thank me, it’s what I do."
Gerald was too stunned to respond.
By the end of the week, the CEO had literally declared Apollo his personal deity and made a global public statement about their "amazing and eternal love." The tech world, of course, went wild.
Week 2: The YouTuber Who Couldn't Handle the Glow
The next week, Apollo turned his gaze to social media, choosing a popular YouTuber—let’s call him Derek, who ran a channel dedicated to gaming, unboxing, and general chaos.
Derek’s fanbase was mostly made up of teenagers and young adults who adored his humor and wild antics. When Derek was picked for the weekly husband lottery, he practically collapsed in his studio.
"Apollo?!" he gasped, looking at his screen. "Like—THE Apollo? The Greek god? The one that’s literally, like, the embodiment of beauty??"
Apollo’s voice rang through his livestream. "Yes, yes, that would be me. You, Derek, are my husband for this week."
Derek, now too panicked to speak, could only nod.
Apollo appeared in his living room, glowing like the sun, and suddenly the YouTuber had a billion-dollar sponsorship and a limited-edition Apollo-themed gaming chair.
"I’m just here for the glow-up," Derek said to the camera, dazed. "What is my life even—"
His followers went wild. Derek’s video went viral.
And Apollo? He just kept smiling.
Week 3: The World Leader Who Proposed On the Spot
By Week 3, Apollo’s reach had extended beyond the internet. His next pick? A world leader—we’ll call him President Langston, the head of a small European nation known for its delicate diplomacy and financial influence.
Apollo invited him to dinner in a private heliport with the most expensive wines from Dionysus’ private collection.
President Langston walked in, visibly sweating. He had met plenty of dignitaries, but Apollo was, well… different.
"I—Apollo, I don’t know what to say," Langston stammered. "I never thought I’d be—chosen."
Apollo took a sip from his goblet, his golden eyes sparkling. "Oh, don’t worry. You’re my husband for the week."
The president immediately got down on one knee. "Apollo, will you marry me?"
"Lala~" Apollo said, twirling in the sunlight. "I suppose I will—until next week!"
By the end of the week, President Langston had married Apollo in an extravagant ceremony on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean, with a live-streamed broadcast watched by millions.
Apollo’s response? "I’m a bit too pretty for this to be real, huh?"
The World Struggles (and Cheers) in Vain
As the weeks went on, mortals simply couldn’t handle the fact that their gods—their literal gods—were now entering their lives in the most absurd ways.
→ The Pope sent a letter requesting Apollo to attend mass, but Apollo politely declined because, “Sorry, I don’t do big crowds of people, unless I’m the center of attention, darling.”
→ CEOs started fighting over who would be Apollo’s husband.
→ YouTubers turned every date with Apollo into a video series titled “Apollo’s Husband of the Week.”
The best part?
Apollo wasn’t even trying to stop it.
“Lala~”
Every time he announced a new husband, the world seemed to forget how completely ridiculous it was that a god was literally dating the entire mortal world.
Apollo, however, had one simple rule:
"Only mortals who can truly appreciate my beauty get a chance at this divine experience."
He winked. “Lala~”
Chapter 81: The Lightning Bolt and the Spoiled Sun God
Chapter Text
Title: The Lightning Bolt and the Spoiled Sun God
Apollo, the golden child of the gods, had everything handed to him on a silver platter. He was the sun god, adored by all, with the whole world revolving around him. But there was one thing that made Apollo even more insufferable—he had access to Zeus’s lightning bolt.
Yes, you heard that right. Zeus, despite his overbearing, power-hungry nature, allowed Apollo to use the lightning bolt whenever he wished. It was a privilege, one of the most powerful weapons in all of existence, and Zeus was happy to let his favorite son play with it. No one really knew why, except perhaps the fact that Apollo was Zeus’s pride and joy—his shining star, his sun god, his most beloved child.
But Apollo didn't use it for anything good.
No, he’d gotten far too comfortable with the power he wielded. Most of the time, he would use the lightning bolt for pranks, creating sparks and chaos for his amusement. He’d casually toss it to the side after his little stunts, as if the mightiest weapon in the world was just a toy to him. He’d zap a tree for fun or send a bolt through a mountain when he was bored, just to see how it would crack.
"You really think you can handle that kind of power?" Artemis would scold him from time to time, but Apollo would just flash her a cocky grin and say, "Oh, I'm just borrowing it for a little while. No harm done, right?"
Even Hera, when she learned of Apollo’s wild exploits with the lightning bolt, raised an eyebrow. "That is dangerous, Apollo."
But the golden god always brushed it off. He never thought there would be consequences. He never cared about consequences. His confidence was so overwhelming that he didn’t even consider the possibility of the bolt being lost, stolen, or taken from him.
That is, until one fateful day when everything changed.
---
It all started with a little skirmish in the mortal realm. A little battle between gods, Titans, and monsters—nothing new. Except that during the chaos, the lightning bolt mysteriously vanished. One moment it was in Zeus’s throne room, where Apollo had been flaunting it as usual, and the next, it was gone.
Zeus, enraged, searched every corner of the world for it. He stormed through the heavens and the mortal realms, sending his children and his forces out in every direction. But the bolt was nowhere to be found.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Zeus turned to Apollo, eyes wide with disbelief and fury.
“Apollo! Where is the lightning bolt?!” Zeus roared.
Apollo, lounging lazily on a cloud with his lyre in hand, looked up at his father. His face was still flushed from the adrenaline of his latest stunt—he had just used the bolt to turn a sea monster into a pretty shade of pink for fun.
“Me? Why are you asking me?” Apollo said with a shrug, clearly unbothered. “I haven't seen it. Maybe you left it at your place, Dad.”
Zeus’ anger only flared. “Do not lie to me, Apollo. It was in your care! You had it!”
Apollo blinked. “Oh, wait... I did give it a little zap earlier. I guess I... misplaced it?”
Zeus’s rage boiled over. He knew his son far too well, but the sheer arrogance of Apollo made him want to tear his hair out. Yet, no matter how much he shouted or glared, he couldn’t punish Apollo. After all, Apollo was his beloved child. The one who always had a smile on his face and never, ever seemed to take anything seriously.
Zeus's frustration grew. He had no choice but to send the demigod Percy Jackson on a quest to retrieve the lightning bolt. But as much as he loathed the idea, Zeus knew he couldn’t involve Apollo anymore.
---
As Percy Jackson embarked on his quest, unaware of Apollo’s true role in the disappearance of the bolt, Apollo watched from his cloud, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He knew where the lightning bolt was. In fact, it had never left his possession.
“Oh, look at Percy go,” Apollo mused to himself, his fingers strumming his lyre idly. “He thinks he’s the one who has to find the lightning bolt. But, little does he know…”
Apollo let out a soft chuckle, his golden eyes twinkling with mischief. He had never lost the lightning bolt. It was safe and sound in his room, resting on a pedestal, surrounded by other artifacts and treasures he had collected over the centuries. He had simply gotten tired of Zeus's obsession with the thing and had hidden it away for a little while, just to see what would happen.
“But it’ll be funny to watch Percy run around looking for it.” Apollo grinned to himself. “I mean, the kid’s got no idea, right? I might just let him think he found it, just for fun.”
---
Meanwhile, Percy Jackson was fighting his way through monsters, navigating dangerous landscapes, and meeting all kinds of odd creatures, all in the hopes of retrieving the lost lightning bolt. He had no idea that the one god he looked up to—Apollo—was behind the whole thing.
But Apollo wasn’t worried. He didn’t care if Percy succeeded or failed. He was, after all, the beloved son of Zeus. Nothing could touch him. If Percy retrieved the bolt, it wouldn’t matter. Apollo would just slip it back into Zeus's hands with a casual shrug, knowing Zeus would be too proud to stay angry for long.
After all, Apollo was Zeus’s favorite. And nothing, not even the disappearance of the most powerful weapon in existence, could take that away.
Chapter 82: "Professor Apollo: Hogwarts’ Newest (and Prettiest) Disaster"
Chapter Text
Title: "Professor Apollo: Hogwarts’ Newest (and Prettiest) Disaster"
Hogwarts had seen many Defense Against the Dark Arts professors come and go—some cursed, some incompetent, and others outright evil. But never before had they seen a professor quite like this.
When Headmistress McGonagall made the announcement that Hogwarts had a very special guest professor joining for the year, no one expected an actual Greek god to walk through the doors.
And yet, there he was.
Apollo.
Golden-haired, outrageously good-looking, and shining so brightly that Peeves started calling him “Professor Sunbutt” on day one.
---
Day 1: Absolute Chaos Ensues
“Alright, kiddos! Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts!” Apollo clapped his hands, and a literal burst of light illuminated the entire classroom. “Or as I like to call it, ‘How to Survive Dangerous Magic Without Becoming an Embarrassing Tragedy!’”
The students blinked.
“Um,” Hermione Granger hesitantly raised her hand. “Professor Apollo, are you really a—?”
“A god? Yep. A legend? Absolutely. The prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? Of course.” Apollo grinned. “But don’t worry, I’m also a fantastic teacher. Probably.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks. They had survived Umbridge, Lockhart, and Snape—surely a Greek god couldn’t be that bad.
They were wrong.
---
Lesson 1: "Dueling? Let’s Make It Interesting!"
Apollo clapped his hands. “Alright, partners! We’re gonna duel, but with a twist!”
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly every student’s wand turned into a musical instrument.
“What—WHAT IS THIS?!” Draco Malfoy stared in horror at his now golden violin.
Apollo smirked. “Dueling’s about rhythm, my dudes! If you can’t fight with music in your heart, how can you expect to fight at all?”
Neville, holding a guitar that was bigger than him, looked ready to cry.
“Oh, and the music’s magic,” Apollo added. “So you have to play your way through the duel! Have fun!”
What followed was the most ridiculous duel Hogwarts had ever seen—students struggling to play music while also defending themselves from magical song-induced attacks.
Flitwick walked by, took one look at the chaos, sighed, and walked away.
---
The Other Professors React
McGonagall: rubbing her temples “Why did I think this was a good idea?”
Snape: “I despise him.”
Hagrid: “He’s brilliant!”
Trelawney: “His aura is too bright! It’s ruining my inner eye!”
Dumbledore: quietly sipping tea while watching the madness unfold “Fascinating.”
---
Apollo Becomes Hogwarts’ Newest Heartthrob
If there was one universal truth, it was that Apollo was way too attractive for his own good.
It started small—students staring a little too long, a few blushes here and there. But by the second week, half the school was swooning.
→ Fifth-year girls (and some boys) writing poetry about him.
→ The entire Ravenclaw house creating a "Professor Apollo Fan Club."
→ Even some of the ghosts—including the Grey Lady—started floating by his classroom just to admire him.
“Apollo, you’re causing distractions,” McGonagall warned.
Apollo just shrugged, flipping his golden hair over his shoulder. “I can’t help it, Minnie. This level of beauty is a gift and a curse.”
McGonagall groaned.
---
The Golden Tragedy: Hogwarts vs. Percy Jackson’s Chaos
Apollo’s arrival at Hogwarts wasn’t exactly… secret. And that was a problem, because Percy Jackson & Co. somehow heard about it.
And they immediately came to see what was going on.
Which meant Greek demigods loose in Hogwarts.
→ Annabeth trying to explain to Hermione how bad an idea this was.
→ Ron challenging Percy to a duel (and getting soaked in water instantly).
→ Grover panicking at the moving staircases and nearly fainting when he saw the Forbidden Forest.
And, of course…
→ Nico di Angelo meeting Snape, looking him dead in the eye, and saying, "I like your aesthetic."
Snape blinked. For the first time ever, he was at a loss for words.
---
The Grand Finale: The Battle of the Gods vs. Wizards
Things were going okay (well, manageable) until the gods showed up.
→ Zeus deciding he should check on Apollo.
→ Poseidon coming to "support Percy" but mostly just trying to outshine Apollo.
→ Ares challenging the entire Slytherin house to a fistfight.
→ Hermes sneaking into Honeydukes and stealing everything.
→ Dionysus sitting in the Great Hall, judging wizards and drinking butterbeer like it was beneath him.
And then?
Hecate herself arrived.
She took one look at Apollo, facepalmed, and muttered, "I leave for five minutes and you start teaching wizards?! You weren’t even supposed to be here!"
Apollo just grinned. “Oops?”
She sighed. “I’m fixing this.”
With a snap of her fingers, everything returned to normal. The gods disappeared, the demigods were sent back to Camp Half-Blood, and Hogwarts returned to its usual, slightly less chaotic state.
Well.
Sort of.
Apollo was still there.
McGonagall groaned.
---
Epilogue: "The Prettiest Disaster"
Despite everything, Apollo actually stayed at Hogwarts for the full year. And surprisingly…
He was a good teacher.
Sure, he made students duel with music. Sure, he turned Malfoy’s hair gold for a week just because he "needed more flair." But he also protected them, taught them things no other wizard could, and reminded them that magic wasn’t just about power—it was about expression.
By the end of the year, even Snape begrudgingly admitted Apollo wasn’t entirely terrible.
(Though he’d never say it out loud.)
And as Apollo left at the year’s end, he winked at McGonagall and said, "If you ever need me again, you know where to find me."
McGonagall sighed. “Let’s hope it never comes to that.”
Of course, Apollo being Apollo, he left behind an enchanted portrait of himself in the Great Hall.
Because what was Hogwarts without a little divine beauty?
Chapter 83: "Apollo: The Universal Gay Awakening"
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo: The Universal Gay Awakening"
It started small.
A few extra lingering stares. A couple of mortal reporters getting too flustered when Apollo gave them a passing smile. A few demigods conveniently forgetting their crushes the moment they laid eyes on him.
And then? It escalated.
---
The Simping Epidemic
It turned out that Apollo’s beauty, charisma, and general golden radiance were too much for mere mortals, demigods, and even gods to handle.
It wasn’t just attraction. It was a full-on, unavoidable, universal first crush phenomenon.
— A random barista at Starbucks took one look at Apollo and forgot how to operate the cash register.
— A group of Roman demigods from Camp Jupiter immediately swore loyalty to him, despite already being in other cohorts.
— Hermes tripped over his own feet when Apollo smirked at him.
— Even Artemis had to take a moment to recalibrate when he flashed one of his signature grins.
Apollo, of course, didn’t notice.
His suffering children, however? Oh, they noticed.
---
The Apollo Cabin’s War Against the Simps
At first, they thought it was a joke.
Then the dowries started arriving.
→ Cows from a mortal king who declared Apollo his future son-in-law.
→ A kingdom offered up by a desperate monarch who just wanted Apollo to glance his way.
→ Even a minor god of pottery tried to win Apollo’s hand with an amphora that had his face painted on it.
The Apollo cabin had enough.
They formed a defensive squad (#ProtectiveApolloCabin2k25) and started rejecting marriage proposals en masse.
Will Solace personally set fire to an entire cart of love letters.
Kayla took to shooting down any doves delivering romantic poems.
Austin began interrupting every love confession with a very loud, very off-key trumpet solo.
They were at war.
---
Meanwhile, the Rest of the Demigods Were in Crisis
“Y’know, I was a lesbian,” Piper admitted one evening, staring into the campfire.
Will Solace, sitting beside her, raised an eyebrow. “Was?”
Piper sighed. “Yeah, well. Now I’m bi.”
Will frowned. “Oh? What happened?”
“I looked at your dad.”
Will choked on his drink. “YOU WHAT?!”
Piper shrugged. “It’s not my fault he’s Apollo.”
Will buried his face in his hands. “I need therapy.”
“You and literally everyone else in this camp.”
---
The Gods Start Acting Weird
It wasn’t just the mortals and demigods suffering.
The Olympians were getting weird about it too.
→ Aphrodite spent an entire council meeting sighing dramatically whenever Apollo spoke.
→ Hades, a married god, nearly walked into a pillar while distracted by Apollo flipping his hair.
→ Zeus was visibly sweating, which had never happened before in recorded history.
→ Even Hera, Queen of Olympus, took a suspiciously long time glaring at him.
The breaking point?
Ares challenged Apollo to a duel—not out of anger, but because he was “feeling something and needed to punch it away.”
Apollo, still clueless, agreed. “Sure, bro. But I don’t see how fighting me will help.”
Ares, through clenched teeth: “IT JUST WILL, OKAY?!”
---
The Ultimate Simp Reveal
Eventually, Chiron decided to intervene.
He gathered the entire camp and declared, “We need to address this Apollo situation.”
Apollo blinked. “What situation?”
Chiron stared at him. “You haven’t noticed?”
Apollo, beaming: “Noticed what?”
At that exact moment, a mortal news crew stormed into camp, LIVE BROADCASTING, and declared that Apollo had been voted the most attractive being to ever exist, surpassing even fictional characters.
They were immediately tackled by three Apollo kids who were DONE WITH THIS.
Chaos erupted.
Will screamed. Piper screamed. The entire camp screamed.
And Apollo?
Apollo just smiled, tossed his golden hair over his shoulder, and went, “Well, I am a god.”
The screams intensified.
---
Epilogue: No One Is Safe
At this point, it was too late.
Mortals, demigods, gods—even monsters—had fallen under Apollo’s unintended spell.
→ A manticore tried to flirt with him before getting incinerated by an angry Apollo kid.
→ A chimera simply lay down and let him pet it.
→ Even the Minotaur blushed.
The final straw was when Hera herself announced that Apollo might be a suitable consort if Zeus ever dropped dead.
The collective reaction from the Apollo cabin?
"ABSOLUTELY NOT."
Will Solace immediately started writing an official cease-and-desist letter addressed to the entire universe.
Kayla sharpened her bow.
Austin composed a musical warning about why no one should ever, under any circumstances, propose to their dad again.
Apollo?
Apollo just hummed a happy tune, still oblivious.
And the world continued to suffer.
Chapter 84: “Spartan Worship”
Chapter Text
Title: “Spartan Worship”
Or: That Time Apollo Accidentally Seduced an Entire Army (Again)
---
It was a perfectly normal day in Sparta. The sun was shining. The warriors were sparring. The priests were chanting. The king was yelling something about glory and honor. All as it should be.
And then Apollo arrived.
Descending in a shimmer of golden light, his radiant skin practically glowing with divine perfection, Apollo touched down in the palace courtyard wearing—
Absolutely nothing appropriate.
The tunic Hyacinthus had gifted him months ago—delicate, sheer, scandalously short—was barely hanging onto his hips. Thin gold chains crisscrossed his bare chest. Sunlight hit him like a spotlight. He looked like the literal embodiment of a scandalous dream.
Because he was.
---
The Knights
The elite Spartan knights, trained to fear nothing, fight everything, and feel absolutely no weakness, took one look at the sun god and immediately lost all composure.
Swords clattered to the ground.
One man dropped his helmet. Another walked directly into a marble pillar.
“Is that the sun?” someone whispered in awe.
“No,” someone else hissed. “That’s Prince Hyacinthus’s boyfriend.”
Cue immediate, synchronized blushing.
One of the knights fainted. Another dropped to his knees, swearing eternal loyalty.
---
Hyacinthus (Horny Edition)
Prince Hyacinthus, radiant in his own right, stood at the palace entrance and watched his divine lover descend like a golden fantasy sent from Olympus.
Then his eyes hit the outfit—his gift—and the way Apollo’s toned thighs peeked from the hem, the sun-kissed muscles, the way his hips swayed so sinfully when he walked—
Hyacinthus’ brain short-circuited.
“Apollo,” he breathed, half in reverence, half in heat.
“Hello, my sweet prince!” Apollo beamed, completely unaware of the absolute chaos his arrival had caused.
Hyacinthus met him halfway and cupped his divine face. “Do you want me to cause an international scandal?”
Apollo blinked, clueless. “What do you mean?”
“You’re wearing that in front of my men,” he said darkly, dragging Apollo toward the palace. “They looked like they were ready to propose to you on the spot.”
Apollo giggled. “But they’re sweet! One called me radiant.”
“He had a nosebleed, Apollo.”
“Oh. I thought that was part of a greeting ritual.”
Hyacinthus groaned.
---
The Gods (Watching Like a Reality Show)
Aphrodite: “I’m obsessed. He’s not even trying, and they’re melting.”
Hermes: choking on his drink “Is this legal? He looks like a sin wrapped in sunshine.”
Artemis: pinching the bridge of her nose “This is why I left him unsupervised for two seconds.”
Zeus: deep sigh “At least he’s not starting a new religion this time.”
Hades: “Give it five minutes.”
---
Meanwhile, Back in Sparta
Hyacinthus eventually got Apollo into the privacy of his chambers. The door slammed. Curtains were drawn. Chaos outside continued.
The knights stood around in complete silence for a good ten seconds before one muttered:
“…do you think if we train hard enough, we could impress him?”
Another nodded. “I would literally fight a hydra with my bare hands for a smile.”
From inside the palace came the sound of Apollo giggling—and Hyacinthus groaning in a tone that was definitely not pain.
And the Spartan knights realized something important that day:
They were all gay for the sun.
Title: “Spartan Training: Godly Clumsiness and Scandalous Positions”
Or: How Apollo Managed to Accidentally Seduce a Whole Army Again
---
The morning after Apollo’s exceedingly inappropriate entrance into Sparta, the knights gathered for training. What they hadn’t been expecting, however, was for Apollo to show up and—naturally—offer to train with them.
It had started innocently enough. Hyacinthus had attempted to teach his warriors about discipline, but the sun god had practically fallen into the courtyard in the most divine way possible.
---
Apollo’s Clumsy Training Lesson
“Alright, Apollo,” Hyacinthus said with a sigh, watching his lover bounce into the training area in a gloriously shiny, skin-tight tunic that did absolutely nothing to hide his godly physique. “Let’s just go through some basic drills. I don’t want you embarrassing yourself in front of my men.”
Apollo grinned like a mischievous cat. “But I do like embarrassing myself, sweet prince.”
The knights stared. A collective gasp echoed.
Hyacinthus rolled his eyes, already regretting this idea. “Just—just follow my lead,” he muttered, trying his best to ignore the rising tension.
Apollo, ever the eager puppy, nodded. “Got it! I’m so ready to be a knight of Sparta. Watch me, everyone!”
With that, he began—and within seconds, his foot caught on a training dummy's base.
“Ah!” Apollo yelped, arms flailing as he lost his balance.
He crashed forward—right into the chest of a very surprised knight—and in the process, his tunic rode up, exposing far more of his divine body than anyone could handle.
“Apollo!” Hyacinthus called out, trying to contain his sigh.
The knight in question, eyes wide, quickly scrambled to keep Apollo from tumbling to the ground. Unfortunately, this only resulted in a suspiciously close hold—Apollo's golden body pressed against the knight’s armor, and they both landed in an extremely compromising position.
The knight’s face turned crimson.
“I… I think I’m… I’m… fine?” Apollo blinked innocently, lying on the knight’s chest, his golden skin now even more exposed from his clumsy fall. He looked up at the knight with an innocent, unknowing smile that had everyone around them blushing furiously.
Hyacinthus tried not to laugh—he didn’t succeed.
---
The Knights React
“Well…” one knight cleared his throat, clearly trying to regain some composure. “I think I could die happy now.”
“You’re welcome,” Apollo chirped, sitting up and straightening his tunic—which still barely covered anything.
“Do you want me to help you train, or do you just want to—**” One knight stammered, his voice going several octaves higher than normal. “You know… supervise?”
Hyacinthus rolled his eyes. “Apollo! Focus!”
“Sorry! Sorry,” Apollo chuckled, standing and brushing off his tunic. “I’m just… I’m just so… energetic, I guess.” He grinned widely, letting his golden hair shine even brighter under the sun. “Let’s try that again!”
---
More Unintended Scandal
Training continued with all the grace and subtlety of a glittering, half-naked train wreck. Apollo attempted to block a strike, missed the timing, and ended up in yet another compromising position, his body pressed against a knight’s chest again—this time with his legs tangled around the knight’s waist.
Hyacinthus looked away, trying to stifle the growing laughter bubbling up from deep within him. “I don’t know why I thought this would work.”
“Relax, Hyacinthus,” Apollo said brightly, utterly oblivious, as he gracefully pushed himself off the knight, turning his attention to a different knight who was far too entranced by his godly form. “You’ve got a great army here. So many fit soldiers! You should be proud!”
“I—" Hyacinthus swallowed hard, his eyes darting between his warriors, who were now sweating buckets. "Yes, well, maybe we should do some basic drills, Apollo… without so much… distraction."
Apollo grinned and began doing jumping jacks, his golden body gleaming under the Spartan sun. “You guys are making me feel like a rock star!”
The knights stood, transfixed, each of them turning into simpering idiots, unable to look away. Even the usually stoic captain of the Spartan knights—who once claimed to have never experienced lust—was sweating and visibly squirming.
Apollo, still clueless, kept going. “If I were you guys, I’d be thanking the gods every day that you get to see this much beauty.” He spun around and struck a pose, flexing his biceps in the most casually seductive manner imaginable.
---
Hyacinthus Losing His Patience
Hyacinthus, visibly done with this circus, grabbed Apollo by the arm and dragged him away from the knights, who were now completely fallen apart. He pulled Apollo into the royal chambers, locking the door behind them.
Apollo grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “That was fun. Those guys are cute. They all want to worship me.”
“YOU think?” Hyacinthus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you jealous?” Apollo teased, stepping closer, his body practically glowing with the warmth of the sun.
“I am mortified, Apollo.” Hyacinthus leaned against a wall. “You nearly caused a scandal! They’re all hot for you now. You were literally the cause of multiple heart attacks out there.”
Apollo blinked innocently. “But I was just trying to teach them a thing or two about discipline. A little accidental body contact never hurt anyone, right?”
Hyacinthus sighed. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me.” Apollo grinned, leaning in. “And I love you.”
Before Hyacinthus could respond, Apollo kissed him deeply, and just like that, every knight in Sparta was guaranteed to dream of Apollo for the rest of their lives.
---
Back Outside (The Aftermath)
The knights were still recovering from the “training session.”
One knight, his face a shade of red that matched the Spartan armor, finally managed to form a sentence: “I think I need a cold bath.”
“Same,” another knight added, still staring off into space. “Does anyone know how to fight like Apollo?”
“No,” a third knight said, his eyes glued to the door where Apollo had disappeared, “but I think I’m willing to find out.”
Title: “Apollo’s Healing Method: A Kiss for Every Knight”
Or: Hyacinthus Tries to Maintain Control
---
After the not-so-accidental seduction of the Spartan knights, Apollo decided to “give back” in his own unique way. He had seen the bruises on the warriors’ bodies—some from the training, others from their intense (and apparently unavoidable) crush on him. And, naturally, Apollo had a solution.
The solution, of course, involved his divine healing powers, which were a mix of gentleness, warmth, and his absolutely irresistible charm.
---
Apollo’s Healing Method: The Kiss
Hyacinthus had finally gotten Apollo to agree to a quieter evening with him after the chaos of the morning. He was attempting, with every ounce of patience he had left, to stop the sun god from setting his 'healing method' into motion again.
“Are you really going to kiss all my knights?” Hyacinthus asked, raising an eyebrow.
Apollo, twirling his golden hair like he’d just been handed the greatest idea of his life, shrugged. “But, Hyacinthus, that’s how I was taught to heal.”
Hyacinthus stared at him, blinking slowly. “Apollo. You don’t kiss people to heal them. That’s... ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Apollo’s voice had an innocent lilt to it, a little too sweet for comfort. “It worked for me back in the day—why not now?”
“I swear you’ve made my knights more... desperate than they already were.”
Apollo’s grin grew. “I think I’ve actually made them stronger.”
---
The First Knight: Training Sessions Gone Wrong
The first knight to volunteer for the "healing" was, unsurprisingly, the one with the most intense crush on Apollo. He was a large, broad-shouldered man, with muscles so big they practically glowed in the Spartan sun.
“Um, my lord Apollo,” the knight began, nervously adjusting his armor. “I’ve got some, uh, bruises that need your... help.” He couldn’t stop staring at Apollo’s barely clothed form.
Apollo tilted his head. “Bruises, you say? Let me help you with that.” He walked over confidently, as if nothing could be more normal than offering his healing touch to a half-dazed knight.
“I think a kiss should do the trick,” Apollo announced with a grin.
The knight’s jaw dropped. “A... a kiss?”
“Of course,” Apollo replied sweetly. “I’m the god of healing, among other things, remember?” He leaned down, bringing his lips to the knight’s forehead. The kiss was soft, warm, and far more intimate than the knight could have ever imagined.
As the kiss lingered, the knight’s eyes fluttered closed. The warmth seemed to flood his body, making the ache of his training wounds fade into nothingness. But more than that, his heart—which had been racing from the sheer proximity to Apollo—stilled. It was as if the kiss was healing more than just physical wounds.
Apollo pulled back with a satisfied smile. “There. Good as new!”
The knight stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a single word escaped: “Wow.”
---
The Second Knight: A Different Approach
The second knight had, of course, seen the whole scene with the first knight. By now, all of Sparta was whispering about Apollo’s divine healing technique.
The second knight, smaller but still undeniably strong, was practically bouncing on his toes when he stepped forward. “Apollo! Please, heal me next!”
Apollo tilted his head. “Of course. Let’s see what’s wrong.”
“I’ve got some pain in my ribs from the sparring today... Can you—” The knight’s words faltered as he caught a glimpse of Apollo’s glowing skin and half-revealed body. He swallowed hard. “C-could you kiss it better?”
Apollo raised an eyebrow, the glint of mischief lighting up his eyes. “Oh, but of course!” Without hesitation, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the knight’s ribs—right where the bruise was located.
The knight gasped as a flood of warmth surged through his chest, making the ache vanish instantly. But the real surprise came when Apollo didn’t stop after the kiss was over. Instead, he cupped the knight’s face with both hands and gave him a second, lingering kiss on the lips.
The knight’s eyes went wide, and his face turned bright red. “I—I’m healed! Completely!” he stammered, barely able to form a coherent sentence.
“Good,” Apollo said, smiling brightly. “I’m glad. If you need anything else, I’m just a kiss away!”
The knight stood frozen in shock, his face burning as he stumbled backward.
---
Hyacinthus’ Disbelief
By the time Apollo had finished healing the entire Spartan army, Hyacinthus was standing at the edge of the training grounds, his arms crossed tightly. He watched Apollo with wide eyes as the god went from knight to knight, bestowing his healing kisses without an ounce of shame.
“I told you this was a terrible idea,” Hyacinthus muttered to himself. “Look at them. They’re all infatuated. You’ve turned them into complete fools.”
Apollo, as usual, was blissfully unaware of the chaos he was causing. He came over to Hyacinthus, a satisfied grin on his face. “So, Hyacinthus, I’ve healed them all. They’re good as new. And they’ll never forget it. Mission accomplished!”
“Mission?” Hyacinthus threw his hands up in exasperation. “Apollo! You’ve kissed my knights—every one of them! In front of me!”
Apollo’s grin only grew wider. “But Hyacinthus, that was how I was taught to heal! It’s just the way of the gods!”
Hyacinthus’ face turned red with frustration. “You’re impossible! You’ve created a cult of Apollo right here in Sparta, and I am not going to be part of this!”
Apollo leaned in, cupping Hyacinthus' face gently, his voice teasing. “Oh, Hyacinthus, don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.”
Before Hyacinthus could argue, Apollo kissed him softly, pulling away only when Hyacinthus’ legs were about to give way.
“See?” Apollo smiled, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m a wonderful healer. The best.”
Hyacinthus sighed, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to get used to this, aren’t I?”
Apollo just grinned, leaning against Hyacinthus with a knowing look. “Yup. And by the way, your knights are all now my biggest fans.”
Chapter 85: Golden Doesn’t Mean Unbreakable
Chapter Text
Title: Golden Doesn’t Mean Unbreakable
The room fell silent the moment Apollo stepped into the throne room.
Not because of his usual flamboyance, nor the glow that often followed the god of the sun and music. No, this silence was different.
He looked dimmer.
Not physically — the sun still rose and shone because of him. But there was something hollow in his laugh. Something muted in his smile.
Artemis noticed it first. She always did.
“Brother,” she said softly, stepping off her silver throne. “Where have you been?”
Apollo blinked at her, too slowly. “With Commodus. You know that.”
The mention of that name made several gods stiffen — none more so than Hera, who had always prided herself in knowing what was happening among her kin.
Zeus narrowed his eyes. “You were meant to check on the Delphi Oracle days ago.”
“I got… delayed,” Apollo said, and he forced a grin. “You know how he gets.”
Artemis’s brows furrowed. She did know how Commodus got. The reincarnated Roman Emperor — egotistical, obsessive, unpredictable.
And Apollo had been with him.
Hermes leaned forward, voice light but edged with steel. “Delayed how?”
Apollo avoided his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. It does.” Hades stepped forward, his voice colder than the Underworld. “You didn’t report for weeks. And the spirits whispered about bruises even nectar didn’t heal.”
There was a flicker.
A flicker of pain in Apollo’s golden eyes. A split-second moment of truth.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t deny it.
Instead, he flinched when Artemis reached to touch his arm. Flinched.
The throne room erupted.
Athena stood up sharply. “How long?”
“Does it matter?” Apollo asked, voice cracking with a brittle smile. “He loves me.”
“Does he?” Poseidon said, rising. “Or does he control you like a possession?”
“Commodus worships you like you’re his sun,” Hera said, “but love doesn’t bruise.”
“I’m fine—” Apollo tried again.
“You’re not.” Artemis’s voice was no longer soft. It was fierce, furious. “You’re not fine, and he is not touching you again.”
Zeus didn’t speak. He stood slowly, face carved in storm clouds. When he finally spoke, the entire hall trembled.
“I indulged you, Apollo. Let you walk among mortals, love them, be loved in return. But this—this thing—has harmed a god. My son.”
Apollo’s breath caught. For all of Zeus’s faults, rarely did he say that. Rarely did he sound like a father.
He tried to laugh it off again. “He said if I left, he’d burn Delphi.”
“Let him try,” Hades said with finality. “I’ll drag him down myself.”
Apollo looked up, startled.
Ares cracked his knuckles. “You don’t have to lift a finger, golden boy. Just give me a target.”
Even Dionysus, lounging lazily until now, opened one eye and muttered, “Should’ve drowned him in wine the first time.”
The gods rallied—not for Olympus, not for power.
For Apollo.
For the god who lit their skies and filled their halls with music.
Because no matter how radiant he appeared, even the sun could be eclipsed.
And they refused to let anyone dim him again.
Chapter 86: "The Jackson-Blofis Adoption Agency"
Chapter Text
Title: "The Jackson-Blofis Adoption Agency"
---
The Jackson-Blofis household had always been a warm, chaotic place, filled with laughter, love, and the occasional monster trying to attack through the kitchen door. With Percy and Annabeth now older and helping out at Camp Half-Blood, the couple had been living a quieter life for the first time in years.
But that was before Apollo showed up on their doorstep.
---
The Arrival of Apollo
It was an unusually quiet afternoon in the Jackson-Blofis household. Sally was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a book, while Paul was sorting through some paperwork, when they heard a soft knock at the door.
Sally raised an eyebrow. "Who could that be?" she muttered under her breath.
Paul shrugged, getting up to answer it. "Maybe it's a delivery or another monster on the loose." He pulled open the door, half-expecting to see some disgruntled demigod or an urgent notice from Camp Half-Blood.
What he didn’t expect was to see a figure standing at the doorstep, shining like the sun itself, his golden hair a little too bright for the evening light.
Apollo stood there, clearly exhausted, his body leaning slightly as if he were carrying an invisible weight. His usual godly radiance was dulled, and there was something haunting in his eyes—a sadness and fatigue that seemed completely out of place for a god. His expression, once filled with boundless energy and playful mischief, now carried the burden of something deeper, something darker.
“Hello?” Apollo’s voice was soft, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he even belonged in this world anymore. “I—uh, I’m… looking for some help.”
Paul blinked, his mind scrambling to piece together what he was seeing. “Are you—Apollo?” he asked hesitantly, his tone somewhere between disbelief and concern.
Apollo nodded slowly, almost like he wasn’t entirely convinced either. “I… used to be,” he murmured, almost lost in thought. He looked up then, meeting Paul's gaze, his eyes like two blazing suns—except there was no light behind them. “I think I need a place to stay. Just for a while.”
---
Sally’s Reaction
Sally, hearing the conversation from the other room, stood up immediately, her motherly instincts kicking in. She had faced monsters, gods, and everything in between, but seeing Apollo, the god of the sun, standing on her doorstep in this broken, vulnerable state, struck her deeply.
When she entered the living room, she froze at the sight of Apollo. He looked like a god, but he was so not okay. His clothes were disheveled, his shoulders slumped, and his once-pristine skin now looked worn.
Sally’s heart went out to him before she even realized it. She glanced at Paul, who was clearly still in shock. “Is it… really him?”
“I think so,” Paul said, his voice a little unsure. “But there’s something wrong with him, Sally. Look at his eyes.”
Sally walked toward Apollo, her steps slow, cautious. “Apollo?” she asked gently, her voice filled with compassion. “What happened?”
Apollo’s lips parted slightly, but the words didn’t come out immediately. He looked like he wanted to speak, to explain everything, but the weight of it all seemed too much. Finally, he managed to whisper, “I lost myself. I’ve lost everything.”
Sally’s heart broke. Apollo, the radiant god, the one who had brought light and joy, now looked like a shadow of his former self. It was almost impossible to comprehend.
---
The First Conversation
Apollo stood at the threshold, hesitating, not quite sure what he was asking for. It wasn’t like he was used to needing help—he was the god of the sun, the god of prophecy, the god of healing. He was never the one in need. But here he was, standing on this mortal couple’s doorstep, asking for something he had never asked for before: kindness.
“I—could I stay here for a while?” Apollo asked again, his voice quivering with vulnerability. “Just until I figure things out. I don’t know where else to go. I don’t know who else will understand.”
Sally took a deep breath, her eyes softening as she approached him. “Of course, you can stay. You can stay as long as you need.”
She reached out, placing a hand on his arm in an effort to comfort him. “You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.”
Apollo blinked, surprised by the sincerity in her voice. A god—who had once ruled the heavens, who had everything at his command—had never known comfort like this.
---
The Trauma of a God
Sally and Paul led Apollo inside, offering him food and a safe place to rest. He wasn’t used to this kind of care. The gods had their temples, their thrones, their immortality—but Apollo wasn’t accustomed to human touch, to the simple affection of not being alone.
As they sat around the table, Sally carefully prepared some tea, hoping to ease the tension. Apollo watched her with wide eyes, his fingers playing absentmindedly with the cup in his hands.
“How… how did you end up like this?” Paul asked softly, still processing the surreal situation. “I thought gods like you were indestructible.”
Apollo’s lips twisted into a faint, bitter smile. “I thought so too.” He let out a slow breath. “It’s hard to explain. Sometimes, gods forget we’re not invincible. We forget that we have limits… until they’re reached.”
Apollo’s eyes darkened for a moment as if he were lost in painful memories. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “I got caught up in the things I wanted… in the things I didn’t realize I needed. Now I’m… well, I’m not sure what I am anymore.”
Sally and Paul exchanged a quiet look. Sally reached across the table, placing her hand over Apollo’s.
“It’s okay to need help, Apollo,” she said softly. “You don’t have to have all the answers. You don’t have to be perfect.”
Apollo looked at her, the warmth of her words sinking into his soul like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
---
Healing the Sun God
In the weeks that followed, Apollo stayed with the Jackson-Blofis family, and though he didn’t completely open up about everything—he couldn’t—he found solace in their care. They made him feel like a person again, not just a god, and that made all the difference.
Sally and Paul had no idea how long Apollo would stay, but they knew one thing for sure: they would do everything they could to help him heal, even if they didn’t understand everything he was going through.
In return, Apollo found the strength he thought he had lost. Slowly, he began to regain some of his former radiance. He found himself laughing again, his voice returning to its usual cheerful lilt. The weight on his shoulders wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter in the warmth of a family that accepted him for who he was.
And as for the Jackson-Blofis family? They had unknowingly adopted the god of the sun, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter 87: "The Sun God in the Age of Titans"
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun God in the Age of Titans"
---
Lester Papadopoulos had been having a rather rough time in the mortal world. The Trials of his had been brutal, leaving him weak, weary, and still struggling to find his way back to his true godly form. But he had made a mistake—one huge mistake. A misstep in time magic, and the next thing he knew, he was not only back in time, but he had been thrust into a period far beyond even the rise of the Olympians.
No, Lester had landed in the age of the Titans, back when Kronos was still a child, when the world was in the throes of ancient chaos. The realm around him was ancient, primal—filled with deep, otherworldly energies. He could feel the resonance of the Titans, their immense power and cruel ambitions, all around him.
And worst of all, somehow, he was no longer Lester.
---
Lester's Transformation
He had only just realized it when he looked into a nearby pond. The reflection staring back at him wasn't his mortal self—it was his godly form.
Apollo.
His golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, his skin gleaming with an otherworldly glow, and his form was as radiant as the sun itself. But that was not the most shocking part—his clothes had transformed too, back into his usual glorious, golden armor. He stood taller, his whole being suffused with the power and grace that only a god could wield. His lyre, once lost to time and mortal troubles, was now back in his hands, glowing with divine light.
This was bad. Really bad.
He had no idea how to return to the present day, or if he even could. The time magic was faulty, and now he was stuck, surrounded by Titans—beings who, as far as he knew, had never seen him before in his godly form.
---
Kronos and Oceanus
Apollo tried to take cover in the dense forest nearby, hoping to remain unnoticed. But that was far easier said than done. The Titans—especially the two Titains who had been the first to take notice—were beginning to converge on him.
Kronos, the Lord of Time himself, had never encountered a being like Apollo. Though the Sun God had once been at the peak of his power, he had always operated in the realm of Olympus, away from the primal forces of the Titans. But now, standing in front of the young god, Kronos felt something… new. Something magnetic. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a palpable draw in the air around Apollo.
The first time Kronos laid eyes on him, he was standing on the shore, near the spot where he had slain Ouranos, the primordial sky god, in a bloody act that was meant to solidify his power. But when his gaze met Apollo’s, something changed. The bloodlust in his eyes softened. His focus shifted from conquest to the radiant beauty standing before him.
"Who are you?" Kronos asked, his voice low, his dark eyes narrowing. His curiosity grew stronger by the second.
Apollo tried to back away, taking a step back, but his presence only seemed to draw Kronos closer.
“I’m… just a traveler,” Apollo replied hastily, trying to make himself as unimportant as possible. “Not someone you need to worry about.”
But Kronos wasn’t convinced. No one had ever distracted him before. The younger god's beauty—the shimmer of gold radiating from him—pulled at something deep within Kronos, something he didn’t quite understand.
---
Oceanus’ Intrigue
It wasn’t just Kronos who was taken with Apollo. As Apollo tried to slip away, he was soon confronted by Oceanus, the Titan of the Ocean. Oceanus, known for his wisdom and ancient power, wasn’t immune to the strange allure that Apollo carried with him.
"You are not of this time," Oceanus said, his tone not hostile but filled with intrigue. "Your aura is not like ours. It is like... sunlight, warm and golden. I have seen many beings in my time, but never one quite like you."
Apollo gave him a tight smile. "I don’t really have a name. Just passing through."
Oceanus didn’t buy it. He stepped closer, studying Apollo more intently. "I sense power in you—immense power," he murmured, his eyes flicking to Apollo’s lyre. "What is it you truly seek, traveler? Power, or something else?"
Apollo tried to resist the pull of their attention, but it was clear that the Titans—especially Kronos and Oceanus—were fixated on him, and the more he tried to slip away, the more they followed.
---
The Sun God’s Dilemma
It wasn’t long before Apollo found himself trapped between these two Titans, both of whom seemed inexplicably drawn to him. And it was no wonder—his beauty, his radiance, the sheer divinity that radiated from him, captivated them both. Even Kronos, who was obsessed with control, found himself unable to look away.
At one point, Kronos reached out, his hand brushing against Apollo's arm, and the mere touch sent an electric shock of power through Apollo’s body. "You are… something else," Kronos whispered, voice almost reverent.
Apollo jerked his arm back, his golden eyes flashing. "I don’t belong here, Kronos. I need to go back."
But that only intrigued the Titan further. "Go back?" Kronos repeated. "Why would you want to leave? You are… a gift to this world, shining like the very sun itself. Perhaps you are the answer to something I’ve been searching for."
Apollo’s heart raced. He was trapped. Not only had he managed to land himself in a time where the Titans were still young and full of ambition, but now they were obsessed with him. He needed to escape, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t going to be that simple.
---
Kronos’ Obsession
For days, Kronos and Oceanus followed Apollo, trying to figure out who he was. They sensed that he was no mere mortal, no simple being of their time. There was something divine, something powerful, but they couldn’t place it. As Apollo tried to escape their company, they pressed him for answers.
"Tell us your true name," Kronos insisted one evening, standing too close for comfort.
Apollo stood tall, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I told you, I’m just a wanderer. I don’t know how I got here, and I don’t know how to leave. So, if you could kindly stop following me, I’ll be on my way."
But neither Titan was willing to let him go. They were entranced, fascinated by him, and the more Apollo tried to push them away, the more their obsession grew.
---
Apollo’s Escape (For Now)
Apollo’s thoughts raced as he tried to find a way to escape the Titans’ clutches. His powers were vast, but the problem was that he didn’t want to fully reveal his true form in front of Kronos and Oceanus—not when they were already so enchanted by him. The last thing he needed was for the Titans to discover that he was, in fact, Apollo—the god of the sun, the very being they could never hope to control.
Finally, using a bit of clever trickery, Apollo summoned a brief burst of radiant sunlight, blinding the Titans long enough to make his escape. He ran, shifting between trees, his heart pounding. But he knew this was only a temporary solution. The Titans, especially Kronos, would find him again.
Apollo took a deep breath as he disappeared into the forest. He had to figure out how to return to the present before the Titans’ obsession with him grew even stronger. But for now, he was just another god trying to survive in a time where nothing made sense—and where the only thing that made sense was the burning curiosity in the eyes of two ancient Titains.
Chapter 88: "Waystation Family"
Chapter Text
Title: "Waystation Family"
---
Chapter 1: A New Beginning
Apollo had always been a little dramatic, even in the best of circumstances. After being forced into his mortal form by his father, Zeus, he had spent weeks running from one chaotic situation to the next. From the Trials of Apollo to the constant misadventures in Camp Half-Blood, nothing seemed to go his way.
But today? Today was different.
Lester Papadopoulos, formerly the glorious god Apollo, had found himself standing in front of a small cottage nestled at the edge of a beautiful forest, far away from the prying eyes of the gods and goddesses who had tormented him for the past months. It wasn’t much, but there was a warmth in the air here, an inviting calm that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and frankly, sick of pretending to be someone he wasn’t. The truth was, he had run away from home. From Olympus. From the constant expectations and the weight of being Apollo.
The cottage door opened before he could knock, and he found himself face-to-face with Emmie, or as she liked to be called, Hemithea, a woman with a regal air who also happened to be the former princess of Naxos. Behind her stood Jo, her wife—one of the most brilliant minds Apollo had ever encountered. She was a child of Hecate, which made her formidable in her own right, but she also had a warm, almost motherly aura about her.
"Well, well, well, if it isn’t the sun god himself," Emmie greeted with a wry smile. "Come to bask in our humble little Waystation, have you?"
Apollo raised an eyebrow, but despite himself, he smiled. "I suppose you could say I’m looking for a little peace. And maybe a little... distraction?"
Jo chuckled from behind Emmie, holding a strange magical gadget in her hand. "We’re good at distractions here," she said warmly, setting the gadget aside. "What brings you all the way here, Lester? Or should I say, Apollo?"
Apollo winced slightly at the name. It still felt strange, hearing it from someone else’s lips in his current form. "Lester’s fine," he mumbled, looking sheepish. "I just... I don’t really want to talk about it."
Emmie raised a brow, clearly seeing right through his facade. "You’re not the first god to get sick of the chaos of Olympus, and you definitely won’t be the last," she said, stepping aside to allow him into the cottage. "You’re welcome here as long as you need."
---
Chapter 2: New Family, New Beginnings
The warmth of the cottage was a far cry from the cold marble halls of Olympus. There were no lofty expectations here, no looming sense of duty or godly obligations. Just a family who had their own quirky little world, far removed from the grandeur of the gods.
Apollo took a deep breath, taking it all in. Emmie and Jo’s home was filled with magical trinkets, ancient artifacts, and strange inventions that Jo had made. It was a cozy, welcoming place, and it almost felt like a dream.
"Let me guess," Apollo said, looking at Jo with a smirk. "You two are the ones responsible for the weird gadgets I’ve been seeing all over the place?"
Jo raised her hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. But hey, they help, right?" she grinned. "I made this one to keep the drakes away from the garden." She held up a small silver device that hummed softly.
Apollo’s eyes twinkled. "I’m more of a ‘sunscreen and light blasts’ kind of guy, but I’m sure your way works just fine."
"That’s the spirit!" Jo laughed, clearly at ease with the awkward Apollo. "Now, let me show you to your room. We’ve got plenty of space. You can stay as long as you need."
Just as Jo turned to lead him, a small voice piped up from the corner of the room. A little girl, no older than six, stepped forward with a shy smile.
"Who’s the new guest, Mama?" she asked, her wide eyes curious.
Apollo couldn’t help but grin. The girl had her mother’s eyes—the same kindness, the same intelligence that Emmie carried in spades.
"This is Apollo," Emmie said softly, kneeling down to her daughter’s level. "He’s going to be staying with us for a while."
Apollo kneeled down to the girl’s level and flashed his warmest smile. "Hey there, little one. My name’s Apollo, but you can call me Lester if that’s easier."
The little girl gave him a shy nod but then, after a moment’s hesitation, asked, "Are you a god? Like Mom and Mama?"
Apollo chuckled softly. "I used to be. But now, I’m just... me."
Her eyes widened with fascination. "Are you really a sun god? Can you make the sun shine even brighter?"
He nodded. "I can do a lot of things. But sometimes, it’s nice just to be normal." He paused, then added with a wink, "Sometimes, it’s fun to show off a little too."
Emmie laughed softly. "You’ll find that this family has a tendency to do that."
Jo came back over with a mug of tea, offering it to Apollo. "We don’t mind a little chaos now and then. It keeps life interesting."
---
Chapter 3: Family Moments
As the days passed, Apollo began to relax in their home. It was the first time in ages that he felt like he could breathe freely, without the pressure of being a god looming over him. He and Jo bonded over their shared love for tinkering with magic, while Emmie and Apollo spent evenings discussing their various misadventures.
But perhaps the most surprising moment came when Meg came to visit.
Meg McCaffrey, daughter of Demeter and one of Apollo’s most prized demigods, had always been a little... different. Fierce, protective, and wildly independent, Meg had often been the one to knock some sense into Apollo during his more reckless moments. But now, as she stood in the Waystation’s living room, she looked out of place. For once, there was no urgent quest, no looming battle. She was just... Meg, relaxing for once.
"How’s it going, Meg?" Apollo greeted, standing up from where he’d been lounging with Emmie and Jo.
Meg grinned, holding up a bag of groceries. "It’s going good. I figured I’d stop by and make sure you weren’t getting yourself into any trouble."
Apollo laughed. "I think Emmie and Jo are keeping me out of trouble. For once, I’m actually being normal."
"That’s... unsettling," Meg said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure you’re still Apollo?"
"Just call me Lester for now," he said with a playful wink. "Less baggage."
The family gathered around the table for dinner, a quiet, peaceful meal together. No prophecies, no apocalypses, just the soft hum of conversation and the occasional bursts of laughter.
---
Chapter 4: Home
Lester—Apollo—looked around at the people seated around the table: Emmie, Jo, Georgina, and Meg. They weren’t just offering him a place to stay. They were offering him something far more precious—belonging.
"I don’t think I’ve ever had a family like this before," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Emmie smiled softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Then we’re glad you’re here, Apollo. You don’t have to be a god to belong. You’re part of our family now."
Meg gave him a sly grin. "Guess that means you’re officially adopted. Welcome to the chaos."
Apollo chuckled, feeling more at home than he had in centuries.
And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he had to be anything more than himself.
Chapter 89: "The Sun's Rebellion"
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun's Rebellion"
---
Chapter 1: The Breaking Point
Apollo had always been the golden god, the one everyone looked to for light and guidance. His radiant form illuminated the heavens, and he was the epitome of beauty, grace, and power. Yet, despite all his grandeur, the weight of his duties had been slowly wearing him down. He had once loved the high life of Olympus, basking in the adoration of mortals and gods alike. But as the centuries passed, the glimmer of that world grew dull. The oppressive expectations, the endless duties, the unending power struggles — it all wore him down.
Now, in the form of Lester Papadopoulos, Apollo had had enough. His mortal self might have been weaker, but he was far more than what the gods believed him to be. He wasn’t their tool or their golden boy. He wasn’t going to stand idly by as the gods—his so-called family—continued to treat their children, the demigods, as nothing more than pawns in their endless game.
"Enough," he muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in the quiet corner of the Big House at Camp Half-Blood. His eyes flickered toward the photo of the demigods he had grown so fond of over the years. They were strong, resilient, but still held captive by the will of the gods. "I won’t let this continue."
---
Chapter 2: The Seeds of Rebellion
Apollo’s first move was subtle. He started talking to his children—the demigods. They were the ones who felt the most abandoned by the gods, the ones who were constantly being pulled into wars they never asked for. They were the perfect soldiers for his rebellion.
He met with Will Solace, his son, and told him everything he had been planning. Will had always been the voice of reason, the one to calm Apollo down when things got too heated. But this time, Will didn’t protest. He simply nodded, understanding the depth of his father’s frustration.
"You’re not alone, Dad," Will said, his voice steady. "We’ll stand with you. All of us."
Apollo’s heart swelled with pride. Will was a natural leader, his calm demeanor and healing abilities making him beloved among the demigods. Together, they could do this.
But the rebellion needed more than just Will. Apollo reached out to other demigod leaders, forming secret alliances with those who felt the sting of the gods' indifference. Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Leo Valdez—each one of them had a role to play in the coming revolution.
"This isn’t just about Olympus anymore," Apollo said to them in a clandestine meeting at Camp Half-Blood. "It’s about freedom for all the demigods. It’s about breaking the chains that have kept us subjugated for too long. And it starts with us. We fight, we rise, and we take our lives back."
---
Chapter 3: The Gathering Storm
As Apollo’s rebellion grew, so did his army. Demigods from all over the world began to rally to his cause. He was no longer just the sun god; he was the leader of a movement, the beacon of hope for those who had suffered under the gods' rule for millennia.
The gods, oblivious to the growing threat, continued their indifference. Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and the others were too wrapped up in their petty squabbles to notice the storm brewing beneath them. Apollo’s followers began to gather weapons, training in secret, and preparing for the inevitable confrontation.
But Apollo wasn’t foolish. He knew the gods wouldn’t fall so easily. He needed allies within Olympus. And there were a few gods who, like him, were sick of the old ways.
He began with his half-sister, Artemis. She had always been a champion of the outcasts, the protectors of nature. But even she had grown weary of the constant conflicts between the gods. When Apollo approached her with his plans, she didn’t hesitate.
"I'm in," Artemis said simply, her silver bow gleaming in the moonlight. "I’ve had enough of the endless power struggles. It’s time for something new."
Next, Apollo turned to Dionysus. The god of wine, revelry, and chaos had always been a wildcard. But deep down, Dionysus craved freedom from the stifling rules of Olympus as much as Apollo did.
"You want chaos?" Dionysus grinned, his eyes twinkling. "You got it. This’ll be fun."
With Artemis and Dionysus on his side, Apollo felt invincible. But he still needed to make sure the rebellion wasn’t just about anger. It had to be about hope, about building something better for the future.
---
Chapter 4: The First Strike
The day of the rebellion came sooner than Apollo had expected. His army had grown stronger, more confident, and they were ready to act. The first move was swift and decisive: Apollo and his followers stormed the gates of Olympus, wielding their weapons and magic with a singular goal in mind—taking control.
The gods were taken by surprise. They had underestimated Apollo and his followers. They thought the sun god, once so perfect and untouchable, would be too weak in his mortal form. But they were wrong.
The battle was fierce, but Apollo was no longer fighting for glory. He was fighting for freedom—for the demigods who had been abandoned for too long. As the battle raged on, he stood at the front, his heart burning with determination.
Zeus, finally realizing the extent of the rebellion, confronted Apollo in the middle of the chaos. "This madness has to stop!" Zeus shouted, his thunderbolts crackling in the sky.
Apollo met his father’s gaze without fear. "You’ve ruled over us for long enough, Father. It’s time for a change."
---
Chapter 5: The Dawn of a New Era
The rebellion did not end with the defeat of the gods, but with their transformation. The gods, humbled and broken by the sheer will of the demigods, were forced to listen. Apollo, with the support of his followers, began the long and difficult task of rebuilding Olympus into something new—a place where both gods and demigods could live in harmony.
It was a slow process, but change was inevitable. For the first time in centuries, Apollo felt like he was free—free from the expectations of the gods and free to be the god he always wanted to be.
The rebellion wasn’t about taking down Olympus. It was about building something new. A new order. A new future.
And in the midst of it all, Apollo stood tall, a beacon of hope for those who had been forgotten.
Chapter 90: Sun & Seed
Notes:
Damn almost 100k words 😭
Chapter Text
Title: Sun & Seed
(Omegaverse | Greek x Norse Crossover)
---
Summary:
When the Greek gods are invited to meet the Norse pantheon for an inter-pantheon peace summit, things take a chaotic turn. Especially when it’s revealed that Omega Apollo is not only being courted by the Norse god of fertility, Frey—but already mated to him. Cue the protective chaos from Artemis, Ares, and Athena… and the utter horror of their kids realizing their parents are “in love” in a very loud way.
---
Scene: The Summit at Yggdrasil
The meeting point was a neutral realm, nestled within a grove that shimmered with light from both the World Tree and Apollo's own radiance. Greek and Norse gods stood in awkward silence, the air thick with tension... and possibly mating pheromones.
Apollo arrived fashionably late, flowing in with golden silk robes that clung to his Omega form a bit too perfectly. His scent—sunlight, citrus, and warm summer fields—hit like a truck.
Freya choked on her mead. Thor nearly dropped Mjolnir. Odin blinked twice. Frey, meanwhile, casually strutted up behind Apollo and wrapped an arm around his waist like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Apollo, you smell radiant today," Frey murmured into his ear.
Apollo giggled. "I always do, love."
Ares, from across the glade, stood up so violently his seat exploded. “What. Is. That.”
Artemis narrowed her eyes, already halfway to drawing an arrow. “Frey, if you even thought about marking my brother without a mating ritual—”
"He did!" Apollo chirped.
Everyone froze.
"Wait." Kayla’s voice rang out from the edge of the clearing, face pale. "Wait. Dad. Did you just say you’re—"
"—mated?" Austin finished, his voice cracking.
Will Solace dropped his bow.
Magnus Chase, standing awkwardly with his hair tied back and a rune glowing on his palm, blinked at his father. “Wait. You’re dating Will’s dad?”
Frey beamed proudly. "Not dating. Bonded. Eternally. He carries my mark."
"Your what?" Will gasped. "Like, bite? Dad, what the actual—"
Apollo, absolutely unbothered, twirled in his robe. “It’s a beautiful mark. Right on my thigh. Frey’s got great teeth.”
Will screamed.
“Please stop talking,” Kayla begged, covering her ears. “Please stop.”
Artemis had already launched herself at Frey, only to be caught mid-air by Tyr and restrained by Sif. Ares began drawing a battle line in the dirt. Athena summoned a whiteboard titled Why This Relationship Will Inevitably End in Divine Collapse.
Magnus, staring at Will, whispered, “Should we… like… be brothers-in-law?”
Will looked like he was undergoing a divine crisis. “No. Stop talking. I need medical leave. I’m gonna pass out.”
Meanwhile, Apollo leaned against Frey’s chest with a dreamy sigh. “I don’t see what the big deal is. The sun and the harvest. Fertility and light. Our union could fix the climate crisis.”
Zeus shouted, “No more divine babies!”
Frey: “Too late.”
Will, Kayla, Austin, and Magnus in unison: “WHAT?!”
Title: Sun & Seed: Part 2 – Divine Daycare
(Omegaverse | Greek x Norse Crossover)
---
Summary:
The fallout from Apollo and Frey's shocking revelation continues—and it turns out, they already have kids. Not metaphorical “oh-the-sun-blesses-us” kind of kids. Actual divine toddlers with powers. And who’s in charge of babysitting while their gods go on honeymoon #5? That’s right. Will, Kayla, Austin, and Magnus.
Also: the toddlers glow. They speak in riddles. And one of them may have summoned a tiny sun in the pantry.
---
Scene: The Bunker of Babysitting (aka Valhalla Guest Suite #9)
Magnus Chase stared in mild terror as a three-year-old with golden curls and grape-colored eyes floated six inches off the ground and chewed on a flaming arrow.
“Kayla,” he whispered. “Kayla, is that one supposed to be on fire?”
“Nope,” she said. “That’s Heliander. He’s the ‘second sunrise,’ apparently.”
Will Solace paced nearby with an armful of pacifiers enchanted by Hecate. “Dad said he was ‘born from a sunbeam and a wildflower.’ How am I supposed to raise a child made from literal metaphor?”
Meanwhile, tiny twin toddlers named Solaris and Sorrel were chasing a miniature boar conjured by their Aunt Freya. Every time it oinked, plants sprouted in its path. Austin, holding a frying pan for defense, gave up entirely and just sat down with an exhausted sigh.
“You ever wonder if we’re the weird ones?” he asked Magnus.
Magnus looked around at the chaos—the levitating child, the flower boar, and the toddler who was very calmly singing in Old Norse while weaving sunrays into a blanket—and said, “Every single day.”
Across camp, Apollo and Frey were absolutely thriving. They lounged in divine silk on a chariot pulled by glowing elk, sipping mead and giggling like newlyweds.
“Frey, love, did you see what little Solaris did with that sunbeam earlier?” Apollo cooed. “He melted a monster and then apologized in poetry. I’ve never been prouder.”
Frey chuckled. “And Sorrel summoned a midsummer storm to water the strawberries. Our babies are prodigies.”
“Maybe we should have another,” Apollo purred, nuzzling his alpha’s neck.
Somewhere far off, Will Solace sneezed.
Back at the Bunker of Babysitting, the latest crisis was underway.
“Heliander just sang a song in Latin and now the furniture’s dancing!” Kayla cried.
“Why does he know Latin?! He’s three!” Will yelped, chasing a chair that was salsa-dancing into the wall.
Magnus opened a magical baby book titled Raising Divine Offspring: A Guide for Semi-Mortals. He slammed it shut after page one simply read: Good Luck.
Then came the visit.
Athena.
She walked into the chaos, stared at the glowing children, and blinked. “Are those… offspring of Apollo and Frey?”
“Yes,” Will muttered.
“Fascinating,” she said. “Genetically impossible. Magically absurd. Psychologically—”
One of the babies, Sorrel, held up a crayon drawing of a sun hugging a flower and offered it with a shy smile.
Athena’s heart visibly cracked. “I… must research this.”
And with that, she vanished in a puff of distressed intellect.
Meanwhile, Artemis simply left an entire crate of monster-repelling baby bottles and threatened to “smite anyone who even looks at my nieces and nephews weird.”
Ares sent a shield and a note: they might be small, but they’re gods. Teach them to fight. Love, Uncle War.
---
Later That Night
Apollo tucked Solaris in with a lullaby made of light. Frey kissed Sorrel’s forehead and whispered blessings of peace.
Magnus, eyes bloodshot, watched from the doorway. “If you two ever want to go on a year-long honeymoon, I will run.”
Will hugged a stuffed sun plushie. “Dad, I love you. But never again.”
Apollo just smiled serenely and whispered, “Wait until you meet the triplets.”
“WHAT?!”
Chapter 91: “Sunshine Incarnate”
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunshine Incarnate”
(Featuring: Cute, Clueless, and Dangerously Adorable Apollo)
---
There were many things Camp Half-Blood had braced for. Monster attacks. Prophecies. Clarisse on a bad day.
What they had not braced for… was Apollo.
Not the dramatic, hot-shot, lyre-shredding, self-adoring version they expected. No. This version? This one was soft. And sweet. And had the emotional intelligence of a damp sock.
Apollo had come down in full godly glory and immediately tripped over a root in front of the Hermes cabin, blinking up at everyone with golden lashes and a dazed, sunshine-smile like, “Was that root always there?”
He tried to help the Aphrodite cabin paint banners, accidentally spilled glitter all over himself, and then apologized to the glitter.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I didn’t mean to crush your sparkle.”
Drew Tanaka had to physically excuse herself.
---
He called every camper “sweet star,” “petal,” or “sunbean,” and meant it. The Ares kids were traumatized. One of them dropped his sword mid-battle because Apollo hugged him gently after the match and said, “You were so brave! You remind me of a thundercloud trying to protect a sunflower!”
The sword stuck in the ground and he never picked it up again.
---
Will Solace, son of Apollo and resident “How Am I Related To This Man” support group leader, was not immune either.
“Dad, please stop calling Chiron ‘my sparkly mentor centaur cookie.’”
“But he is!” Apollo beamed, hugging a pillow he found near the Big House. “He’s just so wise and fluffy!”
“...What does that even mean—? No, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
---
Then there was the picnic incident.
Apollo had found a butterfly. He sat on the grass for an hour watching it flutter in the sunlight. Every time someone walked by, he’d gasp and whisper, “Look at her. She’s flying like a poem.”
At some point, twelve campers had sat with him in absolute silence. No one knew why.
They just… felt like they had to.
---
The Problem:
Every single person who met Apollo wanted to either date him or swaddle him in blankets and protect him from the world.
Or both.
Even gods weren’t safe.
Ares tried to yell at him once. Apollo looked up with wide eyes and said, “You’re always so passionate! It’s like your anger is trying to hug people.”
Ares froze. Left. Hasn’t spoken since.
Hades, upon accidentally brushing shoulders with Apollo, went straight to the Underworld and punched a wall. Persephone asked what happened.
“I think I need therapy.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo, completely unaware of the chaos he left in his wake, was trying to put a little hat on a squirrel and humming a lullaby to a patch of sunflowers.
“Look at you! You’re glowing. That’s my job! Haha, just kidding. We can both glow!”
The Apollo cabin had to form a protective ring around him.
Will: “Back off! He doesn’t understand flirting or danger!”
Kayla: “HE GAVE A CHIMERA A NICKNAME.”
Austin: “He said the snake tail had ‘very kind eyes!’”
---
Apollo blinked, sipping from a glittery juice box Dionysus gave him.
“Everyone’s so nice here. I love this planet.”
They all collectively screamed internally.
Chapter 92: "Sunlight, Songbirds, and Suitors"
Notes:
I'm pretty sure this is 100k words now
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunlight, Songbirds, and Suitors"
(Apollo and his accidental Disney Princess arc)
---
To say Apollo had main character energy was like saying the sun was “a little bright.”
It was more accurate to say that Apollo had somehow managed to manifest a full-on Disney Princess Era, and nobody—not mortals, not demigods, not gods—was ready for it.
---
It started with the voice.
Of course, everyone knew Apollo had a beautiful voice. He was the god of music. The one who made even the Muses cry in awe. But no one expected the effect his voice would have when he stepped into the woods behind Camp Half-Blood and started singing softly, barefoot in the grass, rays of sunlight threading through his golden hair like a halo.
And then the animals came.
Birds perched on his shoulders. Rabbits sat in a circle at his feet. Deer nuzzled his palms. A fox snuggled into his lap and purred. (No one knew foxes could purr. They do now.)
Even Pegasi that normally didn’t like being touched were trotting up to him and dropping flowers into his lap like awkward suitors.
---
Campers began to follow the sound of his singing like a trance. Like the whole forest had transformed into something enchanted.
One Apollo camper whispered: “I swear to Hestia I saw a squirrel braid his hair.”
Will Solace: “You absolutely did.”
---
It got worse. Or better. Depending on your perspective.
After a video of Apollo singing to a deer in perfect Elvish while birds flew in formation behind him somehow got uploaded to YouTube (thanks, Hermes cabin), the internet exploded.
Suddenly, proposals were flying in from all corners of the world.
Royal families. Politicians. CEOs. Pop stars. Billionaire cowboys.
“I am willing to renounce my kingdom,” one royal wrote, “if he sings me to sleep for the rest of my life.”
“Name your dowry,” a French heiress declared, “I will trade three castles and my soul.”
“Does he like golden retrievers?” a fan wrote. “Because I AM ONE. Emotionally.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo, who didn’t understand the word subtlety, was flouncing around in loose white robes with literal doves nesting in his sleeves, humming lullabies and occasionally kissing animals on the head.
He had no idea what was happening.
“I love how friendly mortals are these days,” he said sweetly to Will. “Someone left me an entire yacht covered in rose petals! Isn’t that kind?”
Will blinked. “That was a marriage proposal, Dad.”
“Oh?”
Kayla slapped her forehead. “You accepted it.”
“Oh…”
---
The gods, watching from Olympus, were losing their minds.
Zeus: “He’s going to start a religion again.”
Artemis: “I’ve seen animals love people, but this is excessive. Even the boars are blushing.”
Hermes: “Five bucks says he marries a goose by accident.”
Aphrodite: “That’s my son-in-law material, thank you very much.”
Hades: “I’m getting flashbacks to Orpheus and I don’t like it.”
---
Back at camp, the Apollo cabin had formed the “He’s Too Pretty to Be Left Unattended Protection Squad.”
Austin: “If I have to block one more billionaire with a yacht—”
Will: “Dad, please. Stop accepting gifts from strangers.”
Apollo, holding a bouquet, a crown, and a hedgehog in a scarf: “But they were all so lovely!”
---
And somewhere, a nymph composed a ballad about the “Sun-Kissed Prince of the Wilds.”
It went platinum in three days.
Chapter 93: "Airhead, My Foot"
Chapter Text
Title: "Airhead, My Foot"
(or, the day Apollo reminded the world who he really was)
---
Apollo was used to a lot of things.
Being called pretty? Expected.
Being serenaded by lovesick mortals? Common.
Being assumed to be dumb as a bag of celestial bricks? Unfortunately… more frequent than he liked.
And sure, he could understand why. He smiled a lot. He wore ridiculous outfits. He sang to squirrels. His hair shined like he rinsed it in sunlight and he often got distracted mid-sentence because a butterfly flew by and “look! It's so tiny and precious!”
But Apollo was also the god of reason, logic, prophecy, and education. He was literally the patron of scholars. The father of medicine. The inventor of several fields of science.
He had just never bothered to rub it in anyone’s face.
Until today.
---
It began when a particularly arrogant Athena kid rolled their eyes during a camp strategy meeting.
“I just don’t think Apollo should be leading this war game. No offense, Lord Apollo, but we’re looking for tactical brilliance, not a cute mascot.”
The table went silent. Half the campers winced. Chiron coughed awkwardly. Will Solace started slowly sliding a fork under the table like he might actually stab someone.
Apollo blinked. “Oh?” He tilted his head innocently. “You don’t think I’m smart enough to lead a mock war?”
“I just think strategy should be left to people who understand it,” the Athena kid said, with a perfect mixture of pride and condescension.
Apollo smiled.
---
Ten minutes later, he had redrawn the entire war game map, listed every predicted move the Athena cabin would make, explained the logic behind psychological warfare in under five minutes, and rewrote the historical timeline of the Trojan War from memory.
“And this—” Apollo said, gently tapping the whiteboard filled with multicolored diagrams, “—is your battle plan. It will fail at precisely 4:22 p.m. tomorrow because your ‘ambush’ relies on human error you can’t statistically guarantee, and you didn’t account for the topography shift after the last storm.”
“...What?”
“I’m the god of foresight and logic, darling. Did you think I spent all day kissing deer and composing poetry just because I look like this?” He gestured to himself, in all his glowing golden glory. “I practically invented academia. I taught Plato how to hold a quill.”
---
The entire pavilion was stunned.
One Hermes kid whispered, “I thought he was just here to flirt with the sun.”
Dionysus, sipping Diet Coke from the corner, muttered, “Told you not to underestimate the sunshine idiot.”
The Athena camper, white in the face, slowly sat down and tried not to make eye contact.
---
Later that day, Will sighed and handed his dad a water bottle. “Was that necessary?”
“Yes,” Apollo replied, cracking his knuckles with all the satisfaction of a man who had been underestimated one too many times. “Sometimes the himbo crown gets a little tight and I have to loosen it with divine academic vengeance.”
Chapter 94: “The True Spark of Troy”
Chapter Text
Title: “The True Spark of Troy”
(or, the real face that launched a thousand ships)
---
Historians blamed Helen.
Poets blamed Paris.
Bards sang of gods and oaths, pride and vengeance.
But anyone who had eyes and even a single working brain cell knew the truth.
The Trojan War didn’t start because of a woman.
It started because Apollo liked Troy too much.
---
The sun god didn’t mean to cause an international divine meltdown.
He really didn’t.
He just… liked the Trojans.
They were poetic. They built beautiful temples. Their architecture caught the sunlight perfectly. And their prince, Hector, had this lovely deep voice that Apollo would totally not admit he swooned over. Ever.
Plus, Apollo found the whole “we’ll die for our city with honor” thing super charming.
So he started visiting more often.
At first, it was subtle: a warmer breeze in the gardens. A song heard in dreams. The crops growing just a little faster.
Then it escalated.
Healing plagues. Divine shields. Waking up on the battlefield because Apollo decided to personally bless your sword with sunlight.
By the time he was casually lounging on the palace balcony in sheer golden robes, sipping wine and playing the lyre while a crowd of admirers basked in his radiance… well.
The other kingdoms were starting to get jealous.
---
“Why does Troy get him?” King Agamemnon seethed, pointing at a fresco someone painted of Apollo pouring honey on Trojan children’s heads.
“Does he even visit Sparta anymore?” Menelaus muttered.
“I tried building him a temple with gold and six fountains,” Odysseus grumbled. “He still ghosted me.”
The gods weren’t better.
Artemis tried to drag him home. Aphrodite sulked for days. Ares kept challenging him to “friendly combat” and losing on purpose.
And Zeus? Zeus tried to make a decree banning “excessive divine partiality.”
Apollo smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Oops.”
---
By the time Helen ran off with Paris, everyone already had swords sharpened.
Her elopement was just an excuse.
The real war?
It was the world screaming “Why does Troy get the golden himbo with healing hands and unfair cheekbones?!”
---
And Apollo?
He didn’t even notice.
“Lalala~” he hummed, braiding Trojan children’s hair and giving sunflowers to Hector. “I love peace!”
---
Bonus:
Achilles: “I thought this war was about honor.”
Patroclus: “You saw his face. His robes. The way the sunlight hits his collarbones.”
Achilles: “…Faiir."
Title: “The True Spark of Troy – Part 2: Oops, My Bad”
(alternatively: “Apollo Accidentally Broke the World Again, So Now He’s Fixing It in a Sheer Robe”)
---
After the fall of Troy—and after realizing the war might’ve been just a little bit his fault—Apollo had a minor crisis.
“I—I just thought Hector was poetic!” he wailed to Artemis, clutching a sun-shaped pillow. “I didn’t mean to start a ten-year war.”
“You gave the Trojans divine weapons, kissed their prince, and played romantic ballads from the sky every morning,” Artemis deadpanned.
“I was being supportive!!”
“Of course you were.”
---
So, in his eternal guilt and gold-tinted shame, Apollo decided he’d make amends.
- First step: Help Odysseus get home.
- Second step: Heal (or revive) the poor souls dragged into this divine disaster.
He shimmered into being aboard Odysseus’ poor, storm-wrecked ship with a dramatic gust of sunlight.
Odysseus, wet, miserable, and clinging to a barrel: “Why do I hear harps?”
Apollo: “Hello, sailor~”
---
Odysseus: “Are you real or am I hallucinating again?”
Apollo, glowing like a sunrise and holding a half-dead crewmember bridal-style: “I’m here to apologize! Also your friend Polites is alive now. You’re welcome!”
Eurylochus (who had definitely died at least three times): “This is the third time he’s brought me back and I’m still traumatized.”
Polites, cradled in Apollo’s arms: “I’m… not complaining?”
---
Apollo healed every injury with a brush of his fingers, glowing like a summer day. He sang sea shanties, distracted sea monsters with his abs (intentionally or not, the world may never know), and even made Poseidon back off by calling him a “salty little wave gremlin.”
It worked.
Kind of.
Poseidon’s still bitter.
---
By the time Odysseus finally washed up on Ithaca—handsome, tan, exhausted, and surrounded by men who were suddenly a little too emotionally attached to a certain glittery sun god—he was… not the same man he was ten years ago.
Odysseus, dramatically collapsing on his marble floor: “If only Penelope agreed to a threesome…”
Telemachus, who was not emotionally prepared for this reunion: “I want a refund on my entire bloodline.”
---
Apollo floated overhead, placing a golden flower crown on Telemachus' head.
“Cheer up, sunshine! I brought your dad back! And revived half his army! And sang to the sheep!”
Telemachus: “You traumatized the sheep.”
Apollo: “But in harmony.”
---
Bonus:
Penelope, observing Apollo through the curtains: “...Did we ever actually agree to monogamy?”
Odysseus, perking up instantly: “Wait—wait really?”
Apollo, blinking: “You two can keep me???”
Title: “The True Spark of Troy – Part 3: Love For Three ”
I know I said I wouldn't ship him with women but...
The halls of Ithaca had not felt this warm in years. Odysseus stood by the sea-facing balcony, arms crossed, watching Apollo—golden as ever—laugh with Telemachus in the courtyard. The god had been nothing but helpful since their return. He’d healed old wounds, revived the fallen crew, and even cleaned up the bloodstains from the suitors without a complaint. Yet... Odysseus wasn’t sure what unsettled him more: Apollo’s casual divine charm, or the way Penelope looked at him.
Penelope had been quiet at first. Observant. Then amused. Then—dangerously intrigued. When Apollo offered her a rose that hadn’t grown on Ithaca’s soil for centuries, she had smiled in a way that made Odysseus’ stomach twist.
“Athena warned me you were pretty,” she had murmured, accepting the flower, “but she didn’t say you’d be kind.”
Odysseus knew the feeling. That warm pull in the chest. That dumb flutter of being chosen. He also knew Apollo wasn’t doing it on purpose—he was just... Apollo. Beautiful, brilliant, devastating.
That night, the king and queen sat together while the fire crackled, Apollo across from them, tuning his lyre. Penelope tilted her head.
“You know, Odysseus,” she said softly, “he’s not trying to seduce us.”
“I know.”
“But if he did…”
“...We’d probably let him,” he muttered, earning a chuckle from his wife.
Apollo looked up, golden eyes wide and oblivious. “Did I miss something?”
Penelope sighed. “Only everything.”
—
That was how it began.
They didn’t fall into bed. They fell into conversation. Into shared meals. Into long walks around the cliffs. Apollo taught Telemachus poetry. Penelope taught Apollo how to mend clothes. Odysseus taught him strategy games, which Apollo promptly mastered and then somehow managed to lose just to make Odysseus feel better.
It wasn’t seduction. It was affection. And maybe a little awe.
“You know,” Penelope whispered one night, curled between her two strange lovers, “you’re not what I expected from a god.”
Apollo smiled sleepily. “I get that a lot.”
Odysseus just muttered, “If this is punishment for ten years of war, I’ll take it.”
Chapter 95: Sunlight in Small Form
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight in Small Form
Long before the Oracle sang of wars and heroes, before Apollo’s name graced the tongues of mortals and temples were built in his honor, he was simply… a baby. A golden, chubby-cheeked, sun-bright bundle of warmth and chaos, born to Leto after a laborious and god-defying birth.
And Olympus? Olympus didn’t stand a chance.
---
Artemis was the first to hold him.
She had helped their mother through the impossible birth, and now, as she cradled her twin, Artemis stared in silent wonder. His skin shimmered faintly, as if kissed by morning light. His little hands reached up to tug on her silver circlet, his golden eyes wide and unfocused.
When he sneezed, a warm gust of spring-scented air puffed out of nowhere.
“Oh,” Artemis breathed, softening, “you’re ridiculous.”
He giggled. A literal baby giggle. The first in Olympus.
And then he hiccupped. With each hiccup, a tiny harp string sound echoed in the air.
Artemis couldn’t stop laughing after that.
---
Leto, exhausted but radiant, kept him close. She didn’t trust Hera not to pull some vengeful stunt (and rightfully so), but for now, baby Apollo was all warm skin and sleepy pouts. When he yawned, the sunrise seemed to come early. When he cried, golden light flickered through the room like fireflies.
Even Zeus, who rarely came down from his throne unless someone was causing trouble, had wandered in curiously.
“So this is the boy Hera tried to destroy,” he mused.
Apollo blinked up at him, then promptly drooled on his beard.
Zeus blinked.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “charming.”
He left that day with baby spit on his robe and absolutely zero regrets.
---
Hestia visited soon after. The ever-gentle goddess of the hearth, she had brought soft blankets and honeyed milk. Apollo squirmed happily in her arms, tugging at her braids.
“He radiates warmth,” she said quietly, cradling him as he fell asleep. “Not just from his power, but from his soul.”
Even Ares, grumbling and uninterested, wandered by out of curiosity—only to walk away pink-faced and muttering after baby Apollo squealed and offered him a fistful of shiny pebbles with such delight that Ares forgot to be grumpy for a full hour.
---
Athena came to study him.
She stayed longer than she’d planned.
“I came to analyze,” she later admitted to Artemis, “not to be charmed by a singing infant who kept trying to eat my scrolls.”
“He sang?” Artemis asked.
“Perfect pitch,” Athena muttered, rubbing her temples. “I’m terrified.”
---
By the time Apollo was old enough to sit up on his own, crawl toward warm sunbeams, and babble in a melody no one else could replicate, the Olympians had resigned themselves to a truth:
They were utterly enchanted.
He was joy. He was light. He was a baby god who sneezed stars and glowed with warmth, who could melt even the sternest heart.
And the worst part?
He knew it.
Title: Sunlight in Small Form – Part 2
Subtitled: The Kidnapping of Apollo (Feat. Hades Who Swears It Wasn’t a Kidnapping)
---
Hades didn’t mean to kidnap the baby.
Truly.
But in his defense, everyone on Olympus had been parading Apollo around like he was some sort of divine golden teddy bear, and Hades—well, he had just wanted to see the sun godling for himself. Quietly. Briefly. Maybe hold him. Once.
For research. Obviously.
So when he appeared at the edge of Leto’s temple, hooded and brooding, and found the infant lying in a sunbeam with a flower crown on his head and one foot in his mouth—Hades did what any rational god of the dead would do.
He scooped up the baby and shadow-traveled.
Only later did he realize he hadn’t told anyone.
---
Back on Olympus, chaos erupted.
“HE’S GONE!” Artemis howled, arrowing past gods like a miniature hurricane. “MY BROTHER IS GONE—WHO TOOK HIM?!”
Leto looked like she was about to turn the entire pantheon into stone. “I knew I shouldn’t have closed my eyes for three minutes!”
“Did someone check Zeus’s beard?” Hephaestus asked helpfully.
“I SWEAR ON THE STYX IF YOU DON’T FIND HIM—” Artemis shrieked.
---
Meanwhile, in the Underworld…
“...You smell like flowers,” Hades muttered, holding baby Apollo stiffly at arm’s length.
Apollo, still chewing on his foot, beamed and made a sound like, “Laaa!”
Then he sneezed. A sunbeam burst through the ceiling of the throne room.
Cerberus whimpered.
Persephone, who was visiting early for spring planning, came into the room—and stopped cold.
“Oh my gods,” she whispered. “Is that a baby?”
Apollo, ever the performer, looked her straight in the eyes and sang a tiny babble-lullaby that included a gurgling harp trill.
Persephone clutched her chest. “I’m keeping him.”
“No, I’m keeping him,” Hades said immediately.
Apollo hiccupped and glowed. A single daisy sprouted from the floor.
Persephone leaned down and kissed his head. “He’s warm like the sun.”
“That’s because he is the sun!”
Apollo burbled. “La!”
---
When the rescue party arrived—spearheaded by a livid Artemis with a glowing hunting knife in one hand and a trail of sunbursts leading into the Underworld—the scene they walked in on was…
Hades, awkwardly rocking Apollo in his arms.
Persephone weaving flower crowns with bones and daisies while Apollo giggled.
Cerberus napping beside the throne with a pacifier in one of his mouths.
“Give. Me. My. Brother,” Artemis growled.
Hades blinked. “I was going to return him eventually.”
“He’s not a library book, Uncle Death!”
“I only borrowed him!”
“THAT’S KIDNAPPING!”
Apollo hiccupped again. Light filled the throne room.
“...We can visit, right?” Persephone asked, clutching her new daisy-bone crown for Apollo.
---
From then on, Apollo received weekly invitations to the Underworld.
Not that he could read them, being a baby.
But the daisy-and-skull scented scrolls still came.
And somehow, Hades ended up being the first person Apollo ever called “Unky.”
(Artemis refused to let him live that down.)
---
Let me know if you want Part 3: Baby Apollo accidentally starts a cult in the Underworld.
Title: Sunlight in Small Form – Part 3
Subtitled: The Great Uncle War (aka Hades vs Poseidon: Battle for Baby Apollo)
---
It all began with one offhand comment.
“I just think it’s funny,” Poseidon said, swirling a goblet of seawater smugly, “how some people need to steal affection from babies to feel relevant.”
Across the godly gathering, Hades froze mid-sip of pomegranate juice. “Excuse me?”
“I'm just saying,” Poseidon continued, voice casual but eyes sharp, “when Apollo crawled to the edge of the sea the other day, who did he giggle at first, hmm?”
“He giggles at everything,” Hades shot back. “The other day, he looked at my skull-shaped paperweight and said ‘ba!’ with joy. That doesn’t make you special.”
“He splashed, Hades. SPLASHED. In my ocean. That's love.”
“That’s bath time.”
Zeus, listening nearby, muttered, “I told you we shouldn’t have spoiled that kid. Now look.”
---
Artemis watched all this unfold with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.
“I swear if they start fighting again over Apollo—”
Too late.
---
THE NEXT DAY:
Hades showed up with a handmade underworld-themed mobile, complete with glow-in-the-dark ghosts, a tiny chariot, and a plush Cerberus that squeaked.
Poseidon followed that up with a musical seashell cradle made of pearl and coral, rocking itself on tides of saltwater that smelled like sea breeze.
Apollo clapped happily at both. “La!”
Hades growled.
Poseidon smirked.
---
Then came The Great Baby Games.
Each uncle insisted on a playdate.
Poseidon: teaching baby Apollo to summon tiny waves in the bathtub.
Hades: teaching baby Apollo to summon glow-in-the-dark skeletal hands that waved back.
Poseidon: conjuring dolphin rides.
Hades: giving Apollo Cerberus styled piggyback rides around the Underworld nursery.
Artemis: screaming into her hands as baby Apollo cooed from his golden swaddle, oblivious to the war being waged in his name.
---
The final straw?
Apollo’s first word.
He looked at Poseidon.
Then at Hades.
Then at his rubber ducky.
And said: “Boo!”
The gods froze.
Poseidon blinked. “Did he say—boat?”
Hades lit up. “No, he meant boo like my ghosts!”
They started arguing again.
Apollo sneezed.
A sunbeam exploded through the nursery ceiling.
The moon wept.
---
Eventually, Leto had to step in.
“You are grown men,” she snapped, taking her baby back from the middle of the shrine now decked out in ghost-and-seashell wallpaper. “Gods of Death and Sea. Stop fighting over my literal infant.”
“But I’m his favorite,” Poseidon sulked.
“No, I am—he called me Unky first—”
“ENOUGH!”
Apollo yawned adorably.
Everyone melted.
---
In the end, Artemis made a chore chart for Apollo’s uncles.
Mondays and Thursdays were Hades’ visitation days. Tuesdays and Fridays were Poseidon's. Weekend duties were rotated based on who bribed her better.
(Zeus was banned entirely after he tried to gift Apollo a baby-sized thunderbolt.)
Apollo didn’t mind. He liked both of them.
They had cool toys.
And Cerberus gave better cuddles than any plushie.
Chapter 96: Farm Day Fright (and the Cat Conspiracy)
Chapter Text
Title: Farm Day Fright (and the Cat Conspiracy)
---
It all began with a simple idea from Chiron: “Let’s teach the campers some responsibility with a magical farm.”
What could go wrong?
Answer: Everything.
Camp Half-Blood’s newly added mystical farm was a charming disaster. The cows hated everyone. The goats headbutted any demigod within a five-foot radius. The rooster had a vendetta against Clarisse and launched aerial attacks daily. And the horses? They were dramatic and made a sport of kicking people in the crotch.
Campers now walked the farm like a war zone, flinching at every moo, neigh, or ominous baaa.
---
Enter Apollo.
Not Lester, not awkward teenage him—glorious, golden, sparkly-deity Apollo visiting Camp to “check in on his kids.”
He strolled past the Big House, lyre slung casually over his back, golden laurel crown glowing faintly.
Then he saw the farm.
“Ooh,” he beamed. “Animals!”
Campers screamed in warning.
“WAIT—NO—THE GOATS—”
Too late.
---
The animals, previously grumpy and homicidal, froze.
Then, like a miracle in motion, they rushed him.
Cows mooed softly and nudged his hand like love-struck toddlers. Goats bowed and rubbed their heads against his thighs. The horses whinnied and pranced around him in joyous circles. The rooster? It cooed. Cooed. Like a pigeon in love.
Apollo giggled. “You guys are so cute!”
He knelt, glowing softly, and the animals responded like he was some sort of divine snack.
---
From a distance:
Will: “That goat tried to kill me yesterday.”
Nico: “That horse kicked Leo so hard he didn’t walk straight for a week.”
Annabeth, whispering: “He’s taming them with vibes alone.”
---
As if that wasn’t strange enough, the cats started showing up.
No one knew where they came from. The forest? The Apollo cabin? Tartarus?
Suddenly, there were cats everywhere.
Tabbies, Siamese, a grumpy-looking Maine Coon that Nico swore was a spirit of vengeance. And they all slinked toward Apollo like gravity pulled them.
He lay down in the sun-dappled grass and they piled on top of him, purring so loudly it caused minor tremors in the earth.
---
“Okay,” Artemis said later, arms crossed as she stared at the pile of cats and her brother glowing like a sleepy sun god under them, “This is getting ridiculous.”
Apollo cracked one eye open. “I can’t help it if the babies love me.”
“Apollo. The rooster is singing you a lullaby.”
“It’s called affection, Artie.”
“YOU CALL THAT A ROOSTER?!”
---
A few days later, a shrine appeared in the barn. No one knew who made it.
(Definitely not the Apollo cabin.)
It had candles, golden yarn, feathers, and a framed photo of Apollo napping with sixteen cats sprawled across him like a purring blanket.
The caption underneath read:
“PRAISE THE SUNMEOW.”
---
Even the farm animals had started behaving better. Milk production went up. Eggs tasted like golden sunshine. The horses let campers ride them. The goat wrote a poem.
All because their favorite pretty god kept visiting with warm hands, warm voice, and sun-kissed smiles.
---
“Do you think Apollo has a secret animal domain?” Will asked, as a cat nestled in his hoodie.
“I think Apollo is the animal domain,” Nico muttered.
Title: Farm Day Fiasco Part 2: The Dragon Whisperer
---
Festus was a lot of things: a mechanical dragon with a malfunctioning personality, a walking fire hazard, and the unofficial mascot of every “Camp Half-Blood Near-Death Experience” story.
He was not supposed to be tamed.
Leo had made that clear. Repeatedly.
“Do not try to pet Festus. Do not get close to his teeth. Do not bring him anything shiny unless you want it to disappear and never be seen again.”
So when Apollo announced he was bringing the cats to the Hephaestus cabin for a “playdate,” Leo had only one reaction:
Pure, unfiltered panic.
---
“You’re gonna WHAT?” Leo yelped, ducking under a flying wrench.
Apollo, cheerful and surrounded by six cats balanced like royal courtiers on his shoulders, arms, and hair, blinked innocently. “Festus looked sad! I just wanted to cheer him up!”
“HE’S A FLAMING, FLYING DEATH DRAGON!”
“He seemed like a lonely flaming, flying death dragon.”
---
Cue the entire Hephaestus cabin forming a human barricade around Festus, who was lounging in his hangar and lazily blowing steam out his nostrils.
The cats meowed.
Festus… paused.
He tilted his head.
Then Apollo walked in.
Festus rose. Eyes glowing red.
The campers screamed.
And then—
Then Festus chirped.
CHIRPED.
Like a baby bird seeing its favorite plushie.
---
“Apollo—don’t move!” Leo shouted. “He’s calculating how to turn you into scrap metal!”
But Apollo, of course, just smiled. “Hello, big guy!”
Festus crept forward. Slowly. Carefully.
Then lowered his huge, bronze head and… nuzzled Apollo’s chest.
The cats meowed in agreement.
Apollo giggled. “Aww, you’re just a shiny kitty, huh?”
---
No one could explain it.
Festus started following Apollo around like a fire-breathing duckling. He purred (violently). He offered Apollo a half-melted shield, a transmission rod, and part of the dining pavilion roof as gifts.
Leo had never seen Festus behave that way.
“He doesn’t even do that for me,” he grumbled, arms crossed.
“Maybe you don’t glow,” Nyssa offered dryly.
---
The situation escalated when Apollo accidentally asked Festus to sit.
And Festus sat.
With a mechanical whine, Festus plopped his huge dragon butt down like a very obedient (but very confused) dog.
The camp went dead silent.
Then Will: “Okay, but… can you ask him to fetch something?”
Apollo blinked. “Like… a stick?”
“He breathes fire, Dad. Not fetch—”
Apollo tossed a wrench across the field. “Fetch, buddy!”
Festus roared, took off, returned with three cows, a toolbox, and a tree.
“I—uh…” Apollo scratched his head. “Close enough?”
---
From that day forward, Festus would only respond to Apollo’s commands.
Apollo didn’t mean to start taming mythical monsters.
It just… kept happening.
He was pretty sure the sphinx in the Labyrinth liked him now too. And the hydra? Might’ve tried to kiss him.
---
Leo, facepalming: “We need to build a vault. For the sake of monster-kind and my sanity.”
Annabeth: “Or get Apollo a ‘No Touching Magical Creatures’ bracelet.”
Chiron, sighing deeply: “Or accept that we now have a dragon whisperer sun god as part of our daily lives.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo sat cross-legged on Festus’ head, surrounded by purring cats, humming to himself while braiding a daisy chain crown for the dragon.
Festus purred loud enough to knock over a tree.
Title: Farm Day Fiasco Part 3: The Minotaur Incident (aka Moo Love)
---
There were many things Camp Half-Blood was used to by now:
Spontaneous godly visits? Check.
Monster attacks every other Tuesday? Of course.
Apollo taming mythical beasts like Disney characters on steroids? ...Regrettably normal.
But this? This was new.
Because the Minotaur—yes, the same Minotaur that once tried to gore Percy Jackson to death with his giant cow head—had shown up at the camp border…
…wearing a flower crown.
And holding a sign.
A very large, very pink sign that read: “MOO FOR APOLLO” with hearts and glitter.
---
“Okay, I’ve officially lost it,” Percy muttered, squinting from the camp hill. “Tell me I’m not seeing that.”
“You are,” Annabeth confirmed. “And no, I don’t understand it either.”
The Minotaur mooed… affectionately. Then gently lowered a bundle wrapped in leaves.
“Is that… a picnic?” asked Piper.
“Is that brie?” asked Will.
---
Apollo strolled into view moments later, carrying a watering can and followed by his usual entourage of cats and a purring Festus dragging a wagon of snacks.
“Oh, look! The cow man’s back!” Apollo smiled brightly. “Hi, buddy!”
The Minotaur wagged his stubby tail and let out a happy snort.
---
Chiron was ready to panic. “Apollo, that’s the Minotaur—”
“I know! He’s cute, isn’t he? He’s brought me so many snacks lately! Look, he even made me a necklace from tree bark!”
“He nearly killed Percy Jackson!”
“Pfft,” Apollo waved him off, “Water under the bridge.”
---
The campers watched, mouths agape, as the Minotaur sat down criss-cross applesauce, lovingly offered Apollo cheese cubes, and mooed every time Apollo giggled.
Festus laid down beside them like an overgrown golden retriever.
Somewhere in the distance, the cows from the farm mooed in solidarity.
---
Will stared in horror. “Father… please.”
“What?” Apollo blinked. “He’s sweet!”
“He tried to eat me.”
“Maybe he was hungry! He’s not now. See? Brie!”
---
Clarisse, gripping her spear: “Should I stab him or...?”
“Clarisse,” Nyssa warned. “He’s got a heart-shaped lunchbox and is blushing.”
The Minotaur mooed defensively.
---
Eventually, Apollo patted the Minotaur on the snout and said, “Okay, friend, time to go home! You’ve got forest to terrorize and me to miss!”
The Minotaur moaned mournfully but obeyed.
With one last heartfelt moo, he trundled back into the trees.
---
“He’s definitely in love with you,” Percy said, shellshocked.
“I think he’d elope if he could,” Piper added.
“I think we need a monster-proof fence,” Chiron muttered.
---
Back at the cabin, Will sighed deeply and addressed the Apollo Cabin group chat:
> Will: guys.
Will: I can’t keep explaining to monsters that they can’t date my dad.
Kayla: the gorgon brought a ring this morning
Austin: how much longer till we just declare Dad legally irresistible?
Will: he tamed the minotaur with cheese.
Apollo (accidentally replying): aww they love cheese! I love cheese! We bonded!
Chapter 97: “Missing: One Sunshine Dumbass (Last Seen: Cuddled by Mortals)”
Chapter Text
Title: “Missing: One Sunshine Dumbass (Last Seen: Cuddled by Mortals)”
---
When Apollo ran away from Olympus, it wasn’t really planned. One minute he was brooding on a balcony about how annoying his family was, and the next, he was hit by a stray bolt of chaotic magic (possibly from Dionysus playing divine beer pong), tumbled off a cloud, crash-landed in the middle of a sunflower field in Ohio… and forgot literally everything.
---
Apollo woke up, face down in dirt, blinking up at the sun. “Wow. That’s a really hot guy up there. I should write a song about him.”
He stared at his reflection in a puddle. “Wow. I’m hot too.”
He forgot who he was but retained all self-confidence. Naturally.
---
Meanwhile, across Manhattan:
Artemis: “I turn my back for ONE DAY.”
Zeus: “We’ll flip the entire planet until we find him.”
Hera: “Did we check Jason’s temple? Maybe Apollo decided to join the Romans again.”
Athena: “I’m running divine facial recognition across the globe. He’s somewhere.”
Ares: “Who wants to form a war party?”
Hermes: “Found his Spotify account. Last song he added was ‘Screw Olympus, I’m Gorgeous.’ He’s definitely spiraling.”
---
Meanwhile in Ohio:
A sweet elderly couple named Bob and Martha stumbled across a golden-haired, sparkling-eyed, mostly-naked man trying to converse with a cow.
“Hi! Do you know who I am?” he asked the cow. “Am I… a golden god? Or maybe a male model? Or both?”
Martha fainted.
Bob stared for five seconds before declaring: “Son, you’re our child now.”
And that’s how Apollo ended up in a knitted sweater with “Sunshine #3” on it, helping in a local farmer’s market and learning how to make jam.
He was very good at jam. The cows loved him. The cats followed him everywhere. Martha doted on him. Bob taught him how to fish.
Apollo, with no memory, just beamed at them all like a golden labrador in human form.
---
Cut to Camp Half-Blood
Will Solace stormed into Chiron’s office.
“I swear, if my dad doesn’t show up by tomorrow, I’m launching a rescue mission with swords, syringes, and emotional damage!”
“I’ll come,” said Kayla. “I miss his terrible poetry and inappropriate flirting.”
Even the campers of Ares looked vaguely concerned. No god of the sun = weird weather. And seasonal depression.
---
And then… the gods found him.
A glowing divine locator pinged: “APOLLO DETECTED IN OHIO.”
Within ten minutes, all of Olympus had landed outside Bob and Martha’s farmhouse.
Apollo was busy milking a goat.
“Sunshine!” Martha called, “You have glowing people in dresses here!”
“Oh neat!” Apollo said, hands still on the goat. “Are they from a convention?”
---
Cue a divine argument on the front porch:
Artemis: “Brother. It’s me. Come home.”
Apollo: “You’re very pretty, Miss Cosplay Bow Lady, but I live here now.”
Poseidon: “He’s forgotten who he is?”
Zeus: “My son has been adopted by mortals? The shame—”
Bob: “Hey! You leave my boy alone. He makes the best jam this side of the Mississippi!”
---
And then Camp Half-Blood arrived.
Will launched himself at Apollo like a missile. “DAD.”
Apollo blinked. “Oh wow, you’re so pretty. Are you my son?? I’m honored!”
Will: emotional breakdown noises.
Kayla: “WE ARE TAKING HIM BACK.”
Bob: “OVER MY DEAD BODY.”
Percy: “Oh gods. It’s a custody battle.”
---
Campers vs. Gods vs. Mortals.
Apollo stood in the middle, cradling a chicken, wearing a sunflower apron.
“Can I… keep all of you?”
---
Eventually, Artemis stepped in and calmly explained everything to Apollo. With the patience of a saint and photos on her phone.
Apollo stared.
“...So I’m a god.”
“Yes.”
“And I have hot children?”
“Yes.”
Apollo blinked, then slowly grinned. “Do I get to keep the sweater?”
Bob and Martha tackled him in hugs.
---
Final Decision?
Apollo gets shared custody.
He spends weekdays on Olympus and weekends in Ohio, sending Bob and Martha sun-kissed vegetables and divine jams.
And once a month, the Apollo cabin visits the farm to “check on him” (read: make sure he hasn’t been adopted again).
Apollo’s sweater collection now includes “Sunshine Supreme,” “God of Jam,” and “Milk Daddy.”
Chapter 98: “The Ex-Files: Olympus Edition”
Chapter Text
Title: “The Ex-Files: Olympus Edition”
---
It started on a Tuesday. Because, as everyone knows, Tuesdays are cursed.
One moment, Apollo was chilling on the sun chariot, humming the newest Taylor Swift song, and the next—
BOOM.
A magical burst of divine energy rippled through the world, and out of nowhere…
His ex-lovers returned from the grave.
And not just the alive ones. No, no. The flowers, the trees, the constellations, the ancient ghosts. All of them.
---
First came Daphne.
Tree no more, bark-free, and looking fabulous.
“Apollo,” she said, flipping her hair, “you owe me centuries of back massages and a sincere apology.”
Then Hyacinthus appeared, literally blooming with glory.
“Excuse me, I died in your arms. That has to count for something.”
Cyparissus: “He cried over me. Literally created a cypress tree in my honor.”
Coronis: “Oh please. He killed me for cheating and still watched over our son. That’s dedication.”
Thamyris: “We were artist soulmates. You know you cried when I left.”
Jacinto: “He made a flower out of me, not just a tree. That’s poetic.”
And then even more dead ones showed up.
Leucothea, Cassandra, Admetus, Calliope—even some questionable demigods he might’ve winked at once.
---
Suddenly, Mount Olympus became a soap opera warzone.
"He loves me!"
"No, he loves me more!"
"You were a tree!"
"You were DEAD!"
"He turned you into a literal flower!"
"At least he wrote poetry about me!"
All of them turned to Apollo.
“CHOOSE, SUNSHINE.”
Apollo, visibly sweating: “Uhhh…”
He took one look at the swirling mob of resurrected lovers, let out a tiny, nervous laugh—
—and straight-up VANISHED.
Just poofed in a sunbeam.
---
Back on Olympus:
Zeus: “I did not need to see my son’s dating history laid out like this.”
Hera: “This is better than mortal daytime television.”
Ares: “I’m betting 10 drachmas on the flower guy.”
Athena: “They're all idiots. But poetic idiots.”
Hermes, handing out popcorn: “Do we really want him to pick one? I vote Hunger Games.”
Artemis: “I TOLD him to stop flirting with mortals.”
---
Meanwhile, at Camp Half-Blood:
Will Solace, pinching the bridge of his nose: “This is why we don’t talk about dad’s love life.”
Kayla: “One of those guys gave me a flower. I don’t know how I feel about that.”
Austin: “Dad’s harem arc is getting out of control.”
---
Later, deep in a sunbeam in the mortal world…
Apollo hid under a sunhat and sunglasses, sipping orange juice and mumbling to himself.
“I just wanted to play my lyre… not host the Bachelor: Olympian Edition.”
Chapter 99: “No Filter Needed”
Chapter Text
Title: “No Filter Needed”
---
It all started when the Aphrodite cabin decided to host a makeup challenge at Camp Half-Blood. The rules were simple: beat their cabin’s best glam team with only mortal makeup products. Obviously, no divine glamours, no charmspeak—just pure skill.
The campers, demigods, even a few gods were all buzzing with excitement. Then he walked in.
Apollo.
Golden, glowing, offensively beautiful Apollo. Wearing jean shorts, a flowy crop top, and a sunflower in his hair like it was designed to be there.
He blinked at the Aphrodite campers. “Makeup challenge? Sounds fun! I’ll join!”
---
Cue chaos.
“YES!” one Aphrodite girl squealed. “We get to do Apollo’s makeup!”
“I get to do his lips!” said another.
“No fair, I wanted his eyeliner!” someone else wailed.
Eventually, they teamed up—five of the best Aphrodite kids took on the divine canvas of Apollo’s face.
But every time they applied foundation—it slid right off.
Mascara? Evaporated.
Eyeliner? Smudged the second they blinked.
Lipstick? Disappeared like the kiss of a sunbeam.
“WHY IS NOTHING STICKING?!” cried Silena’s younger cousin, sobbing into a blush palette.
“He’s… too beautiful,” another whispered, dramatically sinking to her knees.
Apollo blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Wait, did I do something wrong?”
“No,” they all muttered in unison, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’re perfect.”
---
The Aphrodite cabin cried waterfalls that day.
Even Chiron shed a tear.
He was just too naturally radiant. His skin shimmered like sunlight off honey, his lashes curled on their own, and his cheekbones? Illegal.
Someone handed him a mirror.
Apollo frowned. “Huh. I look like this all the time?”
The campers screamed.
---
Up on Olympus…
Aphrodite watched through her scrying mirror, slowly sipping her ambrosia.
“Heh.” She smirked. “That’s my boy.”
Ares glanced over. “You’re proud of this, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I raised him right. Flawless skin, naturally perfect glow, humble and gorgeous. A baddie.”
“I dunno…” Hermes piped in. “He just made half the camp weep.”
Aphrodite shrugged, casually flipping her hair. “Let them weep. Beauty like that should hurt a little.”
---
Meanwhile, back at camp:
Will Solace stood in the background, arms crossed, watching his father casually devastate an entire cabin with just his face.
“I’m not even mad,” he said. “Just impressed.”
---
TL;DR: Apollo doesn’t need makeup. Makeup needs therapy.
Chapter 100: Silent Sun, Lonely Moon
Chapter Text
Title: "Silent Sun, Lonely Moon"
(Or: That One Time Artemis Realized She Hurt Her Twin)
---
It started with a dumb argument. They always argued—bickered like most siblings did, albeit with a bit more godly flair and celestial-level pettiness. This time it was over something small.
“I just don’t understand why you care so much about mortals,” Artemis said, rolling her eyes as she polished one of her silver arrows. “You fall for them like they’re worthy of you.”
Apollo, lounging nearby in golden robes, raised a brow. “Because they matter, Artie. They live—they burn fast and bright and beautiful. You’d see that if you spent more time with them.”
She scoffed. “Or maybe I’d see another mess you left behind. You’re always pretending you’re some golden savior when you're just—”
She didn’t mean to say it.
But she did.
“You’re just a glorified torch with abandonment issues.”
The silence was instant. Deafening.
Apollo’s face went blank. His usual sunny warmth—the light that filled every room he entered—vanished.
“…Right,” he said softly, standing. “Thanks, Artemis.”
She turned, frowning. “Wait, I didn’t—”
But he was already gone.
---
Days passed. Then weeks. Then months.
No sun-chariot came with flamboyant greetings. No surprise harp serenades. No sibling competitions or twin teasing.
Apollo stopped visiting.
He didn’t even show up to the last Olympian council, which shocked everyone.
Artemis tried to act like she didn’t care. But every time she passed something golden—a field of sunflowers, a mortal strumming a lute, even the soft light of dawn—she felt it.
The guilt.
She missed her brother.
The world felt… dimmer.
---
Eventually, she cracked.
She appeared at the gates of Delphi, arms crossed, a nervous energy clinging to her like dew.
“Let me in,” she told the Oracle. “I need to see him.”
“He’s… not really seeing people,” Rachel said gently, eyes glowing faintly. “But maybe he’ll see you.”
---
She found him on the balcony of his temple, staring at the horizon.
The usual warm gold in his aura was dull, his hair pulled back messily, face pale. Even the sun behind him felt reluctant.
He didn’t look at her.
“Artemis.”
She swallowed.
“I hurt you,” she said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. But you did.”
Silence again.
“I miss you, you know,” she added, walking over to him. “The moon’s lonely without the sun.”
Apollo finally turned, eyes glassy but gentle. “You know what hurts the most?”
“What?”
“I always show up for you. And for once, I needed you to see me—and you didn’t.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I see you now. All of you. Not just the light. The pain, the cracks, the heart. I’m sorry, brother.”
There was a long pause.
Then, finally, he smiled—soft and tired and forgiving.
“…I apollogize for ignoring your apology.”
Artemis groaned. “You’re lucky I missed you.”
They sat in silence after that—sun and moon reunited, side by side.
---
TL;DR: Even immortal twins fight, but love always finds a way to glow again
Chapter 101: Trials of the Golden Menace
Chapter Text
Title: “Trials of the Golden Menace”
(Or: How Apollo Accidentally Got a Harem of Evil Emperors)
---
Apollo didn’t know what went wrong.
Scratch that—he didn’t know what went right.
Because by some divine miracle (maybe Zeus was drunk, maybe Hera had mercy, maybe Fate rolled a natural 20), Apollo had not been stripped of his godhood for the Trials. Still golden, still immortal, still fabulous.
...Still dumb enough to forget that being the embodiment of beauty, music, and charm came with side effects.
Especially when dealing with unhinged evil emperors.
---
Commodus was the first to fall.
“Apollo,” he sneered, lounging dramatically in his arena like he was in a shampoo commercial. “You’ve come to fail again, I see.”
Apollo smiled. His teeth literally sparkled. “Commodus, darling, don’t you ever get tired of losing? Also, you’ve got something in your hair—it’s mediocrity.”
Commodus sputtered. “Wha—I—you—!”
He blushed. Blushed.
The audience gasped. Somewhere in the back, someone whispered, “Was that a giggle?”
Later, Lester (still using the alias because “Apollo” drew way too many hearts carved into lockers at Camp Half-Blood) would find an entire shrine in Commodus’ quarters.
Complete with hand-drawn sketches and a labeled scrapbook: ‘Apollo’s Most Angelic Glares’.
---
Nero was next.
Meg was present for that one. She was chewing a piece of gum and watching her stepfather get absolutely flattened by Apollo’s presence.
“You dare challenge me?” Nero roared, dramatically throwing off his purple cape.
Apollo blinked. “You’ve got something in your teeth.”
Nero froze. “...What?”
“Spinach,” Apollo helpfully pointed out. “Green’s not your color, sweetie. But it’s nice you’re trying.”
Meg let out a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Nero turned beet red.
Later, Meg walked in on Nero staring into a mirror muttering, “I am his color. I can be golden. I can change.”
“Are you okay?” she asked flatly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re writing his name in your diary.”
“It’s a battle strategy.”
“Right.”
---
Caligula, by far, took it the hardest.
He prided himself on being emotionally detached. Chaos incarnate. Unshakeable.
Until Apollo walked into his yacht with the sun behind him, hair fluttering, lute slung over one shoulder, and said:
“I’m here for the dramatic entrance. Hope I didn’t outshine your ego.”
Caligula dropped his goblet. Literally fell over.
“Who is this blasphemous perfection?!” he hissed. “IS THIS WHAT JEALOUSY FEELS LIKE?”
He called an emergency meeting of the Triumvirate. The topic: "How to emotionally recover from being roasted and ravished in the same sentence."
---
Meanwhile, Meg was sitting with a juice box watching this all unfold.
Nero was sighing and reapplying cologne every five seconds. Commodus was doodling Apollo’s name in cursive. Caligula was on a “revenge-love-poetry” bender.
She turned to Apollo, who was eating grapes like the world wasn’t crumbling around him.
“You seduced my stepdad.”
Apollo blinked innocently. “I what?”
“You’re not even trying.”
“I really don’t know what’s going on.”
“You smiled and three ancient psychopaths had a gay awakening.”
“…Oops?”
Meg sipped her juice. “At this point, just marry all of them and call it a peace treaty.”
Apollo gasped. “That’s actually… not a bad idea.”
Meg paled. “WAIT I WAS KIDDING—”
---
TL;DR: Apollo’s hotness caused an international crisis, three emperors questioned their entire identities, and Meg is officially done with everyone.
Chapter 102: The Unexpected Addition to Cabin 7
Chapter Text
Title: "The Unexpected Addition to Cabin "
Monsters didn’t usually get second chances.
But then again, Crest wasn’t like most monsters.
He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d fallen in the Labyrinth, his body fading into ash as Meg’s scream echoed somewhere behind him. He remembered fear. He remembered pain. But most of all, he remembered hope. Because Apollo—no, Lester—had looked at him not like a monster, but like a friend.
And sometimes, Tartarus had a strange sense of mercy.
Crest reformed.
The moment he clawed his way out of the shadows, blinking against the sunlight, the first thing he said was: “Where’s Apollo?”
---
Apollo hadn’t expected to be tackled by a fuzzy, wide-eyed pandai with an oversized satchel and a hopeful grin.
“Crest?” he breathed, stunned.
“Hi!” Crest chirped, tail wagging. “I reformed! Did you miss me?”
Apollo stared, heart doing something twisty in his chest. “You were dead! I wrote a song about you—Meg cried!”
“Oh, sorry,” Crest said sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to make people sad.”
Apollo scooped him up without hesitation, hugging him tightly as if afraid he'd vanish again. “You're not going anywhere.”
---
Cabin 7 was not prepared for their new... sibling?
“He’s so fluffy,” Will muttered, poking Crest’s ears. “And weirdly polite.”
“Can we keep him?” Kayla asked, already weaving him a friendship bracelet.
“He already lives here now,” Apollo said, proudly. “He’s mine. Our family just got fluffier.”
Crest was ecstatic. He helped alphabetize Apollo’s scrolls. He joined archery practice with a too-big bow. He made everyone in Cabin 7 tea with random wild herbs. He called everyone “sibling” and hugged them with all four arms.
Even the grumpy Ares cabin softened when Crest offered them handmade exploding marbles.
---
When Chiron asked if Apollo was seriously claiming a pandai as one of his children, the god just shrugged.
“Let him try telling me no,” Apollo said sweetly, as he braided Crest’s fur with golden ribbons. “Besides, look at him. He’s adorable.”
Crest blinked. “What’s a godson?”
“You.”
“Oh,” Crest said, tail wagging wildly. “Cool.”
---
And from then on, Cabin 7 had a new motto:
Monsters? Maybe. Family? Absolutely.
Chapter 103: Sunlight, Straw, and a Moo
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunlight, Straw, and a Moo"
Apollo didn’t need Olympus right now. He needed sun-warmed fields, dirt between his toes, and the comforting moo of his therapy baby cow.
He needed peace.
Camp Half-Blood's mysterious farm had become his refuge. No one really knew how it got there—Demeter might have sneezed, or Dionysus had a moment of clarity. But Apollo didn’t care. He’d claimed it, absolutely and unapologetically.
---
The moment he stepped onto the soil barefoot, the animals reacted.
Goats bleated joyfully. Horses trotted toward him like he was made of sugar cubes and sunlight. The chickens? They stopped attacking people and started building nests around his sun chair.
And then there was her: Hera—a small, chubby, caramel-colored baby cow with heart-shaped spots on her ears and a little flower crown Apollo made himself.
“My therapy cow,” he’d say proudly, scratching her under the chin. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Hera would moo gently and lean her head against his chest, causing Apollo to melt into goo every single time.
---
His emotional support crew included:
- Posey, the one-eyed goat with anxiety who only calmed down when Apollo hummed lullabies.
- Sunny, the rooster who refused to crow unless Apollo gave him a good morning forehead kiss.
- Nox, the grumpy black cat that absolutely hated everyone except Apollo. She followed him like a shadow and slept curled on his sunlit stomach.
- Luna, a massive white horse who nuzzled Apollo’s hair and once kicked a Hermes kid for calling him “sunshine twink.”
---
Demigods weren’t sure what shocked them more: the fact that the animals loved him, or the fact that Apollo—God of the Sun, music, poetry, medicine, and chaos—was spending every afternoon lying in hay, playing a guitar while Hera the cow used his stomach as a pillow.
When questioned, Apollo only said, “She lowers my stress levels. She's emotionally very mature.”
Kayla once found him sobbing softly while Hera licked his cheek.
“She understands,” he sniffled. “She gets me.”
Will refused to comment. He just handed his dad a carrot and walked away.
---
When word spread that the cows who hated everyone else would happily lie down beside Apollo, Camp Half-Blood came to a unanimous, unspoken decision:
He is the farmboy now.
Some say if you’re very quiet near the barn at sunset, you can hear Apollo softly singing to Hera while the animals lie peacefully around him.
Others say he's been crowned the “Pasture Prince” by a committee of chickens and one raccoon.
Either way?
Apollo was happy.
Chapter 104: Light in the Pit
Chapter Text
Title: "Light in the Pit"
They said it was justice. A punishment for killing Python.
Apollo had barely been born—sunlight wrapped in golden baby fat, big eyes too bright for this world—when Zeus handed him over to the Furies.
“A god must not shed primordial blood,” Zeus said coldly, ignoring Leto’s screams. “Not without consequence.”
And so, Apollo—infant, innocent, divine—was cast into Tartarus.
---
The Pit welcomed him like it did all divine blood: with hatred, hunger, and shadow.
Monsters sensed him instantly. But they did not pounce.
Because even in his infant form, Apollo shone. He was soft light in the black, a lullaby in a pit of screams. The monsters, confused, paused.
Echidna found him first, expecting to devour. But instead, she stared.
The baby god blinked at her and—giggled. Reached up. Touched her face.
And something broke inside her ancient heart.
“He is warm,” she whispered. “He is light.”
---
Apollo didn’t speak for centuries. But his cries became lullabies for monsters who never knew peace. His tiny hands healed wounds without thought. He curled beside beasts who had no comfort and made them purr, whimper, breathe easy for the first time in eons.
A Manticore guarded him like a lioness.
A drakon draped its coils around him, shielding him from the acid rain.
Even Kampê brought him raw starlight for food, somehow retrieved through ancient portals.
The Furies who once dragged him down? They began to weep when he cried. They started rocking him.
---
Time was strange in Tartarus. When Apollo finally remembered who he was—when his power reignited—he stood as a young boy with a broken golden lyre, eyes that saw too much, and a quiet sadness behind his smile.
He did not hate Tartarus.
He had lived there.
And Tartarus loved him back.
---
When Artemis descended, spear in hand, to retrieve her twin, she expected to fight monsters. Instead, she found Apollo on a throne of bone and obsidian, singing lullabies to the Pit itself. Monsters sat at his feet like faithful hounds. His hair glowed.
“Brother?” she whispered.
Apollo turned. Smiled softly. “Did you come to visit?”
---
Olympus expected wrath.
What they got was silence.
Apollo ascended without a word, with Tartarus clinging to his shadow and monsters whispering his name like a prayer.
Zeus looked at his son, radiant and still, and something deep inside him shuddered.
Because Apollo had survived Tartarus.
And Tartarus had not survived him.
Part 2: “He Came Back Wrong—But He Came Back Home.”
---
Olympus trembled.
Not from war. Not from fury.
From the quiet way Apollo ascended back from Tartarus.
He didn’t shout. Didn’t strike lightning like Zeus, or burst with chaos like Dionysus.
He simply stepped into the throne room barefoot, covered in ash and shadow, a small, broken lyre in his hand.
The sun bent toward him. The air shimmered.
And every god flinched.
---
Artemis walked beside him, her gaze cold and sharp like the moon. Her fingers curled around Apollo’s hand, as if daring anyone to try and take him again.
But no one did. Because they could all feel it.
Tartarus still clung to him. And yet—he was radiant.
---
Demeter’s eyes watered.
“He’s just a child,” she whispered. “He was just a baby…”
“He was my son,” Leto said with a voice that cracked marble.
She looked at Zeus with nothing but grief and fire. “And you threw him away.”
---
Hermes was quiet. For once.
He looked at Apollo like he was a ghost, hesitant to approach.
“I never met you,” he said, voice cracking. “But I wanted to.”
And when Apollo offered him a faint smile—real, soft, warm—Hermes had to turn away and cry behind his caduceus.
---
Ares stared.
Because no battlefield, no glory, no bloodshed had ever made his heart shake like Apollo stepping forward and saying, simply:
“I’m back.”
---
Athena frowned, but her eyes betrayed her.
She didn’t understand how this soft boy was the same god who used to burn cities with plague arrows and inspire empires.
But then Apollo hummed—just once.
A thread of knowledge, light, and prophecy fluttered through Olympus.
Athena shivered.
“…He remembers everything.”
---
Hestia was the first to kneel.
Not out of guilt. But love.
She took Apollo’s hands in hers and whispered, “I kept the hearth burning. I waited. I knew you’d come home.”
Apollo finally teared up.
---
And then came Zeus.
King of the gods.
The Father.
He stood, tall and golden and shaking.
“Apollo,” he said. “My son…”
Apollo tilted his head.
“Why?” he asked. Just that. Just why.
Zeus opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
But there were no words to excuse throwing your infant son into Hell.
“I made a mistake,” Zeus finally admitted, eyes downcast. “I was—afraid.”
“You feared me,” Apollo said. “But Tartarus didn’t.”
His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cruel.
It was disappointed.
That somehow made it worse.
---
Apollo walked past him.
He didn’t demand an apology. He didn’t ask for love.
He had Tartarus’s loyalty. And Artemis’s protection. And Leto’s tears. And Hestia’s warmth.
He didn’t need Zeus’s approval anymore.
---
Later that night, Dionysus whispered to Athena, “He came back wrong.”
“No,” Athena said, watching Apollo sleep under Hestia’s hearth with his sister curled protectively beside him.
“He came back right. We’re the ones who were wrong.”
Chapter 105: Not All Men, Apparently
Chapter Text
Title: “Not All Men, Apparently”
Featuring: soft Apollo accidentally stealing the hearts of the Hunters of Artemis
---
The Hunters of Artemis hated men.
It was a rule, a code, a mantra burned into their souls with every betrayal they endured.
So when Artemis announced they’d be hosting Apollo at their camp for a few days, there was a collective groan and a silent prayer to the gods (not that one) that he’d be gone quickly.
But the moment he stumbled off the sun chariot and immediately tripped over a rock, face-planting into a pile of snow with a muffled, “ow,” the Hunters blinked.
“…Is he okay?” asked Phoebe, baffled.
“He’s fine,” Artemis said dryly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s just… like this.”
---
They expected arrogance. Ego. A walking sunburn of flirtation.
What they got was a softly humming god who braided their hair when asked, complimented their archery form with utter sincerity, and tried to make cookies for their dinner (he burned them, but the effort was cute).
He fed the camp squirrels. He tucked a blanket over Zoe Nightshade when she fell asleep on watch (and she didn’t even stab him for it—just blinked once and grumbled “thanks”).
He cried during one of the songs he played on his lyre.
“He’s like… a kitten,” murmured Celyn, holding a mug of cocoa he made for her.
“An idiot kitten,” sighed Amara, watching Apollo get chased by a goose, “but yeah.”
---
By day three, he had a fan club.
They all denied it, of course. No one admitted to liking a man.
But the way they made sure his tea was just the right sweetness? Or the gentle way they patted his golden curls when he was sad?
Yeah. He was in.
Even Zoe, hardened general of Artemis’ ranks, grudgingly admitted, “I suppose… not all males are vile. Some are just hopelessly soft and weird.”
Apollo, chewing on a flower crown someone gave him, beamed. “Thanks!”
---
Artemis walked in one morning to find Apollo snuggled between three hunters like a warm sunbeam, all of them curled around him like cats.
She blinked.
“What… happened to 'no men allowed’?”
“He’s not a man,” Phoebe mumbled sleepily, holding onto Apollo’s arm. “He’s just… sunshine with a heartbeat.”
---
Artemis sighed.
Then smiled faintly.
“I suppose I can share him.”
Chapter 106: Sunlight Sneaks In
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight Sneaks In”
Featuring: Sneaky sunshine god Apollo, flabbergasted Camp Half-Blood, and Olympus in chaos
---
For as long as Camp Half-Blood existed, one thing remained true: no one had ever seen Apollo.
Sure, they knew him. Praised him. Prayed to him. His children got his powers. But not even the Cabin 7 kids had seen their divine parent in person. Not once. Not even a glimmer of sun-god sparkle.
Rumors swirled.
“Maybe he doesn’t exist.”
“Maybe he’s too powerful to step on mortal land.”
“Maybe he’s in a never-ending concert somewhere in Olympus.”
No one guessed the truth:
Olympus was extremely, ridiculously, violently overprotective of their sunshine.
---
Apollo, meanwhile, was bored.
His palace was full of gold and singing birds and a million scrolls of poetry. But he was bored. No one let him leave. Zeus once threw a fit when Apollo tried to visit Delos. Hera stationed twelve peacocks outside his room to keep him in. Artemis threatened to tackle him into the moon.
So naturally, Apollo did what any repressed immortal sunshine ball would do:
He escaped.
---
Camp Half-Blood’s peaceful morning shattered when a glowing, beautiful, golden-skinned man with bright curls and wide eyes wandered in wearing a hoodie that said “Sun Out, Fun Out” and holding a bag of strawberries.
Dionysus dropped his Diet Coke.
Chiron nearly fell out of his wheelchair.
“…Apollo?” Chiron asked, voice tight.
“Hi!” Apollo grinned, stuffing a strawberry in his mouth. “Nice camp! I brought snacks!”
---
Cue chaos.
“Sir, with all due respect, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Dionysus whisper-yelled.
“I snuck out,” Apollo said proudly. “Don’t worry, I left a note.”
Back in Olympus:
THE NOTE WAS A STICK FIGURE DRAWING.
It said:
“Going to make friends! Love, Sunshine.”
Artemis had already shot twelve stars in panic. Hera tried to ground Zeus for “losing their baby boy.” Hermes was launching a rescue squad. Demeter offered to bring snacks but only if she got updates. The entire pantheon was flipping Mt. Olympus upside down.
---
Meanwhile, Camp Half-Blood had a new favorite god.
Cabin 7? They were crying.
“He’s real,” sobbed Kayla. “He’s so soft.”
Austin clutched Apollo like a koala. “He said he’s proud of me.”
The rest of the camp?
Hooked.
Because Apollo helped with archery class, gave the Ares kids hair compliments, helped the Aphrodite kids write sonnets, AND carried a baby goat around because “he looked lonely.”
Apollo sat on the dining pavilion roof that night, legs swinging.
“This is nice,” he said, glowing softly. “You’re all my kids now.”
---
Dionysus sipped his drink, watching the camp fall under Apollo’s sunshine.
“He’s too powerful,” he muttered. “We’re doomed."
Chapter 107: The Frank Exchange Program
Chapter Text
Title: "The Frank Exchange Program"
Featuring: One (1) confused son of Mars, one (1) sunshine god ready to adopt, and two cabins at war over who gets to keep Frank Zhang.
---
Frank never really fit in the Ares cabin. Sure, he could fight, and his dad was technically Mars, god of war and destruction and general yelling. But… Frank liked nature. Animals. Archery. Poetry. He once cried over a squirrel.
And lately, he’d found himself watching the Apollo cabin during activities with a soft little smile. He liked the way they laughed, the way they made art and healed bruises and practiced archery with careful concentration. And he really liked their glowing dad, who—despite being one of the most powerful gods—smiled like sunshine and said “proud of you” like it cost nothing.
So when someone jokingly said, “Frank, you’re like an Apollo kid,” Frank replied with a half-laugh and a shrug:
“Maybe I was supposed to be one.”
---
Somehow, Apollo heard.
Somehow, it became an event.
---
Apollo showed up in full golden robes, holding a bouquet of sunflowers, and beamed at Frank like he’d just won a lifetime supply of hugs.
“I heard you wanted to be my kid?” Apollo said, eyes twinkling.
Frank blinked. “I—I was just joking—”
Apollo gasped. “Are you rejecting me?” His lip wobbled.
Frank panicked. “NO! I mean—no, sir! I would be honored, Lord Apollo!”
Apollo squealed and launched himself at Frank, hugging him tightly. “My son now. I’m adopting you. This is binding.”
He looked toward the sky. “Zeus! I’m invoking the Golden Clause!”
Somewhere in Olympus, Zeus facepalmed.
---
Cue chaos.
Mars appeared ten minutes later in the form of a smoldering war tank, glaring daggers.
“What’s this I hear about you adopting my kid, sunshine?” he growled.
Apollo smiled sweetly. “He likes archery. And poetry. And me. Finders keepers.”
Mars stared. The battlefield god twitched. Then he sighed.
“…Ugh. Fine. Just bring him back for war games.”
(He also threatened to blow up Olympus if Frank stopped calling him "Dad." Frank promised not to.)
---
Meanwhile, Camp Half-Blood imploded.
Cabin 5 (Ares): “They stole our brother!”
Cabin 7 (Apollo): “You weren’t treating him right!”
Frank: is now wearing a shirt that says “Sunshine Sibling” and helping Kayla with target practice
War broke out.
Ares Cabin declared a water balloon war on Cabin 7.
Cabin 7 responded with painted water balloons that sparkled in the sun.
Apollo made popcorn.
---
Frank? He was having the time of his life.
He braided Will’s hair.
He played flute with Austin.
He got a glowing “World’s Best Son” mug from Apollo.
Even Mars started grumbling less when Apollo sent Frank healing ambrosia and thank-you poems.
---
In the end, Camp Half-Blood had to admit:
Frank Zhang, honorary son of Apollo (and still technically Mars), was sunshine in disguise.
Title: “The Frank Exchange Program: Part 2 – Shared Custody”
Feat. One soft war god, one dramatic sun god, and their delightful shared child.
---
Frank hadn’t signed up for any of this.
He just liked archery. And Apollo gave the best compliments. And okay, he maybe liked being hugged and called “sunshine sprout.” Was that a crime?
Apparently, yes.
Because now? He was caught in the middle of an unspoken custody war between two Olympian gods.
---
It started with a schedule.
Apollo made one.
It was glittery, color-coded, and smelled faintly of sunflowers.
Frank’s Weekly Divine Schedule
Monday-Wednesday: Cabin 7 Archery & Sunbathing
Thursday-Friday: Cabin 5 Combat & Intimidating Auras
Saturday: “Divine Family Bonding Time” (alternates)
Sunday: “Therapy Cow & Poetry Hour”
Mars (Ares in Roman mood) stared at the calendar like it had personally insulted his battle axe.
“…What in Hades is ‘Therapy Cow Hour’?”
Apollo grinned. “Frank likes cows. They're emotionally grounding.”
---
Cue the first family meeting.
Frank sat at the Big House porch, sipping cocoa nervously.
Apollo leaned against him like an affectionate cat.
Mars stood behind them, arms crossed, glaring like an angry dad outside a parent-teacher conference.
Chiron blinked. “I—uh. I thought we were discussing battle drills?”
“No,” Apollo said. “We’re co-parenting now.”
“I’m parenting. You’re emotional support glitter,” Mars growled.
“Oh please,” Apollo sniffed. “You literally let Frank wear that unicorn hoodie to sparring. That’s love.”
Frank blushed. “It was lucky…”
---
Cabin 5 and 7?
They weren’t handling it well.
Cabin 5 created a banner: “REAL DAD = WAR DAD”
Cabin 7 painted a counter-banner: “SUN DAD = FUN DAD”
Frank found them both outside his bunk. He considered crying.
---
Meanwhile, the actual gods:
Mars: “He needs to learn intimidation tactics.”
Apollo: “He needs to learn the pan flute!”
Mars: “He needs strength!”
Apollo: “He needs self-love and lavender baths!”
Frank: “...Can I do both?”
Mars and Apollo: Blink. Then nod in unison.
---
It escalated when Frank entered the camp’s talent show.
He performed a dramatic haiku while shape-shifting into a golden eagle.
The crowd wept.
Apollo threw roses.
Mars grunted, then handed him a sword that burst into flames.
---
By week’s end, Frank had:
- Won “Best Smile” in Cabin 7
- Been declared “Honorary Commander” in Cabin 5
- Gotten a joint Dad-Diploma signed “From your sunshine + rage machine”
- And had two cabins warring to sit next to him at dinner
---
Frank Zhang didn’t know how he got here.
But he was warm, loved, deadly with a bow, and kind of sparkly.
And that was enough.
---
Chapter 108: Camp Half-Blood’s New Therapist is... Apollo?
Chapter Text
Title: “Camp Half-Blood’s New Therapist is... Apollo?”
---
It started on a Tuesday.
The camp’s usual chaos had only mildly escalated into sword fights during breakfast and someone (Leo) accidentally summoning a flamethrower during art class. Dionysus sat at the Big House porch, sipping Diet Coke with the weariness of a man who had not signed up for babysitting immortal spawn.
Apollo, newly back in his divine body but still wearing a therapy cow t-shirt, plopped down beside him.
“Camp’s a mess,” he said cheerfully, watching a tree catch fire in the distance. “What happened to group therapy?”
Dionysus gave him a look.
“I’m supposed to run group therapy?” He took a long, suffering sip. “I’m literally one bad day away from turning into a grape.”
Apollo snorted. “You’re a god. You’ve lived through worse.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m not dealing with these disasters. You do it.”
“Me?” Apollo blinked. “Why me?”
Dio gestured vaguely at him. “You have ‘therapist’ energy.”
“I literally started the Trojan War.”
“And yet somehow,” Dionysus said, raising an eyebrow, “these kids cry in your arms like you’re their emotional support pegasus.”
Apollo opened his mouth to argue. Closed it. “Okay, but why not you?”
Dionysus stared at him. “I have trauma.”
Apollo gave him a flat look. “And you don’t think I have trauma?”
Dionysus shrugged. “You have all our trauma combined, but you handle it better. So.”
Apollo: “…Touche.”
---
Thus began the Apollo Therapy Era.
He turned a spare cabin into a makeshift therapy office.
There were sun lamps, comfy bean bags, a surprisingly wise therapy cow named Daisy, and a wall labeled “Things That Made Me Cry Today” with post-it notes from campers.
At first, the campers were very suspicious.
“Apollo? The guy who once challenged a Muse to a rap battle? He’s our therapist now?”
But then they started actually talking to him.
---
“You ever feel like no matter how hard you try, you’re just a disappointment?”
—Jason
Apollo nodded solemnly. “I turned a guy into a laurel tree because he wouldn’t date me. I get it.”
---
“I’m scared I’ll never be enough.”
—Hazel
“Perfection is a lie,” Apollo said, “and often rooted in capitalism and divine parental issues. You are enough because you exist.”
Hazel blinked. “Are you getting...philosophical?”
“I am the god of philosophy.”
---
“I keep having dreams about Tartarus.”
—Percy
Apollo handed him a cat. “This is Aristotle. He purrs away nightmares.”
“…Thanks?”
“Also, drink water.”
---
The weirdest part?
He was good at it.
Not just “charismatic god” good—but insightful, emotionally validating, deeply healing good.
Campers started booking therapy appointments like they were oracle sessions. Cabin 7 turned into an unofficial sanctuary. Even Chiron came by for a chat once.
---
One evening, Dionysus peeked into Apollo’s cabin.
He found the sun god curled on the couch, writing haikus while Austin and Kayla helped a sobbing Ares kid with breathing exercises.
Dio blinked. “...You turned therapy into a Greek tragedy with a happy ending.”
Apollo looked up and grinned. “Wanna join group therapy Thursday? Theme is ‘existential dread and how to ignore it with snacks.’”
Dionysus grunted. “…Save me a seat.”
---
Camp Half-Blood was healing.
Slowly. Loudly.
With sun and sarcasm and a therapy cow named Daisy.
And in the center of it all?
Apollo.
Who maybe, just maybe, was healing too.
Chapter 109: The Bi Awakening of Cabin 7
Chapter Text
Title: "The Bi Awakening of Cabin 7"
---
It all started when Will Solace found an old scroll in the attic of the Big House.
“I was just trying to find extra ambrosia,” he said, weeks later, “I didn’t mean to trigger a cabin-wide identity crisis.”
The scroll, sealed in golden ribbon, glowed faintly and pulsed with unmistakable solar energy. On the outside, in Apollo’s loopy, dramatic handwriting, it read:
“To my beloved children—yes, all of you, even the ones who stabbed people with lyres. Here’s a Fun Fact!”
Will, of course, opened it.
---
The Scroll:
“Hello, my radiant sunbeans!
Did you know bisexuality is awesome? I’m bisexual! I copy-pasted my gender and sexuality into your divine blueprints. That’s right, my darlings: if you’re in Cabin 7, you’re automatically at least 25% attracted to all genders. It’s tradition.
Blame genetics.
Or don’t. You’re welcome.
P.S. Pansexual kids may be in a different folder, ask Dionysus.”
– Love, Dad
---
There was silence in Cabin 7.
Then someone whispered, “Wait... that explains so much.”
Kayla sat up from tuning her violin. “You mean why I cried over that girl in the Aphrodite cabin last week and why I have a poster of Jason Grace on my wall?”
“Yes,” Will muttered, staring at the scroll like it had slapped him. “Yes, it does.”
Austin blinked. “...Remember when we all agreed Percy Jackson was weirdly hot, and no one questioned it?”
“YEAH???”
One kid in the corner, Leo Jr. (not related to Valdez), looked scandalized. “I kissed my enemy and thought it was just a combat thing!”
---
Cue chaos.
There were identity crises.
There were victory dances.
There were dramatic “I always knew!” and “Wait, I kissed how many people??”
Someone made a “Bi & Bright” banner.
Austin started a Cabin 7 Bisexual Support & Fashion Group.
Chiron walked in to check on them and walked right back out when he saw a kid in rainbow body glitter crying over a Sappho poem.
---
The Apollo Cabin That Week:
- Music blaring: “Girls, Boys, & the Sun” by DJ Hermes
- Kayla writing a bisexual musical with a chorus of sparkly monsters
- Someone choreographing a bi-themed archery dance
- Will: “We’re all in this together—emotionally and sexually confused!”
---
Later at the campfire:
“Can we all agree Apollo has zero chill?” Percy muttered.
“Absolutely none,” Annabeth agreed. “He basically programmed an entire cabin to be chaotic bi icons.”
A voice echoed from the stars above:
“I CALL IT FLAVOR, ANNABETH!”
---
The gods, watching from Olympus:
Artemis: "You gave them your sexuality too??"
Apollo: “It’s called legacy, sis.”
Dionysus: “At least they know how to flirt.”
Zeus: “What’s bisexuality?”
Athena: facepalms
---
And Cabin 7?
Thrived.
Because when the sun god is your dad, you shine a little brighter—and love a little louder.
---
Bonus:
Percy: “So if I got claimed by Apollo—”
Annabeth: “No. Sit down.”
Chapter 110: Wait… You’re Our WHAT?!
Chapter Text
Title: “Wait… You’re Our WHAT?!”
---
It started with a dare.
Kayla had snuck into the Big House archives again — because of course she did — and found another glowing scroll in a box labeled “DO NOT OPEN. SERIOUSLY. – Chiron”.
So naturally, she opened it.
What she didn't expect was a certified birth certificate written in celestial bronze and signed with golden ink… by Apollo himself.
But what stood out — besides the extra sparkles and unnecessarily long signature — was one line at the top:
“Parent of Child: Apollo (Listed as: Mother)”
Kayla stared.
“…Huh.”
---
The next morning at breakfast, she casually dropped it on the table.
Everyone in Cabin 7 crowded around, blinking.
Will slowly slid his scrambled eggs aside. “Wait. Wait, wait. You’re telling me Apollo — our very masculine, poetry-spouting, archer god of a dad — gave birth to us?”
Austin stared. “I thought Mom was the mortal in my case?”
“Same??” Will panicked. “My mom was a nutritionist named Naomi! You’re telling me she was not the one who carried me for nine months?”
Kayla flipped the scroll around. “According to this? Nope. Apollo was your womb bearer.”
“…Did you just say womb bearer.”
“I did. Let it sink in.”
---
Cue chaos.
Will ran to the infirmary and started flipping through every divine medical scroll. “I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW BIRTH WORKS FOR GODS.”
Austin sat on the floor, contemplating his life choices. “So… my dad is my mom??”
“I think your mom is your dad,” Kayla corrected, blinking. “I mean — okay, our mom is Apollo, and the other parent is the mortal one, which may or may not be a mom or a dad?”
“So Mom is Dad and Dad is Mom?” Leo Jr. cried.
Will yelled from the corner: “I NEED A FLOWCHART!”
---
At Olympus:
Artemis: spits out nectar “You told them?!”
Apollo: “I didn’t! They found the scroll!”
Hermes: “Wait… so you carried children in your godly form? How?”
Apollo, smugly: “Have you seen me? My hips don’t lie.”
Poseidon choked on his drink.
---
Back at Camp:
The Apollo cabin declared a meeting.
Will, holding a whiteboard, attempted to explain: “So. Apollo, our godly parent, used divine biology to carry us instead of the mortal parent in most of our cases. Hence: Apollo is technically our mom.”
Austin: “Does this mean we can celebrate Mother’s Day and Father’s Day for him?”
Kayla: “Only if we send him a spa voucher and a bow upgrade.”
Will: “Oh my gods. We’re the children of a single parent power mom.”
Austin, dramatically: “I can’t go back to calling him Dad. I just can’t.”
Will: “Too late. We’re all sunbeams with a MILF mom now.”
Everyone nodded solemnly.
---
Somewhere in Camp:
Percy: “Hey, did you hear the Apollo kids are freaking out because Apollo’s technically their mom?”
Annabeth: “Technically?”
Percy: “Yeah, apparently he gave birth to them.”
Annabeth: “...I have so many follow-up questions and not enough brain cells left.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo:
Sitting on a sun-lounger in the clouds, sipping nectar.
“I told them one day they’d see the whole truth of me.”
He smiles.
“Now I just hope they get me a Mother’s Day card this year.”
Chapter 111: Not My Child, You Monster!
Chapter Text
Title: "Not My Child, You Monster!"
---
It all happened during a routine monster attack.
Well… as routine as a minotaur crashing through the strawberry fields could be.
Camp Half-Blood was in chaos. The celestial bronze defenses had held — barely — and most campers were holding their own. But then, out of nowhere, a creature stepped onto the battlefield that shouldn’t exist anymore. A twisted blend of drakon and empousa, cloaked in shadows, glowing with Tartarean corruption.
And she had eyes locked on one camper: Gracie.
---
Gracie Winters, age thirteen, proud daughter of Apollo and known for her sunflower-colored braids, was cornered by the creature. Her bow was broken, her quiver empty, her arms trembling. She stood her ground anyway, knife shaking in her grip.
The monster hissed, "I’ll end the line of Apollo here—"
And then came a golden flash so blinding the entire battlefield stilled.
---
Apollo descended from the sky like a wrathful sunrise, a golden shimmer blazing off him, radiating heat and righteous fury. His usual air of sunshine-and-smiles was gone. This was no poetry-reciting, flower-crown-wearing himbo.
This was a god.
He stood between Gracie and the monster, radiant and sharp as a blade of sunlight.
“Not my daughter, you bitch!” he snarled.
The air cracked.
The monster barely had time to screech before Apollo raised his hand. A solar flare erupted, swallowing it whole in blinding light. When the flash faded, there was nothing left but ash and silence.
---
Gracie blinked. Her knife dropped.
Apollo turned to her, face softening in an instant, and gently knelt. “Are you hurt, little sunbeam?”
She shook her head, speechless.
He pulled her into a hug, wrapping her in warmth and the scent of wildflowers and summer skies. “I should’ve been here sooner. I’m so proud of you.”
Camp watched, dumbfounded.
---
Somewhere behind them:
Will: “Did he just Molly Weasley a monster?”
Kayla: “Dad. That was so badass.”
Austin: “Do you think if I get attacked, he'll yell at them too?”
Chiron, quietly sipping tea: “Remind me to update the records: Apollo now has maternal rage.”
Dionysus, muttering from his recliner: “I always said he was dramatic.”
---
Later that night, Apollo sat with Gracie and the rest of Cabin 7, combing her hair like it was spun glass.
When someone teased, “You’re a little overprotective, huh?”
He just smiled serenely and said,
“Of course. They’re my heart in human form. I’d burn the world for them.”
Chapter 112: It Was Educational, Will!
Chapter Text
Title: “It Was Educational, Will!”
Percy Jackson / Solangelo / Humor & Light Angst
---
“So let me get this straight…” Will Solace blinked, trying to keep a straight face while holding Nico’s hand. “Your favorite thing about the orientation video—the orientation video—was my dad?”
Nico blinked. “It was informative.”
Will squinted at him. “Nico. Be honest. Was Apollo your first crush?”
There was a long pause. Nico didn’t meet his eyes.
“I was twelve!” Nico snapped, face turning pink. “He was... shiny! And he had that smug, flirty voice! And okay, yes, he was shirtless! But it wasn’t like—I mean—”
“Oh my gods.” Will started cackling. “You fell for my dad before you fell for me?”
“I didn’t know he was your dad!” Nico threw his hands up. “You weren’t even a thing in my life back then! And I didn’t like him, I just thought—he was pretty! In a luminous, kind of smug, probably-dangerous way!”
“So your type hasn’t changed,” Will teased, nudging him. “Still into sunshine blondes.”
“Shut up,” Nico groaned, hiding his face in his hoodie.
Will kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m flattered. Kind of.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Nico muttered. “Your dad is the worst. He once tried to give me a mixtape.”
“Apollo makes mixtapes?”
“He called it ‘Bangers to Banish Your Angst.’”
Will howled.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere in Olympus...
Apollo was leaning back in his sun-drenched lounge when a little golden spark whispered in his ear:
“Your son found out his boyfriend had a crush on you.”
Apollo blinked.
Then grinned.
And somewhere in the distance, Nico di Angelo felt a shiver of dread crawl down his spine.
Title: “Nico di What Now?” – Part 2
feat. Apollo learning way too much and being way too Apollo about it
---
Apollo popped into Camp Half-Blood like a golden glitter bomb, right as Will was mid-way through teaching some younger campers how to patch up a stab wound.
“Willamena!” Apollo beamed, arms wide. “My radiant healer spawn, light of my endless existence—”
Will didn’t even look up. “It’s just Will. And I’m busy.”
“I know, I know,” Apollo waved off dramatically, “but I heard the most delightful little thing.”
Will sighed, stitching an arm. “If it’s about my hair again—”
“It’s not! Well, it is fabulous,” Apollo said, fluffing Will’s hair without permission, “but this is about your adorable death-boy boyfriend.”
Will froze. “...What did Nico do.”
Apollo smirked. “Apparently, he had a raging crush on me when he first saw the orientation video. I must say, I am honored. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”
Will muttered something that sounded a lot like “I regret many things.”
“He was blushing! I saw it in the dream realms!” Apollo continued, spinning like a drama queen. “He was all, ‘Oh no, he’s glowing and has muscles and a voice like honey dipped in prophecy—’”
“Okay, that is not what he said!” Will snapped, face burning.
“Oh, but I know the look,” Apollo winked. “It’s the same look Dionysus gave me after he invented wine. A mixture of awe and ‘please ruin my life.’”
Right on cue, Nico entered the infirmary.
Stopped.
Stared at Apollo.
Then turned around with a “Nope,” and walked out.
Apollo gasped. “He’s shy! Will, your boyfriend is adorable.”
Will covered his face with both hands and groaned. “This is my life now.”
---
Meanwhile...
Somewhere behind a cabin, Nico was muttering to himself:
“I was twelve. I liked his voice. That’s it. That’s not a crime. It’s not. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m dating the son, not the dad. I’m—oh gods, he’s going to write a poem about it, isn’t he?”
Yes, Nico. Yes, he is.
Chapter 113: Apollo Goes to School (and Percy Regrets Everything)
Chapter Text
Title: “Apollo Goes to School (and Percy Regrets Everything)”
feat. Chaos, Sparkles, and Mortals Being Horny on Main
---
It started off simple enough. Poseidon had an important undersea conference (something about krakens unionizing) and couldn't make it to Goode High School's parent-teacher meeting. Sally and Paul were off on a much-deserved date. Naturally, Percy assumed he was off the hook.
Until Poseidon went, "Don't worry, I asked your cousin to go in our place."
Percy blinked. "What cousin?"
Cue the dramatic entrance of Apollo, God of the Sun, Music, Poetry, Archery, and Apparently Now PTA Conferences.
Dressed like he had just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad and glowed like the school accidentally left a golden disco ball in the hallway. Tight jeans, open silk shirt, sunglasses indoors. Holding a Starbucks cup labeled “Sunny D.”
---
When Apollo strutted into Goode, everything stopped.
Teachers forgot how to speak.
Students walked into lockers.
Someone dropped their saxophone.
"Hey cousin!" Apollo greeted brightly, giving Percy finger guns. "Your school is so... gray. You should talk to the gods of interior design."
Percy groaned. “Please stop glowing.”
“I’m not glowing, you’re glowing,” Apollo winked at a nearby teacher who nearly fainted.
---
Thirty Minutes Later
The entire school was simping.
There was a line of students pretending to have “emotional issues” just to sit next to Apollo during the meeting. Teachers were suddenly “available for extra parent feedback.” Even the janitor offered him a coffee.
Some girl named Jasmine whispered, “Who is that angel?”
Percy’s eye twitched. “That’s my cousin.”
A group of boys in the back sighed, “Of course he’s related to Percy.”
Percy: suffering.
---
And then...
Apollo, being Apollo, accidentally signed himself up to be the school’s official volunteer chaperone for field trips, gave the drama club a full rewrite of Mamma Mia using only original songs, and healed someone's twisted ankle with a kiss on the forehead.
A teacher asked him out.
A guidance counselor tried to propose.
Someone graffitied Apollo 4 Goode Prez 2025 on the lockers.
---
When Sally and Paul returned:
Percy: “Never again. NEVER AGAIN.”
Sally: “It couldn’t have been that bad—”
Paul (scrolling through Instagram): “Why is your cousin trending under ‘#GoodeGod’? And why is he shirtless on the auditorium stage?”
Percy: “I’m going to jump in the Hudson.”
Title: “Apollo Goes to School, Again (Now With Extra Jazz Hands)”
Part 2: The Guest Music Teacher Disaster—A Percy Jackson Comedy
---
Percy thought he was free.
He survived Apollo’s chaotic guest appearance at the Goode High PTA night with minimal brain trauma and only three girls asking if his cousin was single. Surely, the worst was behind him.
Then Apollo showed up again. This time? With a glittery gold guitar and a declaration.
“I’ve been hired as the guest music teacher this semester! Isn’t that fun?” Apollo beamed as he burst into Percy’s first period, wearing a bedazzled “SUN’S OUT, SONG’S OUT” shirt.
Percy looked to the sky. “Why have you forsaken me, Zeus?”
---
Apollo's Teaching Style:
Entered class through a golden light portal. Every. Time.
Replaced sheet music with his own "emotionally transcendent ballads.”
Made the school band play the Olympian National Anthem.
Used a lyre app on his iPhone and insisted it was “ancient-modern fusion.”
Said things like “Feel the music, not the melody! Become the chord!”
Somehow the orchestra got better, but emotionally? Everyone was a wreck.
---
Meanwhile, Percy:
“Please stop serenading my math teacher.”
Apollo: “She has trauma. I’m healing her.”
Percy: “You’re making her cry every third period!”
Apollo: “Healing comes in waves, Perseus.”
---
Then came the school assembly.
Apollo was asked to “showcase a bit of music.” A simple request. A harmless opportunity.
So naturally, he turned it into a full-scale concert. There were fog machines. A laser light show. Backup dancers (nypmhs, probably). He crowd-surfed across the freshmen.
Percy watched, dead inside, as the gymnasium erupted into chaos.
Someone was crying.
Someone proposed marriage.
Someone got a nosebleed and claimed it was from divine beauty.
Apollo: “Thank you, Goode! You’ve been emotionally traumatizing—in a good way!”
---
Post-Concert Fallout:
The principal resigned.
Three teachers took stress leave.
Yearbook sales increased by 200% because Apollo accidentally posed for the cover.
And Percy? Percy dragged Apollo by the collar, shoved him back through a portal to Olympus, and threw his glitter guitar in after him.
Apollo (before disappearing): “We should totally do this again next semester!”
Percy: “I’ll summon the Minotaur myself if you come back.”
Chapter 114: Wait—Who Flirted First?
Notes:
I forgot to post this yesterday
Chapter Text
Title: “Wait—Who Flirted First?”
The One Where Apollo Was the One Getting Rizzed
---
It started with a simple question.
Austin, sitting cross-legged on Cabin 7’s floor, blinked slowly. “Okay but... who was the one who flirted first in your relationships, Dad?”
Apollo, lazily sprawled on a beanbag chair, sipping something absurdly sunny from a glittery cup, tilted his head and smiled in that too-bright, too-pretty way.
“Oh, definitely not me.”
Cue silence. Loud silence.
Will almost choked on his granola bar. “Wait—what do you mean not you?”
Apollo blinked. “I mean they rizzed me.”
Kayla paused mid-arrow-cleaning. “You? The god of flirting? Mr. ‘I’ve written love poems in three hundred languages’? You got rizzed?”
Apollo beamed proudly. “They were very convincing.”
---
Flashback #1 – Kayla’s Dad
Apollo had been playing his golden violin in a park when a man in librarian glasses and a flannel sat next to him, handed him a smoothie, and said, “I don’t know what hurts more. That song or the fact you’re this attractive and still single.”
Apollo: short-circuits
Kayla’s Dad: smirks and hands him a homemade sandwich
Apollo: “I—I love you?”
Kayla’s Dad: “That’s the plan.”
---
Flashback #2 – Will’s Mom
Will’s mom was a trauma nurse. Apollo came to admire her bravery. She thought he was a dramatic pretty boy with no sense of personal space.
Then one night, as he healed a stab wound on her coworker with a snap of his fingers, she looked him dead in the eye and said:
“Cool party trick. Can you do that to a broken heart?”
Apollo: gasps
Will’s Mom: slaps him playfully with a clipboard
Apollo: in love
Will’s Mom: “You’re cute when you get flustered.”
---
Flashback #3 – Austin’s Parent
They were a street performer with a saxophone and no patience for entitled immortals. When Apollo tried to flirt, they looked him up and down and said:
“You don’t get to flirt with me unless you can out-solo me.”
Apollo lost.
Apollo asked for a rematch.
They kissed him mid-performance and declared victory.
Apollo hasn’t recovered since.
---
Back to the Present: Cabin 7 Chaos
Will: “I need a minute. Or three years.”
Kayla: “So that’s why Dad’s the one who wears the pants in the house.”
Austin: “My parent kissed a god into submission. Respect.”
Dionysus, watching this unfold with a Diet Coke in hand: “This is better than television. Wait till they find out he got seduced by a barista once.”
Apollo, pouting: “Am I not allowed to be swept off my feet?”
Will: “No, it’s just—we thought you were the menace!”
Apollo: “I am a menace. Just... a submissive one, apparently.”
---
Cabin 7 Motto Change (Unofficially):
“Born of Rizz. Raised by Chaos. Powered by Vibes.”
Chapter 115: You Flirt, You Fight (My Dad)
Chapter Text
Title: “You Flirt, You Fight (My Dad)”
Perpollo, ft. Percy the Simp and Poseidon the Murder Uncle
---
Percy hadn’t meant to fall for Apollo.
Truly, he hadn’t.
He was just there one day—shiny, sunlit, golden, smiling like he held the dawn in his mouth and laughter in his eyes. Percy had walked into Camp Half-Blood's strawberry field to get some peace, only to find Apollo surrounded by butterflies and wildflowers like a walking nature aesthetic board.
“I didn’t know gods could be this... hot,” he whispered.
Will Solace, passing by with a juice box: “That’s our mom, you simp.”
---
It started with compliments.
Then flustered stammering.
Then full-on limericks at the dining pavilion.
“I wrote you a poem,” Percy said shyly one evening.
Apollo blinked. “You? A poem? For me?”
“It’s terrible,” Percy admitted, “but heartfelt.”
Apollo blushed. Blushed. Literal god of the sun, blushing like a teenager caught in a rom-com.
---
And then... Poseidon found out.
---
“YOU WHAT?”
Poseidon’s voice echoed across Olympus like a hurricane mixed with a disappointed dad energy.
Percy, hiding behind Athena’s statue: “It’s just a crush!”
Poseidon: “A crush on my baby nephew?"
Poseidon: “He’s still baby-coded and pure and radiant like sunshine and if you so much as breathe wrong, I will drown you in the Mariana Trench.”
Apollo, confused and holding a basket of oranges: “I’m over four thousand years old???”
---
Scene: Mount Olympus, Emergency Family Meeting
Athena: “I don’t see the issue here. Percy is moderately intelligent.”
Aphrodite: “I ship it. Chaos potential is strong.”
Hera: “Why are we debating Percy’s dating life?”
Artemis: “He’s mortal. Absolutely not.”
Hermes: filming everything for OlympusTube
Zeus: struggling to hold back lightning bolts
Poseidon: “This brat is simping for my sunshine nephew and I REFUSE.”
---
Back at Camp Half-Blood
Apollo was sitting by the lake, feeding ducks and glowing with calm confusion.
Percy flopped next to him with a pout. “Why is my dad more protective of you than me?”
Apollo blinked. “Because I’m cuter.”
Percy: gasps in betrayal
Apollo: “And... you’re not the one who used to sneak into his temple as a baby and leave macaroni art. I am.”
Percy: “You made macaroni art for Poseidon?!”
Apollo: “I still do.”
---
Later
Percy presented a heartfelt gift: a sun-shaped macaroni art with “FOR APOLLO <3” on it.
Apollo teared up.
Poseidon (from the sea): suspicious glare intensifies
---
Poseidon’s Journal Entry (Unspoken, but Definitely Real):
- Day 127: Percy is still simping.
- Day 128: Apollo smiled at his poem.
- Day 129: I might tolerate the sea brat... if he makes Apollo laugh again.
Chapter 116: The Boy With Seafoam Eye
Notes:
I was in an angst mood (I'm so sorry)
Chapter Text
Title: "The Boy With Seafoam Eyes"
Angst | Past!Hyacinthus x Apollo | Percabeth | Reincarnation AU
---
Apollo watches.
He watches as the boy with Hyacinthus’ eyes—bright like the summer sky before a storm, edged in sea-glass—smiles at another.
At her.
Annabeth Chase.
---
They are beautiful together, he admits. Like Athena and Poseidon might have been, if peace had ever been in their vocabulary. Annabeth grounds him. Percy lifts her. They're a myth in the making.
And Apollo… watches.
Not like a god. Not like a poet, even. But like a man quietly grieving a love that no longer remembers him.
---
He had known the moment he laid eyes on Percy.
The way he laughed. The way he stood barefoot by the lake, water licking his ankles. The way he spoke before he thought, like Hyacinthus always did—reckless, bright, golden without meaning to be.
"Do I know you?" Percy had asked once, squinting at him.
Apollo’s heart had clenched.
"No," he lied with a smile, "but I knew someone like you."
---
He remembers the blood in the grass.
Remembers the way his name fell from Hyacinthus' lips in a whisper, soft and full of pain. The way his body curled in on itself, lifeless, even as Apollo screamed to the heavens, begged the wind, threatened the gods. Take me instead. Please, take me instead.
He couldn’t undo death. Not that one.
So he gave him new life.
And when Percy Jackson was born, Apollo had known.
---
But the Fates are cruel in the way that all old things are.
Hyacinthus came back—but not for Apollo. He came back with no memories, no love, no pain. A blank slate. A hero in his own right. And Apollo, selfish as he might be, had to let go.
Because love without memory isn’t love.
It’s obsession.
It’s grief.
---
Percy kisses Annabeth under the stars one night, laughing like the sea.
Apollo turns away, and the moonlight catches on the tears he pretends are dew. Artemis doesn’t say anything—just puts a hand on his shoulder.
He doesn’t look back.
He just whispers into the wind: “Be happy, my love.”
And hopes the stars heard it for him.
---
Somewhere deep in his soul, Percy’s heart skips a beat.
He doesn't know why.
Chapter 117: A Song Before the Fall
Notes:
I'm in my angsty phase (I'm truly sorry for the next chapters...)
Chapter Text
Title: “A Song Before the Fall”
Angst | Hector x Apollo | Past!Hyacinthus x Apollo | Apollo-centric | Greek Tragedy AU
Apollo met Hector at the edge of war.
He wasn’t meant to. He wasn’t meant to love again.
But Hector, in all his calm strength and quiet honor, reminded him of Hyacinthus—not in the way he looked, or even spoke, but in the way he stayed. When the world spun, Hector held firm.
And Apollo, god of light, of poetry, of plague and song, fell.
Hard.
“I am married,” Hector had warned. “My heart belongs to Troy. To her.”
And Apollo had smiled, soft and bitter. “I’ve been second before. I’ll take what you can give.”
It wasn’t a passionate thing, at first. It was small moments.
A brush of fingers in the temple. Eyes lingering longer than they should. A shoulder leaned on when grief overtook the golden god’s lungs.
And then one night, with Troy burning in dreams and fate inching closer like an arrow to the chest, Hector kissed him.
Apollo—immortal, undying, ever-young—trembled.
But gods are greedy.
And Apollo wanted more.
He wanted all of Hector. His loyalty, his body, his love. He wanted someone who wouldn’t leave this time. Not like Hyacinthus. Not like all the others.
So he sang.
He sang of devotion and forever, of the sun rising only to see Hector’s face, of war ending and the two of them running—escaping fate together.
“Stay,” he whispered against Hector’s skin. “Stay with me.”
But mortals cannot defy destiny. And warriors do not abandon their cities. Their wives.
And Hector was still Hector.
So when the dawn came, he rose. Dressed in bronze. Kissed Apollo one last time.
“I would have stayed, if I could.”
And then he left.
Just like he did.
Apollo stood at the walls of Troy that night. As Achilles cut through the air like a god-killer. As Hector fell. As fate claimed what he loved again.
He did not cry. He couldn’t.
Instead, the sun refused to rise the next day.
For the first time in centuries, dawn did not come.
And the world wept for him.
Later, when Andromache cradled their son and Troy burned around her, she swore she saw a golden figure kneeling beside Hector’s broken body—pressing a kiss to his brow, whispering words only the dead could hear.
A god.
A lover.
A song, unfinished.
And somewhere in the underworld, Hyacinthus watched, heart aching.
“I told you,” he murmured. “You love too deeply, my sun.”
Chapter 118: Curse of the Living Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “Curse of the Living Sun”
Angst | Immortal Apollo | Past Lovers AU | Canon-Inspired Themes | Heavy Emotion
---
It was after the third century of burying lovers that Apollo began to break.
He’d seen it all—young smiles that dimmed with age, brave warriors fallen with spears in their hearts, poets who died with his name still inked on their parchment, lovers whose names were now flowers and trees and stars. Lovers who whispered “I love you” like a promise. Lovers who said “don’t forget me.”
And he didn’t. He never did.
That was the curse.
The sun remembered everything it touched.
---
He tried, once.
He stood at the edge of the world where Nyx’s veil wrapped the sky and cast the sun in shadow. He let go of his godly form, reducing himself to a flickering light. He whispered apologies to his sister, to his children, to the stars.
And then, he let go.
He jumped.
---
But immortality is cruel.
He landed with a scream, not in death, but in pain—body broken, but still whole. Bones shattered, but his ichor refused to spill. His heart, fractured, kept beating.
A god cannot die.
Only suffer.
---
He stopped visiting his lovers’ graves.
Stopped answering prayers.
Stopped singing.
He lay curled on the floor of his temple, silent, golden hair dulled and tangled. Animals once drawn to him by love, now lay beside him in mourning.
He stopped being the sun.
---
They came. The lovers who still remained. Reborn. Revived. Blessed or cursed to witness.
Hyacinthus, with violet in his eyes and grief etched in every line of his jaw.
Daphne, her hands calloused from bark that still haunted her skin.
Cyparissus, who cried not because of death but because Apollo hurt so much and wouldn’t stop.
They tried to reach him. But what could you do for a god whose heart was still bleeding centuries later?
Apollo looked at them. Through them. He whispered, “I can’t love anymore.”
“You always die.”
“You always leave.”
“And I’m still here.”
---
He laughed, broken and bitter.
“I think that’s the real punishment. Not that you die. But that I don’t.”
---
Hyacinthus crumbled.
Daphne sobbed and wrapped vines around him, not to cage him—but to hold him together.
Cyparissus held his hand like he once held a stag, gentle and afraid.
But Apollo only stared at the ceiling of his temple.
The sun still rose.
But now it felt cold.
---
And somewhere, the gods whispered to each other in terrified silence.
Because they had seen many things across eternity—wars, betrayals, monsters and titans.
But nothing chilled them more than the sight of the sun wanting to go dark.
Chapter 119: More Than Beautiful
Chapter Text
Title: "More Than Beautiful"
Genre: Angst | Character Study | Greek Mythology Inspired
---
People always told Apollo he was beautiful.
From the moment he was born—light spilling from his skin like sunrise, golden curls kissed by flame—Olympus whispered in awe. He was the sun, after all. The god of light, music, prophecy, truth.
And beauty.
Always beauty.
Never him.
---
They didn’t fall in love with Apollo.
They fell in love with the idea of him. The glittering god with a honeyed voice and an ever-smiling mouth. A divine face carved like marble, flawless, untouchable.
They loved his light.
They didn’t care if it burned him.
---
Daphne never loved him.
Not really. Not Apollo.
She loved her freedom. And when he came—shining, radiant, beautiful—she saw not a man, but a cage. And she ran. Apollo chased because he wanted to be chosen, for once.
She became a tree.
He wept.
---
Hyacinthus loved him, perhaps.
But even then, it had started with beauty. With awe. With something more like worship than love. And when Hyacinthus died, split open by the discus Apollo threw… the god crumbled.
Because what if even that love was just a lie?
Just another mortal blinded by sunlight?
---
"You're perfect," they said.
Apollo hated the word.
Perfect meant static. Unreachable. A pedestal no one tried to climb, because they assumed he would never fall.
Perfect meant alone.
---
He looked in the mirror once—just once.
Stared at the face that launched wars and sparked myths.
And all he saw was a mask.
He clawed at it in silence. Wishing the world would see something ugly. Something real. Something that would let them love him without the glow.
---
But they never did.
He smiled. He sang. He healed.
And no one ever asked how he was doing.
Because gods don’t break.
Especially not beautiful ones.
---
So he stood by the edge of the world, light spilling from his fingers, golden and bitter. A thousand prayers echoing in his ears.
All of them wanted something from him.
No one just wanted him.
---
“Beauty,” he whispered, “is a curse I never asked for.”
The wind didn’t answer.
But the silence was kinder than most lovers had ever been.
Chapter 120: Side Effects May Include…
Chapter Text
Title: “Side Effects May Include…”
---
It all started when Apollo received a box.
A beautiful, intricately carved thing made of obsidian and bone-white ivory, tied with a red ribbon that shimmered like blood in sunlight. There was no name, only a tag in elegant handwriting:
"To Apollo — I never forget my favorite."
Inside: a glass orb that pulsed with soft light.
And a note.
“Do not touch directly.”
Apollo, naturally, immediately touched it.
---
It wasn’t until a few days later that anyone noticed something was off.
At first, he just seemed tired. Then he stopped playing his lyre. Then he flinched at bright light—his own light.
By the end of the week, he collapsed in Cabin 7, feverish and delirious, babbling about turnips and the taste of starlight.
Will Solace almost had an aneurysm.
---
"You're what?!" Will shrieked.
"Poisoned? Infected? I don’t know," Apollo croaked from his sickbed, glowing faintly blue. "But there was a note and I maybe didn’t read all of it—"
"You definitely didn’t read it!"
“I got distracted! The orb was pretty!”
---
Camp Half-Blood went into full crisis mode.
Chiron and Dionysus were arguing. Artemis was two seconds from hunting down the sender herself. The Apollo cabin was collectively screaming.
Even Clarisse tried to slap him better. It didn’t work.
Finally, they figured it out.
Apollo’s ancient ex. The one who sent the cursed orb.
The one no one wanted to deal with.
---
“I’m not going!” Will snapped. “That’s my dad!”
“I’m not going,” Artemis growled. “Last time I saw them, they tried to decapitate me.”
“I vote Dionysus,” Chiron said.
“I vote Chiron,” Dionysus shot back.
Finally, Nico di Angelo sighed and raised a hand.
“I’ll go.”
---
He shadow-traveled to the Underworld.
The entity — a primordial gid with eyes like collapsing stars and a voice that echoed through timelines — appeared with a smirk.
“Well, well. You’re not sunshine boy.”
“I’m not,” Nico said. “I’m just his cousin. Sort of. Look, he touched something cursed again, and now he’s dying. I was sent to ask for help.”
He blinked.
Then laughed.
---
And weirdly?
They got along.
They shared tea made from stardust and cursed herbs while ranting about Apollo’s stubbornness, overconfidence, dramatics, inability to read instructions, his poetry, his musical monologues—
“He narrated our first date with a harp.”
“He tried to flirt with death once.”
“He flirted with me, and I’m death’s son!”
At the end, he sighed fondly. “He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot.”
---
He returned with Nico, rolled his eyes, and breathed celestial energy into Apollo’s mouth.
He promptly exploded into golden sparkles before reforming, blinking up at him with a sheepish smile.
“You’re not mad, right?”
“I’m furious.”
“But I’m pretty?”
“You’re lucky I find you cute.”
---
A week later, he sent him another gift.
A box. Labeled:
“Totally not cursed this time. Maybe. P.S. Don’t touch.”
Apollo poked it immediately.
Will screamed into a pillow.
Chiron poured wine.
Dionysus didn’t even look up.
And Cabin 7 collectively asked, “How is this our parent?”
---
Somewhere in Tartarus, the entity smiled.
“Still my favorite idiot.”
Chapter 121: Paging Dr. Sunshine
Chapter Text
Title: "Paging Dr. Sunshine"
Genre: Humor | Fluff | Light Chaos | Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans
---
After several failed attempts at keeping Will Solace from overworking himself, Chiron made an executive decision.
"Apollo," he said, serious. "You're the god of healing. Step up."
Apollo blinked, then beamed.
"You want me to be the official Camp Half-Blood doctor? Like, with a coat? A title? A nameplate?"
"Yes, yes—"
"DOCTOR SUNSHINE IS IN, BABY!"
---
The very next day, the infirmary transformed.
The walls glowed a little more gold. The beds became comfier. The scent of eucalyptus and ambrosia filled the air. Apollo wore a white coat with gold embroidery and stethoscope earrings. He summoned glasses just to look more "doctor-y."
He also had a little nameplate on his desk:
Dr. Apollo ‘Sunshine’ Sol Invictus
Specialty: Healing, Music Therapy, and Looking Divine.
---
The campers were feral.
“Doctor Apollo,” said Katie Gardner, leaning dramatically on the doorframe, “I think I pulled… my soul.”
Apollo raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a body part.”
“Can you still kiss it better?”
—
Travis Stoll walked in with a pencil in his eye.
“A minor accident,” he claimed.
“Do you need help?” Apollo asked, alarmed.
“Not anymore,” Travis grinned. “Your beauty healed me.”
Apollo chucked a pillow at his head.
---
Even the Ares cabin got involved.
"Hey, doc," Clarisse grunted, holding her pinky finger awkwardly. "Think I got a splinter."
Apollo took one look. “You literally have a sword sticking out of your leg.”
“Oh. That too.”
---
Will Solace was not amused.
“I leave you alone for five minutes and suddenly you’re running a clinic of simps?”
“Hey now,” Apollo defended, casually healing a dramatic paper cut with a wink, “It’s not my fault I’m the Camp’s new heartthrob.”
Will glared. “You’ve always been the heartthrob.”
“…Aww, thanks, son—”
“Not what I meant.”
---
The final straw?
Percy Jackson walked in with a perfectly fine leg.
“What’s wrong with you?” Apollo asked.
Percy coughed. “I think I twisted my… pride.”
Apollo squinted.
Will appeared in the doorway. “OUT.”
---
In the end, Chiron had to set new rules:
- No fake injuries.
- No trying to seduce the god of healing.
- No writing “Dr. Apollo please check my heart” notes and sliding them under the infirmary door.
Apollo just winked at everyone anyway.
And the campers?
Still totally simping.
---
Dr. Sunshine was officially in.
And business was booming.
Chapter 122: The Sun Smiles Back
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun Smiles Back"
Genre: Dark Humor | Horror-Flavored | Mythical Madness
---
There was something wrong with Apollo.
Not in the "he flirts too much and sings about himself" kind of way.
No, that was just normal.
This was different.
This was worse.
---
It started when Hermes mocked Apollo in front of the Olympians. Something about being "nothing but a golden disco ball with daddy issues."
Apollo didn't argue.
He just smiled. Bright and sunny. The kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Then he tilted his head and said:
“October 14th. You’ll remember that date.”
And left.
Hermes didn't sleep for three weeks.
October 14th arrived.
The floor of the Hermes cabin collapsed due to sudden divine termite infestation.
“You don’t even like termites!” Hermes had screamed.
Apollo just hummed and walked past. “Didn’t say I caused it.”
---
Another time, Ares shoved Apollo into a wall during a sparring match.
Apollo giggled.
Everyone froze.
He giggles when he's unhinged.
“Blood tastes like metal and lies,” he said cheerfully. “Yours smells like regret.”
Ares blinked. “What?”
“March 2nd.” Apollo booped his nose. “Avoid tulips.”
Ares didn’t step on grass for a month.
---
Even Dionysus, Dionysus, started watching him warily.
“You’re seeing too much again,” he grumbled.
Apollo tilted his head. “It’s lonely in the threads of fate, Dio. But the unraveling is so beautiful.”
---
The campers were worse.
One Apollo kid tried to sass him.
Apollo smiled brightly and said, “I’d be careful during storms. Lightning doesn't usually aim for that tree, but sometimes fate gets… creative.”
The kid cried.
---
Will tried to intervene. “Dad, you’re scaring people.”
“I am fear, darling. And music. And light. And the whisper you hear before something falls apart.”
Will blinked. “…What?”
Apollo handed him a cookie.
---
One day, Hera tried to scold him.
He stared at her blankly and whispered, “You should’ve drowned that lamb instead.”
No one knew what it meant.
Hera did.
She didn’t speak to him for six months.
---
Now, whenever Apollo walks into a room smiling too brightly, everyone shuts up.
Because no one knows if he’s happy…
…or if he’s seen something awful and
is just waiting for it to happen.
Either way?
The sun god was terrifying.
And worst of all?
He knew.
Chapter 123: A Sun to Hold Onto
Chapter Text
Title: "A Sun to Hold Onto"
Genre: Fluff | Found Family | Emotional Healing
---
There were many things Camp Half-Blood was used to: monsters, prophecies, training injuries, and weekly emotional breakdowns in the strawberry fields.
But they weren’t prepared for affectionate Apollo.
He arrived one morning without any warning—just shimmered into existence in a burst of warm light. His golden eyes soft, his smile radiant but gentle.
And then he started… hugging people.
---
The first victim was Chiron.
“Hello, old friend,” Apollo said, voice full of warmth. He wrapped his arms around Chiron’s equine shoulders and gave him a tight, lingering hug. Chiron looked stunned—like his immortal soul had just been shaken loose.
And then Apollo kissed him on the cheek.
Chiron blinked. “...Apollo, are you dying?”
“No, my dearest centaur, I’m living.”
---
Next was Will.
Will was in the infirmary, as usual, surrounded by chaos. Apollo strode in, silent as dawn, and enveloped his son in a hug so tight, Will dropped his clipboard.
“Proud of you,” Apollo whispered. “You’re such a kind soul.”
Will teared up immediately. “What’s happening. Are you okay. Is the world ending.”
Apollo kissed his cheek. “It’s okay to be loved, Will.”
Will burst into tears. Austin did too. Kayla fell off her chair.
---
Then came the rest of the campers.
Apollo made his way through each cabin with a radiant smile, doling out affection like sunlight. He hugged Clarisse. He kissed Nico’s forehead (Nico nearly exploded). He brushed Annabeth’s hair behind her ear and told her, “You carry the world well, daughter of wisdom.”
She cried. Annabeth “I-don’t-cry” Chase. Cried.
Even Dionysus wasn’t spared.
Apollo hugged him from behind and whispered, “You’re doing your best. I’m proud of you.”
Dionysus made a noise between a sob and a scream and left to drink wine in the woods for four hours.
---
By dinner, the entire camp was emotionally unstable from love.
“WHY DOES THIS FEEL LIKE THERAPY?” someone wailed.
“I don’t know,” Percy sniffled. “He hugged me and said I was braver than Achilles and then kissed my head and now I can’t stop crying.”
---
Later that night, as the stars came out and the bonfire crackled gently, Apollo sat in the center of the campers like a big golden cat, letting them lean on him.
He radiated warmth.
He listened.
He hummed lullabies in ancient Greek, one arm wrapped around whoever needed it most.
“You deserve to be loved,” he murmured, over and over. “You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to be held.”
And one by one…
They believed him.
Chapter 124: The Apollo Effect
Chapter Text
Title: “The Apollo Effect”
Genre: Crack | Humor | Fluff
---
It started with a favor.
“Athenaaaa,” Apollo whined, leaning dramatically over her library table in Olympus, golden curls bouncing, “Can I borrow your owl for a poetry recital? Pleaaaase?”
Athena didn’t even look up. “No.”
Then he pouted. Eyes wide. Lower lip trembling. He gently rested his cheek on her scroll and whispered:
“…I’ll dedicate the poem to you.”
Athena’s eye twitched.
“Fine. ONE night. And you better feed her.”
---
That’s when The Bet started.
Artemis, already used to this nonsense, said, “No one in Olympus has the spine to say no to him.”
Hermes smirked. “Bet.”
A week later, the gods gathered on Mount Olympus for The Great Apollo Denial Challenge.
---
First up: Ares.
Apollo: “Ares, can I ride your war chariot?”
Ares: “No.”
Apollo: puppy eyes activate “But I wrote you a war ballad…”
Ares: “…Fine. But touch nothing.”
LOSS.
---
Next: Hades.
Apollo: “Uncle, may I host a concert in the Underworld?”
Hades: “Absolutely n—”
Apollo: soft voice “But imagine how happy Persephone would be…”
Hades: “…damn it.”
LOSS.
---
Then: Hera.
The queen of the gods, terrifying and proud, steeled herself.
Apollo: “Mother Hera, could you please let me borrow your crown for five minutes? I want to feel majestic.”
Hera: “No.”
Apollo: sad gasp “You don’t think I’m majestic?”
Hera: visibly sweating “Ugh. Five. Minutes.”
LOSS.
---
By the end of the week, every single god, titan, and monster who tried lost.
Even Zeus cracked.
Apollo: “Dad, can I call you ‘Zee-zee’ for a day?”
Zeus: “Absolutely not—”
Apollo: sparkly eyes and soft “pleeeaaase”
Zeus: “…Only one day.”
---
The Apollo Cabin heard about this. They were not surprised.
Will: “Yeah. He got me to clean the entire infirmary once just by calling me ‘my favorite healer baby.’”
Kayla: “He got me to do his laundry and I liked it.”
Austin: “He took my fries and I thanked him for it.”
---
To this day, no one has ever said “no” to Apollo and stuck with it.
The gods stopped trying. Olympus adjusted.
And Apollo?
He just hummed and skipped along, radiant and smug, knowing his ultimate weapon wasn’t a bow or prophecy—
It was the power of the pout.
Chapter 125: A Light in the Dark
Chapter Text
Title: “A Light in the Dark”
Genre: Angst | Found Family | Myth Reimagining | Baby Apollo Whump | Hades & Persephone Parental Feels
---
It was Persephone who found him.
A strange, radiant light in the gloom of the Asphodel fields. Not blinding—gentle, golden. Like the first sunbeam after winter. Nestled in the soft grass was a baby, tiny and newly born, wrapped in nothing but divine warmth and silent tears.
“A baby?” she whispered, stepping closer. “Here?”
The infant looked up at her with soft amber eyes, as if the sun itself blinked at her. And then he smiled.
She knelt, stunned. “Who—what are you doing here?”
She reached out, gently scooping the infant into her arms. He cooed, warm and impossibly light.
Hades appeared beside her, drawn by her silence. His eyes narrowed. “That’s a godling.”
“A newborn,” Persephone murmured. “He’s divine.”
“From the Upper World,” Hades said with a frown. “No child of the Underworld would shine like that.”
The baby giggled and patted Hades' stern face.
“…He’s bold,” Hades said stiffly.
“He likes you,” Persephone smiled, already softening.
A beat passed.
“Should we… return him?”
But as they neared the edge of the Underworld, they heard it. The thunderous voice of Zeus booming from Olympus.
“You dare deceive me, Leto? I warned you not to birth a son! You think hiding the birth would protect you? That Artemis could trick me with her huntress games?!”
Artemis stood like a small silver statue beside her mother, unmoving as Zeus hurled his fury. Leto, frail from childbirth, trembled under the assault.
Persephone's grip on the baby tightened.
Hades’ eyes darkened. “He speaks of his own blood as if it's betrayal.”
The baby—Apollo—fussed and buried his face into Persephone’s neck, as if sensing the anger above.
“…He is not going back,” Persephone said finally.
Hades didn’t argue.
---
They didn’t plan to keep him.
They just… didn’t give him back.
Not while Zeus raged. Not while Leto cried. Not while Olympus turned a blind eye.
And when Apollo grew stronger—still just a baby, but already cooing songs in his sleep and glowing in the dark—they found themselves loving him.
Artemis was smuggled into the Underworld a week later. She ran to her twin’s crib, hugged him, and turned her silver eyes up at Persephone and Hades with a quiet, fierce: “Thank you.”
They were not parents, not truly.
But when Apollo reached up, calling Persephone mama in a babbled slur, Hades was there beside her, placing a protective hand on the edge of the crib, his eyes warm but cautious.
“Just until things settle,” Persephone whispered.
“Of course,” Hades said.
(They would never give him up.)
Chapter 126: Sunlight in Bloom
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight in Bloom”
Genre: Angst | Found Family | Demigod Rebellion | Pregnant Apollo | Hurt/Comfort | Zeus Slander | Fluffy Ending
---
When Zeus cast Apollo from Olympus, he thought it would be a lesson. A punishment for his pride. A reminder that no god stood above the King of the Sky.
What Zeus didn't know—what Apollo himself had only just begun to understand—was that he was no longer alone.
He was carrying a child.
Not metaphorically, not in spirit. Literally. His body, halfway between godhood and mortality, was cradling a tiny spark of life. Something born from warmth and softness and hope. Something that had no place in the punishment Zeus thrust him into.
And yet, Apollo endured.
---
"You’re what?!"
Will nearly dropped his ambrosia tray when Apollo, pale and curled on the infirmary cot, said it aloud.
"I'm pregnant," Apollo whispered, arms protectively over his abdomen. “Zeus stripped me of my immortality, and now—”
Kayla caught him as he wavered again, panic in her eyes. "You're half-mortal. You’re sick, constantly. This baby—"
"I know," he said gently. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t think I still could, but…"
He looked down at his stomach, barely a curve yet, but glowing faintly.
The room was silent, until Austin breathed, "We're gonna kill Zeus."
---
Camp Half-Blood rallied fast. Not just the Apollo cabin—everyone.
No one could look at Apollo, their once-sun-god-now-delicate-patient, fighting fevers and dizzy spells and sleepless nights while still managing to hum lullabies to the life growing inside him—without rage boiling in their veins.
It wasn’t fair.
Not to him. Not to the baby. Not to the children who had already lost enough parents, enough mentors.
Demeter’s kids began magically boosting Apollo’s food. Hephaestus kids made cushions and stabilizing gear. Hermes kids started smuggling Apollo’s favorite teas. Aphrodite’s cabin pampered him constantly.
Even Dionysus stopped being a complete ass.
---
But the rebellion? That started when Chiron quietly said, “Maybe it’s time the gods remembered that family isn’t defined by a throne.”
And Will, with his voice sharp and fierce, said, “We demand his godhood back.”
Hundreds of demigods stood behind him, torches lit.
---
Zeus roared. Thunder echoed across Olympus. “You dare defy me for him?!”
“He’s our parent!” someone shouted.
“He’s the reason we survived!”
"He was a god who loved us!”
"And he still is."
Hera crossed her arms. “They’re not wrong.”
“Neither is he unworthy,” added Hades. “You dare strip his divinity while carrying divine life?”
Even Artemis, usually silent, stepped beside her brother, bow drawn. “Give it back. Or the next hunt is you.”
---
Apollo regained his godhood in the middle of the infirmary, a blinding light that filled the entire camp with warmth. His baby kicked for the first time that night.
And the first sound they ever heard was Apollo laughing—tearful and alive—as the sun rose just for them.
Chapter 127: The Silence That Followed
Chapter Text
Title: “The Silence That Followed”
Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Angst | Olympus Drama | Protective Gods | Poor Apollo Hours
---
The Council of Olympus had once again spiraled into chaos.
It always started small—territorial disagreements, mortal prayers, some petty divine slight. But as always, it escalated. Voices rose. Thunder cracked. Shadows curled. Waves trembled.
Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were screaming at each other.
Again.
Apollo sat quietly at the far end of the table, next to Hermes, arms crossed, head lowered. He wasn’t in the mood. The sun god had barely spoken the entire meeting—he was tired, not just from prophecy work, but from existence. He didn’t even look up when lightning began flashing and cracks formed on the marble floor.
Then, it happened.
Zeus threw a bolt—not at Hades, not at Poseidon—but wildly, without direction.
Poseidon’s counter-wave crashed through the floor.
Hades unleashed a death wail of shadows meant to push them back.
And Apollo—Apollo, who wasn’t even in the fight—took the brunt of all three.
The heat seared. The wave slammed his back. The shadows clawed into his essence.
He was thrown across the chamber, crashing into the golden pillars, the room going deadly silent as he hit the floor with a sickening thud.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then—
A sharp, broken gasp.
Apollo’s shoulders shook. One hand was curled tightly around his side, blood blooming between his fingers. His crown of laurels had fallen, golden leaves scattered. And then, a soft, painful sob escaped his lips.
“Apollo—” Artemis was the first to move, a blur as she knelt beside him. “Pollo, look at me. Stay with me.”
He cried.
In the middle of the Council. In front of everyone.
Not a divine performance. Not controlled tears. Not silent grief.
Raw, agonizing, helpless crying.
And suddenly, no one cared about the original fight.
Athena stood, murder in her eyes.
Demeter’s vines crept across the floor, dangerous and coiled.
Hera slammed her hand on the table, golden eyes cold. “Enough.”
Even Dionysus, who barely raised a finger in divine matters, stood, wine glass shattering in his grip. “You three absolute bastards.”
Hermes was at Apollo’s other side in seconds, brushing back matted curls and muttering every healing spell he knew.
Hestia placed a hand on Artemis’ shoulder, voice trembling. “Take him to the Hearth. He needs safety. He needs… us.”
The three brothers—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—stood frozen. None of them spoke. Not when Artemis carried Apollo in her arms like a wounded child. Not when his tears stained her tunic. Not even when the door shut behind the group that followed.
Because they all felt it.
That guilt. That shame.
They hadn’t just hurt Apollo.
They’d broken something sacred.
And now Olympus—all of it—was watching.
Waiting.
Angry.
Chapter 128: Blinding Light
Chapter Text
Title: "Blinding Light"
Genre: Action | Angst | Family Bonds | Apollo Whump | Children of Apollo Rising
---
Luke Castellan thought he had a plan.
He was smart, calculated, and well-versed in manipulation. Stealing the Master Bolt? Easy. Sowing distrust between gods? Even easier. But there was one threat he hadn’t anticipated—Cabin Seven.
The children of Apollo.
They were too many. Too bright. Too loyal.
And worst of all? Too united.
So when whispers reached him of their growing suspicions, their uncanny accuracy with archery, their sharp tongues and sharper minds connecting dots too fast for comfort, Luke panicked.
He made a move.
Before the sun god himself could interfere in the war or warn his siblings, Luke—through Kronos' guidance—ambushed Apollo. The god had only just begun investigating the theft of the bolt when he was struck with a Titan-made sedative, laced with shadows and rot. They dragged him through cracks in the world, somewhere ancient and deep, too far for sunlight to reach.
Apollo’s divinity dimmed in his prison. His light flickered weakly. His mind blurred with poison. But his heart, even drugged and heavy, ached.
Because he knew.
His kids would feel it.
And they did.
---
Will Solace was the first to notice.
The sun didn’t rise right.
The warmth didn’t feel the same.
His songs on the lyre felt hollow, and his healing magic stuttered.
Then came Kayla, Austin, and Michael—dreams haunted by flashes of a golden figure, weeping, calling their names in a voice too cracked to be his. The rest of Cabin Seven followed, connecting symptoms like puzzle pieces. The prophecy? The war? The missing bolt? It all traced back to a single, glaring issue:
Apollo was gone.
And nobody noticed.
Nobody but them.
So, they acted.
Camp Half-Blood tried to stop them—“You’ll get hurt,” Chiron warned. “Let the gods handle it,” Dionysus said. But they didn’t listen.
They were children of the god of prophecy.
And the prophecy was screaming through their veins.
They tore through clues, picked apart enemy hideouts, interrogated monsters and followed sun-scarred trails until they reached the edge of the Titan-controlled zone—a deep cavern pulsing with Titan magic and the foul stench of godblood.
---
Inside, Luke stood before a half-conscious Apollo.
“You understand,” he muttered, pacing. “You were too dangerous. Your kids—too dangerous. I needed to even the field.”
Apollo blinked up slowly, golden eyes dulled, but voice still hoarse and steady: “You’ve made… a mistake.”
Luke scoffed. “What mistake?”
And that’s when the arrow shattered the barrier.
The ceiling exploded with divine sunlight as Cabin Seven stormed in like a wave of vengeance.
Will led the charge, face set in stone.
Kayla shot an arrow so sharp it pinned Luke’s sleeve to the wall.
Austin fired blindfolded and still nailed every Titan spawn trying to escape.
Even the newest Apollo kid, eleven and shaking, unleashed a burst of light that scorched the floor around their father.
The Titans fell like shadows at sunrise.
Luke barely escaped with his life, bloodied and terrified, retreating as fast as he could, already knowing this would change everything.
---
Later, when Apollo was stabilized, wrapped in sunlight conjured by his own children, his voice cracked as he whispered:
“You found me.”
Will, voice thick with emotion, leaned down to press their foreheads together. “You’re our dad. Of course we did.”
Kayla curled into his side, clutching his robe like a lifeline. “Next time someone touches you, we’ll set the sky on fire.”
Apollo managed a small, grateful smile. “That’s… very dramatic.”
Austin sniffled. “Yeah, well, so are you.”
---
Luke wouldn’t forget the day the children of the sun turned the war upside down.
Neither would Kronos.
And Olympus?
They finally remembered what it meant to be feared—not just because of the gods…
…but because of the ones who loved them.
Chapter 129: Sun-Kissed and Thorned
Chapter Text
Title: “Sun-Kissed and Thorned”
Genre: Comedy | Hurt/Comfort | Protective!Hyacinthus | Apollo Whump | Found Family
The sun flared unusually bright one afternoon over Camp Half-Blood. Not the comforting golden warmth everyone expected from Apollo — no, this was intense. Irritated.
And then he appeared.
Tall, regal, beautiful in the way roses are beautiful when they still have thorns—
Hyacinthus.
Revived by a whisper of the West Wind, cradled by Gaia, and dropped back into the world with three millennia of bitterness and heartbreak stitched into his soul like embroidery.
He stood just outside Cabin Seven, radiant and wrathful.
His first target? Naomi Solace.
“You left him,” Hyacinthus said coldly, stepping into the healing tent where Naomi was visiting.
Naomi blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You left him,” he repeated, slower, “after using him to bring life into the world. You didn’t stay. You didn’t try. You let him suffer.”
Will stepped out of the back room, sweat on his forehead, confused. “Mom, everything okay—?”
And Hyacinthus transformed.
The fury melted into the softest smile known to mankind. “Will,” he breathed like he was witnessing a miracle, crossing the room in three steps to gently cradle Will’s cheeks in his hands. “You look just like him—just more golden. Have you eaten? Are you hydrated? Your hands are cold. Get a coat.”
Naomi just stood there, shook.
And it didn’t stop there.
Hyacinthus tracked down every one of Apollo’s lovers. Man, woman, nymph, muse, whoever. The pattern was always the same:
- Intimidation. A silent, looming figure appearing in doorways and throwing judgmental stares like daggers.
- Scathing words. “Oh, so you’re the one who broke him this time. Lovely.”
- Softness to the kids. “Hello, beautiful child of sunlight, do you want a flower crown? I made one.”
Even Coronis’ ghost got a visit. That confrontation involved a lot of floral-based threats and a gust of wind that sent her howling away.
And then he reached Olympus.
“Ares.”
The war god blinked as Hyacinthus stepped out of the shadows of the war room.
“You used him. Lied to him. Made him carry your war songs and bleed into your battlefields for glory.”
Ares rolled his eyes. “He volunteered.”
Hyacinthus smiled darkly. “You’re going to apologize.”
“You can’t make me.”
“Oh,” Hyacinthus stepped closer. “I don’t need to. He’ll watch. And you’ll feel ashamed.”
Ares, shaken to his core, immediately offered an awkward apology to a confused but quietly smug Apollo.
Speaking of Apollo—
By the time Hyacinthus got to him, the sun god was already a mess. Seeing his first love alive, not a flower, not a memory, but real? Too much.
Apollo tackled him in a hug, burying his face in Hyacinthus’ chest like a sobbing child.
“I missed you,” he choked. “I missed you every day.”
Hyacinthus ran a hand through his hair. “I know.”
“I broke,” Apollo whispered. “They left. Everyone leaves.”
Hyacinthus cupped his face. “I didn’t.”
Later, the kids of Cabin Seven all stared as Hyacinthus sat in the middle of their cabin, braiding Will’s hair and humming an ancient lullaby while glaring daggers at Dionysus, who was just passing by.
Austin whispered, “So, like… should we be scared?”
Kayla: “Yes. But also? I feel safe.”
Will, eyes closed, content: “This is the most loved I’ve ever felt.”
Hyacinthus stayed.
Not as a shadow of the past.
But as a warning to everyone:
Don’t mess with the god of the sun.
Because now he had someone to catch him when he fell.
And someone to make sure he never broke again.
Chapter 130: The Curse of Trut
Chapter Text
Title: “The Curse of Truth”
The Oracle’s Temple echoed with bitter silence as Apollo stood, eyes dim, lips pressed in a grim line. His golden hands trembled as he recalled the moment Cassandra took his gift—the gift of prophecy—then spat on the promise she’d made to him.
But the curse… it hadn’t been meant to be cruel. It had been grief and pain and divine heartbreak. It had been his tears that laced the words, “No one will believe you.”
What Apollo never expected was how the other gods would react.
Hyacinthus, newly returned and ever fierce when it came to Apollo’s heart, stood at the edge of Olympus, arms crossed and murder in his eyes. “She used you,” he growled. “And the rest of you—you let mortals mock him for centuries. You let her suffer just enough to damn his name too.”
Even Hera, for once, was silent, watching Hyacinthus cradle Apollo protectively when the sun god collapsed under the weight of millennia-old pain.
“You wanted power, and you lied to him to get it,” Artemis said coldly to Cassandra’s echoing spirit. “My brother is not a tool.”
And the truth settled over Olympus: whether Apollo had cursed Cassandra or not, he had not been the only reason for her fall.
In the end, it was not just Apollo who wept for Cassandra’s fate—but also for the way the gods had allowed his grief to be twisted into cruelty. And it was Hyacinthus, ever his guardian now, who lifted his chin and declared, “No one hurts him again. Not mortals. Not gods. Not history.”
Chapter 131: Say My Name
Chapter Text
Title: “Say My Name” – A Percy Jackson Musical Fic
Scene opens in a crumbling temple at twilight. Apollo stands at the edge of a cliff, golden lyre at his side, head bowed. The wind howls. Behind him, shadows twist—Kronos materializes.
KRONOS (grinning, voice like velvet and thunder):
You could use a buddy.
Don’t you want a pal?
APOLLO (flatly):
Yes, I do… yes, I do?
KRONOS (circling):
Boy, the way I see it—your daddy should be leaving
And you should stick around and kill him.
APOLLO (blinks):
What?
KRONOS (waving hand innocently):
Nothing.
So, Apollo, don’t end yourself, defend yourself
Daddy is the one you should maim.
Together we’ll exterminate, assassinate—
APOLLO (frowning):
No!
KRONOS:
The finer points can wait, but first you gotta say my name.
Go ahead and jump, but that won’t stop him
Here you got a solid plan B option
I can bring your daddy so much pain—
All you gotta do is say my name.
APOLLO (stepping back):
I don’t know your name.
KRONOS (pouts):
Well, I can’t say it.
APOLLO (shrugs):
How ’bout a game of charades?
KRONOS (grins):
Yes, let’s play it.
APOLLO:
Two symbols?
KRONOS:
Right.
APOLLO:
Second symbol?
KRONOS:
Uh-huh.
APOLLO:
Mind?
KRONOS:
No.
APOLLO:
Intelligence?
KRONOS:
No.
APOLLO:
Intellect?
KRONOS:
No.
APOLLO:
Nos?
KRONOS (delighted):
Yes!
APOLLO:
Okay, first word…
KRONOS:
Okay.
APOLLO:
Strike?
KRONOS:
No.
APOLLO:
Knock?
KRONOS:
Close, but no.
APOLLO:
Kro?
KRONOS:
Yes!
APOLLO (smirking):
Kronos?
KRONOS (snapping fingers):
Wow, I’m impressed.
Now just say it three times—must be spoken unbroken.
Ready?
APOLLO:
Yeah.
KRONOS:
Okay, go.
APOLLO:
Kronos.
KRONOS:
Yes!
APOLLO:
Kronos.
KRONOS:
Yes!
APOLLO (tilts head):
Kkkkk… nowing.
KRONOS (startled):
What?
APOLLO (sassy):
You’re so smart, a stand-up bro
I’ll think about your offer, let you know
But I prefer my chances down below.
Kronos.
KRONOS:
Yes?
APOLLO:
Kronos.
KRONOS (eyes shining):
Yes?
APOLLO:
Knowing I’m blonde and pretty doesn’t mean I’m an easy mark
I’ve been swimming with piranhas, I don’t need a shark.
Yes, life sucks, but not that much.
Okay Kronos, Kronos—
Keep being a doll and spare the lecture.
KRONOS:
I’m offering you a full-time specter.
APOLLO:
Are you any good?
KRONOS:
You betcha. Trust me, baby.
APOLLO:
I just met ya. Really, it’s a flattering offer—
KRONOS:
Don’t you wanna see Dad suffer?
APOLLO:
I think I’d rather just jump off.
KRONOS:
No!
APOLLO:
I may be suicidal
But Kronos, it’s not like I’ve lost my mind.
KRONOS (snarling):
So, playing hardball, huh?
You’re tougher than you look.
APOLLO (smirks):
Just wanna make sure I know who I’m working with.
Got any references?
(Suddenly: Irene and Ash appear. Apollo turns. Kronos beams.)
IRENE (relieved):
Apollo, there you are!
ASH (concerned):
Are you alright?
KRONOS (arms open):
A-Dog! B-Town! My old pals!
ASH (to Apollo):
Get away from him.
This is a dangerously unstable individual.
KRONOS (whistles):
Flute!
(Both Ash and Irene stand stiffly, eyes glowing gold.)
ASH & IRENE (monotone):
Kronos is sexy.
Kronos is smart.
KN is a graduate of Julliard.
He can help, we found him on Yelp.
Our troubles all ended on the day that we befriended him.
Every word is the truth—
Kronos, Kronos, Kronos!
(They shake off the possession, horrified.)
IRENE:
What the heck was that?
ASH:
So violating…
KRONOS:
There you go, kid—couple of five-star reviews.
APOLLO:
What was that?
KRONOS:
That was possession.
Any god or Titan can do that in less than one lesson.
APOLLO (calculating):
Any god?
KRONOS:
Pretty much, any god’ll do. Sure.
APOLLO (smiling):
Then, Kronos… what do I need you for?
KRONOS (shocked):
Whoa, whoa—hold up, boy, I’m your pal!
They’re sweet, but I’m a Titan straight from Tartarus!
I know I went a little hard on the sell
But we’re BF-F-F-F’s forever, agh!
(Apollo raises a golden hand—light bursts. Kronos crumbles into smoke.)
ASH & IRENE:
Apollo!
APOLLO:
What? He was already dead.
And you heard what he said—any god can do that possession stuff.
We don’t need that Titan.
The three of us alone can wreck Dad’s evening.
Together, we can make a grown man weep.
Guys, I got a dinner date to keep.
ASH:
Okay, so what’s the plan?
APOLLO (grinning wickedly):
Teach Dad a lesson.
He’s gonna freak when we possess him.
So he wants the perfect son?
I’ll lead that lamb to slaughter.
Yeah, I got game.
I’m gonna make him say my name.
IRENE (cheering):
Make him say your name!
APOLLO:
I’ll make him say my name!
ASH:
Make him say your name!
APOLLO (dramatic flourish):
Not running away—
I’ll make him say my name!
Cue curtain fall. Thunderous applause.
Chapter 132: When the Sun Met the Storm
Chapter Text
Title: "When the Sun Met the Storm"
Apollo didn’t remember falling.
One moment, he was basking on the steps of the Parthenon, lyre in hand, sunlight curling at his fingertips. The next, he was plummeting through starlit skies into a strange world, vibrant with magic he didn’t recognize. Not divine, not mortal—something other. And in the heart of that world stood a castle called Night Raven College.
He was... an oddity here. Golden-haired and sun-kissed, clothed in radiance and divine confidence. The students gawked, the headmaster panicked, and Crowley insisted it must be a "summoning error."
But Apollo didn’t care.
Because he met him.
Malleus Draconia. Crown Prince of Briar Valley. A creature of old storms and emerald flame. Eyes like untouched forests after rain. Horns that curled with an ancient grace. And a voice—steady, soft, lonely.
Apollo had fallen again. This time, willingly.
They were a paradox. Sun and storm. God and fae. Yet somehow, their energies danced, braided together like golden light and green lightning.
Malleus, feared by many, melted under Apollo's warmth. And Apollo, so often adored for his beauty but never seen for his self, found in Malleus a man who looked at him and understood.
Time passed.
They married under the twilight sky of Briar Valley, surrounded by dragons and stars. Their love was real, raw, protective—and soon, blessed with a miracle. A child. A little one with Apollo’s smile and Malleus’s horns. Mischievous, sunshine-warm, and powerful enough to make even Hades blink in awe.
And then... the gods found out.
Artemis kicked down the Underworld’s gates demanding to know who dared marry her brother. Ares wanted to spar Malleus. Dionysus? He brought wine and threw the reception of the millennium. Demigods cried in disbelief. Percy Jackson asked if dragon-riders were a thing now. Nico just stared, muttering, “I don’t know whether to scream or propose a truce with Tartarus.”
And Malleus? He simply held Apollo close, wrapped his cloak around his husband and child, and promised:
"They can challenge fate itself. But they will not take you from me."
Apollo beamed, leaning into his husband’s embrace. “And they wouldn’t dare. I’m the sun, remember? Even the gods turn their heads when I shine.”
Part 2: When Dorm Leaders Meet the Sun
The first time the dorm leaders were summoned for an emergency meeting, they assumed it was because of Grim setting the botanical garden on fire again. Or maybe something Leona did. Or something Rook did and refused to confess to.
But what they got instead… was Apollo.
He entered the room like he owned the sky—and honestly, he might as well have. Sunlight seemed to follow him despite the thick castle walls. His golden hair shimmered like it was woven from strands of sunlight itself, and his amber eyes carried warmth and danger, like the perfect summer day that could scorch the world if crossed.
He wore flowing white robes embroidered with sun motifs, sandals that looked like they belonged in a museum, and a smile so dazzling Riddle sputtered mid-sentence.
“Everyone,” Malleus began calmly, standing at Apollo’s side with pride glowing in his emerald eyes. “This is my husband. Apollo.”
A long pause.
“…Wait, husband?” Leona narrowed his eyes.
Riddle: “As in—married?!”
Vil blinked, his usually flawless composure wobbling. “He’s… glowing. Like literally. Malleus, darling, where did you find a walking photoshoot filter?”
Azul adjusted his glasses. “Does he come with anti-magic protections? Because if that’s not divine aura, I’ll eat my contract ledger.”
Kalim just beamed. “Wow! You’re so shiny! Are you a genie? Or a spirit? Or—wait—are you the sun?”
Apollo chuckled, gently patting Kalim’s head. “I’m a sun. The Greek one.”
Idia didn’t even enter the room, but his voice crackled through the screen of his tablet. “Did… did Malleus Draconia pull a mythical god husband from another dimension while I was offline? Bro?!”
Rook, of course, nearly fainted from admiration. “Sublime! The grace! The divinity! The way his aura dances with Monsieur Malleus’s ancient presence—it’s like poetry incarnate!”
Sebek immediately tried to kneel and shout something about loyalty and service, only to be stopped by Lilia casually yanking him back by the collar. “Calm down, he’s family now.”
Apollo just… smiled through all of it, fingers gently entwined with Malleus’s.
“Well,” he said, amusement and grace layered in his voice, “you’re a colorful bunch. But Malleus loves this place—and now it’s mine, too. You don’t need to worship me—unless you want to, of course. I do accept offerings of music, poetry, and compliments.”
Malleus added serenely, “And if anyone disrespects him… well. Briar Valley’s wrath will look gentle in comparison.”
That shut them up fast.
The rest of the meeting devolved into a mix of respectful questions, awkward small talk, and Kalim trying to get Apollo to join his next party. Leona kept side-eying Malleus like he was recalculating a chess game. Azul offered a business partnership. And Vil… Vil just kept muttering, “It’s unfair how pretty they both are.”
As the meeting adjourned, Riddle whispered to Trey, “I think Malleus just ended the dorm wars without lifting a finger.”
Trey replied, “Yeah. He just married the sun."
Chapter 133: Beloved of the North Wind
Chapter Text
Title: Beloved of the North Wind
The demigods sat around the campfire, swapping stories and gossiping about the gods as usual. It had started as a simple conversation about divine family dynamics, but then the Boreads—Zethes and Calais—had chimed in.
“Ah, the Lord of Light,” Zethes mused, stretching his arms. “Our Seir is very fond of him.”
Calais nodded in agreement. “Yes. He speaks often of Apollo. Calls him his beloved.”
Silence.
“…Wait, what?” Jason blinked.
Leo, mid-marshmallow roast, froze. “Hold up. Boreas—like, North Wind Angry Ice Dad Boreas—has a thing for Apollo?”
Zethes and Calais exchanged glances. “Not just a thing,” Zethes said. “Apollo is the beloved of our Seir.”
Annabeth frowned. “Beloved, as in…?”
“As in, our father has deep feelings for him.” Calais nodded sagely. “We assumed this was common knowledge.”
“NO?!” came the collective response from the demigods.
Percy, who had been drinking soda, coughed violently. “You’re telling me—your dad, Mr. Winter Apocalypse, loves Apollo? Sunny, happy, annoying Apollo?”
“Well, obviously.” Zethes looked mildly offended. “Have you seen Apollo? He shines like the dawn, he sings with the voice of divinity, he dances like—”
“We get it,” Hazel interrupted, looking disturbed. “But I’m still not buying it. Boreas barely tolerates anyone.”
Calais simply shrugged. “And yet, he has tolerated Apollo in his embrace.”
The group collectively gagged.
Jason looked like he was trying very hard not to imagine that. “Are you sure? Like, really sure?”
Zethes rolled his eyes. “Why do you think we call him ‘the beloved of our Seir’? We have walked in on them.”
Leo dropped his marshmallow into the fire. “I regret everything.”
Nico, who had been silent this entire time, looked at them with a deadpan stare. “Do you want to be haunted for saying this?”
Calais looked confused. “Why? It is the truth.”
“Some truths should stay buried,” Will muttered, his entire face in his hands.
Just then, a golden glow appeared, and the very subject of their suffering strolled into camp, looking as radiant as ever. “Hey, kiddos! What’s up?”
The entire group tensed.
Apollo looked around. “…Why does it feel like I just walked into an intervention?”
Jason hesitated. “Uh. We just… found out something.”
Apollo raised a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”
Percy, never one for tact, just blurted it out. “Are you and Boreas a thing?!”
Apollo froze.
Then, to their collective horror, a very self-satisfied smirk crossed his face. “Oh? So now you all know?”
Annabeth groaned. “Oh gods.”
Zethes and Calais simply nodded. “See? We told you.”
Apollo chuckled, looking far too pleased with himself. “What can I say? Cold fronts love warm fronts.”
Jason put his head in his hands. “I need to unlearn everything I just learned.”
Apollo winked. “Oh, you poor innocent mortals. If only you knew how many storms I’ve caused.”
And with that, he strolled away, whistling to himself, leaving the demigods traumatized in his wake.
Chapter 134: Sunshine, Lyres, and Dad Drama
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunshine, Lyres, and Dad Drama"
The moment Hyacinthus was revived by Apollo—shimmering with leftover ichor-light, arms flung around the sun god's neck—it was over.
Apollo immediately married him.
No hesitation. No Olympian paperwork. Just a flower crown, a blood vow, and a ballad that made Artemis cry and Dionysus steal the wine list. Hyacinthus was alive again, immortal, and, according to Apollo: “Mine. Forever. No take-backs.”
And then they adopted—or more accurately, claimed—every single demigod child of Apollo.
How?
No one knows.
“Don’t ask how it works,” Chiron sighed as Will Solace grew flowers from his hair when he was happy. “It’s just…god science.”
Hyacinthus took to fatherhood like a spartan general with a Pinterest board. Protective? Absolutely. Unhinged? Also yes.
He stood behind Will at Camp Half-Blood orientation like a very angry, very pretty statue. When Will tripped over his words introducing himself, Hyacinthus stepped forward and said, “He’s perfect and you’re all unworthy.”
Apollo, clapping beside him: “That’s my husband.”
And then… he met Will’s mortal mom.
Hyacinthus’s smile was not a smile. It was the expression a sunflower might wear before slapping you across the face.
“You left him at six,” he said coldly. “Six.”
Will’s mom blinked. “I—I had no choice—”
“Did you consider literally any choice that wasn’t abandoning your child at monster-summer-camp?!” Hyacinthus snapped, his golden braid flicking over his shoulder like a whip. “You could’ve called. Wrote. Prayed. Summoned. Kidnapped Apollo in a dream sequence. Anything.”
Will tried to intervene: “Dad, it’s okay—”
“It is NOT okay!” Hyacinthus whirled around. “You were a baby! You still had your milk teeth!”
Apollo leaned down to Will. “Yeah, it’s pointless. He once threatened Hades himself because you scraped your knee.”
Hyacinthus crossed his arms. “And I’d do it again.”
Will’s mom tried to back away. “I just thought he'd be safer here—”
“Oh, here?” Hyacinthus gestured to the forest where a literal minotaur was sprinting past with a camper on its horns. “Yes, so much safer. Excellent parenting. Gold star.”
From that day forward, Hyacinthus made it very clear that no one messes with his kids.
That included:
- Ares (for making Clarisse bully Michael once)
- Zeus (for his whole… everything)
- Any satyr who dared to suggest maybe the Apollo Cabin shouldn’t have mirror walls
- The entire Hermes Cabin after Kayla came back crying
- And especially any camp director who tried to separate him from his husband and kids.
Also Hyacinthus has a sword. He doesn't need it. But he wears it anyway. It’s sparkly.
At family campfires, he’s the type of dad to:
- Show up with sunscreen, snacks, and twelve backup arrows.
- Sit behind Apollo while he plays the lyre, hand on his shoulder, radiating “this is my man” energy.
- Loudly declare that Will’s healing skills are better than Asclepius’s.
- Insist on group hugs after any monster battle.
“You are loved,” he tells them all, “You are ours.”
The Apollo kids… adore him.
Even Nico is a little scared of him.
Chapter 135: Sun-Blessed, Storm-Crowned 🔥
Chapter Text
Title: “Sun-Blessed, Storm-Crowned”
Summary: After centuries of being a forgotten lover, Hyacinthus rises as a god of rebirth, vengeance, and devotion. With his divine powers awakened, he challenges Zeus, overthrows Olympus, and claims the throne—with Apollo as both his consort and his reason to burn it all down. Now king of the gods, Hyacinthus has only one rule: Apollo doesn’t sit anywhere but his lap.
---
It started with thunder.
Zeus’s throne room cracked with tension, divine power thrumming in the air like the edge of a storm. The gods murmured among themselves, uncertain. For the first time in millennia, Olympus trembled.
At the center, Hyacinthus stood. No longer mortal. No longer forgotten.
Wreathed in violet light, with stormwinds in his eyes and petals blooming in his footsteps, he was godhood made flesh. The new god of rebirth, spring, and divine wrath.
And he was pissed.
"You left me to rot in myth," Hyacinthus said, his voice calm and slicing. "You called me a tragedy. You thought love wouldn't fight back?"
"A mortal dares threaten me?" Zeus growled.
Hyacinthus raised a brow. "I'm not a mortal."
Then he smiled. "I'm Apollo’s."
---
The battle was short. Violent. Beautiful.
Apollo stood at the edge, torn between awe and terror, watching the boy he once held in sunlit fields now crack open the sky with his bare hands.
Zeus fell—not in a blaze of glory, but in a storm of his own making. And when the dust cleared, Hyacinthus stepped over the fallen tyrant, plucked the king’s crown of lightning, and snapped it in half.
He didn’t need thunderbolts.
He had sunlight.
---
“Sit down,” Demeter said later during the first new council meeting.
Hyacinthus did.
In Zeus’s throne. Now overgrown with hyacinths and wrapped in new golden laurels. His eyes glowed—soft when they turned to Apollo, hard as steel when on anyone else.
Apollo moved to take his usual seat.
“Not there,” Hyacinthus said, patting his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Apollo blinked. “What?”
Hyacinthus tilted his head. “You heard me, sun god.”
Hermes coughed. “Bold of you.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “About time.”
Apollo sighed dramatically. “You have become a tyrant.”
Hyacinthus leaned back in the throne, smug. “No. I’ve become your husband. Now sit before I pull you onto me.”
Apollo sat.
He tried to look annoyed.
He was not annoyed.
---
And that’s how Olympus changed.
Meetings were no longer filled with yelling—unless Aphrodite caught Hyacinthus kissing Apollo mid-sentence and demanded they not be "obnoxiously in love" during discussions about mortal plagues.
But no one could deny it: Olympus was better now. Gentler. Fairer.
And at its head was a boy who had once died for love.
Now reborn, crowned in power, and ruling with his golden lover curled on his lap, Hyacinthus looked at the stars and smiled.
“Let history call me a tyrant if it must,” he whispered into Apollo’s curls. “But no one ever forgets I was yours.”
---
As the sun set, casting golden rays through the palace windows, Hyacinthus sat on his throne, Apollo draped over his lap like a golden cloak. The other gods had retired to their chambers, leaving the newly crowned king of Olympus alone with his sun god.
Hyacinthus ran his fingers through Apollo's hair absently, one leg thrown over the sun god's hips possessively. He'd done this so many times now—treated Apollo like a cat, petting him when he worked, feeding him grapes when he was lazy. But there was something different tonight.
"Know what I love?" Hyacinthus mused quietly, fingertips trailing down Apollo's neck. "That you're still the most gorgeous thing in my kingdom, even seated on my throne. Especially seated on my throne."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, my love," Apollo murmured, tilting his head into Hyacinthus' touch with a small smile. "Though I must admit, this throne has become rather... comfortable." He shifted slightly, intentionally pressing closer.
"Comfortable? Or are you just enjoying being this close to my cock?" Hyacinthus chuckled darkly, adjusting his grip on Apollo's waist. The throne was indeed made for a god ruling, but tonight it served another purpose entirely—keeping Apollo exactly where he wanted him.
"Perhaps a bit of both," Apollo admitted with a lazy grin, reaching down to run a hand along Hyacinthus' inner thigh. "Though I must say, this new throne suits you. It's... imposing. Powerful." His hand inched higher, squeezing lightly.
"Mhm," Hyacinthus hummed, leaning back against the throne with a sigh. His hand moved to Apollo's jaw, tilting the sun god's face up to his own. "And you're beautiful sitting on it, with my crown on your head and my hand on your throat."
"And your hand on my hip, keeping me right where you want me," Apollo added, his grin widening as Hyacinthus' fingers tightened around his throat possessively. "I rather like being decorative for my king." He leaned forward, kissing Hyacinthus gently.
"Decorative, my ass," Hyacinthus said against Apollo's lips, slipping his hand under the sun god's chiton. "You're a weapon in my crown, a gold-plated threat making every god nervous when you sit here with your legs spread over my lap."
"And yet, all they see is a beautiful face and golden hair," Apollo teased, breaking the kiss to smile at Hyacinthus. "They don't know that under this pretty exterior is a god who loves being used by his king in his throne room." He shifted again, spreading his legs wider.
"Gods above," Hyacinthus muttered softly, watching Apollo spread his legs shamelessly. He knew the sun god was teasing, showing off that he had no issue being half-naked and wanton on his throne. "No wonder every god falls for you at first sight."
"Jealous, my love?" Apollo purred, his fingers tracing patterns on Hyacinthus' thigh. "You know you're the only one I spread my legs for in this throne room." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Hyacinthus' jaw before whispering,
"Yes, but that only makes me harder knowing how open you are for me right now," Hyacinthus growled back, hand firm on Apollo's throat as he pushed the sun god's legs wider. "Are you so desperate for my cock that you'd do this on my throne. "
"Desperate? Perhaps," Apollo admitted, his voice low and sultry. He rocked his hips slightly, rubbing against Hyacinthus' growing hardness. "Or perhaps I just love the way you fuck me on this throne. It's become quite a favorite pastime of mine."
"A favorite pastime, indeed," Hyacinthus growled, his grip on Apollo's throat tightening as he pushed the sun god's legs wider. "And you know how much I love fucking you on this throne. Seeing your beautiful face and golden hair spread over my lap."
"Mhm," Apollo murmured agreeably, a sensual smile playing on his lips as he gazed up at Hyacinthus through lowered lashes. "Especially since it drives every god insane with jealousy when they see you taking what's yours." He deliberately clenched around nothing, giving a little show.
"Damn it," Hyacinthus cursed, his hips bucking upward as he imagined his spear filling Apollo right there on the throne. He could practically hear the whispers of the other gods, seeing Apollo so wanton and open for him.
Apollo let out a soft, teasing laugh, his hips rolling in a deliberate, slow grind against Hyacinthus. "You know what they say about gods and jealousy," he purred. "It makes them do stupid things. Like plotting against you or trying to seduce me away."
"Or worshipping the ground you walk on," Hyacinthus added darkly, watching Apollo's body move seductively. "Jealous that you're so shameless with your legs spread on my throne. Do you have any idea how many gods would kill to be where you are?"
"None," Apollo said sharply, suddenly wrapping his hand around Hyacinthus' length through his chiton. His thumb pressed against the head, making the dark god hiss. "Gods above, you're hard. How many of them wish they could do this?" He tightened his grip possessively.
"Too many," Hyacinthus grit out, his hips thrusting slightly into Apollo's grip. "They watch you straddle my lap like this, see you touch me like it's your damn job. No wonder every god wants to shove their dick in you."
"But they can't," Apollo whispered fiercely, squeezing Hyacinthus' cock harder. "Because this one is spoken for. Claimed by a gorgeous king who likes his dick sucked in his throne room." He flicked open Hyacinthus' chiton, freeing his erection.
"By the gods," Hyacinthus hissed, his hips bucking forward as Apollo handled his length expertly. He knew the sun god was possessive like this, territorial. "You know half the gods would kill to touch me like this? To hear me growl like this?"
"Mhm," Apollo hummed, his thumb spreading the fluid beading at Hyacinthus' tip. He knew gods fell over themselves for the dark king's body, his abs, his thighs. "Do you know how many times they've asked if your dick is really that big?"
"Too many times," Hyacinthus groaned, his hands gripping the arms of the throne tightly as Apollo started to jack him off slowly. "They've seen me fuck you in this throne room enough times to know the answer." He looked down at Apollo, his face contorting with pleasure.
"And yet..." Apollo's voice was thick with possession as he leaned forward, opening his mouth wide to take Hyacinthus' entire length in one smooth motion. His golden curls fell forward, masking his face as he started to suck confidently, hands gripping Hyacinthus' thighs.
"Fuck..." Hyacinthus's head fell back against the throne, his hands tangling in Apollo's hair as the sun god deepthroated him effortlessly. The sight was obscene - the perfect golden god worshipping his dark king's cock like it was a religious artifact.
Apollo hummed deeply, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through Hyacinthus' cock. He took him even deeper, his nose pressing against Hyacinthus' pelvis as he swallowed around the thick length. He pulled back slowly, sucking hard on the way up before plunging down again.
Hyacinthus groaned loudly, his hips rocking up to meet Apollo's eager mouth as wet heat enveloped his cock again and again. The lewd sounds of slurping and wet sucking filled the throne room, a decadent symphony praising Hyacinthus' impressive size and skill.
Chapter 136: The Epic Musical of Apollo’s Petty Revenge
Chapter Text
Title: “The Epic Musical of Apollo’s Petty Revenge”
Summary: After the fall of Troy—a city Apollo considered his—the god of music and prophecy is seething. Bored and vengeful, he casts a divine curse on the mortals responsible: every time something significant happens, they break into song. No one knows why. No one knows how to stop it. And every time it happens, they're painfully aware of Apollo’s smug satisfaction.
---
Chapter 1: The Curse Begins
Somewhere on a desolate cliff near the wreckage of Troy, Apollo sat tuning his golden lyre with dramatic flourish. He was shirtless, glowing, and glaring at the horizon like it had personally offended him.
“My city,” he muttered. “I helped build those walls. I gave that place culture. And what do they do? Let some wooden horse in. I should’ve smote them all.”
Artemis raised a brow. “I thought you liked Aeneas?”
Apollo huffed. “Aeneas can live. He’s got trauma. I respect that. But the rest of them? Oh no. They’re getting a musical curse.”
“A what?”
“I’m going to make them sing. Every time something plot-relevant happens—BOOM! Song.”
Artemis blinked. “You’re insufferable.”
Apollo grinned. “I’m creative.”
---
Chapter 2: Agamemnon Regrets His Life Choices
Agamemnon stepped off the ship onto Mycenaean shores, dragging Cassandra behind him. He took a breath, ready to give a victory speech—
And promptly burst into song.
“I’m back from the war, I’m a king once more,
But my wife might kill me, ‘cause I made her sore—”
He tried to stop.
He could not stop.
“I sacrificed our daughter, for wind and slaughter—”
Cassandra stared at him in horror. “This is cursed. This is divine punishment.”
“This is Apollo,” she muttered under her breath.
Clytemnestra, listening from the palace balcony, narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you want a show? I’ll give you a finale.”
---
Chapter 3: Odysseus Sings for His Life
Odysseus had outwitted gods, cyclopes, and fate itself.
He was not prepared for a spontaneous duet with his own crew.
They rowed, trying to reach Ithaca, when the sea sparkled ominously and the music swelled.
Crew:
“It’s been ten years, we’re still lost,
Can we blame our clever boss?”
Odysseus (desperately, but on-key):
“I’m trying my best, don’t be cruel,
I tricked a cyclops, that was cool!”
They all glared at him.
Then Telemachus back home had a premonition and started singing.
Penelope nearly threw a loom at the sky.
---
Chapter 4: Achilles is Rolling in His Grave
Patroclus, in the underworld, was humming mournfully when he heard it.
Somewhere above, the living were singing about how “Achilles was too emotional” and “his heel was weak.”
“Are they... mocking him?” he muttered.
Achilles rose beside him, glowing faintly.
And then the underworld chorus began.
“He was rage and wrath and pain,
The war god born of mortal strain—”
Patroclus joined in with arms crossed.
“He also cried a lot and refused to eat until I got avenged,” he added.
Achilles glared. “I was grieving!”
Hades peeked in. “Apollo’s curse again?”
“Yup.”
“Should we stop it?”
Achilles and Patroclus exchanged a look.
“No. Let them suffer.”
---
Chapter 5: Apollo’s Eternal Petty Era
Somewhere in Elysium, Apollo was sipping nectar and listening to the chaos unfold.
“Next up: musical retelling of the Odyssey, but with more harmonies,” he said.
Artemis was reading silently. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
“And talented,” Apollo added, strumming a chord.
She sighed. “So when does this end?”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” Apollo said, eyes glittering with divine glee. “They disrespected my city. They mocked my prophecies. They’re going to sing their way through trauma until they admit I was right.”
A pause.
From the mortal realm, a faint chorus echoed:
“Apollo’s a diva, a god with a grudge—”
Apollo beamed.
“Now that’s the truth in harmony.”
Title: “Why Was Ancient Greece a Broadway Show?” – Apollo’s Curse, Part 2
Summary: The musical curse Apollo put on ancient Greece didn’t vanish with time. It left behind echoes, myths, and a lot of confusing war ballads. Now, in the Percy Jackson era, demigods are asking questions. And Chiron does not want to answer them.
---
Chapter 2: The Musical Aftermath
“Okay, but seriously,” Will Solace said, waving his arms like he was conducting a point, “why did everyone in Ancient Greece sing so much?”
The Apollo cabin was having its weekly group therapy-slash-lore-cracking session. It had started with someone humming a battle hymn from a dramatized epic scroll and spiraled into deep existential questions.
“Like, I read the Iliad again,” Cecil said, “and apparently Achilles delivered three solos before killing Hector. Three. And one of them was a dance number.”
Austin winced. “That... may have been real.”
“What?” Kayla blinked. “That wasn’t metaphor?”
Will stared. “You're telling me Achilles actually did jazz hands before stabbing a man?”
Chiron, outside the window, sighed audibly.
---
Scene: Chiron’s Office
Percy sat in the corner as Annabeth flipped through a collection of ancient texts.
“I’m just saying,” she muttered, “there are too many lyrics and not enough tactical maps. Was warfare just... aggressive karaoke back then?”
“It was the musical age,” Chiron said grimly. “A curse cast by—”
“Apollo,” everyone chorused.
Chiron rubbed his temples. “Yes. Apollo.”
“Did they know they were being forced to sing?” Piper asked, confused.
“Sometimes,” Chiron said. “Sometimes they just felt it. A sudden swell of music, emotional resonance, uncontrollable movement—”
“Sounds like a Disney Channel fever dream,” Percy mumbled.
---
Flashback: Ancient Greek Battlefield
The Spartans and Athenians face each other tensely. One soldier begins to sing.
“Steel in hand and fear behind,
We charge for glory, blood, and rhyme—”
Another soldier:
“If I fall, let it be known,
I died with perfect baritone—”
The generals groan. “NOT AGAIN.”
Apollo, watching from the clouds, is jamming on his lyre with sunglasses. “Let’s get dramatic!”
---
Back to Present: Camp Half-Blood
“Okay,” Nico said, emerging from the shadows mid-conversation, “is this why every Greek ghost I summon tries to launch into a musical number before telling me anything useful?”
“Yes,” Chiron said tiredly.
“They won’t stop until they hit the bridge or a key change,” Nico muttered. “One guy made me sit through a ballad about his cow.”
“That sounds like a Thessalian,” Will offered helpfully.
“It was.”
---
Scene: Apollo is Caught
Later that night, the campers gathered around the campfire. A glowing figure shimmered into place.
Apollo stretched, yawned, and smiled. “Did someone say my name three times? I thought I felt appreciation.”
“Apollo,” Annabeth said flatly, “why did you curse an entire civilization to sing everything?”
Apollo looked offended. “Curse? Excuse you, I elevated civilization. I made war art.”
“But they were DYING,” Percy said.
“Dramatically,” Apollo said, flipping his golden hair.
“You turned Troy into a Broadway tragedy,” Piper added.
“I know,” he whispered proudly.
“Do you have any regrets?” Nico asked.
Apollo considered. “Only that I didn’t film it.”
---
Epilogue: The Curse Lives On
Somewhere in Camp Half-Blood, Leo hummed a suspiciously catchy beat while fixing a toaster. He suddenly looked up.
“Why do I feel the urge to... choreograph?”
From across the camp, Will gasped. “It’s spreading again.”
Piper narrowed her eyes toward the heavens.
“Apollo,” she warned, “if you restart the musical age, I will find a way to slap you.”
From Olympus came a faint chorus:
“You can’t stop the song, my friends,
The music never truly ends—”
Everyone groaned.
Title: Apollo’s Curse, Part 3: Broadway of Olympus
Summary: After the “musical age” of Greece and a lot of complaints from the modern demigods, Apollo decides to "modernize" the vibe. What’s his solution? Forcing the Seven to star in an original Broadway-style musical he's writing, directing, and absolutely not letting them escape. The gods are thrilled. The Seven? Not so much.
---
Scene 1: The Auditions Nobody Asked For
The Seven were enjoying a rare peaceful afternoon at Camp Half-Blood when a scroll shot down from the sky, trailing glitter.
Annabeth unrolled it with suspicion. “It’s… covered in musical notes?”
Leo read aloud: “CONGRATULATIONS! You’ve been cast in the upcoming smash hit ‘Warriors of Fate: The Musical’ written, directed, and divinely inspired by yours truly, Apollo!”
Hazel blinked. “I didn’t audition.”
“None of us did,” Frank said, already dreading the costume fittings.
Suddenly, spotlights appeared in the sky, music began swelling from nowhere, and Apollo literally descended from the sun, wearing gold-rimmed sunglasses and a sash that read “#1 Director.”
“You’re welcome,” he beamed.
---
Scene 2: Rehearsals from Tartarus
Percy tried to sneak out the back door of the rehearsal room.
“You can’t escape art, Percy,” Apollo called, snapping his fingers. The door turned into a rotating stage platform.
“WHY is my solo a love ballad to the ocean?!” Percy yelled.
“It’s symbolism!” Apollo shouted back. “It’s your truth!”
Annabeth glared at her script. “You gave me seven verses about books. Seven.”
“You’re the brains of the operation. It’s your power ballad.”
Leo peeked out from behind a curtain. “My character's literally named ‘Fire Boy.’”
“Tragic, yet flammable,” Apollo sniffed. “The audience will weep.”
Piper tried to charm-speak the script into changing itself. It responded with a jazzy rejection song.
---
Scene 3: The Dress Rehearsal Breakdown
Jason stood in a toga-bedazzled pilot outfit. “I look like a flying Christmas ornament.”
Hazel was trying to get her shadow effects to not form interpretive dance shapes.
Frank had been turned into a literal animagus bear for his transformation scene.
Leo had built a pyrotechnic rig that accidentally launched three practice swords into the audience seats.
“I’m not saying this is chaos,” Annabeth said through gritted teeth, “but if I strangle a god, will anyone stop me?”
Nico popped out of a shadow. “I brought popcorn. This is amazing.”
Will Solace arrived late, glanced around at the madness, and sighed. “This is why my dad isn’t allowed near mortal theater programs anymore.”
---
Scene 4: The Performance
The curtain rose.
Somehow, despite everything, the show began.
Percy sang a surprisingly touching duet with a wave machine.
Annabeth nailed her seven-verse book ballad and accidentally summoned Athena, who gave a standing ovation.
Jason flew over the crowd with actual lightning trailing behind him. The audience wept.
Leo’s firework finale nearly took out a satyr, but he bowed with flair.
Hazel’s dance number with the ghosts brought the house down.
Piper’s power note made half the camp sob.
And Frank… actually stole the whole show in his bear suit.
---
Scene 5: Backstage Aftermath
The Seven stood in stunned silence, still in costume.
“We just… did a musical,” Jason said slowly.
“I think I liked it?” Percy muttered, unsure if that was okay to admit.
Apollo burst into glittering confetti beside them, beaming. “You were all perfect. Broadway doesn’t deserve you. Olympus will never recover.”
Annabeth rubbed her temples. “Please don’t tell Zeus about this.”
Apollo winked. “Oh, he’s already writing season 2.”
Everyone screamed.
---
Epilogue: The Reviews Are In
A note appeared in the Camp dining pavilion the next morning:
> Zeus: “Thunderous. Literally.”
Artemis: “Stop making me sit through these.”
Hera: “They finally gave Annabeth a decent role.”
Hades: “Hazel deserves better lighting.”
Ares: “Why was there no sword solo?!”
Dionysus: “I give it three out of five grapes.”
Demeter: “Where were the singing plants?”
And Apollo?
He already had a poster up for the sequel: “Return of the Heroes: The Remix"
Chapter 137: Jealous Sunlight
Notes:
I want to make another song of Apollo—so plz give me ideas for it
Chapter Text
Title: Jealous Sunlight
Summary: Apollo has witnessed countless love stories across the ages, but none frustrate him quite like that of Penelope and Odysseus. Their loyalty through twenty long years of separation makes his immortal heart burn—not with love, but with jealousy. Why does their love endure, when even the gods cannot hold on to such constancy?
---
Apollo lounges in a sun-drenched grove atop Mount Olympus, golden lyre in hand, but for once, his fingers refuse to strum. He stares into the reflection pool where visions of mortal lives play like shifting dreams.
There they are again—Penelope, weaving. Odysseus, finally home, embracing her like she’s the last anchor to his soul. And Apollo?
He snarls.
“Twenty years,” he says aloud, to no one in particular. “Twenty. Years.”
Artemis, passing by with her hunting party, doesn’t stop walking. “Still stalking Ithaca like a scorned lover?”
“I’m studying!” Apollo snaps, sitting up straighter. “It’s for inspiration.”
“You’ve been watching the same couple for centuries.”
“Because they’re annoying.”
She raises a brow. “Because they’re loyal?”
Apollo’s jaw clenches.
“They’re mortals,” he huffs, “and yet Penelope refused every suitor. Odysseus faced monsters, witches, Calypso, and still came back. They... they still choose each other.”
He doesn’t say the rest. Doesn’t say how even gods have left him. How Daphne fled, how Hyacinthus died, how so many mortals worshiped him but never stayed with him.
But Penelope and Odysseus? They’re the exception. The irritating, beautiful exception.
---
Later That Night…
He sits at the edge of the sea, the moonlight reflecting off the waves. Delos is quiet, save for the rustle of olive trees.
“Why do you stay?” he whispers toward the wind. “Why do you still love him, Penelope? When you didn’t know if he was alive, when the world offered you comfort?”
The waves, of course, do not answer.
He hates how mortal hearts can endure things godly ones cannot.
---
The Next Morning
Hermes finds him pouting on a sunbeam.
“You know,” the messenger says, tossing a fig in the air, “you could always just talk to Odysseus.”
Apollo glares. “To say what? ‘Congratulations on being better at love than an immortal deity?’”
“Could be humbling.”
“I hate you.”
“You’re jealous.”
Apollo doesn’t deny it.
Because deep down, he is.
Not of Odysseus’ heroics or Penelope’s beauty—but of their choice.
The daily, steady, deliberate decision to love each other even after time, distance, temptation, and pain.
And Apollo, god of love and poetry and sunlight, aches with the understanding that loyalty, the kind he yearns for, might just be the one thing not even a god can command.
---
Epilogue
Apollo begins composing again.
This time, not for glory or praise or for the adoration of crowds.
This one is quiet.
A song for those who stay. For those who wait. For those who love—not because they must, but because they choose to.
And somewhere, in a small corner of the world, a woman weaving feels warmth kiss her skin through a clouded sky.
She smiles.
And Apollo does, too.
Chapter 138: The Song Curse of Olympus
Chapter Text
Title: The Song Curse of Olympus
Summary: Apollo is furious. Again. After the gods once more ignored his artistic genius, he does the only reasonable thing: he curses Olympus with a magical compulsion—every time something important happens, the gods must sing about it. Horribly. And no one can stop it. No one. Not even Zeus. Especially not Zeus.
---
It began after a particularly insulting council meeting.
Apollo had unveiled his newest masterpiece: The Ballad of Divine Dysfunction: A Rock Opera. It had harmonies, a tragic backstory, twelve key changes, and even Dionysus thought it was “kinda catchy.”
But when he’d finished performing it with dazzling choreography and dramatic lighting, all Zeus said was:
“Can you stop embarrassing yourself?”
So naturally, Apollo cursed them all.
---
Day One: The Beginning of the End
Zeus:
(Singing terribly off-key)
"I’m the king of the skiiiiiies! Thunder and liiiiies!
Why won't my children just looooove meeeeee?!"
Hera (slamming a goblet onto the floor):
“Oh for Tartarus' sake, shut up!”
But she, too, felt the magic crawl up her throat.
Hera:
(Warbling like a banshee)
"I'm the QUEEN with a scorned spleen,
Betrayed by this thundering machine!"
Zeus turned pale.
Apollo watched from his golden throne, sipping ambrosia, utterly serene.
---
Day Two: Things Escalate
Ares tried to start a fight. With everyone.
But instead of declaring war, he launched into a tragic ballad about daddy issues.
Ares:
(Sobbing into his shield)
"Born of hate, trained for waaaaaar,
But he never loved me, not even Thorrrrr!"
Athena threw herself out the window.
Artemis swore she’d murder Apollo. Then tried.
But right before she could shoot him, she burst into a twangy country jingle.
Artemis:
(Banjo sound somehow appearing)
"My brother is a pain, my targets all are slain,
But I'd trade 'em all to toss him in a hurricane!"
Apollo:
"Beautiful harmonies, sis. Truly divine."
---
Day Four: Despair
Hermes tried to escape the curse by moving to the mortal world. It followed him.
Now every delivery came with unsolicited freestyle rap.
Hermes:
"Special delivery, package for doom,
And a haunting song to fill your room!
Oops, sorry! No refunds on melody!"
Poseidon broke a trident over his knee.
Then composed a sea shanty about it.
Even Hades was affected. Poor Hades.
Hades:
(Tone-deaf Gregorian chant)
"I hate them all, the living and the dead,
Except my wife, who keeps me fed—"
Persephone (in the background):
"NO. You did not just rhyme my culinary skills with dread."
---
Day Seven: Intervention
The gods gathered, hoarse, broken, and with traumatized Muses in tow.
Zeus:
(Raspy) “Apollo. Please. Lift. The. Curse.”
Apollo:
“Oh, NOW you care about musical expression?”
Aphrodite (croaking):
“I can't seduce anyone. I sound like a dying peacock.”
Dionysus:
“Even wine can't make this bearable.”
Apollo sipped his drink, then snapped his fingers. The curse stopped.
Instantly, a heavy silence fell over Olympus.
Athena finally spoke.
Athena:
“I will support your next musical.”
Zeus sighed.
“I’ll finance it.”
Artemis muttered:
“I’ll... choreograph.”
Apollo grinned.
“That’s all I ever wanted.”
---
Epilogue:
Apollo’s next musical, “The Tragedy of Zeus’ Ego: An Acoustic Set” sold out in three realms.
Even Hades bought front-row tickets.
And Olympus?
They never questioned his art again.
Ever.
Because no one—absolutely no one—wanted to hear Hera’s screeching falsetto a second time.
Chapter 139: Chaos and Creation
Chapter Text
Title: Chaos and Creation
Summary: Apollo, now heavily pregnant with Khaos' child, faces not only the tumult of parenthood but also the intense, possessive love of his partner. Khaos, the primordial being, does not share, and Apollo must navigate his complex feelings while preparing for the arrival of their child. As the time of birth draws near, Khaos grows more possessive of Apollo and his divine and demigod children, setting the stage for a new kind of family dynamic in the cosmos.
---
Chapter: The Birth of the Chaos Child
The heavens trembled as Apollo lay in his chambers on Mount Olympus, the weight of the cosmos inside him more than just physical. His belly, swollen with the child of Khaos, seemed to thrum with energy, as if the universe itself was waiting for the moment of birth.
"Not much longer now," Apollo whispered to himself, his hand resting gently over the round curve of his stomach.
The thought should have been comforting, but Apollo felt the pull of something darker—a possessive force that only grew stronger as his pregnancy progressed. Khaos was always close, always hovering, always watching. The primordial being’s presence was a constant, but now, as the birth approached, it was suffocating. Khaos' love, while deep and all-encompassing, was often overwhelming.
Apollo had learned to expect this intensity. But he had also learned that it came with its own... challenges.
---
The Birth of the Child
The moment arrived like a storm—violent, unstoppable, and magnificent.
Apollo gasped as the child finally made its way into the world, his body trembling with both relief and the overwhelming power of the tiny life now in his arms. The child was... different. Not quite mortal, not entirely divine. It was as if the cosmos itself had shaped its being—a perfect blend of chaos and order, of creation and destruction. The baby’s eyes were deep black, speckled with stars, and it pulsed with the raw power of the void.
Before Apollo could even hold the child properly, a cold breeze swept through the room. Khaos materialized in front of him, ethereal and all-encompassing, their form a shifting mass of shadows and stars.
"My love," Khaos said, their voice a whisper in the vastness of space. "Our child... they are perfect."
Khaos' gaze flickered to the infant, then to Apollo, and in that moment, Apollo could feel the overwhelming possessiveness radiating off Khaos.
"Don’t touch them just yet," Khaos warned, voice barely audible. "They are mine... and yours. But most of all, they are ours."
Apollo, though exhausted, felt a pang of something almost like fear. Khaos was always so sure, so powerful. But now, with their child in their arms, Khaos was something else entirely. The possessiveness, the hunger for Apollo and the child, was palpable.
"I know," Apollo whispered, his voice soft with both affection and caution. "But I need to hold them, Khaos."
Khaos’ form wavered, and in the blink of an eye, they were right beside Apollo, their long, shadowed hands hovering over the child but not quite touching. "You can hold them. But remember, Apollo, they are born from my essence. They belong to us—and no one else."
Apollo shivered as Khaos’ words seeped into his very bones. There was no room for anyone else in their world—no room for their demigod children or the gods. Khaos would not share. Not even with his own children.
---
Days Later: The Possessiveness Grows
The weeks passed in a blur of chaotic love. Apollo’s children, both divine and mortal, were cautious around Khaos. They’d never seen their father so deeply in love, and the intense possessiveness that came with it unsettled them. Khaos didn’t just want Apollo—they wanted his entire world.
“Why won’t they let me near the child?” Will Solace muttered one day, watching Khaos stand just outside the nursery, their form shifting like smoke in the moonlight.
Apollo sighed, his expression softening. “It’s not that they don’t trust you, Will. It’s just that... Khaos isn’t used to sharing.”
“Not used to sharing?” Will snorted, raising an eyebrow. “But they’re your partner, right? I mean, you’re sharing a kid now, and they—"
“They want more than just the child,” Apollo interrupted gently. “Khaos doesn’t see things like we do. It’s not about sharing—it’s about possession. Not in a bad way, but in a way that’s... all-consuming.”
Will’s face twisted with confusion. “That sounds... dangerous.”
“It’s just how they are,” Apollo said, running a hand through his hair. “But don’t worry. I’ve learned to navigate it. Khaos and I will figure it out.”
---
The Gods’ Response
The other gods watched from the sidelines, their concerns growing. Athena, ever the strategist, approached Apollo one evening, a look of genuine worry on her face.
“Apollo,” she said softly, “You’ve seen how Khaos acts, right? This... possessiveness—it's not healthy. For you. For the child.”
Apollo looked out toward the horizon, feeling the weight of Athena’s words. “I know, Athena. But Khaos is different from any god I’ve known. They don’t just love—they consume. It’s all-consuming. It’s who they are.”
Athena frowned, but she didn’t push further. She could see the weight Apollo carried, and she understood that this was his burden to bear.
---
The First Major Test
The real test came when their child, now a few months old, was brought to a gathering of the gods. For once, Apollo wanted the child to meet the divine family—his family—but Khaos would not hear of it.
“I don’t trust them,” Khaos hissed, voice filled with warning. “None of them will understand the power of our child. They will hurt them.”
Apollo stood his ground. “They are my family, Khaos. Our family.”
But Khaos, in a rare display of vulnerability, pulled Apollo closer, their form becoming more solid, more real. “Do you not see? I cannot lose you. I cannot lose this child. You belong to me, Apollo. I need you. I will do anything to keep you safe.”
Apollo, overwhelmed by the intensity of Khaos’ emotions, kissed them softly. “I know, Khaos. I know. But our child deserves to know the gods, too. Just... trust me, okay?”
Khaos didn’t say a word, but the tension in the air thickened, the shadows around them deepening. Apollo sighed, preparing for a battle of wills.
---
The Aftermath
The gods did not know what to expect when Khaos finally relented and allowed the child to meet the family. But the possessiveness that Khaos showed didn’t disappear—it only shifted, becoming more subtle, more insidious. Apollo knew that the road ahead would be difficult, navigating the complexities of their love and the ever-present pull of Khaos’ primal nature.
But for now, Apollo simply held his child close, feeling the pulse of power that ran through both of them.
And for the first time in a long while, he felt truly at peace.
Chapter 140: Celestial Obsession
Chapter Text
Title: “Celestial Obsession”
After eons of silence, Khaos stirred.
It had started with a whisper—a tremor in the cosmos. Apollo, radiant and golden, had drawn the Primordial’s attention in the aftermath of a musical curse hurled at Olympus. Khaos watched as the god of light mocked his fellow deities with chaotic melody and untamed laughter, saw the fire beneath the golden skin, and wanted.
And Khaos always got what he wanted.
Once Apollo had carried their child—an impossibly bright fragment of both starlight and nothingness—Khaos became obsessed. The birth had shattered space for three seconds. Stars blinked out of existence. The other Primordials had come to witness the miracle. The child, unnamed and ever-shifting, was quiet, and Apollo—shaking, radiant, proud—was immediately gathered in Khaos' arms and never let go.
Literally.
“Let me breathe,” Apollo huffed, cheeks flushed and legs still weak, nestled into a throne of collapsing stars.
“No,” Khaos whispered, curling a tendril of void around Apollo’s waist. “They’ll look at you.”
“They’re gods, Khaos.”
“I don’t care.”
Whenever the other Primordials came to visit—Erebus, Nyx, Gaia, even Tartarus—Khaos would seat Apollo on his lap like some celestial trophy, chin on his shoulder, watching everyone watch him.
“You see him?” Khaos would murmur, voice deep and terrible and proud. “Mine.”
The others never spoke much in front of Apollo. Even Nyx, with all her shadows, averted her gaze when Khaos coiled tighter around him.
When the Egyptian gods arrived for a celestial convergence, Khaos appeared with Apollo wrapped in a midnight shawl woven from broken dimensions. Sobek tried to flirt—once. He was reduced to a hissing puddle of screaming scales in seconds.
“My sun doesn’t need a swamp rat touching him,” Khaos said, eyes flaring like dying universes.
When the Norse came to argue fate, Khaos only allowed Odin to speak once Apollo yawned and curled into his chest. Loki made a comment about “being pretty enough to tame Chaos.”
Khaos blinked, and Loki’s mouth was gone for three days.
Meanwhile, Apollo’s children were adopted whether they liked it or not. God or demigod—it didn’t matter. Will, Kayla, even little Emily from Idaho who hadn’t even claimed a weapon yet, were now under the terrifyingly tender umbrella of Khaos' obsession.
“You are mine by blood,” Khaos informed Will calmly after shadow-teleporting him mid-camp lesson. “That means you don’t get injured. Ever again.”
“Okay, but you dropped me off the Empire State Building—”
“To teach you how to land. You passed. Good boy.”
Apollo just sighed, sipping star-tea from a cup Khaos conjured every two hours.
And when Zeus dared raise a concern over the “unbalanced presence of the primordial void influencing Olympus through unapproved affection”—
Khaos floated above the throne room, wings of collapsing dimensions outstretched, Apollo calmly painting his nails in his lap, and whispered:
“Would you like to be unmade, Zeus?”
Zeus did not.
And Apollo? Well, he’d never felt safer.
Chapter 141: Depths of Obsession
Chapter Text
Title: Depths of Obsession
Tartarus had never known longing. He was the Pit, the infinite prison, the screaming void beneath existence itself. He was loathed, feared, and forgotten unless someone needed to be buried alive by fate.
Then came Apollo.
Radiant, golden, divine — light incarnate. Apollo stumbled too close to the edge of the abyss, perhaps by accident… perhaps by divine irony. A god of music humming to himself as he wandered, scorned by Olympus one too many times.
Tartarus saw him.
And Tartarus wanted.
For the first time in eternity, the primordial pit took form — looming, smoky, eyes like collapsed stars — and pulled Apollo into the depths with a whisper: "Mine."
Apollo, confused, tried to leave. He was the sun, and no sun belonged underground. But Tartarus, in all his ancient madness, only held tighter. He watched Apollo with a terrifying, obsessive awe. If Apollo moved a foot away, the very ground trembled. Shadows snarled. Space collapsed just to bring him closer again.
"I don't care if you're scared," Tartarus said, voice rumbling like eons grinding. "The stars can look at you from afar. Only I get to keep you."
Apollo, flustered and blushing in golden fury, screamed he was a god, not a trophy — but then Tartarus picked him up like a porcelain doll and cradled him in darkness with a low purr of contentment.
And then—then—he found out Apollo had children.
Demigods. Full gods. All of them touched by that sunlight.
Tartarus adopted them. Every. Single. One.
They were scooped into the shadows with little warning. Will Solace had been mid-surgery when the floor beneath him opened and dropped him into a massive shadow hand.
Tartarus loomed over him. “You are mine now. You are Apollo’s. Therefore, mine.”
Will blinked. "...Do I still get to finish the surgery?"
Tartarus patted his head. "Do what you wish, son. But don’t stray far."
Demigods from every generation were suddenly under pit-protection. Shadowy beasts guarded their rooms. Titans bowed awkwardly at their presence. Thanatos stopped by, gave Tartarus a long stare, and left muttering, “Even I think this is a bit much…”
But Apollo? He was both horrified and oddly moved. Tartarus was… absolutely insane, yes. Terrifying, sure. But also doting, possessive, and somehow kind in that ancient, unknowable way. He knew all of Apollo’s poems by heart, listened to him play the lyre like it was the lullaby of the universe, and murmured, “You will never be forgotten again.”
And maybe, just maybe… Apollo started to like being held too close.
Chapter 142: Golden Favor
Chapter Text
Title: Golden Favor
Eurylochus had never been anyone’s favorite.
He wasn’t the strongest, or the most clever. Not the best looking, nor the most charming. That had always been Odysseus — wily, brilliant Odysseus, with a tongue like honey and a head full of schemes.
So when Apollo — Apollo — the god of light, poetry, and prophecies, smiled at him, Eurylochus thought surely it was a mistake.
It started with Apollo appearing during a storm. The skies cracked with gold, not lightning. And there he was — radiant and calm, hair glowing, sun-drenched skin unmarred by the winds.
"You're brave," Apollo said, eyes fixed not on Odysseus, but him. "You're loyal. You fight when you're tired, when you’re angry, when you're scared. And you never forget your crew."
Eurylochus had only stared. "Why… me?"
Apollo simply grinned and whispered, “Because even the sun sees the ones in the shadows.”
—
Eurylochus became someone the gods spoke to. Blessed. He'd whisper prayers and they'd be answered. He'd hum and sunlight would follow. He guided his men through trials with Apollo’s quiet aid — a beam of light here, a sudden warmth there. His crew noticed. So did Odysseus.
And gods, was Odysseus jealous.
He watched as Eurylochus stood at the center now — not just the rebellious voice, but the protector, the one they looked to when things were hard. And Apollo?
Apollo would descend just to tuck a stray curl behind Eurylochus' ear, or rest his hand on his shoulder like he belonged there.
It drove Odysseus mad.
He tried to joke like old times, tried to bait him into clever arguments. But Eurylochus just shrugged, more focused on rationing food for the youngest of the crew, eyes flickering skyward every so often. Waiting for him.
Odysseus cornered Apollo once, voice tight. “Why him?”
Apollo, lounging in a streak of light, smiled lazily. “Because he shines in ways you never noticed.”
That shut him up.
—
One night, when monsters shrieked from the cliffs and the sea howled like a beast, Eurylochus stood guard while the others slept — bow in hand, Apollo’s warmth tucked deep in his chest. When Odysseus came to sit beside him, silent for once, Eurylochus didn’t move away.
“You used to look at me like that,” Odysseus said softly.
Eurylochus didn’t answer.
“I miss it.”
“…I missed a lot too,” Eurylochus whispered. “But Apollo saw me. And I won’t forget that.”
—
From the heavens, Apollo watched. And smiled. Because in the stories that would one day be told — Odysseus would be the hero, yes.
But Eurylochus?
Eurylochus would be the god’s favorite.
Title: Golden Favor – Part 2
“What’s a home worth if you lose your family getting there?”
—
The sun hung low over the sea, casting molten gold across restless waves. Apollo appeared on the edge of their battered ship, barefoot, shimmering, as if the light itself bent to kiss his skin. None dared speak as he stepped across the deck—except Eurylochus, who met the god’s gaze with the steadiness of a soldier long past exhaustion.
Apollo's voice was soft, tempting, like a lullaby made of heat and honey.
“Would you take it,” Apollo asked, “if I offered you a chance to get home and to your wife?”
Eurylochus hesitated.
His heart ached at the thought of home—his wife’s face, his land, peace. But the groans of his crewmates around him, the smell of salt and blood, the silence where laughter once lived—he couldn’t shake it.
“…What would happen to my men?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
Apollo's smile faded. His golden eyes, eternal and unknowable, flickered with something like regret.
“…They would still be at sea,” the god replied. “You would be free. Alive. Safe.”
Eurylochus stared at the floorboards beneath his feet.
Then he looked up, and said:
“I’m not leaving without them.”
The silence that followed was not empty—it was filled with the weight of loyalty, of love stronger than the call of safety. The kind of devotion only mortals seemed capable of, even when it broke them.
Apollo blinked. Then, slowly, he smiled—but it was a different kind of smile. Soft. Reverent.
“You are my favorite for a reason.”
—
That night, the crew found their sails mended. Rations restored. A soft warmth lingering on their skin like a promise.
Odysseus watched from the shadows as Apollo sat beside Eurylochus again, bathed in moonlight. Not speaking. Just… being there.
And for the first time in a long while, the clever king realized something terrifying:
He wasn’t the hero of this journey anymore.
Chapter 143: Circe’s Got You Now
Chapter Text
Title: “Circe’s Got You Now”
A Musical Interlude on the Island of Circe
—
Eurylochus stumbled back into camp, wild-eyed, torn at the seams, and breathless from more than just the run.
Odysseus rose quickly from the log that he was previously sitting on
"Eurylochus, back so soon?
Where’s the rest of your crew?
And by the gods—what happened to you?”
Eurylochus dragged in a breath like he’d been holding it since the dawn.
“We came across a palace.
Inside we heard a voice.
It seemed to show no malice—
To greet it was our choice.
But nothing could prepare us for the power that awaited inside.”
Odysseus narrowed his eyes.
“What did this palace hide?”
Eurylochus looked haunted.
"Sir, since we left home, we’ve faced a variety of foes
From a wide range of places.
Gods, monsters—you know the roster—
Hostile creatures that we could resist.
But this was a hell of a twist,
‘Cause we are weak to a power like this.”
Odysseus: “What was it?”
"A woman.”
"What?”
“She had us in just two words…”
Eurylochus, his voice suddenly sultry, whispered:
"Come inside.”
Odysseus blinked.
"…Damn.”
Eurylochus, now half-possessed by the memory, mimicked the enchantress:
“Welcome to the best part of your lives
Go ahead and rest wherever you like
I’ve got you, don’t worry, Circe’s got you now”
He paused, voice his own again.
"Only I stayed outside. The rest… they went in.”
“Take a seat
Let me bring you all something to eat
I bet you’re tired from the years spent on your feet
I’ve got you, don’t worry, Circe’s got you now”
Eurylochus’ eyes darkened.
"By the time they ate, it was far too late.
For inside the meal…”
His voice shifted again—Circe’s voice now, sweet and cruel:
“Think of your past…”
"She had cast a spell.”
"And your mistakes…”
“They began to squeal.”
"They’ll be the last…”
“And grow snouts and tails.”
"Mistakes you’ll make…”
"She changed them.”
Eurylochus’ tone wavered between horror and awe:
“I’ve got all the power, yeah, I’ve got all the power
No, I’m not a player, I’m a puppeteer
No, I don’t play, I puppeteer, yeah”
"They transformed.”
“This is the price…”
"And it wasn’t quick.”
"We pay to live…”
"She turned our men…”
“The world does not…”
“From men to pigs.”
"…Tend to forgive”
“She changed them.”
—
Suddenly, golden light broke through the sky. Apollo appeared above, arms dramatically spread, glowing like the encore of a celestial concert.
“Those vocals are from me! That’s my son!” he declared proudly, gesturing grandly to Eurylochus.
The Olympians had gathered in their divine VIP booth—hovering invisibly above the island. A soft round of impressed murmurs echoed.
Athena raised an eyebrow, teasing.
"Is my warrior blushing…?”
Odysseus—clever, battle-hardened, and always composed—was absolutely tomato red.
He cleared his throat and muttered under his breath,
“Remember…you're loyal to Penelope..."
Notes:
I am officially obsessed with Eurylochus
Chapter 144: Shocking Developments
Chapter Text
Title: “Shocking Developments”
Pairing: Perpollo (Percy x Apollo)
Genre: Humor | Romance | Fluff with a side of Threats
---
Zeus had been preparing for this moment all week.
The infamous shovel talk. Only, it wasn’t with a mortal boy sneaking around with a god’s daughter.
No. This was Percy Jackson, and he was dating Apollo—Zeus’s golden, dramatic, flirtatious, and annoyingly charming son.
So, naturally, Zeus was Not Amused.
---
They met on Olympus. Thunderclouds rolled ominously behind the king of the gods as he stared Percy down with all the intensity of a thousand storms.
“Alright,” Zeus began, folding his arms. “You listen here—”
But before he could finish his dramatic godfatherly threat, Percy stepped forward. Chin up. Eyes blazing. Unfazed.
“No. You listen.”
Zeus blinked. “Excuse me?”
Percy pointed a finger straight at the king of Olympus. “Apollo doesn’t deserve any of your bullshit, old man.”
There was a collective gasp from the watching gods.
“I’ll drag you to Tartarus by your beard,” Percy continued, dead serious, “if you even think about putting a single scratch on his head. Got it?”
Zeus stared.
Percy stared back.
Behind them, Hermes had popcorn. Poseidon was grinning. Artemis was trying very hard not to laugh.
Then came a soft, proud voice:
“I picked well, haven’t I, Father?”
Zeus turned, and there was Apollo—his golden boy—beaming like the sun itself, one arm wrapped around Percy’s waist, looking smug as hell.
“…Hera was right,” Zeus muttered, stunned. “We are getting soft.”
Apollo leaned into Percy’s side with a fond sigh. “You threatened my dad for me.”
Percy huffed. “He started it.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
---
Later, as they walked off hand-in-hand, Zeus glared after them and grumbled, “I still don’t approve.”
Poseidon clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’ll probably threaten Hades next.”
“…You know what? I do approve.”
Chapter 145: Glory Be to the Sun: The Accidental Cult of Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: “Glory Be to the Sun: The Accidental Cult of Apollo”
---
It started with a song.
A little lullaby Apollo hummed to a child in a village plagued by nightmares. He hadn’t meant to do anything special—just soothe the kid to sleep. But when the dreams stopped coming and the village began calling him The Sleepless Light, he thought it was just poetic appreciation.
Then came the sunflowers.
Everywhere he walked, they bloomed—even in winter. Farmers began planting entire fields wherever he visited, not for harvest but for “sun-blessing.” Apollo just thought it was a coincidence. He liked sunflowers. Who didn’t?
He signed a musician’s lyre in passing, and the instrument now supposedly couldn’t play a bad note. People started chanting “May the Sun’s Strings guide your chords” before performances. He clapped once at a school play, and now “One Clap from the Radiant One” was a formal rite of passage for graduating students.
It escalated.
Rapidly.
---
Hermes (panicking): “He has four temples in Athens now. Four. In one city. That’s more than Zeus!”
Athena (staring at a chart): “Two entire sects just merged and declared the Sol Incarnate Manifest Doctrine. What even is that?”
Artemis (deadpan): “He said ‘stay hydrated’ to a group of travelers, and they built a shrine to the Waters of Light.”
Zeus (horrified): “They’ve started branding themselves. With a glowing SUN SYMBOL.”
Poseidon (muttering): “My sea cult never got this kind of traction…”
---
Apollo (confused, sipping tea): “Wow, it’s so weird! People keep offering me sun-baked bread and chanting when I walk by. And I think a priest tried to give me a horse.”
Artemis (staring in disbelief): “That was a sacrificial steed!”
Apollo (laughs): “Oh! I just thought he wanted me to have a new friend.”
Dionysus: “They started drinking sunlight-infused wine and calling it solar sacrament. It tastes like actual fire, Apollo.”
Apollo: “Aw, they’re trying new things! That’s fun!”
---
The tipping point came when Apollo healed a dying woman in the street—effortless for a god, unthinking even.
That woman then proclaimed she had touched the Light, and a new religion formed overnight: The Everdawn Faith.
They had robes, relics, hymns, and seven “Commandments of the Sun’s Smile” based entirely on things Apollo had said offhandedly like:
- “Maybe don’t be rude to animals?”
- “Wear sunscreen!”
- “Everyone should get at least eight hours of sleep if they can.”
---
Hades (reading a scroll): “This new sect just declared him ‘God of All Gods, First Flame of Goodness, and Bearer of Eternal Vibes.’”
Apollo (poking his head in): “Hey, do you guys want me to make grilled cheese? I just invented this herb mix that slaps.”
All Olympians (in unison): “NO.”
---
The cults spread.
Worshipers built mirrors on mountaintops to “reflect his glory.” They painted murals of him in every city, golden halos radiating from his head. They began ending conversations with, “In light we live, in Apollo we glow.”
Apollo, ever oblivious, kept singing, healing, helping—and unwittingly strengthening his ever-growing, panicked pantheon-defying spiritual empire.
By the time he found out, it was too late. They were already calling him “The Unaware Ascendant.”
---
Apollo (horrified): “I—wait. I started a RELIGION?!”
Artemis (sipping wine): “No. You started seven. You just didn’t notice.”
Hermes: “At this rate, you're gonna be the only god left because everyone else is gonna get absorbed into the Lightpantheon.”
Apollo: “...I just wanted to help people…”
Athena: “And now you’re their Sun Pope.”
Apollo: “...Oh gods."
Chapter 146: The Face of the Sun: Apollo’s Accidental Supermodel Era
Chapter Text
Title: “The Face of the Sun: Apollo’s Accidental Supermodel Era”
---
It all began with boredom.
Apollo, god of music, poetry, archery, medicine, prophecy (and a long list of other impressive titles), had mastered nearly everything. So when a mortal photographer shouted, “Hey! You with the perfect face! Want to model for our ad campaign?” he thought, why not?
One photoshoot turned into five.
Five turned into international billboards.
And by the time Camp Half-Blood noticed, Apollo was the face of at least thirty brands, from luxury fashion houses to high-end archery gear.
---
Will Solace (holding up a magazine): “Um. So. My dad is on the cover of Vogue.”
Nico (sipping hot chocolate): “...In a golden robe. Holding a bow. And... is that a dove landing on his shoulder?”
Annabeth (flipping pages): “He’s also the new face of Olympus Parfum. Their slogan is now: ‘Smell Like the Sun.’”
Percy (staring at a billboard in Manhattan): “I just saw a 30-foot version of your dad modeling a toga and aviators next to the Empire State Building. I thought I was hallucinating.”
---
Apollo, of course, was thriving.
He posed on mountain peaks with hair blowing in the wind. He casually released a skincare line (Sun-Kissed by Apollo). He was invited to walk in Paris Fashion Week (“I brought my own glow!”). He even launched an accessories brand called Golden Lyre, featuring sun-themed necklaces and poetry-engraved rings.
Olympus was... divided.
---
Aphrodite (delighted): “Finally! Someone appreciates the art of self-expression! My beautiful brother is thriving!”
Zeus (grumbling): “Gods aren’t supposed to strut.”
Hermes (scrolling): “He has 108 million followers on godstagram. He just posted a mirror selfie captioned, ‘#DivineLight #NoFilterNeeded.’”
Artemis (eyebrow twitching): “If I see one more sponsored ad that says ‘Sister of the Sun King’ I’m going to fire an arrow through his modeling contract.”
---
Meanwhile, at Camp Half-Blood…
Clarisse (holding a catalog): “Why is your dad selling celestial bronze armor that sparkles?”
Will: “Look, I don’t know, okay? He just wanted to try something new!”
Chiron (reading Vogue): “This spread on the Twelve Olympians reimagined as haute couture icons is… quite the reinterpretation.”
Dionysus: “Ugh. Let me guess. Apollo’s getting fan mail by the truckload?”
Will: “Actually, they started calling him The Divine Runway.”
---
And Apollo? He just smiled for the cameras.
“Modeling,” he said, adjusting his crown of laurel leaves and designer sunglasses, “is just another form of art. I’m sharing my light with the world.”
---
Final shot:
A new billboard above Times Square.
APOLLO — clothed in a radiant gold jacket, eyes fierce and soft at the same time.
Text reads: “God. Icon. Legend. Light.”
And in tiny script at the bottom:
#CampHalfBlood #YesTheyKnow
Chapter 147: Sun-Kissed Sweets & Divine Disaster
Chapter Text
Title: “Sun-Kissed Sweets & Divine Disasters”
(or, how Apollo accidentally became Olympus’s most beloved baker and nearly started a godly war)
---
It started simple.
Apollo, golden god of the sun, poetry, archery, music, healing, etcetera, etcetera… decided he wanted to learn baking.
Not with magic.
Not with ambrosia.
With flour, mortal ovens, and human-sized measuring spoons. It was “grounding,” he said. “Therapeutic,” he explained to Artemis as she watched him wrestle with an electric mixer like it was a Hydra.
And once he finally got it right, he did what any good god would do:
He shared.
---
First victims— er, recipients: his children.
Will Solace (biting into a lemon tart): “Wait. Wait. This is actually good. Like… dangerously good.”
Kayla (muffled): “The crust is flaky like a dream.”
Austin (eating three at once): “If Dad doesn’t bring more next week, I’m rebelling.”
---
It didn’t stop there.
Apollo brought cookies to Artemis (who groaned but accepted), muffins to Athena (who tried to deduce the recipe), and tiny sun-shaped macarons to Aphrodite (who posted about it on godstagram with the caption “Love tastes like lemon.”)
That was his mistake.
Because suddenly, Hermes wanted in.
Then Dionysus. Then Hades (who denied it). Then Ares (who never denied it and demanded “the blood orange ones with the raspberry filling”).
Then Zeus.
Then Hera.
Then Poseidon broke into Camp Half-Blood under the pretense of checking on Percy just to grab a box of Apollo’s vanilla sea salt caramel éclairs.
---
By week three, Apollo was baking for the gods, demigods, minor deities, spirits, nymphs, and three overly persistent satyrs who wouldn’t stop singing about cheesecake.
---
And then... he ran out of time.
One morning, he showed up empty-handed to breakfast on Olympus.
Silence.
Tension.
Athena squinted. “Where are the cranberry scones with citrus glaze?”
Hermes narrowed his eyes. “No buttered kouign-amann?”
Hades casually summoned his helm. “This feels like betrayal.”
Artemis reached for her bow. “Brother. Fix this.”
Ares pulled out his sword. “I will kill for those raspberry tarts.”
Apollo blinked. “I— I overslept.”
Zeus thundered.
“YOU DARE WITHHOLD THE PEACH DANISHES OF HEAVEN?”
---
Cue divine chaos.
The Underworld threatened to freeze the Styx.
The skies sparked with lightning.
Demigods reported tremors caused by sweet-starved gods.
Hermes started smuggling old treats under the table like a sugar-dealing goblin.
Even Hera joined the fray with a very sharp cake knife.
---
Terrified (and flattered), Apollo declared:
“Fine! I’ll open a bakery! One that serves everyone! Peace offerings for all!”
And so was born…
“Sun & Sugar: Divine Bakes by Apollo.”
Located halfway between Olympus and Camp Half-Blood, protected by twenty layers of charms and guarded by a very cranky Cerberus in a chef’s hat (courtesy of Hades).
---
Now, each week, gods and mortals alike line up for treats infused with sunlight and love.
And Apollo, wearing a glittering apron that says “Bite Me (Lovingly),” beams as he pulls trays of cookies from the oven.
“Peace,” he says, handing Ares a red velvet cupcake shaped like a sword. “It’s sweeter than war.”
Title: Sun-Kissed Sweets & Divine Disasters — Part 2: The Sugar War
(Previously: Apollo started baking sweets that cause divine side effects. The Greek gods are addicted. Now... the others have found out.)
---
It began with a diplomatic summit.
The kind where gods wear uncomfortable golden robes and pretend not to want to smite each other.
Representatives from the Egyptian, Norse, Hindu, and various other pantheons arrived at Olympus, expecting tense talks, vague threats, and far too many drachmas spent on decorative laurels.
What they didn’t expect was—
"Oh my Ra," Bastet whispered, her pupils narrowing into slits.
"What is that smell?" asked Loki, appearing upside down above the table, sniffing wildly. He vanished, then reappeared by a tray of glowing macarons.
"Are those... ambrosia-cinnamon rolls?" said Parvati, reverently picking one up as it shimmered gold in her hand.
"Did someone melt a star into these brownies?" Horus asked, chewing one slowly, then immediately taking another. “I think I can see time.”
Apollo popped out of the kitchen wearing an apron that said “KISS THE COOK (or worship him, either is fine)”, holding a new tray of Sun-Baked Strawberry Eclairs.
“Oh hey, visitors!” he beamed. “Want some cupcakes that glow in the dark and heal minor emotional trauma?”
---
Chaos. Absolute divine chaos.
Within twenty minutes:
Set had stolen five dozen cookies and claimed diplomatic immunity.
- Thor challenged Dionysus to a “pastry duel” (nobody knew what that meant, but it resulted in several craters and a very confused minotaur).
- Ganesha made a polite offer to fund a cross-pantheon bakery franchise called “Sol Cuisine.”
- Loki tried (and failed) to replicate the cupcakes, accidentally causing Heimdall to have a sugar-fueled existential breakdown.
Meanwhile, the Olympians stood guard over Apollo’s kitchen like war-hardened pastry knights.
“You touch the baklava, you lose a finger,” Artemis warned Anubis, who bark-laughed but stepped back.
Zeus, for once, said nothing. He was too busy moaning around a lemon bar and wondering if he was experiencing enlightenment or cardiac arrest.
---
Then came the offers.
“Name your price,” Odin demanded, slamming a goblet on the negotiation table. “We want ten boxes a week.”
“We’ll trade you two pyramids and a Sphinx for the eclair recipe,” Thoth offered, feather quill poised dramatically.
“I will give you the purest flame of the sun if you just let Shiva have one more lava fudge bite,” Agni whispered, shaking.
Apollo, holding a tray of Phoenix Feather Puff Pastries, blinked.
“...Wait, are you guys fighting over my cookies?”
Everyone froze.
“Yes,” Hades said from the back, licking frosting off his thumb. “You caused a pantheon incident with snacks, you idiot.”
Apollo blinked.
“...Cool!”
---
Later, the divine council drafted a formal agreement.
The Treaty of Tart-ses, it would be called.
Apollo would establish a divine bakery (protected by twelve sacred seals and two maenads with whisks), and all pantheons would receive an equal share of sweets. But he would never reveal the recipes.
Unless bribed. With art. Or music. Or dramatic poetry.
“Or kisses,” Apollo added, “but only if you're cute.”
Amun-Ra glared.
---
Thus, the Sweet Wars ended.
Peace was restored.
Apollo made cookies shaped like each god’s symbol as a souvenir.
And all pantheons quietly admitted...
They would kill for those brownies.
Chapter 148: Stuffed With Sunshine
Chapter Text
Title: “Stuffed With Sunshine”
(or, The Totally Harmless Plushie Apocalypse ft. Apollo)
---
It started with a bunny.
A tiny, sun-yellow bunny plush with floppy ears, a stitched smile, and a bowtie that sparkled faintly like a constellation. Apollo had picked it up on a whim while exploring a mortal toy store (and also because it was buy one get one half-off, and he’d never been so blessed).
Then he bought another.
And another.
And then... fifty-six more.
---
Camp Half-Blood didn't really question it at first.
Apollo would visit, lounging on the archery range throne, arms full of soft pastel animals—bunnies, ducks, winged lions, even a plush chimera named “Toothy.” He claimed it “brought balance to his soul.” Will Solace simply sighed and said, “Just wait. This always escalates.”
He wasn’t wrong.
---
One morning, the plushies moved.
First it was just a twitch. Then a blink. Then—one waved.
By noon, a stuffed pegasus was flying laps around the Big House, and a narwhal with Apollo’s face stitched into it was jousting with a plush dragon using a toothpick.
“I might’ve… sung to them,” Apollo admitted, cradling a plush octopus in a baby blanket. “They were just so cute, and my heart couldn’t take it, so I may have—accidentally—infused them with a fragment of my divine essence.”
“They’re alive,” Chiron said, in that tight, brittle tone he used when someone had accidentally summoned a mini-Typhon. “You made plushies sentient.”
“I made friends,” Apollo corrected.
---
The plushies started building things.
Little forts. Sun-shaped towers. A shrine made of glitter and yarn where they placed tiny offerings of buttons and marshmallows.
Then the plushies started recruiting.
Other toys. Socks. A rogue Build-A-Bear.
A few of the Hermes cabin joined them just for the snacks.
They multiplied. Grew stronger.
They made a plushie war council.
They crowned Toothy the Chimera as king.
---
“It’s getting out of hand,” Will said, watching a plush cerberus growl adorably at Dionysus’ wine cup.
“They’re adorable!” Apollo cooed as he knit a crown for the plush king. “Have you seen the fuzzy destruction they can do? It’s art.”
---
One plush got into Zeus’s throne room and built a pillow fort around it.
Another challenged Ares to a duel. It won.
(Honestly, Ares let it win, but the plush now wore his helmet and ruled over the armory.)
---
By week two:
- Olympus was 20% plushified.
- Dionysus had been appointed Royal Juice Box Supplier.
- Artemis had a plush wolf that refused to leave her shoulder.
- Hephaestus accidentally weaponized three of them. They now guarded Apollo’s room like giggling tanks.
---
Despite their growing power, no one could stop them.
Because any time someone tried to fight them…
They squeaked.
And everyone just… couldn’t.
---
Eventually, the gods gave up and recognized the “Plush Republic of Apollo.”
They held parades every Sunday.
The plushies wrote a constitution (in glitter pen).
And Apollo?
He slept every night in a sunlit nest of fifty plushies, proudly declaring:
“I told you they were harmless.”
Toothy roared in the background. It sounded like “squee.”
Chapter 149: Charmed and (Unfortunately) Untouchable
Chapter Text
Title: "Charmed and (Unfortunately) Untouchable"
(or, Why We Should Put a Leash on Apollo)
---
Scene One: The Volcano Incident
“Apollo, where exactly are you?” Will asked through the Iris message, narrowing his eyes.
“In a volcano!” Apollo said brightly, smoke wafting in curls behind him. “The magma spirit said my eyes sparkle like the sun!”
“You’re standing in lava.”
“Yes, but it’s warm, and they offered me a fruit smoothie made of molten gold!”
“You’re immune to the heat now, but can we talk about the part where they called you ‘Mine, Forever and Ever?’”
“Isn’t that sweet?”
“No, it's a threat.”
---
Scene Two: The Hydra Date
“Who told you it was a hydra spa?” Artemis demanded, her voice ice-cold.
Apollo was reclining in a nest of heads, each one braiding a lock of his hair.
“They said ‘deep cleansing’ and honestly? They were right. I feel exfoliated.”
“They’re coiling around you.”
“They said I’m their sun prince now.”
“They ate a centaur last week!”
“Yeah, but they gave me his shoes. See? Vintage!”
Artemis pinched the bridge of her nose.
---
Scene Three: The Siren Situation
“They wrote an opera for him,” Annabeth muttered, watching from the safety of the beach as Apollo stood on the rocks while six sirens sang in harmony. “An actual, full-length opera.”
“It’s… impressive?” Percy offered weakly.
“They were supposed to eat him!”
“I think they’re in love.”
“They’re harmonizing a song about his smile,” Grover whispered. “With backup harps. How is this real?”
---
Scene Four: The Tartarus “Oops”
“Apollo fell into Tartarus,” Nico said, eyes hollow.
“What?” Will shrieked. “HOW?!”
“He was chasing a butterfly.”
“He WHAT—”
“He landed on a cursed rock, woke up a hundred-foot pain monster, and now it’s cradling him like a kitten. It refuses to let him go. Says Apollo is its ‘tiny sun pillow.’”
There was silence. Then:
“...At least he’s okay,” Will mumbled.
“He taught it to knit,” Nico added. “It made him a sweater.”
---
Scene Five: The Olympus Intervention
“Alright,” Zeus growled, “someone tell me why every eldritch horror, underworld entity, and creature of legend is now calling Apollo ‘baby boy’ and offering him eternal devotion?”
Apollo shrugged, sipping nectar. “I have good cheekbones?”
“He tripped on a monster’s tail and it offered him marriage,” Athena said flatly.
“He got kidnapped once,” Artemis added. “By a primordial. He taught it to paint.”
“I don’t mean to brag,” Apollo began, “but I am everyone's favorite sunbeam.”
The room groaned.
---
Closing Scene: Camp Half-Blood
“He does this every week,” Will muttered, watching as a manticore placed a flower crown on Apollo’s head.
“At least he comes back in one piece,” Chiron said tiredly.
“Yeah,” Will sighed. “One annoyingly perfect, unharmed, sparkle-blessed piece.”
Chapter 150: Perpetually Precious
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Title: “Perpetually Precious”
—Apollo, the Baby of Olympus Fic—
---
The first time Apollo manifested on Earth, he was three years old and glowing.
Literally glowing. Like a tiny sun toddling around Delphi, making flowers bloom in his wake and proudly declaring “I’m the god of prophecy!” in a high-pitched squeal.
That… set the tone for the rest of his immortal life.
---
By now, every god and demigod knew the drill: whenever Apollo appeared in the mortal realm, he did so with the form of a child no older than nine. One time, he got close to thirteen, but his voice cracked mid-sentence and he immediately burst into tears, de-aging himself to seven out of emotional distress.
Athena called it a "psychosomatic regression trigger.”
Artemis called it “hilarious.”
---
“Apollo,” Zeus said with the strained tone of a parent dealing with their fourth tantrum of the day, “stop kicking Poseidon.”
Tiny Apollo crossed his arms, puffing out his cheeks. “He laughed when I said I wanted to build a temple shaped like a lyre.”
“You wanted to build it on the sea.”
“I float!”
---
Despite the tantrums, the dramatics, and the tendency to throw lightning-shaped macaroni at family dinners, the gods loved him.
He was the baby.
The literal baby.
Even Hades, who claimed to have no patience for childish behavior, once got caught making a flower crown for Apollo while he napped in the Underworld gardens.
“You saw nothing,” he grumbled, red in the face.
“I saw a picture,” Hermes said. “I added it to the Olympus group chat.”
---
Demigods, however, were confused.
“Wait,” Percy blinked, staring at the barefoot golden-haired toddler trying to summon a sun chariot using crayons. “That’s Apollo?”
Annabeth sighed, flipping a page of Immortal Psychology Vol. 7. “It’s a form regression. He’s still a god. Technically.”
“I demand tribute,” Apollo shouted from atop a beanbag. “And a juice box. The red kind.”
---
Despite it all, Apollo still did his job. He gave prophecies (usually accompanied by finger painting), healed wounds (with kiss-it-better logic), and composed epic poems (in rhyming couplets about dinosaurs and love).
And he was powerful.
Gods knew not to push too far. Because even in the body of a child, Apollo could blind you with sunlight or curse you with eternal hiccups. The Titans learned the hard way when one of them insulted his drawing.
“Now Hyperion hiccups flames every six minutes,” Artemis said. “He had to move to space.”
---
Still, there were moments when Apollo stared into the mirror, watching his chubby-cheeked reflection, and whispered, “Why can’t I just grow up?”
“Because then,” Artemis said gently, brushing his hair, “you’d forget how to dream like this.”
---
So he stayed little.
And the gods kept spoiling him.
And Olympus shone just a bit brighter with their forever-young sun god bouncing down the halls, cape made of curtains trailing behind him, screaming, “MAKE WAY FOR THE GOD OF LIGHT!”
And everyone did.
Because when the baby of Olympus calls, you answer.
Even if he’s only three feet tall and sticky with strawberry jam.
Notes:
Percy:"How did you have kids in your mortal form if your just a baby?"
Chapter 151: When the Sun Stood Still
Chapter Text
Title: “When the Sun Stood Still”
—Apollo dies as Lester Fic—
---
He didn’t even see it coming.
One moment, Lester Papadopoulos was scrambling through the burning ruins of the monster-infested temple, breath ragged, arrow clenched in his fist instead of in his bow. The next—
Light.
Too much light.
A burst of golden radiance, followed by silence.
When the others reached the wreckage, there was no body.
Only ashes.
And the sun.
Stuck.
---
At first, they thought it was a trick.
“Maybe he transported himself,” Annabeth suggested.
“Or turned into light,” Nico muttered, checking every possible entrance to the Underworld. “But he’s not down here. He’s not anywhere.”
“I even checked Elysium,” Nico added quietly. “There’s nothing. No soul. Not even an echo.”
---
The gods began to panic two days in.
The sun hadn’t moved an inch. It hung in the sky at permanent noon, bleaching the world with gold. Time felt… frozen. Crops wilted. Shadows no longer stretched. Prophecies stopped. Music fell quiet. Healing spells dulled. Truth spells failed. Plagues paused. Even the arts began to dim.
No poems. No theater. No color.
Apollo’s domains.
Dormant.
---
“Bring him back,” Artemis whispered to the Fates, standing in front of their loom with clenched fists. “Now.”
The Fates looked at her with solemn eyes. Lachesis spoke: “He died as mortal. His thread ended clean.”
Clotho shook her head: “But it did not fall to the Underworld.”
Atropos turned toward the sun: “The sun took him in.”
“What does that mean?” Hermes demanded.
“It means,” said Lachesis, “until he is reborn… the Earth will live paused in his absence.”
---
Years passed in days. Days passed in hours. No one knew how time moved anymore.
Camp Half-Blood held vigils. Chiron stood at the top of Half-Blood Hill every dawn that never turned to dusk. Will Solace tried every magic he knew, screaming once at the still sky, voice cracking.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye!”
---
Artemis became the quietest.
Zeus tried to appoint a new sun charioteer, but the chariot wouldn’t move.
It refused every god.
Only Helios' old soul, buried deep in solar memory, whispered one thing in the wind:
“Only the Light may carry the Light.”
---
Then, centuries or minutes later—no one could tell—a pulse came from the sun.
A heartbeat.
A baby’s cry.
And the entire Earth exhaled.
---
The sun flared brilliantly—then began to move. Slowly, softly, down toward the horizon.
And in the sky above Olympus, golden threads stitched a name in burning constellation:
APOLLO
The gods wept.
Even Ares.
---
A child was born that day in the ruins of Delphi. Golden-eyed, with a voice that cooed in melodies and hands that glowed with warmth. His cries made vines bloom.
The Oracle gasped and rose from her silence:
“He falls to rise. He dies to burn brighter. The Sun has been reborn."
Chapter 152: The Light Born Anew
Chapter Text
Title: “The Light Born Anew”
—Apollo reveals his child instead of receiving punishment after the Second Titanomachy—
---
The throne room of Olympus was silent.
No wind. No rumble. Not even the clouds dared to shift.
Zeus sat upon the High Throne, thunder curling lazily around his fingers like a beast on a leash, eyes blazing with the fury of war left unresolved. Around him stood the Olympians—bruised, bloodstained, shaken, but victorious.
All except one.
Apollo.
Missing since the final battle, when Olympus was nearly toppled and the world split at its seams. He hadn’t lifted his bow. Hadn’t spoken a prophecy. Hadn’t even sent a raven.
“A coward,” Ares had muttered.
“A traitor,” Athena had said, carefully.
Zeus had decided: the punishment would be severe. And public.
Until the doors of the throne room burst open.
And in walked Apollo.
---
He looked strange. Tired, yes, but calm. His golden skin glowed faintly with a light that was warm, not burning. His hair curled loose and unkempt down his back, his eyes aglow not with mischief or music—
But something older.
Something new.
In his arms, swaddled in cloth of starlight and fire, was a child.
A godling.
A true godling.
---
Gasps filled the hall. Artemis’s eyes widened. Hermes staggered a step back. Even Athena looked shaken.
Hestia wept silently.
The child cooed. The flames on Apollo’s shoulders flickered playfully in response.
“What is the meaning of this?” Zeus thundered, thunder crashing through the halls.
Apollo didn’t flinch.
“I did not fight,” he said simply, “because the sun told me not to.”
“The sun is you,” Hera snapped.
“And the prophecy lives in me,” Apollo returned, gaze sharp. “When the war began, I foresaw my death. And his.”
He looked down at the baby.
“The first child of the divine since the golden age. Born not of lust. Not of conquest. But of creation.”
---
“You dare protect your own skin,” Zeus growled, “while your kin bleed and suffer?”
Apollo met his father’s storm without blinking.
“If I had died, we would have lost more than Olympus.”
He stepped forward, and the baby blinked at the gods—eyes like galaxies, skin soft as flame. A warmth rolled across the chamber, soft and ancient and powerful.
Then, the baby giggled.
Aphrodite let out a surprised gasp. Poseidon straightened. Demeter pressed a hand to her heart. Even Ares looked... shaken.
---
Zeus looked at the child.
Then back at Apollo.
His jaw clenched. The thunder in his palm shrank to a spark.
He could not punish this.
Not the god who had done what none had managed for over a millennium.
He needed another scapegoat.
---
His gaze turned toward Hera.
She, who had pushed the council to inaction before Kronos rose.
She, who had vanished for days before Typhon returned.
She, who now stood with lips pressed tight and fists clenched, saying nothing at all.
The silence was suddenly louder.
Hera did not meet his eyes.
---
Apollo smiled faintly. “If you need someone to blame, father… perhaps look not to the light. But the shadow that stood beside the storm.”
A whisper passed through the chamber like falling petals. Zeus stood frozen. Then, slowly, he sat back in his throne.
The judgment was over.
Apollo stepped away.
---
Later, Artemis would press her forehead to his and whisper, “What’s his name?”
And Apollo, tears in his eyes, would smile and say:
“Phos.”
Light, reborn.
Chapter 153: Golden Petals
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Title: "Golden Petals"
—A Hanahaki Apollo Fic—
---
Apollo was coughing again.
At first, it was subtle—just a clearing of the throat, a soft ache in his chest, a few golden petals fluttering out into the air like breathless poetry. He thought it was allergies. Maybe a curse from a minor god. Maybe he'd eaten one too many sun-dried tomatoes.
But then the petals grew thorns.
And the pain became real.
---
Will noticed it first.
"You’re wheezing," he said, staring as Apollo doubled over in the infirmary, hiding something in a napkin.
"I’m fine," Apollo said, because gods do not fall ill. Especially not with things like feelings.
Will opened the napkin. Inside were delicate, golden flowers tinged with red. A petal still pulsed with warmth.
"...Hanahaki," Will whispered. "You're in love."
"No," Apollo said automatically. Then softer, "...Maybe."
---
The flowers came when he thought of him.
The mortal. The hero. The one who never looked at Apollo with worship, but with understanding. With trust. The one who always asked "Are you okay?" even when Apollo smiled like the sun and said "Of course."
The one who fell for someone else.
The one who would never return Apollo’s love.
---
Artemis found out next.
She watched him vomit a full stem of marigolds behind the temple and stood quietly until he noticed.
“You need to let them go,” she said.
“I know.”
But he didn’t.
Because he loved too loudly and too deeply and too selfishly, and gods don’t fall out of love—they burn in it.
---
He tried. He tried to write songs instead of bleeding flowers. He tried to dance and paint and laugh it away. But the petals only grew sharper, clogging his lungs, rooting into his ribs.
He lost his glow.
Even the sun dimmed a little.
---
Then the boy came to him.
Not the one he loved. The son he had neglected in his heartbreak.
“Dad,” Will said, taking his hand, “you’re dying.”
“I’m just—tired.”
“You need surgery.”
Apollo looked up, golden eyes dulled. “If I forget the love, I forget the reason I sang.”
Will’s lip trembled. “If you die, no one will hear it again.”
---
He went under the knife.
Will did it himself, hands shaking as he pulled roots from lungs that once sang with glory. The petals refused to go quietly. They whispered names and memories, sang lullabies Apollo had hummed to the one he loved.
But eventually, they were gone.
---
He woke up beneath the sun.
It didn’t feel warm anymore. Just... light.
Artemis stood at his side, not touching, but close.
“You survived,” she said.
“I don’t know if I wanted to.”
She sighed. “Love isn’t about survival. It’s about choosing to live even when it hurts.”
He closed his eyes. Then smiled.
“I’ll write about that.”
---
Ending Note:
The petals no longer came. But neither did the songs.
Until one day, someone offered him a flower. A small, clumsy thing. Not golden. Just real.
And Apollo looked up.
And the sun rose again.
Notes:
I found this in my drafts unposted—
Chapter 154: Apollo’s Shiny Hoard (a.k.a. The Treasure Room of Accidental Doom)
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo’s Shiny Hoard (a.k.a. The Treasure Room of Accidental Doom)
---
Apollo had a habit.
Not a bad habit, per se. But a habit nonetheless.
Every time he went anywhere—Mount Olympus, the mortal realm, Tartarus, another pantheon’s temple—he’d inevitably spot something shiny or interesting and go:
“Ooh, pretty!”
And then pocket it.
No one questioned it. Not at first. Everyone figured the god of light just had a hyper fixation on aesthetics and sparkly junk, like a cosmic magpie with ADHD.
He’d show up after battles, quests, or peace talks with a flower-shaped tile, a cracked mirror shard, or a weird piece of jewelry and go:
“Look what I found! It has a fun vibe.”
And he’d ramble about it for twenty minutes straight to whoever was closest (even if it was just a confused satyr or a very bored Hermes).
“This cup was in a ruined temple and had a raccoon nest inside! But I cleaned it and now it’s vibe-checked and full of jellybeans.”
---
Then one day, Chiron decided to investigate Apollo’s so-called treasure room.
What he found could only be described as a divine hoarder’s fever dream.
There were stacks of glowing weapons humming with god-killing power, ancient masks that whispered in dead languages, crystals that pulsed with magic older than time, and a mirror that reflected your future but only on Tuesdays.
“Is… is that the Lost Crown of Hyperion?” Athena asked, horrified, spotting it holding up a cracked bookshelf.
“Yeah! It was under a pile of cursed scrolls. I liked the sparkly bits!” Apollo chirped.
Ares screamed when he saw his long-lost sword in the corner being used to stir lemonade.
Artemis smacked her forehead when she recognized the forgotten Bow of the Moon stuck in a potted plant.
Even Hades was disturbed.
“That’s a soul urn from before the Titanomachy. It screams when it’s bored.”
Apollo blinked.
“Oh! So that’s what that sound was. I thought it was the raccoons again.”
---
Word spread.
Gods from every realm stormed Olympus demanding to know why Apollo had their lost relics.
The Aztecs wanted their solar stone back.
The Norse accused him of accidentally stealing Yggdrasil bark.
The Egyptians were just baffled how he’d found a piece of the first pyramid and used it as a paperweight.
Apollo looked sheepish. “I didn’t steal them. They were just, y’know... shiny and lying around.”
“You took the Scroll of Existence!” Hermes shrieked. “IT REWRITES REALITY!”
Apollo frowned. “I used it as wrapping paper for Dionysus’ birthday gift.”
Dionysus: “...oh.”
---
Eventually, the gods agreed on two things:
- 1. Apollo was banned from picking up “trinkets” without divine supervision.
- 2. No one was allowed in the treasure room without magical shielding, a will, and therapy scheduled afterward.
---
Apollo, meanwhile, was sulking on the roof of the sun chariot, hugging a plushie he found “under some ruins.”
“Philostratus said it looked cursed,” he muttered. “I think he just didn’t like its smile.”
Artemis sighed and ruffled his hair.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, dummy.”
Chapter 155: The Birthday Oracle
Chapter Text
Title: The Birthday Oracle
---
No one knew how he did it.
Not even the Fates.
Apollo remembered everyone’s birthday.
Every god, every demigod, every monster, muse, nymph, primordial entity, even things that weren’t supposed to have birthdays.
You’d think that being the god of prophecy and knowledge helped, but no—he said it wasn’t that.
He just remembered.
Even the scarier entities. The kinds that made even gods nervous. The ones who didn’t celebrate things—who didn't feel things. The kind who, when you accidentally made eye contact, felt like the sky might split open.
They still got birthday gifts from Apollo.
And they kept them.
---
“Is that… a hand-knit scarf?” Hermes whispered, watching Nyx wrap a thread-of-void black scarf around her shoulders.
“He gave it to me. Said I seemed cold,” she replied, voice like starlight collapsing.
“And you… accepted it?”
Nyx looked at him.
“It’s very soft.”
---
Chronos received a sundial carved from amber and starlight. He stared at it in silence for seven days before placing it in the heart of his domain.
Eris got a cake that split into endless random flavors with every bite. She laughed until the underworld shook and didn’t start a war that day. Which was nice.
Hypnos was gifted a pillow made from dream-silk and Apollo’s own sunlight. He hasn’t stopped napping since.
---
The gods used to think the gift-giving was manipulation. That it was some grand game or power play.
Until they started getting theirs.
Athena got a journal no one else could read.
Hades received a golden comb for Cerberus. (He tried to act annoyed. Cerberus did not.)
Even Zeus got something once: a lightning-proof umbrella. It was so absurdly practical that he cried in private.
---
Then came the day Apollo remembered Tartarus’s birthday.
Everyone begged him not to do it.
“That’s not a being, that’s a primordial nightmare pit!” Ares protested.
Apollo just smiled, humming as he wrapped something small in red and black ribbon.
He returned a week later looking a bit singed, but happy.
“He liked the rock. I told him it looked like him.”
There were earthquakes for three days afterward.
But no one died.
So… success?
---
Eventually, even the most reluctant gods started looking forward to their birthday. Not because they cared—but because Apollo always gave them something that made them feel seen.
And they’d never admit it, but the worst part about immortality was that people stopped seeing you as a person.
Except him.
Apollo remembered. Always.
---
“Why do you do it?” Artemis asked once, quietly.
They were sitting on the roof of the sun chariot, a starlit night humming below.
Apollo leaned back, eyes shining.
“Because it’s the one day people feel like they matter. I like reminding them they do.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then sighed and pulled a small box from her quiver.
“Happy Birthday, dork.”
Apollo beamed.
Chapter 156: Sun-Drunk & Starry-Eyed
Chapter Text
Title: Sun-Drunk & Starry-Eyed
Summary: Apollo accidentally drinks Dionysus’s special wine. Turns out, tipsy Apollo is extremely clingy. Chaos ensues. No one wants to admit they actually kind of love it.
---
It started with a wine glass left unattended at the Big House.
Apollo was visiting Camp Half-Blood for some post-quest celebration when his eyes caught a beautifully filled goblet.
He sipped it before anyone could stop him.
Dionysus turned in horror.
“Did he just—did he DRINK that?”
Chiron blinked.
“Oh dear.”
Apollo’s golden eyes shimmered slightly.
He blinked once. Then smiled. Broadly.
“This is delicious.”
---
The clinginess began five minutes later.
He plopped into Artemis’s lap like a sleepy cat, arms loosely draped around her.
“You’re my favorite, you know that? My cool, cold moon sister. I’d freeze for you. I have frozen for you. Remember the frost wolf?”
Artemis went stiff, eyes wide.
“Get off.”
“No.”
---
Next, he floated to Hermes and clung to him like a backpack.
“You’re the funniest god. You don’t even try, but I laugh. Every time. You’re chaotic and wonderful. Also, I stole your sandals once. Sorry.”
Hermes stood there, arms out.
“Is he… hugging me? Is this happening?”
“I feel very safe right now.” Apollo whispered.
---
When he reached Athena, she recoiled instinctively.
“No.”
“Yes,” he purred, wrapping his arms around her shoulders like a living sunshine shawl. “You’re so smart. You’re like… brain-colored lightning. I bet your heart’s shaped like an owl.”
Athena didn’t respond. But she didn’t push him off, either.
---
He found Poseidon next and practically glued himself to the sea god’s arm.
“You’re like—so cool. You’re like water. Strong. Flowing. You are the ocean. Sometimes I wish I could surf on you.”
Poseidon blinked.
“That is the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Thank you.”
---
Eventually, Apollo stumbled upon Will Solace and wrapped both arms around him.
“You’re the best, you know that? I’m so proud of you. You’re literally sunshine that grew legs. You’re like me but responsible.”
Will awkwardly patted his father’s head.
“Uh. Thanks, Dad.”
---
By the time sunset hit, the entire camp was watching the god of the sun drunkenly serenade Dionysus with a song about friendship, rainbows, and how the stars were “just night flowers.”
No one stopped him.
---
Later, Dionysus crossed his arms.
“I should be furious. That wine was a thousand years old.”
Chiron chuckled.
“Yes, but look at them.”
Camp Half-Blood had collectively gathered around Apollo, now asleep on a picnic blanket with five demigods, a cat, and Artemis sitting nearby—still pretending she wasn’t lightly stroking her brother’s hair.
Dionysus sighed.
“Sunshine menace.”
---
The next day, Apollo remembered everything.
And despite the embarrassment, he couldn’t help but notice no one avoided him.
In fact, Hermes showed up with coffee.
Athena sent him a scroll of poetry.
Even Artemis let him walk beside her in silence, just once.
Apollo smiled to himself.
Maybe he should "accidentally" drink that wine again next century or so.
Just maybe.
Title: Sun-Drunk & Starry-Eyed – Part 2: Divine Drunk Diplomacy
Summary: After the wine incident at Camp Half-Blood, Apollo finds himself accidentally tipsy again—this time, in the presence of multiple pantheons. No one is safe from his sunshine-fueled clinginess and affectionate chaos.
---
It was supposed to be a diplomatic summit.
A peaceful gathering between the Greek, Norse, Egyptian, and Roman pantheons to discuss divine cooperation, monster migration patterns, and why the mortal realm keeps getting weirder.
Apollo wasn’t even supposed to be there.
But he showed up anyway, late, glowing, and sipping from what everyone prayed was just nectar.
It wasn’t.
Dionysus, across the room, froze mid-sip.
“No… Not again.”
Too late.
---
Target One: Thor.
Apollo approached like a golden missile, wrapping himself around Thor’s arm.
“You’re like Zeus but without the baggage. So shiny. So electric.”
Thor blinked.
“He’s soft.”
Then grinned. “I like this one.”
---
Target Two: Bastet.
“You are made of stars and fur,” Apollo whispered reverently, nuzzling her like a sleepy cat.
“Do you want my sun chariot? I’ll trade it for head pats.”
Bastet purred in amusement and flicked his forehead with a claw.
“You are chaos incarnate. I accept.”
---
Target Three: Anubis.
Apollo collapsed dramatically at his feet.
“You’re so… dramatic. I love your whole aesthetic. You smell like afterlife and spice.”
Anubis blinked, unsure what to do with the glittering sun god now wrapped around his ankle.
“…Should I be concerned?”
Horus, nearby:
“Yes.”
---
Target Four: Loki.
Apollo just stared at him, wide-eyed.
“You’re what my intrusive thoughts would look like if they were sexy.”
Loki:
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He immediately tried to recruit Apollo for a prank war.
---
Target Five: Mars.
Apollo threw his arms around Mars like a barnacle.
“You’re like Ares, but with discipline. I love it. Punch me in the face. Respectfully.”
Mars looked at Jupiter like, “Can I?”
Jupiter: “Absolutely not.”
---
Back at the council table, the heads of the pantheons were trying—trying—to stay professional.
Zeus:
“This is mortifying.”
Ra:
“He just offered Bastet the sun.”
Odin:
“He asked Thor if he could ‘ride the lightning.’”
Hera:
“…Did he just kiss Anubis on the nose?”
Everyone turned.
He did. Anubis was frozen like a statue.
---
By the time Apollo curled up on a pile of cushions next to Hades and said,
“You’re my favorite uncle. Don’t tell Poseidon,”
the summit was officially deemed off the rails.
Hades just sighed and handed him a cookie.
---
When the sun god finally passed out in Ra’s lap (how he got there is a mystery), the room sat in stunned silence.
Ra, blinking at the snoozing Apollo:
“…Why is this actually kind of endearing?”
---
The next morning, Apollo woke up in a blanket cocoon. The pantheon heads had left sticky notes on his forehead:
- “You are banned from wine. – Zeus”
- “You are delightful. – Bastet”
- “Let’s do crimes together. – Loki”
- “That hug was threatening. – Mars”
- “You may pet me again. – Thor”
- “You’re weird. I respect it. – Anubis”
- “Next summit, bring snacks. – Ra”
---
Apollo, rubbing his eyes, just grinned.
“Best. Summit. Ever."
Chapter 157: Sunlight, Teeth, and Tiny Terrors
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunlight, Teeth, and Tiny Terrors"
Summary: Apollo has a strange habit of wandering into forests, caves, and voids—and coming out with baby monsters he insists are "just little guys." Everyone is terrified. Apollo is delighted.
---
Camp Half-Blood was used to weirdness.
They had centaurs running PE, pegasi in the stables, and actual gods dropping by for awkward family drama.
But even they had to admit: Apollo was pushing it.
It started with a tiny manticore.
“Isn’t he adorable?” Apollo beamed, holding it up like a kitten.
The manticore snarled, spitting a tiny venomous dart at Chiron, who barely ducked.
“Apollo, that’s a baby killer.”
“He was chasing butterflies! He just wants cuddles!”
---
Then came the baby chimera.
Not full-size, sure—but still a three-headed baby monster with a napalm sneeze.
“This one’s name is Sprinkles.”
Leo: “It melted my toolbelt, dude.”
---
By week three, he had a small collection.
- A baby hydra named Noodle
- A tiny gorgon with heart-shaped pupils called Pebbles
- A fluffy cerberus pup with two heads and a tendency to eat furniture—named Buttons.
Apollo insisted they were all harmless.
“They’re just misunderstood! Look at those lil’ claws!”
One of those claws had embedded itself in the wall of Cabin Seven.
---
Camp Reactions:
- Chiron: "He’s turning the camp into a monster nursery."
- Annabeth: "This is a nightmare."
- Will (his son): "I literally cannot make him stop. He says 'they love me too much.'"
- Nico: "...Okay, I kind of like Pebbles."
- Clarisse: "The cerberus drooled on my bed and I didn’t even care. What is happening to me?"
---
One Day at the Dining Pavilion…
The sky split open with a roar. A shadowbeast the size of a mountain cracked through the veil of Tartarus.
Camp panicked.
Apollo looked up and gasped.
“A BABY!”
Everyone: “NO.”
He vanished in a flash of light, reappeared on top of the thing’s head, and started cooing.
The beast whimpered.
“He’s letting it nap in Cabin 7.” Will said, blankly, twenty minutes later. “It shrunk to the size of a goat.”
“How did he even…?” Annabeth began.
“Don’t question it.” Chiron muttered. “It’s Apollo.”
---
Mount Olympus:
Zeus: “What do you MEAN the prophecy monster has imprinted on Apollo?”
Hermes: “He named it Marshmallow.”
Hera: “It follows him around like a duckling.”
---
Eventually, the gods gave up.
Camp Half-Blood now had an “Adopted by Apollo” Sanctuary, where terrifying baby monsters napped in the sun and wore flower crowns.
And Apollo? He was often seen sunbathing with a hydra in his lap, a gorgon on his shoulder, and a flaming baby drakon chewing on his sandal.
“Just my little guys,” he hummed, feeding them ambrosia cookies.
And honestly?
No one had the heart to stop him.
Because for some reason… they were actually kind of cute.
Chapter 158: Apollo Is Not Flirting With You (Probably)
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo Is Not Flirting With You (Probably)"
Summary: Apollo just likes making people happy. That’s it. Really. Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to think he’s trying to seduce them. Cue confusion, chaos, and one god’s desperate attempt to be just nice without causing a dozen love triangles.
---
Apollo handed the nymph a carefully carved music box that played her favorite lullaby.
She blinked at him, blushing furiously.
"I-I… is this a courting gift?"
Apollo, cheerfully: "Nah, I just thought it’d help you sleep!"
She fainted on the spot.
---
At Camp Half-Blood:
He fixed Leo’s broken automaton, baked ambrosia brownies for the Hermes cabin, rewrote the Ares cabin’s war chants into pop songs, and left fresh sunflowers for Hades’ cabin every morning.
Nico found one in his hoodie.
“Is he—?”
Will (miserably): “No. He’s not. I’m so sorry. He just… does this.”
---
One week later:
Apollo had gifted Poseidon a glowing sea-stone that sparkled with bioluminescence and shaped it into a trident hairpin.
Poseidon, cautiously: “You’re not proposing, are you?”
Apollo: “What? No! You’ve just been looking down lately, and I thought—oh wow, should I not have added glitter?”
Zeus had to be physically restrained.
---
Reactions from the Pantheons:
- Athena: “He’s either the most oblivious god in existence or the most dangerous flirt alive.”
- Ares: “He gave me a sword that sings war ballads in my mother’s voice. I don’t know whether to cry or propose.”
- Persephone: “He made me an underworld garden that blooms in the dark. I thought Hades was going to combust.”
- Bast (from the Egyptian pantheon): “He brushed my tail once and called me ‘sunlight in motion.’ I’ve never known terror like that.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo:
“Huh. I just told Artemis her hair looks like moonlit waterfalls and she teleported. Must be busy.”
---
One day, after he fixed an ancient, cursed harp for a very reclusive titan, they sent him a fifty-foot marble statue of the two of them… holding hands.
Apollo: “Aww! Friendship!”
Everyone else: collective scream
---
Will cornered his dad eventually.
Will: “You need to stop accidentally romancing gods, monsters, and my boyfriend’s skeleton horse.”
Apollo, baffled: “I just made him a bone-polishing brush! For hygiene!”
---
Eventually, Olympus issued a public decree:
“All gifts or favors from Apollo are to be assumed platonic unless otherwise specified IN WRITING, signed, sung, or accompanied by a sonnet beginning with ‘Dear Beloved’ and ending with ‘I am definitely flirting with you.’”
Apollo read it, nodded, and ten minutes later gifted it to Hestia… embroidered on a blanket.
---
She blushed.
“…He’s doing it again, isn’t he?"
Chapter 159: Sunshine, Secrets & Sudden Scandals
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunshine, Secrets & Sudden Scandals”
Summary: Apollo never means to cause family drama, but somehow every time he opens his mouth, an ancient secret is revealed, a scandal resurfaces, or a feud reignites. The worst part? No one can stay mad at him. He's just too sparkly.
---
It started with brunch.
Literally just brunch.
Apollo had brought peach scones and casually mentioned:
"Oh, by the way, Hestia used to be Kronos' favorite and only got eaten because she found out Kronos was having an affair with Tartarus. Isn't that wild?"
Silence.
Hades: “I’m sorry—WHAT?”
Hestia, calmly sipping tea: “I told you that in confidence when you were four.”
Apollo: “You did! And I remembered! Isn’t that sweet?”
Poseidon, choking: “WHY are you saying this at brunch?!”
---
The next time, he’d been helping Ares organize war records.
Apollo: “You know, it’s funny how you and Athena pretend to hate each other when you’re actually twins from that one cursed aspect of Nyx—oh wait, that’s still a secret, huh?”
Athena, from the shadows: “…Apollo.”
Apollo: nervous laugh “Scones?”
---
At the next Olympian meeting, Zeus tried to call him out:
Zeus: “You’ve caused no less than six civil disputes this month, boy.”
Apollo: “Me? But I was just helping Artemis find her old tiara, and then Hephaestus happened to find that hidden photo album of you and Hera’s divorce ceremony…”
Hera: “YOU KEPT THAT?!”
Zeus: “WHY IS IT IN A PHOTO ALBUM?!”
Apollo: “Because it was aesthetically pleasing?”
---
The Egyptian gods were visiting. Apollo smiled and said:
“Oh, did you know Anubis and Hades used to date? Back when death domains overlapped more. Super poetic.”
Everyone: SCREAMS
---
Eventually, someone started keeping track.
Apollo’s Weekly Chaos Log:
- Accidentally revealed Artemis once turned someone into a constellation out of spite.
- Exposed Dionysus’s secret Twilight-era poetry phase.
- Mentioned that Aphrodite and Persephone co-parented a love goddess in another pantheon.
- Told Hermes he was the reason Pan fled to the wilds (to avoid family dinners).
- Discovered a forgotten prophecy scroll naming Demeter “Queen of the Underworld” for three days.
- Accidentally found Hera’s wedding ring to her first husband. (It wasn’t Zeus.)
---
The Worst Incident:
He brought out a glowing stone at dinner.
Apollo: “Look what I found in the attic! It’s glowing with forgotten love energy. Weird, right?”
Everyone, in slow horror: “THAT’S GAIA’S ENGAGEMENT ROCK.”
---
And Yet...
They couldn't stay mad.
Even when covered in family secrets and tears and someone’s burnt toga, there stood Apollo—smiling, golden, holding a box of lemon bars he baked himself.
“I brought snacks?”
---
Athena, covered in spilled wine and ancient shame: “We have to stop letting him speak.”
Hestia, cradling lemon bars: “But he means so well.”
Hades, chewing thoughtfully: “These are really good though…”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo:
Spinning on a sunbeam, clueless and glowing:
“Why is everyone crying again?”
Title: “Sunshine, Secrets & Sudden Scandals – Part 2: Primordial Pandemonium”
Summary: Apollo’s mouth gets him in trouble again. This time, the primordials show up, and he manages to accidentally drag them into the chaos. Family feuds dating back to the literal dawn of time? Check. Forbidden truths? Check. Apollo still being adorable? Double check.
---
It started with a tea party.
Apollo had organized it for Persephone. He liked tea parties. They were peaceful. Warm. Had snacks.
He did not expect Nyx to attend.
Apollo: “Lady Nyx! What an honor! I haven’t seen you since Chaos’s birthday!”
Nyx: blinks slowly “You remember Chaos’s birthday?”
Apollo: “Of course! I brought shadow-shaped cupcakes and—oh! Did you ever get that cursed music box back from Tartarus?”
Everyone: frozen in horrified silence
Hades, whispering: “Why would you say that?”
---
Three Hours Later…
Nyx was now arguing with Tartarus, who had risen from the depths in a swirling storm of obsidian and screams.
Tartarus: “I told you the music box was a gift—!”
Nyx: “IT WAS ENCHANTED TO SING FOREVER IN MY SLEEP.”
Apollo, cheerfully pouring tea: “Would anyone like more lavender honey?”
---
It got worse.
As the argument grew, so did the curiosity.
Chronos popped in from the far reaches of time.
Erebus showed up to support Nyx.
Gaia rose just to scold everyone.
Chaos floated above it all like a mildly confused housecat.
Apollo: “Hey, remember when you all used to play sunball in the void? Good times.”
Chaos: “...Sunball?”
Gaia: “YOU TAUGHT MY GRANDCHILDREN SUNBALL?!”
---
Then came the big reveal.
In his effort to lighten the mood, Apollo brought out an old glowing locket.
Apollo: “I found this in Artemis’s drawer and thought it looked pretty—look! It shows constellations based on emotion! Isn't that cool?”
Nyx: goes pale
Erebus: “Where did you find that?”
Chronos: “That’s THE LOCKET.”
Gaia: “The one that sealed the first forbidden pact.”
Apollo: “…Oh.”
---
Chaos (softly, to no one): “I knew I lost something important.”
The Locket’s glow pulsed.
Apollo: “Is it bad that it’s glowing like an angry sun now?”
---
Ten minutes later:
The sky split open.
A rift in time and space flickered in the horizon.
Reality… hiccupped.
Zeus, appearing with lightning in hand: “WHAT DID HE DO NOW?!”
Hermes, exhausted: “Apollo hosted tea. That’s all it took.”
---
Despite Everything…
The primordials, caught in their own webs of drama and nostalgia, didn’t blame him.
Chaos: “He just wanted to share a trinket.”
Nyx: “He made me tea.”
Tartarus: “He gave me a plushie dragon and called it ‘Toasty.’”
Gaia: “He picked flowers for me. I’m keeping them.”
Chronos: “...He told me my wrinkles looked ‘cool and ancient.’”
Zeus: “HE DESTABILIZED TIME.”
Apollo, beaming: “But everyone’s bonding!”
---
In the Aftermath:
- The tea party becomes a monthly event.
- Tartarus now has a plushie collection.
- Chaos gifted Apollo a star that sings lullabies.
- The locket now glows pink and is renamed “Snuggle Star.”
- Chronos laughs more. It’s terrifying.
---
Meanwhile, Athena, clutching her temples: “We need to duct-tape his mouth shut.”
Artemis, sipping tea: “Don’t bother. They love him.”
Hades, solemnly: “He’s the unintentional herald of cosmic reconciliation.”
Ares: “…He’s lucky he’s cute.”
---
Apollo, humming as he bakes cookies for Typhon:
“Maybe next time I’ll bring out the mirror that shows your true soul! That one’s shiny!”
Everyone: “NOOOOOOO—”
Chapter 160: God of the People
Chapter Text
Title: “God of the People”
Summary: Apollo has a weirdly universal approval rating. Monsters, minor gods, ancient enemies, primordial horrors—everyone seems to know and like him. It’s gotten to the point that going anywhere with him turns into a parade of greetings, snacks, inside jokes, and confused stares from his companions.
---
“How do you know that cyclops?”
That was the fifth time someone at Camp Half-Blood had asked that question this week. This time, it was Nico, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he watched a one-eyed, twelve-foot-tall creature pat Apollo’s head and give him a handmade seashell necklace.
Apollo: “Oh! That’s Polly! I helped her write a song for her daughter’s wedding.”
Nico: “…She’s a cyclops.”
Apollo, grinning: “And a great tambourine player!”
---
It didn’t stop there.
He greeted Gorgons with cheek kisses.
Chatted with sphinxes about riddle structure.
Played fetch with Cerberus and gave Hecate birthday cupcakes.
Even Kronos gave him a casual nod once.
Percy: “Okay, HOW do you even know Kronos?”
Apollo: “We were in a poetry club once. He’s surprisingly good at tragic verse.”
Annabeth: “That doesn’t make this better.”
---
Even the Titans liked him.
Hyperion sent him postcards from the sun.
Oceanus once gifted him a glowing pearl.
Mnemosyne made him a memory charm bracelet.
Artemis: “Why do the Titans give you things?”
Apollo, holding up the bracelet: “I remembered her dog’s birthday.”
---
At a Council Meeting…
Zeus: “How do you know Set from the Egyptian pantheon?”
Apollo, sipping nectar: “I helped him fix his eyeliner once and he taught me how to curse people with glamour. We keep in touch.”
Ares, under his breath: “That’s not even surprising anymore.”
---
One time, he waved at Echidna.
She waved back and tossed him a fruit basket.
They chatted about baby hydras for fifteen minutes.
Grover: “She tried to eat me last year!”
Apollo: “She said you kicked one of her kids. You did kick her kid, didn’t you?”
Grover, mortified: “…It was biting me!”
---
The breaking point was when Hades got mad.
Apollo walked into the Underworld like it was a theme park.
Ghosts waved. Judges high-fived him. Even Thanatos gave him a little flower crown.
Hades, deadpan: “Why are my residents more loyal to you than me?”
Apollo: “I played harp for them during the Plague Years. Also I bring snacks.”
Hades, sighing: “Do you bribe the dead?”
Apollo, thoughtful: “I call it hospitality.”
---
Eventually, even Olympus noticed.
Zeus tried to ban him from visiting “enemy entities.”
That lasted two days before Nyx, Set, and a giant talking fox spirit from Japan all sent complaint letters.
Now Apollo’s officially listed as an “Inter-Pantheon Diplomatic Asset.”
---
At Camp:
Apollo walked through the strawberry fields, humming.
Two satyrs waved. A harpy blew a kiss. An empousa gave him a fruit smoothie.
Will just watched, deadpan.
Will: “Are you collecting allies or hosting auditions for the world’s strangest fan club?”
Apollo: “I can’t help it! People are fun!”
Nico: “…I think you’re more dangerous than the Titans.”
Apollo: giggles and skips off to go braid Scylla’s hair
Title: “God of the People: Part 2 — You Just Had to Ask”
Summary: After the last pantheon summit inevitably turns into chaos (because everyone wants Apollo’s attention), Apollo drops a casual bomb: he could’ve stopped most wars… if someone had just asked him to. Now the gods are re-evaluating every war they ever fought.
---
The Council Room on Olympus was packed. Again.
Norse gods, Egyptian gods, Hindu gods, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Japanese, Celtic, even a few confused minor wind spirits—everyone had shown up. Again. Because Apollo was hosting a music night with snacks.
Zeus was trying to establish order.
Odin was trying to arm-wrestle Horus.
Hera was muttering about seating arrangements.
Apollo was handing out strawberry mochi.
Athena, pinching the bridge of her nose: “This is chaos.”
Hades: “This is Apollo’s version of diplomacy.”
Ares, eating a cupcake: “This is delicious.”
---
Then Apollo, while refilling Ra’s tea, said casually:
“You know, you could’ve just asked me to stop those wars.”
Everyone: “…What?”
Apollo blinked.
“Well, I was friends with, like, everyone. Set listens to me. Loki finds me entertaining. Ares owes me a favor. I could’ve talked people down.”
Zeus, thunder rumbling: “You could have stopped the Second Titan War?”
“Oh, totally. Kronos likes my singing. He cried once when I played him a lullaby. Said it reminded him of simpler times.”
Athena, in horror: “You… could have negotiated?”
"Yeah! I even have a group chat with most of the Titans. We send memes.”
---
The room went dead silent.
Bastet slowly lowered her tea.
Odin stared into space like rethinking centuries.
Lugh mouthed “memes?”
Ra: “You never told us.”
"You never asked!”
---
Poseidon: “What about Atlantis?”
"Could’ve saved it.”
Hephaestus: “The Civil War in the Forge Realms?”
“Could’ve ended it in a day.”
Hades: “My rebellious shades uprising of 1024 BCE?”
“I was there! I gave the rebels cookies and told them to go home!”
---
Zeus, struggling to maintain composure: “And why—why didn’t you tell us this?”
Apollo tilted his head.
“I just thought if anyone needed help, they’d ask! I don’t want to butt in. That’d be rude.”
---
Now every god and goddess was spiraling.
Hermes, wide-eyed: “Are you telling me I smuggled peace treaties across dimensions by foot while you were sipping nectar with the enemy and learning their favorite lullabies?!”
“Yes! Ra’s is this really pretty one in C minor—”
Ares: “I fought twelve battles in a week and you could’ve just asked the war god to sit down?!”
“You were busy!”
Artemis: “You… you let me go to war with the Erymanthian spirit tribe while you were dating one of their leaders?!”
“You never said you didn’t want to! I thought it was a fun sibling bonding thing!”
---
Eventually, a consensus was reached:
Apollo was no longer allowed to keep secrets like “I can end ancient blood feuds with a flute solo” unless he announced them on Olympus first.
---
Meanwhile, Apollo left the summit holding five gift bags, a puppy-dragon hybrid, and a letter from Hel politely asking if he could help mediate a disagreement between her and Hades.
Will: “So. You’re a peace treaty with legs.”
Apollo, proud: “And excellent hair.”
Nico: “I think you’re the reason Olympus still exists.”
Apollo: “Oh no, I definitely am.”
Chapter 161: To Love the Pit Itself
Chapter Text
Title: "To Love the Pit Itself"
When Apollo found himself spiraling—quite literally—into Tartarus, he hadn’t expected to survive, let alone fall in love. But Tartarus, the living abyss, the primordial of chaos and imprisonment, had a fascination with the god of the sun. A fascination that quickly bloomed into something twisted, obsessive, and inexplicably affectionate.
And somehow, somehow, Apollo didn’t mind.
---
It was a quiet moment, one Apollo rarely had, when he realized he was pregnant. Not just in the metaphorical sense. No, the impossible had occurred. A godling. A true godling. One born of two primordials—one of light, life, and warmth, and the other of shadows, destruction, and depth.
Their child, glowing with sunlight and flickering with the void, was born with a scream that shattered the silence of the Pit. Tartarus immediately declared him perfect. The other children of Tartarus—warped beings of endless form and chaos—gathered around the radiant baby and, with utmost seriousness, bowed.
"Mom," one whispered.
"Mama," another one cooed.
"Please accept me," begged a third.
Apollo blinked. “I—what—?”
He now had so many children. Some with horns, some with wings, some entirely made of screams or smoke or starlight. And they loved him. All of them did. Even if Apollo didn’t fully understand why, they declared him their mom and followed him everywhere, fiercely protective.
Tartarus, for his part, was ecstatic. With deadly calm, he declared that every single one of Apollo’s demigod children would henceforth be his.
Will Solace, son of the sun? Tartarus built a throne of bone and obsidian in his name.
“Apollo’s light shines through him,” Tartarus hissed, voice shaking reality itself. “If Nico hurts him... I will end existence.”
Nico blinked, pale. “I—I just brought him flowers—”
Tartarus leaned in closer. “They better be the right kind.”
Even Zeus, ever the king, tried to raise a hand in protest—only to be met with Tartarus rising, casting a shadow so vast it swallowed Mount Olympus itself.
“Touch him,” Tartarus purred, “and I will rip your throne apart and serve it to my beloved in a bowl of honey and gold.”
Apollo giggled from the side, swinging his legs from a floating obsidian bench.
Zeus backed down.
---
The castle in the Pit was a nightmare’s dream: obsidian walls that shimmered with Apollo’s light, soft sunlit gardens that never wilted, golden furniture shaped like stars, an entire wing made of instruments and art supplies.
Only Apollo and their children were allowed.
Not even Tartarus’s siblings could step inside. Not Chaos. Not Nyx. Not Erebus.
Except... they all kind of adored Apollo too.
Chaos braided his hair. Nyx gave him glowing pets from the night sky. Even Erebus called him “little sunbeam.”
Together, they glared at Zeus with matching disdain, while Apollo—blissfully unaware—drew sunshine doodles on the walls and handed the Furies cupcakes he had baked.
“Beware,” whispered the primordials, “Zeus may wear the crown, but Apollo holds the heart of the Pit.”
And the Pit? The Pit was in love.
Chapter 162: Sunshine Rage & Puppy Pouts
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunshine Rage & Puppy Pouts"
It didn’t happen often—Apollo getting genuinely angry. Not annoyed, not playfully exasperated, but actually furious. Which is why, when it did happen, everyone stopped to watch like it was a rare solar eclipse.
“You—you—you aesthetically displeasing tree frog!” Apollo huffed, hands on his hips, cheeks puffed and glowing red. “Your energy is like… like a song that’s slightly off-key!”
Hermes, the unfortunate recipient of the divine wrath, blinked. “What?”
“You heard me! Your face is like… like if a sunrise forgot what order colors went in!”
That was it.
The entire pantheon burst into laughter. Athena was wheezing. Dionysus nearly dropped his Diet Coke. Even Ares had to turn away, shoulders shaking from suppressed chuckles.
Apollo’s eyes widened. “Why are you laughing!? I’m being serious!!”
“You just told him he looks like a sunrise,” Artemis deadpanned, though even she was biting her lip.
“Well it was meant to be an insult!” Apollo pouted, arms flailing. “Stop laughing or I’ll—I’ll curse your aesthetic!”
More laughter. Now Persephone was clutching Hades’s arm, giggling as Apollo’s golden curls bounced with every frustrated stomp.
“You’re all jerks!” he snapped. “And not even the cool kind! The mildly disappointing kind! Like tea without honey!”
“Oh no,” Hermes gasped, faking horror. “Not tea without honey!”
Apollo’s glow intensified—not dangerously, just dramatically, like a spotlight on a very upset theater kid. “You’ll regret this when I stop writing poetry for your birthdays!”
Silence fell.
“…You write poetry for our birthdays?” Hera blinked.
“No!” Apollo yelped—then faltered. “I mean… maybe.”
Everyone exchanged looks. Then came the second round of laughter, louder and more chaotic.
Apollo buried his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
“You’re adorable,” Hestia said kindly, pinching his cheek.
“I’m not adorable, I’m terrifying!” Apollo wailed. “I’m wrath incarnate!”
He was pouting. Full on pouting. Like a golden retriever denied a second treat.
And yet… no one took him seriously.
But maybe… they didn’t need to. Because the sun god, even in his angriest state, shone too brightly to ever be truly scary.
Even if he really, really tried.
Chapter 163: The Great Sweet Heist of Olympus
Chapter Text
Title: “The Great Sweet Heist of Olympus”
Apollo had been so proud of his newest batch of sweets.
He’d spent hours—literal hours—carefully baking and decorating each one. Lavender lemon tarts, honey-drizzled almond cookies, and little golden sun-shaped cakes that sparkled faintly with edible starlight. They were perfect. They were divine. They were meant for his tea party with the Muses.
But when he returned to retrieve the treats…
They. Were. Gone.
All that remained was a single crumb on a golden plate and a suspiciously sticky fingerprint on the edge of the tray.
“I’m not mad,” Apollo said, arms crossed as he sat dramatically on his sun-themed couch. “I’m just disappointed. Deeply. Painfully.”
“Oh no,” Hermes muttered. “He’s pulling out the disappointed line.”
Apollo turned his face away, nose in the air. “I shall no longer grace Olympus with my baking until the criminal confesses. No sweets. No cookies. No sun-glazed soufflés. Nothing.”
Gasps echoed through the room. Hestia dropped her teacup.
“No more sun-tarts?!” Demeter cried. “But those were the only thing Persephone actually eats during her visits!”
“I was counting on those cookies for a peace offering to Nemesis,” Artemis muttered. “She’s this close to stabbing me again.”
Zeus tried to soothe his glowing son. “Now, now, Apollo—surely we can work something out—”
“No!” Apollo huffed, dramatically flipping a golden throw pillow. “Until the thief is revealed, my kitchen is closed. I’m in mourning.”
“I’ll offer tribute,” Dionysus deadpanned. “A gallon of my finest wine for just one of those sun-cakes.”
Apollo gave him the coldest, saddest glare imaginable. “Not even for your best vintage, brother.”
Cue panic.
The gods launched an immediate investigation. Athena created a forensic board. Hermes used all his speed to interrogate everyone from Camp Half-Blood to the Underworld. Artemis threatened divine violence. Even Hades got involved after Persephone mentioned how much she missed the honey cakes.
Finally, three days into the sweet-less chaos, a small voice squeaked from the shadows.
“…It was me.”
Everyone turned.
Eros, god of love, looked shamefully at the floor. “They just smelled really good, okay?! I didn’t know they were for a tea party—I thought they were just sitting there… being delicious… unsupervised…”
Apollo blinked, expression frozen.
Then, with a sigh, he melted. “I can’t stay mad at you. You have baby cheeks.”
Eros perked up. “So you’ll bake again?”
Apollo pouted one last time. “Fine. But you’re helping next time.”
Eros nodded quickly. “Deal. I’ll even frost the cakes!”
And thus, peace was restored to Olympus… along with the sweets.
Though from that day forward, no one touched Apollo’s desserts again—unless they had a signed invitation to his tea party and a divine-level will to resist temptation.
Because while Apollo may be sunshine, no one ever wanted to face his pout of doom again.
Chapter 164: Tragic Tales of a Sun-Chipmunk
Chapter Text
Title: “Tragic Tales of a Sun-Chipmunk”
It started with a casual conversation during a Camp Half-Blood barbecue.
The gods were actually behaving. Mostly.
That was until Hermes smirked across the campfire and leaned lazily back. “Hey, remember when Apollo got his head stuck in a lyre?”
Artemis didn’t even hesitate. “Which time?”
Apollo, mid-marshmallow roast, froze. “Artemis—”
“Oh no no no, don’t stop now,” Hermes said with a wicked grin. “Let’s give the kids a little entertainment.”
Will Solace leaned in. “Wait. What do you mean he got his head stuck?”
Artemis smirked. “He was trying to impress one of the nymphs by showing her how he could ‘play music with his whole body’—tried to strum the lyre with his teeth. Ended up stuck for hours.”
“HOURS, Will,” Hermes added, very helpfully. “He kept mumbling about how he was still a musical genius while we tried to get his ears unhooked.”
The demigods lost it. Even Chiron chuckled behind a hand.
Apollo buried his face in his hands. “Why are you like this.”
“Oh!” Artemis gasped, eyes gleaming. “Remember the chipmunk?”
Hermes nearly fell off the log laughing. “The one that stole his laurel wreath?”
“I WAS THREE!” Apollo wailed.
Artemis nodded sagely. “Three and already dramatically sobbing because a chipmunk ran off with his ‘symbol of glory.’ He chased it halfway across Olympus in a toga that kept falling down.”
“I just wanted it back,” Apollo mumbled into his hands.
“Oh gods,” Percy wheezed, “you were a dramatic baby even then?!”
“Worse,” Hermes added. “He wrote a poem about the betrayal. Titled it ‘Ode to the Acorn Thief.’”
Annabeth looked like she was about to cry from how hard she was laughing. “Please. Please tell me someone still has a copy.”
“I DO,” Artemis said triumphantly.
“NO YOU DON’T,” Apollo yelped, practically launching himself across the firepit to wrestle her scroll bag.
And so it continued—stories of Apollo crying when his curls were uneven, or how he once declared war on a goose that honked at him, or the time he accidentally turned his own bed into a literal sunspot and melted it.
By the end of the night, Apollo was face-down in a picnic blanket, mumbling, “This is the worst day of my immortal life.”
Will patted his back gently. “You were a very cute disaster.”
“Shut up,” Apollo whined.
Still, no one could deny it—the image of the mighty sun god frantically chasing a chipmunk in a half-tied toga would live on forever.
And Artemis? Artemis made T-shirts.
Chapter 165: The Twelve Days of Apollo-mas
Chapter Text
Title: "The Twelve Days of Apollo-mas"
It started with a single strand of golden fairy lights wrapped around the Apollo cabin’s columns at Camp Half-Blood. Harmless. Festive. Wholesome, even.
Then came day two.
Suddenly, there were glowing sun-themed wreaths. Solar-powered ornaments. The Apollo cabin glowed like a beacon you could see from space. Some campers joked they could use it as a lighthouse in case of another sea monster attack.
By day four, the camp knew. They were in trouble.
Because Apollo wasn’t just decorating the Apollo cabin anymore.
Oh no. No one was safe.
“I woke up and there were tinsel suns dangling from my bow!” Artemis hissed, glaring at her twin across the dining pavilion. “Do you know how flammable those are?!”
“It’s Christmas!” Apollo chirped, strapping a glittery reindeer antler crown to his already glowing head. “Let there be holiday cheer!”
“Camp Half-Blood looks like it got into a fight with a Christmas aisle at Target and lost,” Nico grumbled, kicking a peppermint-striped rock on his way to the Hades cabin. “Our cabin now smells like sugar cookies and shame.”
“Apollo put a Santa hat on Cerberus,” Will muttered, deadpan. “And sang ‘Jingle Bells’ until the Underworld guards let him go.”
Even Olympus wasn’t spared.
The throne room now had garlands looped between every throne. There were glowing lights on Zeus’s beard. Poseidon’s trident had been replaced with a candy cane version, and Hades… well, he found a giant inflatable snowman looming outside the Underworld gates with a plaque that read "Frosty’s here to chill your souls!"
No one knew how Apollo got it down there. And they were too afraid to ask.
When asked why, Apollo simply declared, “I take Christmas very seriously.”
“Like... sacred-festival-of-light seriously,” he continued. “It’s about joy! Warmth! Togetherness! Gift-giving! Glitter!”
Everyone stared at him. The mistletoe hanging from the Oracle’s cave glowed ominously.
“I will not be stopped,” he added.
By day twelve, Camp Half-Blood had two ice-skating rinks, a full choir of enchanted nutcrackers that sang every time someone opened a door, and a golden sleigh that zoomed across the sky every night—powered by what Apollo claimed were “light-speed reindeer.”
“Why are they solar-powered?” Chiron asked, sipping tea and shaking his head as a wreath-wrapped cabin walked by itself across the field.
“Why not?” Apollo said proudly, in a sweater that read “Sleigh the Day.”
No one could argue with that.
And—if they were being honest—those sugar cookies were pretty amazing.
Even if their cabins were now sentient with the spirit of Apollo-mas.
Chapter 166: The God No One Saw
Chapter Text
Title: "The God No One Saw"
It had started as a harmless prank.
Just one day—twenty-four hours of pretending Apollo didn’t exist. No hellos, no eye contact, no responding to his usual sunshiney rambling. Even Will was reluctantly convinced to participate after Hermes promised it would be “hilarious.” Just a bit of fun.
Apollo would roll his eyes, pout dramatically, and then laugh about it.
Or so they thought.
---
Morning came.
Apollo strolled into the pavilion, golden hair tied in a loose braid, holding a box of strawberry sunrise muffins he had baked himself. “Happy breakfast!” he beamed, handing one to Nico—who just... walked past him.
Apollo blinked.
“Okay. Rude.”
Then Will didn’t wave. Chiron didn't greet him. Even Artemis, who always gave him a teasing jab or affectionate glare, just looked through him like he was made of mist.
No one said a word. Not even Hermes, who had suggested the prank. Not even Hades, who always acknowledged him with a gruff nod. No one.
Apollo’s smile began to falter by noon.
By evening, he wasn’t smiling at all.
---
He sat alone in the woods behind the cabins, knees tucked to his chest, silent. The sunlight around him dimmed as if it, too, could feel his confusion. His power flickered—faintly unstable. The warmth he usually radiated now felt cold, brittle.
“They’re mad at me. Did I mess up?” he wondered, biting his lip. “Did I do something wrong again?”
Old memories whispered cruelly.
Being cast down from Olympus.
Being punished. Forgotten. Mortal.
Disposable.
He curled tighter into himself. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t—”
---
The next morning, Hermes—grinning—announced the prank was over.
“Let’s go see the drama queen’s reaction!”
But when they found Apollo’s cabin, it was locked.
No music. No light. No Apollo.
Will frowned. “He’s usually out by now.”
Nico blinked. “Where’s the sun?”
Everyone turned. The sky was dimmer. Off. Like it was hesitating. Like it wasn’t sure if it should rise today.
Panic bloomed in Will’s chest. “Oh no.”
---
They found Apollo in the woods.
Curled beneath a tree, hugging one of his sun-embroidered capes like a blanket. His glow was dim and flickering. His eyes were rimmed red, his lips trembling.
“I thought you all hated me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I thought—I was being punished again. I didn’t know what I did.”
Will dropped to his knees instantly, tugging him into a hug.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we didn’t think—”
“I missed you,” Apollo mumbled, voice small. “Even if it was just one day. I missed you all so much.”
---
For the next week, Camp Half-Blood turned into a guilt-fueled Apollo appreciation parade.
Everyone took turns bringing him gifts, food, poetry, flowers. Hades himself showed up with a bouquet of underworld blossoms and a card that said “I tolerate you more than most.” Artemis gave him her favorite dagger and a real, heartfelt hug. Will refused to leave his side.
And the sky shone a little brighter again.
Apollo forgave them. But not without making them sweat first.
Still, even as he forgave, part of him lingered in the shadow of that prank. Because for all his light, Apollo had learned that being ignored—being unseen—hurt more than any punishment.
He smiled through it. But now, they noticed something new in his gaze.
A quiet fear that whispered, “Please don’t forget me again.”
They never did.
Chapter 167: To the Beloved God of Light
Chapter Text
Title: “To the Beloved God of Light”
Genre: Humor, Wholesome, Chaos, and just a pinch of divine stress
---
It started with a single gold-wrapped box.
Hermes thought it was a joke at first—someone sending Apollo a tribute scroll and a sun-colored silk scarf with a note that simply read, “To the radiant delight of creation.”
Then the next day came.
And a hundred more arrived.
---
By the end of the week, Olympus was a maze of crates, satin-wrapped packages, divine offerings, enchanted pastries, enchanted creatures, and perfumes that made even Aphrodite blush. The throne room had been overtaken by them.
“Is there a reason a bouquet of singing starlight roses is blocking the Oracle pool?” Hera snapped.
“They’re addressed to Apollo,” Hermes groaned as he stepped over a mountain of hand-sewn tapestries featuring various highly flattering portraits of the sun god. “I counted—four hundred and eighty-seven of them yesterday.”
Ares squinted at a box. “Who’s giving him gifts labeled ‘To my Sunflame Snugglekiss’?!”
“WHO IS ‘GOLDEN DARLING OF THE VOID’?” Dionysus bellowed. “AND WHY DID THEY SEND A CARNIVOROUS MIMIC DRESSED LIKE A CUPCAKE?!”
---
Zeus had had enough.
“BURN THEM.”
“Can’t,” Hecate said without looking up. “Some are from primordial entities. If we destroy them, we may cause a ripple that could unmake a star system.”
“Or start a war,” Hades added dryly, holding up a box with a familiar seal. “This one’s from Thanatos. He embroidered Apollo a blanket.”
“…Why?” Zeus choked.
“Apparently Apollo remembered his birthday,” Persephone offered helpfully.
---
Apollo, for his part, had no idea what was happening. He came skipping into the council chamber, beaming.
“Oh hey! Did my delivery from the ghost rabbit realm arrive? I traded a lullaby with a death wisp, they said I could have one of their glowing rabbit plushies!”
Silence.
Everyone stared.
“Apollo,” Hera said slowly, “why is every being in existence sending you gifts?”
Apollo blinked innocently. “Because I’ve been nice to them?”
A pause.
Ares: “When?”
Apollo: “Always?”
Hermes, exhausted: “You gave Hekatonkheires a friendship bracelet and made waffles for Nemesis. NEMESIS.”
“Oh, yeah! I made her blueberry!”
---
By the end of the month, they gave up.
They turned an entire unused wing of Olympus into The Apollo Shrine Storage. The sign out front read: “Offerings to the Sunshine Menace Go Here.”
There were security protocols in place. A storage rotation. At least three gods (and one confused satyr) were assigned to sort daily deliveries.
And Apollo?
He still looked flustered every time he opened a gift and softly whispered:
“Aww… they remembered my favorite color…”
---
Moral of the story?
Be nice to everyone. You just might end up being beloved by literal death gods, eldritch beings, and carnivorous mimics who now call you “Mom" or "Dad."
Chapter 168: Multiversal Mistakes & Golden Affairs
Chapter Text
Title: “Multiversal Mistakes & Golden Affairs”
Genre: Humor, Light Angst, Cracky Drama, and the chaos that is Apollo's love life
---
“Apollo’s love life is a disaster,” Artemis said flatly, arms crossed as she leaned back in her seat during the very necessary intervention-slash-rant session.
“Which one?” Hermes asked with a mouthful of grapes. “The demigod? The Titaness? The primordial? Or the giant flame-being from the dream realm?”
“Exactly my point,” Athena muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s like he finds emotionally unstable romantic prospects as a hobby.”
“Be glad at least he’s stuck to our universe,” Dionysus said, rolling his eyes dramatically.
The room froze.
Slowly, very slowly, all heads turned to where Apollo sat on the sunbeam-soaked edge of the council chamber.
He wasn’t smiling.
In fact, he looked like a child who had just been caught elbow-deep in the Ambrosia jar.
“…Apollo?” Poseidon asked carefully. “You’ve only dated within our universe, right?”
Apollo gave a nervous laugh.
“…Right?”
“I mean… define ‘our universe’?” he offered hopefully.
Zeus nearly choked on his wine.
“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!”
---
Turns out…
Apollo may or may not have “accidentally” slipped into other realms. And may or may not have “accidentally” wooed people there.
Some were mortals who started cults in his name.
Some were… not.
“You dated the Norse god of fire?!” Ares shouted, scandalized.
“Only for like… three moon cycles!” Apollo protested. “It was just a thing!”
“YOU FLIRTED WITH A DEATHLESS VOID IN THE FIFTH DIMENSION.”
“They were cute and liked my poetry!”
---
The gods demanded answers. Apollo gave them a chart.
It had columns. Names. Universes. Date durations. Favorite flowers. Whether or not they had tried to kill him. (There were… more “yes” marks than expected.)
At the bottom in bold golden handwriting:
“If they’re mad at me, I can just write them a song and we’re good again.”
---
From that day forward, a new rule was quietly instated.
Apollo is not allowed to date without supervision.
Especially not across universes.
And Apollo? He pouted for a day. Then wrote a tragic ballad about forbidden love through the cosmos.
It won a divine award in at least three pantheons.
Even Hades admitted it was catchy.
Chapter 169: The God of Calendars and Chaos
Chapter Text
Title: “The God of Calendars and Chaos”
Genre: Humor, Slice of Life, Light Wholesome Chaos
Featuring: Confused gods, overwhelmed demigods, and a sunshine deity who somehow has 900 lunch plans
---
There were certain constants in the universe:
1. The sun rises.
2. The sun sets.
3. Apollo has social plans.
“Apollo, how do you have brunch with the Muses, tea with the Fates, a sparring date with Ares, karaoke night with Dionysus, and a movie marathon with Chiron—all in the same day?” Annabeth demanded.
Apollo beamed, tossing his golden hair like he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. “Time is a construct, darling. So is scheduling.”
“No, seriously,” Percy muttered, watching as Apollo cheerfully hugged a dryad goodbye and skipped off to join a group of campers for a painting session. “Does he sleep? Does he eat? Does he breathe?”
“He took me on a sunrise hike and gave me a full skincare consultation in the span of thirty minutes,” Hermes muttered in disbelief. “And then went to teach the Graces how to roller-skate.”
“He brought cupcakes to a Cerberus playdate.” Hades looked vaguely traumatized. “Cupcakes. To the Underworld.”
---
No one could keep up.
Not the gods.
Not the demigods.
Not Time itself.
Apollo was everywhere.
And somehow, everywhere loved him for it.
He knew everyone’s names, everyone’s birthdays, favorite snacks, their pet peeves, their dreams. He had tea with lonely Titans and helped shy nymphs write poetry. He organized book clubs in the Underworld. Book clubs.
---
“He’s going to burn out eventually,” Athena said firmly. “It’s inevitable.”
He didn’t.
Instead, he crashed an interpantheon summit with a tray of cookies, a playlist titled “Peace Treaties & Party Beats,” and managed to get Set, Loki, and Huitzilopochtli to start a group dance.
---
Some say he’s chaos incarnate.
Some say he’s secretly mastered time travel.
But most?
Most just blink in stunned awe as Apollo hugs another new friend and skips off to his next appointment, radiant and unstoppable
.
The sun never rests.
And apparently, neither does Apollo.
Chapter 170: For Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: “For Apollo”
Summary: The myths told of a vengeful sun god, merciless with his wrath. But the truth was far more delicate: Apollo never struck the final blow. He just cried—and the gods who loved him did the rest.
---
The golden halls of Olympus shimmered with sunlight—soft, warm, and golden. It followed Apollo wherever he went, curling around his form like a protective halo, gentle in his joy.
But today, the halls were dim.
He sat on the edge of his temple steps, knees pulled to his chest, hair a tangled golden mess, cheeks damp with tears that shimmered like morning dew.
He had been mocked again. Called "vain," "soft," and "overemotional" by careless immortals who knew not the cost of words.
Apollo wasn’t made for cruelty. His heart, so large and glowing, bruised far too easily for a god.
And when he hurt—truly hurt—the entire pantheon shifted.
---
Poseidon felt it first. Deep in the ocean, the waves stilled as the sea god stilled with them.
Hades felt it second. In the Underworld, the ghosts paused in their drifting, their king rising from his throne with a clenched jaw.
And Zeus? He didn’t need the wind to carry his son’s sobs. He just knew.
Within minutes, Olympus bristled.
---
Artemis found him first.
Her bow was slung over her shoulder, but she approached quietly, kneeling before her twin and wiping his cheeks with her sleeve.
Artemis: “Who was it?”
Apollo hiccupped, refusing to answer. “It doesn’t matter.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. It does.”
When Artemis stood, her shadow turned sharp with divine wrath. Behind her, Zeus appeared in a burst of thunderclouds, followed by Poseidon and Hades in their own terrifying displays of loyalty.
Poseidon: “Who made my nephew cry?”
Hades (quiet and cold): “Name them.”
Apollo tried to shake his head, but he was too late.
Artemis had already pointed them out.
---
And so the myth was born—of a god who razed cities, who brought plague, who punished with sunlight that burned like fury.
But the truth was different.
Apollo never raised his hand. He wept. He hurt. He collapsed under the weight of expectations the other gods wore like armor.
And the gods who loved him?
They destroyed everything that dared to break his smile.
---
Later, once the skies calmed and Olympus was still again…
Apollo was tucked beneath his golden blankets. Artemis sat on one side, braiding his hair. Hestia was making tea. Dionysus was playing a soft tune. Hermes had brought mortal poetry to read aloud. Even Ares lurked awkwardly in a corner, scowling at anyone who approached too fast.
And Hades?
He stood at the foot of Apollo’s bed, placing a small pomegranate beside the god’s pillow.
Hades: “You are not weak. You are precious.”
Poseidon only nodded, and placed a shell by the pomegranate.
Apollo blinked at them, eyes wide, voice trembling.
Apollo: “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”
Zeus, from the doorway: “Then they shouldn’t have hurt you.”
---
Because the truth was this:
Vengeance was never Apollo’s nature.
But love?
Love could scorch the earth.
Chapter 171: Godling Sunlight
Chapter Text
Title: "Godling Sunlight"
Summary:
Zeus wanted to humble Apollo again. But this time, the punishment backfired—terribly. Instead of becoming mortal, Apollo became a scared three-year-old with golden curls and eyes full of sunshine, lost in the streets of New York. With no memories, hunted by monsters, and terrified of everything, he wanders… until a familiar mortal heart finds him. Sally Jackson, as always, saves the day—and unknowingly throws Olympus into complete and utter chaos.
---
Chapter 1: The Golden Toddler
It began with a flash of lightning and another rash decision from Zeus.
He had done it once before—stripping Apollo of his godhood and casting him down into mortality. But this time, when he did it again, something... broke.
The divine energy shattered. Reformed.
And then vanished.
---
New York was no place for a child. Especially not this child.
Golden curls, glowing skin, and the aura of something precious—he didn’t know where he came from. He didn’t know his name. All he knew was that he was afraid. Monsters chased him, people ignored him, and he was so hungry.
He wandered barefoot through alleys and across parks. When it rained, he hid under benches. When he cried, no one stopped.
Until she did.
---
Sally Jackson had learned to trust her instincts—especially when it came to strange children who made monsters sniff the air.
She spotted the golden-haired toddler curled beneath a subway grate, arms hugging his knees, too exhausted to cry anymore. Her heart stopped.
And without thinking, she scooped him up.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”
The toddler blinked at her. His eyes shimmered like the sun.
---
Chapter 2: Olympus Has a Meltdown
It took several days before news reached Camp Half-Blood.
A monster attack had been thwarted by a mortal woman. A child had been seen glowing. Divine signatures were flaring and fading around Manhattan like a broken sunbeam.
And when Chiron finally saw the child Sally brought… he nearly fainted.
“That’s Apollo.”
“No,” Percy said, holding the boy who clung to his neck like a baby koala. “This is Sunny.” (Apollo had lisped his name that way. It stuck.)
“That’s Apollo, the god.”
The panic came quickly.
Camp Half-Blood scrambled. Camp Jupiter was alerted. Artemis appeared in a storm of moonlight and grabbed her twin, nearly crying when he smiled at her and asked if she was a princess.
The gods gathered on Olympus in record time.
---
Zeus: “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Hades (deadpan): “And yet it did.”
Hermes (raising a brow): “Should we take bets on who kills Zeus first?”
Poseidon (holding the baby because Apollo liked his beard): “He called me Uncle Seabear. I’m not mad.”
Zeus: “I cannot reverse this. I tried.”
Apollo cooed and accidentally set the throne room ceiling on fire.
---
Chapter 3: Plan ‘Give Him Back the Godhood and Pray’
The only remaining option was to give Apollo his divinity back and let him… grow.
No memory. No adult mind. Just divine power in a toddler’s body.
A godling.
They hoped that as he aged, the “real” Apollo would return. But he didn’t. He kept being this Apollo.
Sweet. Shy. A little clumsy. Terrified of thunder.
He liked bubble baths and music boxes and Artemis’ hair.
And worse?
Everyone… fell in love with him.
Even Ares taught him to hold a (foam) sword.
Even Athena let him color in her scrolls.
Even Zeus looked guilty when Apollo called him “Grampa Sparky” and gave him a flower.
---
Chapter 4: A New Sun Rises
Years passed.
Apollo grew.
And while he got older, wiser, and slowly reclaimed his power—he never returned to being the Apollo.
He was still Sunny.
Still giggling in sunbeams. Still asking Dionysus if he could have grape juice. Still hugging monsters until they cried. Still loving his family, even Zeus, despite it all.
He didn’t seek revenge. Didn’t demand an apology.
But sometimes, when he sang to Helios’ chariot, the entire sky wept gold.
Because the truth was…
This Apollo may not have been the same.
But in many ways—he was better.
Chapter 172: Divine Vows and Mortal Hearts
Chapter Text
Title: "Divine Vows and Mortal Hearts"
Summary:
When Percy Jackson accepts godhood, he doesn’t just gain power—he gains Apollo. Their marriage becomes the stuff of myth, golden and ocean-bright. But eternity is long, and perfection impossible. So they write their own rules: eternal love, not eternal fidelity. Lovers are allowed, but demigods are off-limits (with very rare exceptions). Percy refuses to become the kind of absent father so many gods were—and Apollo, surprisingly, understands. It’s not a traditional divine marriage—but it’s theirs.
---
Chapter 1: Wedding of the Ages
Olympus had never seen anything like it.
The Temple of the Sun was glowing—literally—as gods and monsters alike gathered for the wedding of the century: the Sea Prince turned God of Tides, Percy Jackson, marrying the golden-hearted, impossible-to-contain God of the Sun, Apollo.
Their vows were as unconventional as the grooms.
Apollo vowed to never run from his feelings again. To never make Percy feel like an afterthought.
Percy vowed to never let immortality numb him. To stay grounded, no matter how many centuries passed.
And both of them vowed one final thing together:
"We will love freely, but never forget who holds our hearts."
---
Chapter 2: The Rule
The idea came a few weeks into their shared eternity.
“Do you ever feel… restless?” Apollo asked one evening, lounging on a beach made from starlight. “Like you love me, but sometimes want… something different?”
Percy didn’t even blink. “Yeah. And I know you do.”
A pause.
“So,” Apollo said, propping his chin on his hand, “how do we do this forever without ruining it?”
They talked. Debated. Argued. Kissed. Argued again.
Then they agreed.
They were allowed lovers. But not demigods. Not mortals who would feel abandoned. Not children that would be left behind like so many before.
Maybe—maybe—one demigod every twenty years, and only if the other approved. But Apollo knew: Percy had a rule for himself too. Never become the kind of god he once despised.
Apollo respected that. He, of all gods, understood the damage of divine absence.
---
Chapter 3: The Rumors
Gossip spread quickly among the gods.
“They’re polyamorous?” Aphrodite grinned. “Finally, a divine couple with sense!”
Artemis nearly choked on her ambrosia. “I don’t need to hear about my twin’s sex life.”
Zeus raised an eyebrow but said nothing—because unlike most of Olympus, Apollo and Percy actually talked things out.
And it worked.
Apollo had flings—artistic, colorful, brief.
Percy sometimes shared wine and kisses with Naiads or minor river gods.
But they always came back to each other.
At the end of every century, every decade, every night—they were each other’s harbor.
---
Chapter 4: Sun and Sea
Apollo still lit up every room.
Percy still ruled the tides and walked barefoot into meetings.
They raised temples and saved mortals and wrote music together. They danced under eclipses and bathed in salt water. They fought sometimes, loud and stormy. Then made up, hotter than Tartarus.
They weren’t perfect.
But their love was the kind that made mortals write epics. The kind that made gods envious. The kind that made eternity feel like something worth living.
Not because they owned each other.
But because they chose each other—again, and again, and again.
Chapter 173: The Light in the Pine
Chapter Text
Title: The Light in the Pine
Camp Half-Blood was quiet that afternoon. Most campers had left the hilltop alone out of respect. The pine tree stood tall and still, casting shadows that danced gently in the breeze.
Annabeth wasn’t sure what drew her up the hill. Maybe it was grief. Maybe it was the feeling of needing to do something. But when she and Luke reached the top, what they saw made both of them stop.
A boy—no, not quite a boy. Maybe 18, maybe 20 at most—was sitting beneath Thalia’s tree. Golden curls fell softly around his face, and the sun seemed to bend toward him rather than the other way around. He was murmuring something to the bark, his fingers pressed to the base like he was speaking to someone who could hear him.
“Is that…?” Annabeth whispered.
Luke blinked. “A camper?”
“No.” The figure looked up, and those gold-orange eyes shimmered with warmth and loss. “Definitely not a camper.”
The stranger stood slowly, brushing off his tunic—a Greek-style chiton, but modernized, like he hadn’t fully decided whether he belonged to the past or the present.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. She… she was brave. She deserved better.”
Luke stepped forward, his tone cautious but curious. “Who are you?”
The boy gave a soft smile. “Apollo. God of the sun. Or… well, a god of the sun. Still getting used to the title, to be honest.”
Apollo looked barely older than Luke. Young, hesitant, and very much not what they expected from an Olympian. He wasn’t pompous. He looked… like he cared.
“You’re young,” Annabeth said bluntly.
He chuckled, the sound like sunlight through leaves. “Only by immortal standards. I was born about a century ago. Artemis still thinks of me as a baby.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”
Apollo’s expression grew serious. “Because she mattered. I felt it when she fell. I’ve been… struggling. I thought maybe talking to her might help.”
Something in that admission cracked the wall Luke had built around himself. Annabeth sat quietly beside Apollo, and Luke followed, reluctant at first.
They spoke. Of Thalia. Of choices. Of the weight of expectation.
Apollo told them about trying to live up to Olympus, trying to be the light when the world felt so full of shadow. And Luke—quietly, for the first time—shared his doubts about the gods. Annabeth listened and learned more in that hour than in years of hiding behind strategy and intellect.
That day, a small change occurred.
Luke still grew bitter, but a part of him remembered the boy god who mourned a tree.
Annabeth still chased wisdom, but with more heart and less fear.
And Apollo—young, uncertain, and radiant—would unknowingly bend fate itself, just by being there.
Title: The Light in the Pine – Part 2: Shifting Paths
Apollo returned often.
At first, it was quiet, secret visits—moments where the light grew warmer near Thalia’s tree or a sudden, blooming patch of wildflowers would appear on Half-Blood Hill. But then he started staying longer, sitting with Luke and Annabeth when they were alone, offering riddles and thoughts, sometimes bringing a lyre and playing soft melodies that made the tree leaves tremble.
Luke didn’t trust him fully. He didn’t trust any of the gods. But Apollo… Apollo was different. He admitted when he didn’t know things. He asked questions. He listened.
“I don’t like what Olympus does,” Apollo told them once. “How we treat mortals. Heroes. Even our own children.”
That made Annabeth pause. “Then why don’t you change it?”
Apollo looked away, ashamed. “Because I’m still learning how to have a voice there. Because I’m still ‘just a boy’ to them. They don’t see me as a threat. Not yet.”
Luke should’ve hated him for that. But instead, he saw something familiar in the god’s eyes—an aching desire to matter. And that, more than anything, cracked something open in him.
By the time the prophecy began whispering across camp, when demigods started glancing at Luke with expectation or suspicion, Apollo warned him.
“They’ll make you into something you’re not if you let them,” he said, voice heavy with regret. “Don’t let them write your story.”
And Luke… listened.
He didn’t fall for Kronos’s whispers. He didn’t seek revenge. Instead, he became something new—a rebel, yes, but not a villain. He started training campers not just for war, but for survival. He pushed Chiron to create a new system where demigods weren’t left alone for years without aid. He became a thorn in the gods’ side, without betraying Olympus.
Annabeth noticed how Apollo watched them. Her, and Luke. Like they were precious.
“Why us?” she asked one night, catching him leaving ambrosia by Thalia’s tree.
“Because you believed in her,” he said. “And now… I believe in you.”
It changed everything.
Luke never became the host of Kronos. He still struggled. Still fought. But he fought for the camp, not against it.
Annabeth never grew jaded. She became the voice of reason among the cabins, the one who reminded them of what came before, and what could still come.
And Apollo—young, golden-hearted, and loud when he needed to be—stood behind them both, offering quiet protection when no one else would.
Chapter 174: Sunlight Spills the Tea
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight Spills the Tea
Everyone liked to underestimate Apollo.
Sure, he was beautiful. Sure, he flirted with anything with a pulse (and sometimes things that didn’t). Sure, he wrote dramatic haikus when he stubbed his toe. But underneath the radiant smile and glittering golden aura was a terrifying truth:
Apollo. Knew. Everything.
You see, being the god of prophecy, truth, music, poetry, the sun, and like fifteen other things came with perks. He didn’t just see the future — he heard things. All the things.
From the wind whispering secrets across New Rome, to the nymphs chattering in Central Park, to demigods muttering under their breath in cabins thinking no one heard… Apollo knew. All of it.
---
One fine afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, Apollo strolled in like he owned the place (which, honestly, he kind of did in spirit). Sunglasses on, gold-trimmed hoodie glittering, and a smirk that said, someone’s about to be exposed.
“Good morning, dad,” Will Solace muttered, barely looking up from his clipboard.
“I come bearing light, warmth, and the juiciest secrets you’ve ever heard,” Apollo beamed, flopping onto a picnic bench like a Greek Gossip Girl. “Did you know Clarisse has been sneaking into Cabin 10 to steal Nyssa’s bubblegum stash? Tragic betrayal.”
Will sighed. “Dad, please.”
“Oh, and Juniper? Not actually single. She's been seeing a certain satyr from Camp Jupiter. I expect wedding invitations soon.”
“Dad.”
“Also, Jason and Percy may or may not have accidentally knocked over Hera’s statue while playing underwater volleyball. But that’s our little secret.”
“Dad!”
Apollo pouted. “You’re no fun.”
---
But the demigods knew the truth.
You didn’t mess with Apollo. Because the god of the sun was also the god of receipts.
And if you crossed him? He didn’t need thunderbolts. No, he’d just walk up to you during dinner and say something like:
“Oh, how’s your mom’s secret affair with the Hecate priestess from two cities over going?”
Or:
“Tell me again how you weren’t the one who flooded the Athena cabin with love letters from Leo. I’d love to hear it in rhyme.”
---
The fear was real.
Even the gods tiptoed around him sometimes. Hermes once tried to prank him by switching his shampoo with glitter glue — Apollo just raised an eyebrow and said:
“I know you kissed Poseidon’s son at the Winter Solstice Ball. Don’t try me.”
Hermes never pranked him again.
---
So yes, Apollo was dramatic. Emotional. Loud. But he was also a walking truth bomb with a heart made of gold and a brain that stored every myth, prophecy, and high school-level drama in the cosmos.
And if you were lucky, he’d keep your secrets safe.
But if you weren’t?
Well.
The sun never sets on tea time
Chapter 175: Sunshine Is Oblivious
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunshine Is Oblivious"
To the outside world, Apollo was the embodiment of passion: golden-haired, charming, magnetic, and oh-so-dramatic. He could write an ode that made the Muses weep. He could seduce mortals with a single glance.
So naturally, everyone assumed Apollo would be an expert in love.
They were wrong. So, so wrong.
Because when it came to receiving affection, Apollo was utterly, hopelessly, disastrously oblivious.
---
Scene 1: Camp Half-Blood, Dining Pavilion
Will Solace walked past his father’s table and stopped, eyes narrowing.
“Dad, where did all those roses come from?”
Apollo, cheerfully munching on sun-themed cookies, looked up. “Oh! Those? Demeter’s kids keep giving me bouquets. Isn’t that sweet? I think they just like my hair.”
Will stared. “They’ve been giving you roses for three weeks straight, Dad. And did you not notice the heart-shaped box of ambrosia with ‘To My Sun’ written on it?”
Apollo gasped. “Oh my gods, I am the sun! That’s such a cute nickname!”
Will dragged a hand down his face. “You’re being courted.”
Apollo blinked. “I am?”
---
Scene 2: Olympus Lounge
Hades sipped his coffee slowly, eyes narrowed at the sight of his nephew.
“Apollo. Why is Thanatos leaving you chocolate-covered pomegranate seeds?”
Apollo shrugged. “He’s just being nice! He said he liked the way I sang during the last Underworld festival.”
“No one gives sweets in the Underworld unless it’s romantic,” Hades growled. “Even Persephone’s making comments.”
“I thought he was just being supportive!” Apollo exclaimed, looking betrayed by the laws of gift-giving.
From behind him, Hermes whispered to Artemis, “Ten drachmas he thinks Cerberus licking his face was just friendly, too.”
Artemis groaned. “Don’t remind me. I had to explain to him that the love poetry on his door wasn’t fan mail.”
---
Scene 3: Cabin 7
“I just… I don’t get it,” Apollo said, slumping dramatically onto a sunbeam like a heartbroken diva.
“Get what?” Will asked, cautiously.
“I’m always being ghosted!” Apollo said with wide eyes. “People flirt with me, give me presents, act all swoony—then suddenly they’re mad! Like yesterday, Ares’s son stomped off after I thanked him for the ‘friendly’ sword. I thought it was a good luck charm!”
Will put down his medical chart with a heavy sigh. “Did you by any chance say something like ‘Wow, this will be great for cleaning under my bed?’”
“Yes! How did you know?!”
Will facepalmed.
---
Scene 4: Gods’ Council Room
Zeus glared at Apollo.
“Apollo. Stop accidentally accepting marriage proposals.”
“But I’m not accepting anything!” Apollo said, genuinely baffled. “I just said Dionysus’s wine-tasting necklace was ‘life-changing’ and wore it for a week. That’s all!”
“THAT’S A SYMBOLIC COLLAR,” Hera snapped.
“Oh,” Apollo blinked. “He didn’t tell me that…”
Poseidon sighed. “You told him you’d 'wear it forever, even in the deepest seas.’”
Apollo clutched his head. “I meant it metaphorically! Poets do that!”
---
Scene 5: Final Straws and Solutions
Eventually, Artemis intervened.
She printed T-shirts that read “Romantic Gestures Will Be Misinterpreted” and made Apollo wear one daily.
Even then, he still looked confused every time someone flirted with him.
“But they were just saying my eyes looked like liquid honey on a spring morning—how was I supposed to know?!”
---
The moral of the story?
Do not flirt with Apollo unless you come holding a neon sign that reads “THIS IS A COURTSHIP ATTEMPT. PLEASE RESPOND.”
Even then, there’s a 50/50 chance he’ll ask you if the sign’s for a play.
Chapter 176: Sun God Shenanigans: Carnival Edition
Chapter Text
Title: "Sun God Shenanigans: Carnival Edition"
It was supposed to be a normal day.
A simple, innocent trip to a mortal carnival. Just demigods, a few gods in mortal glamours, and the promise of greasy food and rigged games. What could go wrong?
Then Apollo showed up.
---
Scene 1: Arrival
Annabeth was the first to notice something was off.
“Where did Apollo go?” she asked, holding a funnel cake in one hand and dragging Percy with the other.
“Last I saw, he said something about ‘spreading sunshine,’” Percy replied. “I think that’s code for flirting.”
Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “Of course it is.”
---
Scene 2: Rigged Games and Golden Smiles
Somewhere near the ring toss booth, Apollo leaned on the counter, flashing a smile that could melt chocolate in Antarctica.
“Oh come on,” he purred to the flustered teenager working the booth. “Are you sure I missed? Maybe my radiant aura threw off the physics.”
The teen blinked. “Uh… y-you can have a prize. Just take it. Please don’t… don’t smolder at me again.”
Apollo turned to the growing pile of oversized stuffed animals beside him and grinned. “Another for the sun-chariot.”
---
Scene 3: Operation: Stop Apollo
By the time the group found him, Apollo had a five-foot flamingo, three anime plushies, a neon banana with sunglasses, and a small army of ducklings from the duck pond.
Will Solace looked like he was ready to combust.
“Dad. You can’t keep charming mortals for prizes.”
Apollo blinked. “But I haven’t cheated! No powers! Just a smile and a wink. That’s mortal, right?”
“Your smile causes mild euphoria!” Will snapped. “That’s basically divine bribery!”
---
Scene 4: The Ferris Wheel Fiasco
To make things worse, Apollo talked the ride operator into letting him ride the Ferris wheel alone with his plushies.
“It’s for ambiance,” he claimed, hugging the flamingo as the wheel rotated.
“He’s serenading the Ferris wheel,” Annabeth deadpanned, watching Apollo sing a ballad to the stars from the top of the ride.
“Should we stop him?” Grover asked.
“No,” Percy sighed. “Let him be weird. He earned it. Technically.”
---
Scene 5: Prizes, Pouting, and Punishment
Back at Camp Half-Blood, Chiron gave Apollo the look as he unloaded prize after prize from a glowing bag.
“I didn’t use magic,” Apollo defended quickly. “Just the magic of love.”
“You used your face,” Will muttered.
“Still legal,” Apollo said proudly, then handed him a rubber duck with a tiny cape. “For my little sunshine.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Apollo beamed. “I know.”
---
Bonus Scene: Carnival Legend
By the next morning, a new story had spread through the carnival staff.
The tale of the mysterious, glowing himbo who made the prize booth girl cry, talked a churro vendor into giving him an entire tray for free, and left behind a karaoke machine playing love songs to the moon.
Some say he wasn’t real.
Others say they still dream of his perfect teeth.
Chapter 177: Where the Sun Went
Chapter Text
Title: “Where the Sun Went”
---
It started with silence.
No poetry in the morning.
No blinding “good morning, sunshine!” echoing across Olympus.
No random haikus thrown at strangers.
No dramatic harp music coming from the clouds.
No… Apollo.
The entire pantheon paused.
“Maybe he’s just… busy?” Hermes tried, half-heartedly.
“Busy not existing?” Artemis snapped. “He’s not in Olympus. Not in the mortal world. I checked every recording studio in California.”
Zeus scowled. “He can’t just vanish.”
Poseidon, arms crossed, muttered, “Well, he did. So.”
Chaos followed.
---
Phase 1: Panic
Demigods at Camp Half-Blood were in full code red. Will Solace was on the verge of kicking the Oracle in the face.
“Don’t tell me the future’s unclear, I live with that man!”
Jason flew back from a mission. Annabeth was trying to run calculations. Chiron got 14 texts in a row from Dionysus saying “where is sunshine boy???”
Even Hades showed up, because “I checked my realm. He’s not dead. Unfortunately.”
---
Phase 2: The Terrible Theories
Artemis: “What if he got kidnapped?”
Hermes: “Again?”
Ares: “What if he became mortal again and got lost at a Taco Bell?”
Zeus: “WHAT IF HE JOINED THE TITANS OUT OF SPITE?”
Athena: “What if he… just wandered off?”
Everyone: “...That actually sounds like him.”
---
Phase 3: The Discovery
It took four days. Four full days of crying dryads, stormy tempers, and panicked sunrises. Finally, it was Persephone who found the trail—because flowers kept growing in Apollo’s wake, even in the middle of winter.
They followed it deep into a forest, past the boundaries of human perception. And there, under a canopy of stars and vines, was Apollo.
Asleep.
Curled up on moss.
With deer napping beside him, a fox using his ankle as a pillow, and bluebirds literally singing lullabies above his head.
He was glowing softly. Dreaming.
---
Phase 4: The Reactions
Artemis: “Are you KIDDING ME.”
Will: Sighs aggressively.
Percy: “He’s literally Snow White.”
Hades: “I came here in a cape for THIS?”
Zeus looked like he was going to start throwing lightning bolts just to feel something.
Apollo blinked awake at last. “Oh hey! You found me. I was tired.”
“Tired???” Artemis looked two seconds from smiting him herself. “We thought you were DEAD!”
He yawned. “I was just having a nap with my emotional support animals.”
---
Phase 5: Consequences
Zeus: “You are grounded.”
Apollo: “You can’t ground me. I’m a god.”
Zeus: “I will revoke your Spotify access.”
Apollo: “...You monster.”
Artemis just glared. “Next time you want to go play forest fairy, leave a note.”
Apollo, holding a squirrel: “Noted.”
---
Moral of the story:
If Apollo ever goes missing, check the woods.
He’s probably napping with a raccoon and ruining everyone’s blood pressure.
Chapter 178: Sunshine at the Zoo
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunshine at the Zoo”
---
“This was a mistake.”
Will Solace said those words with the kind of weary dread only a long-suffering son could muster.
Because Apollo — the actual god of the sun, prophecy, music, archery, and the reason everyone had tans — had just gasped at a butterfly.
Loudly.
“A flying flower!” Apollo whispered, eyes wide, nose smushed against the butterfly pavilion glass. “Will! Look! It landed on my finger! I’m chosen!”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re a god. You literally shine. Everything chooses you.”
Apollo beamed. “Do you think it loves me?”
Behind them, a small crowd was filming him like he was part of the exhibit.
---
Stop #2: The Otters
They were squeaking. Loudly. As soon as Apollo entered the enclosure viewing area, all the otters swam to the glass. They waved. They made hearts with their paws (???). One tried to blow a bubble kiss.
A kid nearby whispered, “Are you a Disney prince?”
Apollo gasped. “No, but thank you.”
Will muttered, “More like Disney menace.”
---
Stop #3: The Giraffes
They bowed.
Bowed.
One dropped a piece of lettuce at Apollo’s feet in reverence.
“I am their king now,” Apollo said, his voice serious.
Will looked skyward. “Why me.”
---
Stop #4: The Tiger Den
One of the zookeepers warned, “He’s temperamental. Keep your distance.”
Apollo walked up to the cage and said, “Hey, handsome.”
The tiger purred.
The tiger laid down and showed its belly.
The tiger gave Apollo the biggest cat eyes in the world.
Will just stood there, arms crossed, dead inside. “Of course. Of course the murder cat flirts with you.”
Apollo gave him a dazzling smile. “He respects me.”
“You called him handsome.”
“Respectfully.”
---
Stop #5: The Petting Zoo
If anyone ever wondered what it’d look like to watch every single goat, bunny, and baby lamb in the petting zoo make a break for one glowing man with a flower crown and sparkly eyes—this was it.
They swarmed Apollo. He flopped into the hay and hugged them all like a giggling toddler.
Will, holding the bag of feed, was ignored. “I'm invisible now. That’s fine.”
“I want one,” Apollo said, holding a tiny piglet.
“No,” Will said. “Put the goddamn pig down.”
---
Bonus Chaos: The Peacock Incident
Peacocks don’t like people. They're mean.
But not today.
Three of them followed Apollo around the zoo. One presented its full feathered fan in what was clearly a declaration of eternal devotion.
Apollo cried. “He sees my soul.”
Will was 98% sure he was going to die of secondhand embarrassment.
---
Closing Time
By the time they left, Apollo was carrying an animal plush, a pocket full of birdseed “in case they missed him,” and was humming to a butterfly on his shoulder.
Will just dragged him along by the wrist. “You're never coming here again.”
“But it was magical!”
“You made the tortoise run, Apollo. RUN.”
Apollo looked pleased. “He just needed encouragement!”
---
Final Thought:
The zoo later put up a sign that read:
“Please do not attempt to charm the animals. Unless you’re him. He’s allowed.”
And next to it was a blurry picture of Apollo smiling like a child, covered in bunnies.
Chapter 179: He Just Wanted to Match
Chapter Text
Title: “He Just Wanted to Match”
---
It started with Percy.
He didn’t notice it at first.
Poseidon was in his usual hurricane-core fit: seaweed-patterned robes, sand-dusted trident, that whole “I just emerged from the ocean and wrecked five navies” vibe. But then Percy squinted and tilted his head.
“…Are you wearing a sun choker?”
Poseidon blinked. “No.”
Percy pointed. “That’s literally a golden choker with a little sun pendant. That’s not even your aesthetic.”
Poseidon looked away. “…Apollo gave it to me.”
“What.”
“He said it made me look ‘warm and approachable’ and insisted we match. He had a whole basket of options.”
Percy: “…So you just. Put it on?”
Poseidon: “He looked so excited.”
---
Then it was Annabeth.
She wasn’t surprised when she saw Athena descending in a burst of silver light and bookish perfection.
What did surprise her was the bright yellow beaded bracelet with smiley faces around Athena’s wrist.
Annabeth stared.
Athena followed her gaze, sighed. “Apollo.”
“Seriously?”
“He called it a ‘mental health friendship bracelet.’ Said my aura was too ‘grim academic.’”
Annabeth bit her lip. “And you wore it?”
“I had no choice. He pouted.”
---
Then Will came running into the dining pavilion yelling: “ZEUS HAS A FLOWER CLIP IN HIS HAIR.”
Pandemonium.
Dozens of campers bolted to the hill just to confirm. And there it was—king of Olympus, father of gods, sky daddy supreme—with a sparkly golden daisy clipped above his ear.
He looked mildly unbothered, mildly murderous.
When someone asked him, “Why?” he growled:
“He cried and said it ‘brought out my inner sunshine.’”
---
Even Ares wasn’t spared.
Clarisse saw it when he showed up during her sparring match.
The sun sticker. On his shield.
Clarisse: “Is that a glittery smiling sun sticker?”
Ares, stone-faced: “It was a gift.”
“Apollo?”
“…He said I needed more ‘friendly visuals’ for the kids.”
She nearly choked laughing.
---
Every single god had something.
Artemis had a friendship anklet.
Hades wore a tiny pin with “#1 Sunshine Brother.”
Even Hera had a subtle gold ring with a tiny sun engraved on the inside.
When the demigods asked why, the answers were always the same:
“Apollo gave it to me.”
“He wanted to match.”
“He looked so happy.”
---
Finally, someone asked Apollo:
“Why all of them?”
He grinned, too bright. “They’re my family! If we match, we’re connected! Like threads of the same tapestry of love and radiant aesthetics!”
Will groaned. “You gave Hades a sparkly pin.”
“I picked it myself.”
---
New Camp Tradition:
Every godly visit now starts with “What did Apollo accessorize you with today?”
They never complain.
Not when Apollo gives them that look — warm, hopeful, like he just wants a little piece of brightness to live on with them.
After all…
He just wanted to match.
Chapter 180: He Just Gives Things Away
Chapter Text
Title: “He Just Gives Things Away”
---
It wasn’t the shiny baubles or casual gifts that worried people.
It was the powerful, dangerous, absolutely-not-for-recreational-use magical artifacts Apollo handed out like friendship bracelets.
One time, he gave Kayla a glowing flute that turned monsters to stone.
“Because you said you liked music,” he explained brightly. “And I thought—why not music and safety?”
Another time, Nico found a ring on his desk that summoned sunlight in the Underworld.
Apollo had written in glitter gel pen: For your gloomy days. Love, Uncle Sunface.
---
The gods were alarmed.
“This is how people die,” Athena muttered into her ambrosia after discovering that one of her own kids had been gifted a tiny, flaming phoenix egg “for inspiration.”
“I told you,” Hermes said, not even looking up from his scroll. “He’s always been like this.”
Everyone turned to stare.
Hermes sighed. “Who do you think gave me the Caduceus?”
Zeus dropped his goblet. “That was Apollo?!”
“Yeah,” Hermes nodded. “I was six. He thought it looked cool. Said I needed ‘a little flair.’ It started breathing snakes a week later.”
---
It wasn’t malicious. Never had been.
Apollo simply… gave.
Weapons, tools, instruments, enchanted trinkets, sunshine in jars, enchanted sunglasses that see through illusions, lockets that hum lullabies, earrings that shoot arrows—anything that felt like it would make someone happy or safer or brighter.
He gave them on whims.
He never asked for them back.
---
“It’s terrifying,” Chiron admitted once. “Because if he ever decided to turn, there are hundreds of demigods running around with miniature solar nukes disguised as charms.”
“But he won’t,” Will said simply, looking at the sun.
Chiron looked at him.
“He doesn’t give things to control people,” Will said. “He gives because he wants them to smile.”
---
Somewhere, Apollo sat cross-legged in a tree, humming to himself, stringing beads into an amulet that glowed with starlight and purrs.
“For Dionysus,” he whispered to no one. “He’s been grumpy lately.”
---
The gods never tried to stop him.
Because even they knew…
If Apollo gave you something, it meant you had a piece of his light.
And no one wanted to be the one who dimmed it.
Chapter 181: The Garden of Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: “The Garden of Apollo”
Or: “How Many People Has He Turned Into Flowers, Exactly?”
---
The gods always spoke of Apollo’s... tendency.
Hyacinthus. Cyparissus. Daphne. A tragic trio of blooms and heartbreak. Everyone knew the stories—some were sung, others whispered. The sun god mourned in petals and poetry, his grief taking root in fields and forests.
But what most didn’t realize was that the stories barely scratched the surface.
---
Will Solace found out by accident.
He was looking for Apollo one afternoon and stumbled into a hidden grove nestled deep within the folds of Olympus, past the laurel trees and beneath the arching gold-dusted vines. The air was soft there. Magic hummed like a lullaby.
And the flowers—Gods.
There were so many.
He knew a few. The familiar blue of hyacinths, the weeping reds of cypress, the shy lavender blushes of wild thyme.
But others? Flowers that shimmered in strange ways. Petals shaped like laughter. Leaves that sighed when touched. Blossoms that seemed to hum in Apollo’s voice. There were hundreds.
Will knelt by a strange golden-orange bloom that gently leaned toward him.
A tiny plaque near its root read:
"Midas. He was ridiculous, but he tried."
---
Apollo found him there.
“Oh,” he blinked, scratching his neck. “You, uh, weren’t supposed to find this place yet.”
“Yet?” Will said, turning. “You mean you planned to show me your flower graveyard eventually?”
Apollo winced. “I prefer to call it a garden of memory.”
Will crossed his arms. “How many people have you turned into plants?”
Apollo paused. “...Define people.”
---
As it turned out, it wasn’t always lovers. Or even people Apollo had grieved deeply. Sometimes they were mortals who made him laugh once. Poets who praised him too sweetly. Children who smiled too brightly. Animals. Friends. Rivals. The occasional demigod who fought valiantly. Even one Roman senator who had terrible taste in fashion, but died saving a child.
“Each one mattered,” Apollo said softly, crouching next to a pale blue bloom that swayed when he exhaled. “Even if just for a moment.”
Will stared at him. “You keep all of them?”
“Of course,” Apollo said. “Sunlight helps things grow. Even loss.”
---
When word got out, the other gods were... not surprised.
“Apollo turns emotions into wildflowers,” Hestia said kindly. “He always has. What else would you expect from someone who feels everything so deeply?”
Hermes just grinned. “At least he’s not turning them into golden statues anymore.”
---
Now and then, Apollo brings a flower down from his garden and tucks it behind someone’s ear, or floats it on the wind.
No one knows the stories behind all of them.
But each bloom is a memory.
A love.
A loss.
A laugh.
And Apollo?
He remembers every single one.
Chapter 182: Sweet as Honey (and Twice as Dangerous)
Chapter Text
Title: "Sweet as Honey (and Twice as Dangerous)"
Or: “How to Bribe a Sun God in 3 Easy Steps”
---
Most gods had their quirks. Athena hated olives on pizza. Ares refused to walk under ladders. Dionysus would rather die (again) than drink boxed wine.
But Apollo?
Apollo had a thing for honey.
Like. A full-blown, wild-eyed, this-is-concerning obsession.
He put it on everything.
Ambrosia? Drenched in honey.
Fruit? Smothered in golden nectar.
Meat? Brushed with honey glaze.
Tea? Don't even ask—he drinks it straight with a honey chaser.
No one knew when it started.
No one dared to ask why.
(Will tried once. Apollo just got misty-eyed and whispered, “It tastes like sunlight.” He refused to elaborate.)
---
The children of Apollo figured it out quickly. Want your dad’s attention? Bring honeycomb. Want his favor in a Capture the Flag match? Slip him a honey muffin before battle. Want him to play favorites and pretend not to notice when you skip archery practice?
Honey.
It worked every time.
---
Percy caught on after a while.
“Bro,” he muttered to Will, watching Apollo dramatically dip strawberries into a honey pot the size of a small child, “Is he okay?”
“No,” Will said. “But he’s sweet, so we let it happen.”
“Literally sweet,” Annabeth mumbled. “That’s... disgusting.”
“He’s eaten twelve honey-glazed donuts today,” Percy hissed. “And I’m pretty sure he put some on his lyre.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “He named the lyre Honeybelle. Please don’t bring it up. It’ll only make it worse.”
---
Even the gods knew the drill.
Hera wanted a favor? She sent him golden jars from sacred bees on Mount Olympus.
Hades wanted Apollo’s help with a prophecy? He offered honey-drenched pomegranate seeds.
Poseidon? He bribed Apollo into babysitting Triton for a week with honey from deep-sea coral bees. (Don’t ask. It was weird.)
Even Zeus, the King of the Gods, once showed up with a “totally not a bribe” honey cake.
Apollo ate it with tears in his eyes. “This is why I keep forgiving you,” he sniffled.
Zeus blinked. “Wait. What?”
---
One time, Hermes tried to prank him by swapping the honey with syrup.
It did not end well.
Lightning storms. Random musical theater outbursts. A plague of bees.
Even Artemis got involved. “Fix it,” she told Hermes. “I haven’t slept in three days.”
Hermes never messed with the honey again.
---
Years later, no one still really knows why honey is Apollo’s thing.
Maybe it’s the color.
Maybe it’s the taste.
Maybe it reminds him of something or someone lost long ago.
Or maybe—just maybe—it’s how the bees sing when they work.
A soft hum. A harmony.
Like the world is still beautiful.
---
But one thing is certain:
If you want Apollo’s love, trust, or temporary blind eye?
Bring him honey.
Preferably with a side of compliments.
And maybe a little sunlight.
Because under all the grandeur and gold and glowing skin—
Apollo is just a boy with a sweet tooth and a craving for warmth.
And a pantry completely full of honey jars.
Chapter 183: Valentine’s Day: AKA Apollo’s Annual Survival Challenge
Chapter Text
Title: “Valentine’s Day: AKA Apollo’s Annual Survival Challenge”
---
February 14th on Olympus is many things.
To some, it’s just another day.
To Aphrodite, it’s her Super Bowl.
To mortals, it’s a day of love and romance.
To gods?
It’s Apollo Day.
Why? Because everyone, everyone, is a little in love with the sun god.
(Or a lot in love. Depends on the year.)
---
It starts at sunrise.
Apollo steps out of his golden bedroom, ready to greet the day, and nearly dies.
Because the hallway is filled with roses.
Not scattered. Not sprinkled. No.
Filled.
He wades through a sea of petals, only to be assaulted by a flying enchanted teddy bear screaming “YOU’RE HOT.”
He has to duck as a bouquet of carnivorous flowers zooms past.
“Not again,” he groans, plucking a chocolate heart from his lyre’s strings. “Why do they keep making those fly?”
---
Olympus is a battlefield.
Hera sends him custom perfume.
Demeter bakes him sun-shaped cookies.
Even Athena sends a book of poems that suspiciously ends with “If I weren’t above such things, I’d write you sonnets in blood.”
He doesn’t know if that’s threatening or flattering.
---
It’s worse when he goes to Camp Half-Blood.
Because demigods?
They don’t hold back.
“Happy Apollo Day!” a Hermes kid yells, launching a bouquet like a grenade.
“Bless me with sunlight!” a child of Aphrodite shrieks, tackling him with a kiss to the cheek.
Even Chiron gives him a box of chocolate-coated sunflower seeds.
(“They’re punny,” he says. “You’re the sun. Get it?”)
Apollo stares at him, deadpan. “I’m filing a complaint.”
“You’re welcome.”
---
He tries hiding in the stables.
Bad idea.
The Pegasi are wearing flower crowns.
He tries flying to the Underworld.
Even Hades has a card for him. “From Persephone. And maybe me. Don’t read into it.”
He shadow-travels to the bottom of the sea.
Triton is waiting with a trident-shaped necklace.
He begs Artemis to hide him.
“Absolutely not,” she says, recording the chaos from a distance. “This is hilarious. Also, I told all your fanclubs your schedule today.”
“You betrayed me.”
“I’ve had to put up with your haikus every New Moon. You deserve this.”
---
At some point, he tries disguising himself as a mortal.
Bad idea #837.
Mortal Instagram influencers spot him at a corner store buying honey and he trends in less than 5 minutes.
#SunGodSnacc
#ApolloValentine
#HeLitMyHeartOnFire (literally, someone caught fire)
---
Eventually, he barricades himself in the music hall.
The doors are locked.
The windows are sealed.
The only company he allows inside?
Will Solace, who has zero patience for any of this.
“Why are you hiding under the piano?”
“Because I am loved,” Apollo whimpers, “too much.”
Will sighs and tosses a honey-dipped strawberry at him. “Here. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Apollo peeks out, suspicious. “No fanfare? No roses?”
Will shrugs. “You’re my dad. Not my celebrity crush.”
“Bless you,” Apollo says, tears in his eyes. “I mean that. Divine blessing. You’re welcome.”
---
Valentine’s Day ends with a final bang—literally.
He opens one last gift, and it explodes into glitter and song.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“I hate this day.”
“You say that every year,” Artemis calls from the hallway, sipping pink tea.
“Because it’s true!” he shouts. “This is not romantic! This is a siege!”
---
But as he falls asleep later—covered in glitter, surrounded by roses, half a cookie in his mouth—he smiles.
Because chaos or not…
Being the god of love (and light, and poetry, and music, and, apparently, edible underwear)…
Means you’re never truly alone.
Especially on Apollo Day.
Chapter 184: Sea Meets Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “Sea Meets Sun”
AU: God!Percy x Demigod!Apollo (Perpollo) + Overprotective Big Sis Artemis
Genre: Romance, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Slow Burn, Drama
---
Summary:
In a world where the roles are reversed, Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, rose to godhood after the Titan War—crowned as the God of Tides, Loyalty, and Vengeance. He rules the seas with a calm wrath, beloved and feared in equal measure. But while the world reveres the god of the deep, it is his sun he truly revolves around.
Apollo Sol, son of Leto and a mortal poet, is a demigod with golden eyes and a soul that glows like dawn. He’s a child of the prophecy—but no one expected the sun to be born mortal. Especially not his twin sister Artemis, who gave up her own shot at immortality to stay by his side and protect him.
But there's only so much she can shield him from. Especially when the sea god himself takes an interest.
---
Fic Teaser / Excerpt:
Apollo didn’t mean to catch a god’s attention.
He was just trying to survive, honestly—running errands for Chiron, teaching music at Camp Half-Blood, using his powers to heal demigods and light fires when the campfire ritual wouldn't start.
But he kept showing up.
Tall. Ocean-eyed. Unreadable.
“Hi,” Apollo said, awkward and bright as usual, holding a sun-charmed lyre like a shield. “Need help?”
God Percy tilted his head. “You’re warm.”
“Uhm. Thank you?”
“You don’t belong in this world.”
Apollo blinked. “...okay, now you’re sounding like one of those edgy minor gods who want to overthrow Olympus.”
“Not overthrow,” Percy said calmly. “Reclaim.”
---
Artemis didn't like it from the beginning.
“He’s watching you,” she hissed, yanking her twin behind her like a wolf guarding her den. “That sea creep. He’s always watching.”
“He gave me a flower,” Apollo mumbled, flushing. “Made from coral.”
“Exactly,” Artemis growled. “Do you want to know how many creatures in the sea use pretty colors to lure prey?”
---
Percy wasn’t just watching. He was planning.
Because Apollo didn’t know what he was yet. Didn’t know how powerful he was.
Didn’t know that his music could soothe monsters, bend time, shift tides.
Didn’t know that his golden blood glowed under the moonlight.
Didn’t know that gods could fall in love with demigods, and claim them.
---
And Percy? Percy didn’t share.
“Say yes,” he murmured, water curling protectively around Apollo’s ankles.
“To what?”
“To becoming mine.”
Apollo’s breath caught. “I’m not a prize.”
“No,” Percy agreed, stepping closer, the tide rising with him. “You’re everything.”
---
Extras:
- Artemis threatens to smite Percy at least five times but secretly follows him to ensure he’s not hurting her brother.
- Apollo doesn’t realize he’s being courted until Will Solace literally spells it out for him: “Those pearls in your sandals are from a sea god’s personal vault. This is marriage proposal-level, dude.”
- Poseidon has no idea what to do when Percy announces he wants to marry a demigod. “Can’t you... find a nice sea nymph?”
- Apollo accidentally becomes a minor god after absorbing too much sunlight in a battle, causing his powers to awaken further—Percy is feral about keeping him safe after that.
Chapter 185: Tides of Desire
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Title: “Tides of Desire”
Pairing: God!Percy x Apollo (Perpollo)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Omegaverse, Possessive Percy, Angst, Spicy
---
Summary:
After Percy ascended to godhood, he thought he had everything. Power, purpose, and a future with Apollo. But when Apollo became pregnant with Percy’s child, fear overcame him. With Zeus’s hatred and jealousy simmering beneath the surface, Apollo fled to protect both his child and Percy from the wrath of the gods. No one knew of his pregnancy, and Apollo kept the secret hidden for years.
Percy, devastated by Apollo’s disappearance, tried to move on, but it was impossible. The pull between them was too strong. Years later, some of Percy’s friends—Jason, Annabeth, and Leo—set out on a quest to find Apollo. They return with startling news: Apollo and his child, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Percy.
Now, in a whirlwind of possessiveness and longing, Percy will do whatever it takes to reclaim Apollo and his child. And if that means breaking a few divine rules, so be it.
---
Excerpt:
It had been years since Apollo disappeared without a trace. Percy couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt whole. After everything—after the chaos of the Titan War, the rise of new gods, and the terrifying realization that his heart had always belonged to Apollo—losing him had been a blow Percy couldn’t recover from.
Percy had ascended to godhood after the battle against Gaia, but without Apollo, it felt hollow. He’d tried to move on. He threw himself into his work, into maintaining the balance of the seas, ensuring the flow of tides, and keeping the peace between gods and mortals. But nothing ever felt right. There was always a hole where Apollo used to be.
It wasn’t until Jason, Annabeth, and Leo returned from their quest that the truth came crashing back.
“Percy,” Annabeth’s voice was solemn, her eyes betraying an unspoken sadness. “We found him.”
“Who?” Percy’s heart raced. His breath caught in his throat. “You—”
“Apollo,” Leo interrupted, with a concerned look on his face. “And... there’s something you need to know.”
Jason stepped forward, glancing nervously at the others. “He has a child. A son. Percy, he looks just like you.”
Percy froze. His mind went blank. A son? His son?
Before they could explain further, Percy had already stormed out, his thoughts a blur. His feet carried him over the sea like the tides themselves were guiding him.
It was time to bring Apollo back. He wasn’t going to wait another second.
---
The island was isolated. A perfect hiding place for Apollo and his child. Percy’s eyes narrowed as he stood on the cliff above it, watching the small cottage nestled between the trees. It had been years since he’d seen Apollo, but there was no mistaking that gentle golden aura he carried, even from a distance.
And there was his son, playing in the garden.
The child was an exact replica of Percy in every way—his dark hair, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the way he moved with an unnatural grace. Percy’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. Apollo had kept him hidden away. Protected.
But now, it was time for the truth to be revealed.
Percy walked toward the cottage, his presence felt by the winds, by the very air around him. He wasn’t just a god; he was the god of the seas, and he would take what was his.
The door creaked open before Percy even reached it. Apollo stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and wariness.
“Percy,” Apollo whispered, his voice trembling. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m taking you home,” Percy said, his tone low and possessive. “And I’m taking our son.”
Apollo stepped back, his hands instinctively going to his stomach, as though the mere mention of their child made him panic. “You can’t—”
“You think I’m just going to let you hide away?” Percy’s voice grew more dangerous, more commanding. His power rippled through the air, drowning out any other sound. “You think I’m going to let Zeus keep you from me? No. I’ve waited long enough.”
Apollo shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “You don’t understand. I had to leave, Percy. For the child’s sake. For your sake. If Zeus knew, he would—”
“I don’t care about Zeus!” Percy snapped, stepping forward, closing the gap between them in an instant. “I care about you. And our son. And I’m not leaving without you both.”
Apollo’s breath hitched, his golden eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and longing. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do,” Percy said softly, his hands gently cupping Apollo’s face. “Because I need you. I can’t live without you. You’re mine, Apollo. You always were. And now I’m going to prove it.”
---
The air between them crackled with unspoken tension. For a moment, Apollo thought Percy might just take him and leave—but Percy wasn’t just a god. He was an immortal who had waited years for this moment. He wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.
In one swift motion, Percy picked Apollo up, holding him close as the world around them blurred. Apollo gasped, instinctively wrapping his arms around Percy’s neck as they soared through the sky, leaving the island behind.
They landed in the throne room of Olympus, where Percy made his intentions clear. He wasn’t going to let anyone stand in his way. Not Zeus, not any other god. He had come to reclaim what was his.
---
Later, in Percy’s chambers, the walls of the palace felt like they were closing in on them.
Apollo stared at Percy, his chest rising and falling in nervous breaths. “Percy, I—”
Before he could finish, Percy kissed him, claiming him with a fervor that made Apollo’s heart race. Every inch of Apollo’s skin was alive with the touch of the sea god, each kiss a promise. A promise that no one—no one—could ever take him away again.
And when they finally came together, there was no hesitation. Percy was rough and possessive, pulling Apollo closer, ensuring that nothing—nothing—could tear them apart. Their bodies moved as one, the passion and the need flowing through them like the tides. Apollo moaned against Percy’s lips, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
It wasn’t just sex. It was possession. It was love. It was their souls intertwining as they always had been meant to.
---
Bonus Scene:
A few days later, after the storm had settled, and Apollo had reluctantly accepted that he would never again be able to run from his bond with Percy, he walked into the garden with their son.
Percy watched them from the window, his heart full. His son, a perfect mix of both of them, was playing with the flowers. Apollo caught his eye and smiled—softly, finally allowing himself to relax.
They were home.
And Percy would never let them go.
Notes:
I can't make smut for this 😭😭😭 idk why
Chapter 186: The Sun God and the Satyr Situation
Notes:
Happy Easter for the people that have it today!
(Is it bad my sister and Hitler share the same birthday—which is today—and were kinda European—did I mention she wants to go to art school?)
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun God and the Satyr Situation”
Genre: Humor, Slight Crack, Slightly Unhinged Divine Chaos
Featuring: Terrified Satyrs, Confused Demigods, and Apollo Being… Apollo
---
There were three unspoken rules among satyrs:
1. Never touch a dryad’s tree.
2. Don’t wake a nymph from her nap.
3. For Pan’s sake, never piss off Apollo.
The third one wasn’t just a rule. It was a warning. An ancient, whispered, sung tale passed down by traumatized hooved elders and cautious counselors:
> “He skinned Marsyas like a banana peel, Barry. A BANANA PEEL.”
> “We’re not allowed to say ‘music contest’ around him. He’ll SMILE. That terrifying, radiant, ‘I own your soul’ smile.”
So, when the Council of Satyrs got word that yet another child of Apollo had popped up, the room filled with groans, weeping, and a dramatic fall from Lenny the half-blind satyr who was definitely NOT faking a knee injury to avoid escort duty.
---
“Why do they all look like they’re walking into a death sentence?” Will Solace asked, brow furrowed as the newest satyr guide trembled beside him.
The satyr handed him a granola bar… and placed a tiny offering dish on the ground with a flower, two crackers, and a note:
> “To Lord Apollo, Bringer of Light, Please Don’t Turn Me Into A Harp. Thank You.”
Will blinked. “...Did my dad threaten to turn someone into a harp?”
“I don’t know,” said Kayla dryly. “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”
---
Apollo, of course, loved this.
He found it hilarious.
He didn’t even need to try anymore. He just had to appear and the nearest satyr would squeal, whisper an apology, and skitter away into the bushes like a terrified goat ninja.
Sometimes he would lean into it.
> “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he’d say sweetly, eyes glowing gold, radiating warmth like a nuclear halo.
“It’d be such a shame if someone got...skinned alive for messing up a chord.”
Smile.
Screaming. Always screaming.
---
Soon, satyrs were making regular sacrifices before meals. Whole dinner plates laid out like altars, with handwritten sticky notes:
> “To Apollo, Most Handsome Lord of Vengeance, Please Accept This Turkey Sandwich In Exchange For My Kneecaps.”
> “Dear Shiny Music God, I only tuned the lyre! PLEASE DON’T NOTICE ME.”
---
The demigods were not amused.
“Apollo, you can’t keep terrorizing the satyrs.” Annabeth rubbed her temples. “They’re organizing a union.”
Apollo, lounging upside down on a sunbeam and sipping ambrosia from a novelty ‘#1 God’ mug: “I haven’t done anything! I smiled at them!”
“You glowed and said ‘accidents happen’ when one tripped near Will.”
“Well. They do.”
---
And yet, whenever a child of Apollo was claimed, satyrs sprinted into action like their lives depended on it.
Because in their minds?
They did.
---
Somewhere, deep in the woods, a group of satyrs huddled around a fire.
“I heard if you don’t bow to the sun at dawn, he knows,” one whispered.
“I heard if you sneeze on his kid’s guitar, you explode.”
“I heard he once smiled at a satyr and he turned to ash.”
Apollo, watching from behind a tree with glowing eyes and a bag of popcorn: “Mmm. Delicious fear.”
He didn’t need to correct them.
After all, he found it funny.
And terrifying people without trying? That was just efficient.
Chapter 187: The Light We Took For Granted
Chapter Text
Title: “The Light We Took For Granted”
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Found Family, Regret, Mortality
Setting: Post-Trials of Apollo / Tower of Nero
---
Apollo—no, Lester—stood at the edge of Central Park with a to-go cup of cheap mortal coffee. His hoodie was two sizes too big. His jeans were secondhand. And yet, for the first time in his eternal life, he breathed.
Not with divine lungs.
Not with celestial ichor.
But with human air. Heavy. Imperfect. Real.
He was no longer golden.
He was no longer the sun.
And he didn’t mind.
---
“You could come back,” Athena said quietly, arms crossed. She wouldn’t look him in the eye.
Lester didn’t flinch. “I know.”
Silence.
“You’re choosing this?” Artemis had asked once—half anger, half heartbreak.
He had smiled then. Tired. Soft. “I’ve been immortal for thousands of years. It’s time I live.”
---
They didn’t understand at first.
How could they?
They were gods. Forever unchanging. Watching eons pass as specks in their timelines.
Apollo, though—Apollo had changed.
---
He volunteered at shelters. Taught music to kids with bruised knuckles and guarded eyes. Spent weekends on monster clean-up with demigods. Brought blue cupcakes to Sally Jackson. Made sure Nico always had a place to retreat to when the shadows got too loud.
He remembered birthdays.
Attended all the camp bonfires.
Stayed for every recital.
He became the sun not because he had to,
but because he wanted to.
---
Meanwhile, on Olympus…
The halls felt colder. Louder. And yet, quieter in all the wrong ways.
No spontaneous poetry echoing through marble columns.
No singing in the throne room at 2 a.m.
No awkwardly enthusiastic “HI DAD” from Helios.
No sunshine wrapping around Artemis like a blanket of warmth only her twin could provide.
Hermes couldn’t prank anyone without Apollo laughing first.
Demeter kept looking at empty places at the feast table.
Even Ares snapped at people less, because the annoying golden idiot who made him laugh was gone.
And Zeus?
Zeus just looked at his empty throne every so often and muttered something about “ungrateful sons.”
(But he didn’t strike him down. Didn’t drag him back.)
He couldn’t.
Because Apollo wasn’t defying Olympus.
He had left.
Willingly.
---
The demigods saw it differently.
They saw Lester and smiled.
Saw Apollo in a hoodie trying to make pancakes for Meg and blowing up the kitchen.
Saw their god—one who hurt, and bled, and chose to be with them.
They loved him for it.
---
Eventually, the Olympians tried to visit.
He never turned them away.
But he never stayed long either.
He’d smile. Say “thank you for visiting.” Offer some mortal tea. A mortal joke. A mortal life.
And then return to his kids.
His family.
The one that saw him.
The one that chose him back.
---
He still shone, in his own way.
Still bright. Still warm.
But no longer untouchable.
No longer divine.
And Olympus?
Olympus was left with only the echoes.
The scent of sunflowers in abandoned hallways.
The hum of a song long forgotten.
The loss of the one they never thought they c
ould lose.
---
They missed him.
Gods forgive them—
They loved him.
But they only realized it…
After the light had walked away.
Chapter 188: Sunflower Storm
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunflower Storm”
Characters: Apollo, Meg McCaffrey, various unlucky mortals, too many simps
Genre: Humor, Chaos, Found Family, Crack with Feelings
Setting: A Mall Somewhere in the Mortal World
---
It started with a simple, innocent plan.
“Meg,” Apollo said, adjusting his sunglasses like he wasn’t a literal former god in a crop top and gold-laced sneakers, “we’re going shopping.”
Meg blinked. “Shopping?”
“Clothes. Shoes. Snacks. Mortal luxuries.” He grinned. “You’ve never had a shopping day. Today, we become legends.”
---
It should’ve been a peaceful afternoon.
A little bonding. A few bags. Maybe a slushy.
But the second Apollo stepped into the mall, it began.
Screams. Gasps. A girl dropped her phone. A man fainted. Someone in a food court chair just fell over backwards.
“OH MY GOD IS THAT—”
“HE’S BACK—”
“IS THAT SUNSHINE HIMSELF?!”
Meg stared as a swarm of mortals—young, old, rich, poor, goth, prep, and probably one middle-aged Karen with her poodle—descended like a pack of starved wolves on Apollo.
“Why are there people running?” Meg asked, unimpressed.
Apollo, to his credit, looked confused. “I... might’ve gone viral last week for singing on a rooftop.”
“You what—”
---
And thus, chaos was born.
Meg dragged Apollo into a store, only for a crowd to pile in, pretending to shop but mostly filming him from behind racks of clothes.
When they ran to the food court, ten people offered him free smoothies, four more offered themselves, and one attempted to paint his portrait mid-step.
Meg tried to eat a pretzel. Someone tried to propose to Apollo on one knee in front of Cinnabon.
They ducked into a pet store. It only got worse.
By the time Apollo accidentally started an impromptu concert in the middle of a shoe store (he just hummed, okay?!), security tried to get involved—only to ask for autographs and selfies instead.
---
“Is this normal?” Meg deadpanned as they hid behind a mannequin wearing a LIVE LAUGH LOVE crop top.
“Define normal?” Apollo asked, sipping boba through a glittery straw.
“You started a mall riot with your face.”
“I’d argue it’s the vibe of my face.”
---
Eventually, the mall went into lockdown. The chaos spread online. People started calling it the Sun God Flash Mob Incident.
They had to escape out the back, Meg clutching six shopping bags and a very confused chihuahua someone had given them as a gift.
Apollo waved at the screaming fans as they ran. “Goodbye, my radiant public! Remember to moisturize!”
---
Back at their apartment, Meg flopped onto the couch.
“I thought this was going to be normal.”
Apollo collapsed beside her, laughing. “There’s nothing normal about shopping with a god of beauty and music.”
“You’re a menace.”
“I’m your menace.”
She snorted. “You owe me a quiet pretzel.”
Apollo held up the dog. “We got a dog.”
“…I named it Chaos.”
“Fitting.”
---
They fell asleep with the TV playing reports of the incident.
“...unknown celebrity causes mall-wide hysteria…”
Meg threw a pillow over her face.
Apollo just grinned.
Sunflowers may look innocent—
But they cause storms.
And Apollo?
He lived for it.
Chapter 189: Mirrorlight
Chapter Text
Title: “Mirrorlight”
Characters: Apollo, Aphrodite
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Healing, Found Family, Wholesome Angst
Setting: Aphrodite’s temple-turned-modern-glamour office, somewhere between Olympus and the stars
---
The room smelled like roses and seafoam.
It shimmered with soft pinks, golden sunlight, and a plush couch that somehow always cradled your soul, not just your body. It was warm. Safe. Not too loud. Not too quiet.
Apollo sat there with his hands in his lap, fidgeting. His mortal form still shimmered faintly with light, even though he’d tried to dull it down. Even now, he couldn’t sit still. His foot tapped. His fingers played a rhythm he couldn’t name. His eyes avoided hers.
Aphrodite watched him with eyes like dawn and dusk, patient and gentle, radiant and real.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly.
Apollo laughed, but it didn’t sound like him. “I’m not usually quiet. That should worry you.”
“It doesn’t,” Aphrodite replied, placing her teacup down. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to perform.”
That made him wince. Not physically—but in that subtle Apollo way, where the corner of his mouth tugged and he blinked too slowly.
“…It’s not a performance,” he whispered, “if no one would like the real me.”
Aphrodite tilted her head, her golden curls falling like a silk curtain. “You think people only love you because of what you give them?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
She leaned forward. “Apollo. You are not just the god of the sun, or music, or poetry. You are not a vending machine for beauty, warmth, or hope. You are… you. That alone is worth loving.”
He looked down, trying to smile but his lips trembled. “You’re the goddess of love. You have to say that.”
“No,” she said firmly, standing now and walking over, kneeling in front of him like they were just two beings—two hearts in a long, brutal world. “I am the goddess of all love. Not just romance. Not just passion. I am self-love. I am the love that siblings give. The love in found family. The love of choosing yourself when the world forgets you.”
Apollo’s eyes filled, shimmering like gold in sunlight. “But I… I mess things up. I hurt people. I try to make people happy and I ruin everything. I’m too much or not enough or—”
“You are you,” she interrupted, gently placing a hand on his heart. “And that has always been enough. You have always deserved the love you give others so freely.”
He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t… know how to love myself.”
Aphrodite smiled, soft and radiant. “Then let me show you.”
She led him to the mirror—not the kind mortals use to check their reflection, but a divine one. A mirror that saw you whole.
Apollo stood in front of it. At first, all he saw was the mask: the glowing skin, the golden smile, the beauty.
Then, slowly, it peeled away.
He saw the boy who cried in Delphi’s shadows. The teenager terrified of failing. The god who loved so fiercely he broke. The father who tried. The brother who stumbled. The boy who wanted to be good.
And he saw the warmth.
He saw the strength in softness. The courage in vulnerability. The power of laughter that masked a thousand wounds.
And for the first time—
Apollo looked at himself and didn’t flinch.
Aphrodite stood beside him, radiant and proud. “You see it, don’t you?”
“…Yeah,” he whispered, tears sliding down golden cheeks. “Yeah, I think I do.”
She hugged him, and he didn’t hesitate to cling back.
That night, he didn’t write a song.
He didn’t shine for anyone.
He just sat under the stars, hugged his knees, and let the love for himself bloom—slowly, quietly, imperfectly.
And it was enough.
He was enough.
Chapter 190: Divine Bailout
Chapter Text
Title: “Divine Bailout”
Setting: Post-ToA, Alternate Timeline
Characters: Apollo (Lester), Meg, Zeus, Artemis, Hestia, Hermes, Dionysus, etc.
Themes: Found Family, Rebellion, Angst with comfort, Self-worth, Godly Panic
---
The dumpster was the last straw.
After falling from the sky in a blaze of “divine punishment” and landing headfirst into the filth of a New York alley, Lester Papadopoulos lay flat on a pile of someone’s leftovers and old newspapers, hands raised toward the sky with the most genuine emotion he had mustered since his godhood was ripped away:
“Screw you.”
He said it loud enough that the man walking his dog nearby startled. The dog barked. Apollo—no, Lester—did not care.
That was it. No more quests. No more “prove yourself” trials. No more being humiliated, used, ignored, and pushed to earn a throne he never even wanted back.
So he didn’t.
---
One Month Later:
“Where the Hades is Apollo?!” Hermes snapped, flying in and out of the throne room in a frenzy.
“He was supposed to be in Indianapolis by now,” Artemis muttered, arms crossed, face tight with concern she wouldn’t admit.
“He’s avoiding the trials?” Athena asked, eyebrows high. “He can't just—”
“Oh, but he did,” Hestia said quietly from the hearth, sipping her tea. “He chose to live.”
“What does that even mean?” Hera hissed. “He’s one of us!”
“He was,” Hestia corrected gently, “but he’s no longer playing Zeus’s game.”
Zeus scowled from his throne, thunder crackling from his fingertips. “Ungrateful boy—”
“Boy?” Artemis whirled on him. “You humiliated him. You stripped everything from him, made him mortal, and threw him into the world like trash. You think he’s ungrateful for not crawling back to please you?”
A hush fell over Olympus.
“…He's hiding among mortals,” Hermes said quietly. “I can't find him. No trails. No aura. Nothing. It’s like he’s gone.”
---
Meanwhile, in a small, sunny town somewhere in the Midwest...
Lester—Apollo—was humming a tune as he chopped tomatoes. The local community center was having a potluck, and he had promised his new neighbors his “sunshine salsa.”
Meg strolled in with dirt on her face and a bag of fresh carrots from the garden. “You still won’t tell them who you are?”
“Meg,” he said as he wiped tomato juice off his fingers, “I’m not Apollo anymore. I’m just Lester. And Lester makes good salsa and teaches piano to seven-year-olds on Thursdays.”
“You’re weird,” she said, but smiled and dropped the carrots in the sink. “You’re also happier.”
He paused. Looked out the window at the small, sleepy town. Heard laughter from kids playing outside.
“…Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.”
---
Back on Olympus:
“He’s really gone,” Dionysus muttered, arms folded behind his head. “He bailed on the whole prophecy thing.”
“They’re collapsing without him,” Hermes said. “Python’s growing stronger. The Oracles are dying. And we don’t have a sun god.”
“Good,” Artemis said flatly. “Let them feel what it’s like without him.”
Zeus clenched his jaw. “We need to bring him back.”
“Oh now you care?” Hestia raised a brow. “When he’s not your pawn anymore? When he’s not lighting the sky for free? Not singing your praises?”
There was no response.
Only silence. And thunder—distant, muted. Powerless.
---
Later, that night:
Apollo sat on the roof with Meg, watching the stars.
“Think they’re looking for you?” she asked, tossing a peanut into her mouth.
“Let them,” he said. “They’ll find a mortal. One who chose peace over power.”
“…You don’t miss it?”
“I miss some of it. But I don’t miss being controlled. I don’t miss… hurting. I just want to live. Be free.”
She leaned against him. “You deserve that.”
He smiled, sunlight soft on his skin.
And far above, Olympus shimmered with unrest.
Because for the first time in millennia…
The sun rose without a god to hold it.
Chapter 191: Weaponized Sunshine
Chapter Text
Title: “Weaponized Sunshine”
Setting: Camp Half-Blood, sometime after ToA
Cast: Dionysus, Apollo (visiting), Apollo Cabin, Demigods, various Olympians
Tags: Humor, Wholesome Chaos, Sibling Feels, Fluff
---
It was a well-known truth in Camp Half-Blood that nobody could say no to Apollo when he looked at you like a sad golden retriever denied his treats.
Unfortunately for Mr. D, the Apollo cabin knew this better than anyone.
---
It all started with an innocent request. The Apollo kids wanted to throw a “Sunfest” — part solstice celebration, part concert, part over-the-top excuse to shoot flaming arrows and make s’mores.
Naturally, they needed permission.
And naturally, Dionysus refused.
“Absolutely not,” he said without looking up from his Diet Coke. “You set something on fire last year.”
“That was one time!” Kayla protested.
“You accidentally summoned a minor sun spirit and turned the lake into boiling soup,” he said flatly. “Nico had to fish out undead koi.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’m not letting you bunch of solar squirrels run wild.”
Will sighed. “We hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
Austin nodded solemnly. “Bring him out.”
“What—”
The door to the Big House opened, and Apollo himself walked in, hands behind his back, smile innocent.
Dionysus squinted. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh nothing,” Apollo said sweetly, stepping closer. “I just came to visit my kids. Support them. Bask in their success.”
He paused.
Then tilted his head, bit his lip, and widened his eyes.
Dionysus froze. “No.”
“Aww, Dionyyy~,” Apollo purred, voice soft and pleading. “You wouldn’t say no to me, would you?”
“Don’t you dare.”
Apollo’s eyes shimmered. “Pleaaase? It would mean so much to the kids. And to me.”
Dionysus turned away, face twitching.
“…That’s not fair,” he muttered. “That’s not fair. You know I can’t say no when you look at me like that!”
Kayla whispered, “He’s folding.”
Will grinned. “Wait for it.”
Dionysus turned back, looking pained. “Fine. You can have your ridiculous fire party. But if I smell even one burnt marshmallow—”
Apollo beamed. Literally. “Thank you, Dio!”
Dionysus groaned. “Don’t call me that, you radiant menace.”
---
Later that day, the Hermes cabin tried to use the same trick to get out of extra chores.
“Nice try,” Chiron said, not even blinking.
“But—”
“I said no.”
Ares kids attempted it too. Failed.
Then Apollo came strolling down the hill with his kids, humming, sun glittering in his hair.
The Hermes kids turned as one and said, “Hey Uncle Apollo, can you ask Chiron for us?”
Apollo blinked innocently. “Of course.”
Ten minutes later, Chiron sighed and nodded. “Alright. Fine. You’re excused from stable duty.”
The Hermes cabin screamed in victory.
---
Back on Olympus…
Hera: “You are not redecorating my garden again.”
Apollo: “Please? I’ll use gold this time.”
Hera: (pause) “…Fine.”
Poseidon: “No, you can’t take my hippocampi for a joyride.”
Apollo: (puppy eyes)
Poseidon: (grumbling) “Take the twins. Not the blue one.”
Even Athena faltered once. Just once.
“Stop using those blasted eyes! You’re not supposed to have a weaponized face, Apollo!”
Apollo: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
---
Dionysus slammed his can down that evening, glaring at Will, Kayla, and the rest of the Apollo cabin.
“I hate that you all know my weakness.”
Will grinned. “We’re just very observant.”
“Smug little sunshines,” he muttered.
“I brought you grape cookies,” Apollo said, sliding a plate across the table.
Dionysus picked one up, sulking. “You’re lucky I love you, you golden-eyed brat.”
Apollo beamed again.
And somewhere far above, the sun burned a little warmer for everyone.
Chapter 192: Wrong Turn at the Sunlight
Chapter Text
Title: “Wrong Turn at the Sunlight”
Tags: Humor, Chaos, Wholesome, Confused but Unbothered Apollo, Exasperated Friends
Featuring: Apollo, Will Solace, Artemis, Hermes, Chiron, Camp Half-Blood
---
Apollo had many strengths. He was a god of music, healing, poetry, prophecy, the sun—basically a walking golden resume.
But navigation?
No.
Absolutely not.
---
It all began one lovely Saturday morning.
Apollo had woken up with a craving for strawberry danishes. “Be right back,” he called over his shoulder to Will. “Just popping down to the bakery.”
Will raised a brow. “You sure you don’t want directions?”
Apollo winked. “What do I look like? Hermes?”
“…Yes. That’s the problem.”
---
Three hours later.
A call came through Chiron’s emergency demigod line.
Will answered it.
“Um,” came a shaky voice on the other end. “Hi. I’m calling from the Amazon Rainforest. There’s a glowing man in a toga here who keeps asking monkeys for directions to New York?”
Will froze. “…Did he say his name is Apollo?”
“Oh! He just handed me a haiku about danishes, so yes.”
Will slammed the phone down. “He did it again.”
---
Artemis was summoned.
She looked unimpressed. “He once got lost on his way to the sun chariot and ended up on a penguin reserve in Antarctica.”
Chiron rubbed his temples. “Do you remember the time he said he was going to Camp Jupiter?”
Will nodded grimly. “He turned up in New Jersey.”
“I live in New Jersey!” Hermes squawked. “He still managed to go in the opposite direction!”
---
Apollo, meanwhile, wandered through the Amazon with perfect serenity, chatting with a parrot.
“I must say, your feathers are exquisite. You’d make a stunning accessory, but that feels morally questionable.”
The parrot cawed at him aggressively.
“Oh no, I agree. Ethics matter.”
He checked his hand-drawn map, which he had confidently made by doodling squiggly lines and a sun. “Left at the palm tree?”
He turned right.
---
Eventually, Artemis found him lounging on a branch, eating a mango like nothing was wrong.
“You said you were going to the bakery.”
“I was! But then I followed a nice breeze and ended up here.”
“That breeze was probably a curse.”
Apollo shrugged. “Tasted like freedom.”
---
Back at camp, Apollo returned six hours later, dramatically entering the dining pavilion holding a single mangled pastry.
“I have returned from my journey, dear mortals.”
Will deadpanned, “Did you fight off wild animals for that?”
“Yes,” Apollo said solemnly. “And customs. The Brazilian border patrol is less fond of teleporting gods than you’d think.”
Hermes groaned. “For the love of Olympus, get this man a GPS.”
Will sighed. “Tried. He said the voice was too ‘judgy.’”
---
They finally fixed the issue by making a magical compass that beeped angrily and shouted “NOT THAT WAY” every time Apollo turned the wrong direction.
He still occasionally ignored it.
On purpose.
“Sometimes,” he’d say with a grin, “the wrong way leads to the right kind of story.”
And then he'd walk directly into the ocean.
Again.
---
Moral of the story:
Never trust a sun god’s sense of direction.
Especially if he’s humming and holding a map upside down.
Chapter 193: The Gift of Light
Chapter Text
Title: “The Gift of Light”
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Soft Angst, Fluff, Hyacinthus Mention, Apollo & Will Solace
Featuring: Apollo, Will Solace, Camp Half-Blood Demigods, Select Olympians
---
It was a quiet afternoon when Will noticed it.
A simple bracelet on Apollo’s wrist — golden threads braided with pale lavender strands, accented by a delicate carved bead shaped like a sun. It looked… handmade. Sentimental. And yet, elegant.
“Hey,” Will said as they sat by the strawberry fields. “That bracelet. It looks really good. Where’d you get it?”
Apollo blinked, then looked at his wrist. The expression on his face shifted, just briefly. Gentle. Distant. A flicker of memory passed through his eyes.
“Oh,” he said softly. “A gift. A long time ago.”
Will tilted his head. “Is there a place that sells ones like it?”
Apollo looked at him for a long second — and then smiled. “No need,” he said, and with that, slipped the bracelet off and handed it to Will without hesitation.
Will blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Really,” Apollo said. “It looks better on you.”
Will, a little flustered, took it and slipped it on. The threads fit snugly around his wrist like it had always belonged there. He smiled. “Thanks, dad.”
---
The next day, a few campers noticed.
“Yo, Will,” Leo whistled, “that bracelet is new, right? That’s some god-tier style.”
“No kidding,” said Piper. “It looks like something a dryad would make if they were in love.”
Will laughed. “Apollo gave it to me.”
Cue a few "aww"s and some teasing.
But when Dionysus passed by and caught sight of the bracelet, he froze mid-sip of Diet Coke. He stared, eyes wide.
“…He gave you that?”
Will blinked. “Uh. Yeah?”
Dionysus muttered something that sounded like “what in Olympus—” and walked off in a daze.
Weirder still, when Hermes stopped by camp and spotted it, he whistled low.
“Kid,” he said, “do you know what you’re wearing?”
“It’s just a bracelet.”
Hermes looked like he was about to faint. “That’s not just a bracelet. That was Hyacinthus’s. The mortal he—” Hermes broke off. “He never even let Artemis touch it.”
Will stared down at it.
The threads felt heavier now. Sacred. Reverent.
---
Word got around.
Demigods started noticing the way some of the gods — Hestia, Athena, even Hera — went oddly quiet when they saw Will wear it. None dared ask Apollo about it.
When Will finally did, Apollo just gave him a soft, distant smile.
“He gave it to me when he said goodbye,” Apollo murmured. “And now… I gave it to you, because you’re my son. My light. He would’ve liked you, I think.”
Will didn’t know what to say, so he held his father’s hand instead.
That night, the sun shone a little warmer as it set.
And far away, the wind carried the scent of hyacinths across the fields.
---
Bonus:
Apollo refused to take it back.
Will never took it off.
And the gods never again questioned what Apollo saw in his mortal children.
Chapter 194: Beginner’s Luck (God Edition)
Chapter Text
Title: "Beginner’s Luck (God Edition)"
Tags: Humor, Music, Found Family, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Dad!Apollo
Featuring: Apollo, Will Solace, Camp Half-Blood demigods
---
It all started innocently enough.
A few of Apollo’s kids were lounging outside the music pavilion, fiddling with their instruments. Will was tuning his violin, Kayla strumming her guitar, and a few of the younger kids were trying out new chords and notes.
Apollo, now lounging like a golden retriever in human form on a picnic blanket, was humming a song under his breath and braiding flower crowns for the younger campers. All in all, peaceful.
Until Kayla spoke up. “Dad, you ever play violin?”
Apollo blinked. “Violin? Nope. Never touched one.”
The entire Apollo cabin paused.
“What do you mean you’ve never played violin?” Will asked, looking personally offended. “You’re literally the god of music.”
“Yeah, well,” Apollo shrugged. “I’ve always been more of a lyre guy. Classic strings. That’s my jam. The violin’s more of a, y’know… mortal invention.”
“…Wanna try it?” one of the younger campers asked.
Apollo grinned. “Sure!”
He took the violin from Will, flipped it around once like a drumstick, and adjusted the bow in his hand like it was second nature.
He plucked the strings a few times.
Then he started playing.
No warm-up. No hesitation. Just—soul-shattering, tear-inducing, master-level playing. The kind of music that makes birds stop in midair and the breeze hush to listen. It was so emotional, even the Ares cabin across the field paused their sparring.
Will was gaping. Kayla’s mouth was open. A little kid burst into tears because the music reminded them of their dead hamster.
When Apollo finished, there was silence.
“…You said you’ve never played before?” Will asked, voice strangled.
Apollo looked sheepish. “I mean, yeah. That was my first time.”
Kayla groaned and flopped backward. “Unfair. UNFAIR.”
“This is what musical privilege looks like,” someone muttered.
Another camper threw their sheet music down. “I practiced for five years and I still squeak on the high notes! What the Hades!”
Apollo laughed and handed the violin back, still glowing. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there. Just takes time.”
Will stared at him. “You just—you literally picked it up and played like you were born with it.”
“I mean,” Apollo said innocently, “I was born to be the god of music.”
The groans could be heard all the way to the dining pavilion.
---
Bonus:
Next week, the Apollo cabin challenged him to a piano duel.
He claimed he’d never played that either.
Spoiler: He had.
They regret everything.
Chapter 195: Father-in-Law of the Pantheons
Chapter Text
Title: "Father-in-Law of the Pantheons"
Tags: Humor, Mythology Shenanigans, Confused Zeus, Chaos, Overpowered Apollo, Protective Suitors, Family Drama
Featuring: Zeus, Apollo, Various Gods and Cosmic Beings, Olympus Ensemble
---
It started with a casual council meeting on Olympus.
Zeus was droning on about something—lightning, law, whatever it was he liked to yell about—when a sudden swirl of dimensional mist interrupted him. The air split open with divine energy as a glowing figure stepped through, tall and intimidating, eyes burning with galaxies.
“Apologies for the intrusion,” the being rumbled. “I’m here to see my beloved’s father. Zeus.”
The room went silent.
Zeus blinked. “Your what?”
“My father-in-law,” the being clarified. “I wished to formally request his blessing to court Apollo again.”
“Apollo—what?”
Apollo, sipping nectar on the sidelines, waved cheerily. “Hi, Karyon.”
“Hi, love.”
Everyone. Froze.
Before Zeus could even process this new layer of insanity, another being shimmered into existence. This one had flames licking around his shoulders and darkness dripping from his wings.
“Is this the queue?” he asked politely. “I brought an offering of stars for Lord Zeus. I’d like to renew my engagement with Apollo.”
A third voice came next. “I told you all not to show up at once,” groaned a glowing serpentine deity sliding down from the clouds. “Father-in-law dearest, good to see you again.”
Zeus was losing it. “WHY ARE SO MANY GODS CALLING ME THAT?!”
Apollo, now pretending to be very busy examining his nails, hummed. “Oops?”
“Oops?!”
Artemis looked like she was witnessing the best drama of her immortal life. Hermes had conjured popcorn. Dionysus was recording.
Athena pinched the bridge of her nose. “Apollo. Please explain.”
“Well,” Apollo said with a sheepish grin, “over the years, I may have…um…dated a few beings. Just a handful. Or dozen. Or... cosmic multitudes. And apparently, a few of them still consider me their eternal partner.”
“You never told us,” Hera hissed.
“You never asked.”
Zeus looked around at the growing number of beings bowing respectfully to him, offering gifts, and calling him father-in-law. “How many are there?!”
“…Define many,” Apollo hedged.
One of the suitors stepped forward. “We’ve even formed a group chat.”
“You WHAT?!”
Artemis burst out laughing. “Oh this is the best day of my life.”
---
Bonus:
Zeus tried to ban Apollo from dating.
All the suitors declared war.
Hades, sipping wine in the Underworld, sent a fruit basket with a note:
"Good luck, brother. You’ll need it."
Chapter 196: Family Is Family (Even If They Hate Olympus)
Chapter Text
Title: “Family Is Family (Even If They Hate Olympus)”
Tags: Humor, Wholesome Chaos, Found Family, Overpowered Apollo, Enemies-to-Family, Olympus is Confused Again
---
It started with a suspicious absence.
Apollo hadn’t been seen on Olympus for three days. No dramatic entrances, no spontaneous concerts, no “accidental” blinding glow from his beauty. Just… nothing.
At first, no one thought much of it. But by the fifth day, Artemis had stomped into the council chamber and declared, “Where the Hades is my brother?!”
Zeus looked vaguely confused. “Isn’t he somewhere being obnoxiously radiant?”
“No,” Hermes said, materializing with a stressed expression and a scroll of Apollo’s calendar. “He rescheduled his weekly sun chariot route. Said he had family visits.”
Hera arched a brow. “Family? What family? He sees us all the time.”
“Yeah,” Hermes deadpanned. “Turns out he meant the other family.”
“…What other family?” Zeus asked, already looking worried.
And that was when a photo appeared in Artemis’s inbox. It was Apollo. Sitting between Kronos and Eris, laughing over tea and cookies. The caption read:
“Tea time with granddad and chaos auntie! Family bonding!”
Olympus collectively screamed.
---
Meanwhile...
Apollo cheerfully moved from realm to realm.
He visited Nyx, gifting her with a mirror made of starlight. She patted his head and let him braid her shadowy hair.
He stopped by Hecate’s shrine, bringing handcrafted spell candles and complimenting her magic. She blushed, muttered about annoying little cousins, and gave him enchanted cookies.
He even dropped by Pontus’s underwater domain, chatting about sea currents and bringing divine sunscreen. Pontus was baffled but vaguely touched.
Thanatos? He gave Apollo a scythe keychain.
Hades gave him a VIP pass to the Underworld buffet.
Tartarus, of course, welcomed him with open arms and an entire castle wing named “Apollo’s Golden Sun Suite.”
---
When Apollo finally returned to Olympus, he was glowing more than usual. Literally and metaphorically.
“Where were you?” Zeus demanded. “You consorted with enemies of Olympus!”
Apollo tilted his head. “They’re family, Dad. Just because we don’t invite them to brunch doesn’t mean I don’t love them.”
“They’ve tried to kill us!”
“And yet,” Apollo said sweetly, “they always make time for me. Unlike some people.”
Everyone winced.
Hera coughed. “You’re serious about this… ‘extended family’ thing?”
“Of course,” he beamed. “We’re all connected. And if I can be the bridge, maybe we’ll argue less.”
“You visited Typhon,” Athena deadpanned. “Typhon.”
“He gave me a lava-made snow globe! He’s actually very crafty!”
---
Bonus:
Now every holiday, Olympus finds themselves forced to share feasts with gods, monsters, and primordial entities they thought they banished.
All because Apollo sends out group invitations that read:
“Come for the chaos, stay for the love. Family only.”
And who can say no to Apollo?
Chapter 197: Stop Being Good at Everything, Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: “Stop Being Good at Everything, Apollo”
Tags: Humor, Mild Angst, Sibling Shenanigans, Overpowered Apollo, Demigods Suffer, Fluff, Chaotic Energy
---
It started with a quest.
Just a simple monster problem in New York, nothing fancy—until Apollo decided to tag along. As a mortal. “For fun,” he said. “For bonding,” he said.
It was a disaster.
For everyone except Apollo.
---
First, the team—Will, Meg, Kayla, and a very reluctant Clarisse—were trying to decipher an ancient coded inscription. A puzzle that had stumped Athena kids for days.
Apollo took one glance at it, tilted his head, and said, “Oh, it’s an ancient lyric cipher from a forgotten civilization that worshiped me once. Cute. The answer’s sunflower.”
Clarisse nearly broke her spear in frustration.
Will stared at him like he just kicked a puppy. “It took twenty of us three days to figure out half a line.”
Apollo blinked innocently. “Did no one try singing to it? That usually works.”
Meg, grinning: “I like him.”
---
Then came the monster fight.
A drakon burst from the sewers. Clarisse and Will jumped into action, shouting, casting, dodging. Meg was ready to swing.
Apollo? He coughed once, said, “Excuse me, big scaly lizard,” snapped his fingers, and the beast went down in a puff of glitter and harp music.
Silence.
“…What was that?” Kayla whispered.
“Oh,” Apollo said casually, “that’s my ‘leave me alone I’m shopping’ spell. I use it on tourists sometimes.”
Clarisse screamed into her hands.
---
Later, in camp, Will tried to vent. “He never struggles! Like—like I fail a test and he just goes, ‘Oh, it’s easy, you just divide the harmonic sequence by the radiant root and invert the celestial structure of the soul.’ What does that even mean?!”
Meg: “He also made seven different kinds of muffins while I was brushing my teeth.”
Kayla: “He picked up the violin yesterday and now he’s composing symphonies.”
Austin: “He invented a new genre of music last week.”
A counselor from Hephaestus cabin burst into the room. “Who the Hades put solar panel enhancements on my toaster?!”
Will sighed. “It was Apollo.”
---
Meanwhile, Apollo sat under a tree with his sunglasses on, humming happily and strumming a guitar he built out of a tree branch, three strings, and sheer ego.
Hermes popped in beside him and said flatly, “You’re infuriating.”
Apollo grinned. “I know.”
Then he threw a ball of sunlight in the air, caught it, and accidentally solved climate change. Again.
---
In conclusion:
Apollo is That Guy™.
And everyone else just has to suffer.
Chapter 198: Apollo and His Absurdly Overpowered Strays
Chapter Text
Title: “Apollo and His Absurdly Overpowered Strays”
Tags: Found Family, Humor, Fluff, Powerful Children, Protective Dad Apollo, Chaotic Camp Half-Blood, Olympus in Distress
---
It started with one child.
A small, quiet kid who got caught in the middle of a monster attack. Apollo had just dropped by Camp Half-Blood to deliver sunflowers and a performance schedule when he saw the poor thing hiding under a bench.
Naturally, he adopted them.
“I’m your dad now,” he said cheerfully, scooping them up as the monster turned to ash behind him.
The child blinked. “…Okay.”
---
That child later turned out to be a primordial demigod from a forgotten lineage, capable of bending reality, time, and half the laws of physics. Apollo had no idea.
“It’s fine,” he said, as the kid accidentally rewound Tuesday into last week. “They’re just enthusiastic.”
---
But that was just the beginning.
Soon came the child made of stardust who sneezed supernovas.
Then the quiet little girl who could hear the thoughts of the gods and quote Chaos verbatim.
Then the baby who only stopped crying when held by Apollo… and who, turns out, was a reincarnated Titan with control over death.
“I don’t go looking for them,” Apollo insisted, cuddling three new ones. “They find me.”
---
Camp Half-Blood was in chaos.
Will Solace had to expand the infirmary. “Dad, you can’t just keep adopting kids like this!”
“They needed me,” Apollo replied, while one of his kids casually floated three feet off the ground and turned pinecones into gold.
Nico, pale and horrified, muttered, “That one just said my full name backwards. In Moirai tongue.”
---
Olympus? Freaking out.
Zeus: “You adopted what?!”
Apollo: “Don’t be rude to your grandchild.”
Ares: “They beat me in arm wrestling!”
Hera: “That baby just threatened to unravel marriage as a concept!”
Hades, sipping coffee: “Honestly, I respect the chaos.”
---
Eventually, the gods tried to ban him from adopting more.
So Apollo just built his own little pocket dimension and made it into a pastel-colored home-slash-daycare castle for all his children.
Each one had their own wing. And planet. And occasionally, their own timeline.
---
He was the sun, and they were his stars.
Overpowered? Sure. World-breaking? Absolutely.
But to Apollo, they were just his kids.
And if you threatened even one of them?
Congratulations. You just made an enemy of the literal sun and twenty-five beings that could casually delete you from existence.
---
Moral of the story:
Never underestimate a dramatic god with adoption papers and a heart full of sunshine.
Chapter 199: Monopoly Is a Cruel Game
Chapter Text
Title: “Monopoly Is a Cruel Game”
Tags: Fluff, Humor, Protective Siblings, Hurt/Comfort, Apollo Needs a Hug, Board Game War
---
It was supposed to be a fun game night.
Key word: supposed to.
“Apollo, you can’t just give me Boardwalk for free,” Artemis said, barely holding back a smirk as she snatched the blue deed card out of his hand.
“But you said you needed it to win—!”
“That’s the game,” Hermes interrupted, leaning back smugly. “We play to win, little bro.”
“I thought it was about friendship,” Apollo mumbled, staring down at the Monopoly board like it had betrayed him personally.
---
By the third round, Apollo had somehow mortgaged everything, paid rent ten times in a row, and was now stuck in jail because Hermes convinced him it was a “cozy safe spot.”
Meanwhile, Dionysus had all the railroads, Artemis owned half the board, and Athena was silently judging everyone from the corner.
“Why are you all being so mean?” Apollo asked, wide golden eyes brimming with confusion.
“It's called strategy,” Ares grunted.
---
And then it happened.
The final blow.
He landed on Hermes’ hotel-filled orange properties and owed $1500. He only had $3 and a Get Out of Jail Free card left.
“I’ll just give you the card,” he said meekly.
“You’re bankrupt,” Hermes declared with the finality of a warlord. “You’re out.”
Apollo blinked. And then his lip wobbled.
“No fair,” he whispered. “I was trying to be nice.”
---
The room froze.
“You made him cry,” Hestia hissed, her expression darkening.
“Oh gods,” Hermes whispered, “we broke the sun.”
---
Ten minutes later, Artemis had flipped the board, Hestia was baking cookies “to ease the trauma,” and Athena gave Hermes a thirty-minute lecture on emotional intelligence.
Apollo sniffled into his blanket cocoon, hugged by Hestia and Demeter, while Dionysus awkwardly patted his head.
“I didn’t mean to make him cry,” Hermes muttered.
“He thought we were bonding,” Artemis growled, smacking him with a pillow. “You bonded him into bankruptcy.”
---
Moral of the story:
Never play Monopoly with gods unless you want a full-on divine drama, emotional breakdowns, and at least one flipped table.
Also, someone please buy Apollo (me) ice cream.
Chapter 200: Apollo, Stop Trying to Tip With Gold Bars
Chapter Text
Title: “Apollo, Stop Trying to Tip With Gold Bars”
Tags: Humor, Fluff, Spoiled Apollo, Oblivious Rich Kid Behavior, Found Family, Chaos
---
Apollo blinked at the cashier. “What do you mean I can’t pay with a drachma?”
The poor teenager behind the smoothie bar stared at the golden coin in her hand like it was radioactive. “Sir, this is… not legal tender.”
“But it’s gold,” Apollo replied with genuine confusion. “That’s better than your paper, isn’t it?”
Will groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dad, you can’t bribe the juice bar.”
---
To say Apollo had no sense of money was an understatement.
He once offered a Starbucks barista a golden ring the size of her fist as a tip and was confused when she started crying.
He thought rent was a one-time fee.
He didn’t understand why people had to pay for college. “Just tell them you’re the child of prophecy,” he’d said.
---
“It’s just… currency is weird,” Apollo said defensively, sprawled on the couch and sipping bubble tea he didn’t pay for. “I gave a cyclops ten rubies once for a grilled cheese. He was very happy.”
“You overpaid by at least ten thousand dollars,” Nico muttered.
Apollo looked confused. “But it was a really good grilled cheese.”
---
The truth was, Apollo never needed to think about money. The gods never did. Between divine power, gifts, temples, and his own insane popularity, he never once lacked anything.
Also, everyone — from gods to random mortals — tended to give him things for free just because he looked pretty and smiled at them.
---
“You’re spoiled rotten,” Artemis said flatly one day as she caught him trying to ‘tip’ a waiter with an actual antique crown.
Apollo gasped, placing a hand to his chest. “I am not!”
“You cried last week because your favorite designer stopped taking ambrosia pearls as payment.”
“It was unfair and elitist.”
---
Eventually, Chiron had to sit him down and give him an economics lesson. It didn’t go well.
Apollo fell asleep halfway through, woke up, and handed Chiron a priceless artifact as a thank-you.
“See?” he beamed. “I understand economics now!”
Chiron cried into his ledger.
---
In the end, no one truly fixed Apollo’s money blindness. They just made Will his official ‘money manager,’ banned him from carrying “shiny things,” and told him gift-giving was only allowed if it didn’t cost more than a mortal soul.
Apollo pouted, but agreed.
And then gave a kid at the mall a baby unicorn.
“APOLLO—!”
Title: “Apollo, That’s Still Not How Money Works”
Part 2 of: Apollo Has No Sense of Money
Tags: Humor, Chaos, Soft!Apollo, Spoiled God Behavior, Found Family Vibes
---
Will had one rule: “Do not go shopping alone.”
So, naturally, Apollo “forgot” and went shopping alone.
---
When they found him, Apollo had six carts full of glitter pens, bath bombs, limited edition plushies, a chandelier, and an actual pony. Not a toy. A real pony. In Target.
“Dad,” Will said, rubbing his temples. “We’re in New Jersey. Where did you get the pony?”
Apollo blinked innocently. “Online. I summoned it with express delivery.”
“Express—!? You can’t summon ponies to retail stores!!”
The Target employees were crying in the background.
---
Later, when Nico scolded him for the tenth time that week, Apollo huffed and crossed his arms.
“I don’t understand why this world uses plastic instead of proper gold,” he said, kicking his feet like a sulking child. “I tried to buy churros and the man asked me to swipe a card. I gave him a literal sun-forged platinum token. He refused!”
“You melted his register,” Will added.
---
After that, Camp Half-Blood took drastic measures. They gave Apollo an allowance.
“Twenty dollars a week,” Chiron declared.
Apollo gasped. “What am I, a mortal peasant?!”
“It’s called budgeting.”
“It's called cruelty.”
---
Within two hours, Apollo spent his twenty dollars on bedazzled sunglasses and a keychain shaped like a banana. He immediately tried to pawn off a centuries-old harp for a Slurpee.
It didn’t work.
---
“You need to learn the value of things,” Annabeth lectured.
“But I know value! Like this pin!” Apollo pulled out a pin shaped like a frog. “This is valuable because it makes me happy.”
Annabeth actually short-circuited for a second before muttering something about “emotional currency” and walking away.
---
So they gave up. Kind of.
Will became his emergency fund manager. Nico had veto power. Artemis installed a tracking bracelet to know when he was within ten feet of an ATM.
But even then…
One day, Apollo came skipping home holding a baby griffin wrapped in a Louis Vuitton scarf.
“I only used two gold bricks this time!” he said proudly.
Will stared. “Dad, no—”
---
The griffin sneezed glitter.
Chapter 201: Bright Light, Heavy Crown
Notes:
Look...I don't mind anyone translating my fanfics to different languages and posting them or posting them on different sites...but for fucks sake ask first I will say yes and do credit me. But if you take it with our asking and don't give me credit I will give you 5 days to give me my and if you don't do that I will have to report you for stealing
Chapter Text
Title: “Bright Light, Heavy Crown”
Tags: Soft Angst, Power Dynamics, Hidden Depths, Respectful Terror, Apollo-Centric
---
Apollo liked to smile.
He liked laughter, singing, sunflowers, and the way warm light danced on people’s faces when they looked up at the sky. He liked poetry, terrible haikus, and colorful sunglasses.
He liked mortals. And he liked being liked.
But.
There were times when the world forgot that Apollo wasn’t just the bright, talkative god with pretty hair and a loud voice.
He was the god of prophecy. The sun. The bringer of plague and healing. The god who once flayed a satyr alive for hubris and brought entire cities to ruin with a word.
---
It was a council meeting.
Some demigod — arrogant, young, sharp-tongued — had just called him “a glorified lamp.”
The silence that followed could’ve split the sky.
And then Apollo stood. Still smiling.
But it was different.
The kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes. The kind of light that burned.
“Tell me,” he said, voice soft and honey-smooth, “have you ever looked directly at the sun?”
The demigod faltered. “I—what—”
“You’d go blind.”
The room stayed silent. No one moved. Even the gods looked uneasy.
“I love mortals,” Apollo continued. “But don’t confuse affection for weakness. I illuminate… and I scorch.”
---
After that, the child apologized. Deeply.
From that day on, no one mistook his golden warmth as harmless.
Satyrs left him offerings. Dryads bowed with reverence. The Fates themselves kept a respectful distance. Even the monsters whispered his name with caution.
Even Zeus, in his most furious tantrums, never dared raise a hand to Apollo again.
---
Because Apollo might be cheerful. Might be beautiful. Might be forgiving.
But the sun does not beg for respect.
It demands it.
And gods, after all, do not need to scream to be feared.
Chapter 202: Light of My Existence
Chapter Text
Title: "Light of My Existence"
Tags: Khaos x Apollo, Overprotective Dad, Extremely Pampered Apollo, Kidnapping (Affectionate?), God Drama, Humor, Fluff, Lowkey Angst, Divine Shenanigans, Nico Threat Count: High
---
No one really knew how it happened. One minute Apollo was enjoying a casual sunbath on the beach in his very pretty, very sheer tunic, humming a new melody that would’ve made mortals cry from joy.
Next thing anyone knew, there was a rift in space.
A literal primordial tear in the fabric of reality.
And out stepped Khaos — dark and swirling, incomprehensible to most, eyes glowing like dying stars and wings made of broken galaxies — who looked at Apollo and just. Scooped him up.
“Mine now,” he said.
And poof.
Apollo was gone.
---
Olympus panicked.
The sun blinked out for a full twenty minutes. Artemis nearly shot Ares out of panic. Zeus demanded sacrifices from mortals. Dionysus kept drinking. Typical.
Then the gifts started.
A whole galaxy of orchids shaped like Apollo’s eyes. A meteor shower that spelled “I love you.” A dimension made entirely of golden sunflowers and music that plays based on Apollo’s mood. He called it Solara.
Khaos built Apollo a palace made of time, light, and the bones of forgotten stars. Apollo used it as a recording studio.
---
Then came the kids.
Every child of Khaos — from cosmic entities to twisted monsters — took one look at Apollo lounging dramatically on their dad’s lap and went:
“...Mom?”
Apollo blinked. “Wait, I’m what now?”
“You gave me juice and kissed my forehead. You’re my mom.”
“That was— fine, okay.”
---
Khaos: “You want a constellation shaped like a bunny? A timeline where people only speak in love poems? Say the word, my sunbeam.”
Apollo, lounging on Khaos’s shoulder with a drink: “Hmm. Tempting. Can I have a realm where I’m legally taller than Zeus?”
Khaos: “Granted.”
---
Then, the threats began.
Nico: “Will and I are going to the Underworld—”
Khaos, cracking the sky in half: “If he returns with even a wrinkle, I will personally erase your existence from every plane, including memory.”
Nico: “…Got it. Loud and clear.”
---
He demolished three cities for allowing someone to think a rude thought about Apollo’s singing voice.
He wiped a titan from existence for comparing Apollo’s lyre playing to elevator music.
He built Apollo a pocket dimension just for naps. It adjusts temperature and music depending on mood. The pillows are made of literal clouds from a realm of eternal dreamers.
---
Despite the power, despite the drama, despite the entire court of gods either groveling or panicking—
Apollo seemed… happy.
Lazing across Khaos’s lap, his hair braided with starlight by eldritch children who call him “mom.” Wearing cosmic robes and laughing, full and bright.
No longer burdened by Olympus.
Just adored. Utterly, stupidly adored.
And Khaos? Khaos had never been more feral about anything in his existence.
“Touch my sunshine and you’ll meet the void between realities. Love you, baby.”
“Love you too, Chaoscake.”
Title: "Light of My Existence — Part 2: Chaos Kids & Will"
Tags: Khaos x Apollo, Chaos Kids, Will Solace, Protective Overload, Humor, Found Family, Chaos Adopts Everyone, Jealous Chaos Children, Wholesome(ish) Violence
---
Will Solace had no idea what he was walking into.
He’d been summoned—politely, but with very pointed stares—by several high-tier entities composed of stardust, teeth, and eldritch energy, who referred to Apollo as “Mom” and themselves as “your siblings.”
Will blinked. “I—I have what now?”
---
The Chaos Kids, as the demigods had dubbed them, ranged from eerily cute to absolutely horrifying. One of them had no face and spoke in reversed lullabies. One was a humanoid made of vines and moonlight. Another was a floating mass of eyes with very good manners.
And every single one of them had the same priority: protect Mom (Apollo) and, by extension, inspect Will Solace.
---
Interrogation Room (aka an exploding star)
Chaos Kid #3: “Do you intend to hurt our mom?”
Will: “…No?”
Chaos Kid #12 (just a mass of glitter and wrath): “Would you fight for him?”
Will: “Obviously.”
Chaos Kid #47: “Would you die for him?”
Will: “What kind of—well, yeah, but I’d rather live for him?”
Chaos Kid #19: “Acceptable. You may hold hands. One hand. At a time.”
---
Apollo peeked into the room, sipping cosmic tea. “You done traumatizing my son?”
Chaos Kids: “We were bonding.”
Will: “Was this a hazing ritual or an adoption ceremony—?”
Apollo: “Yes.”
---
Meanwhile, Khaos:
Floats into the room and drapes his infinite form protectively over Apollo like a weighted blanket made of eternity.
“I sensed my light tremble. Who threatened him?”
Will: “No one did anything! We were literally playing Uno!”
Khaos eyes Will for a long moment. Reality bends under the weight of his stare.
“…Alright. You may continue. But if he frowns—”
Apollo: “He frowns all the time.”
Khaos: “Then I will destroy frowns.”
---
Will eventually becomes the Chaos Kids’ doctor.
They get boo-boos from plane-hopping or time rips. One got a paper cut from an ancient contract with a forgotten god. Another bit their tongue while consuming a dimension.
They all go to Will.
“Doctor Brother, I am leaking shadow ichor again.”
“Sit down. No, not on the ceiling.”
---
They all pile into Apollo’s lap while Will is lecturing them on cosmic safety.
Apollo is the center of the cuddle pile, humming a sun-warm melody while Khaos hovers protectively nearby like a hovering, unblinking universe dad.
Will just sighs and resigns himself to being the responsible one in a family of reality-warping weirdos.
---
And weirdly… it’s nice.
The Chaos Kids look at Will with something like trust.
Apollo wraps an arm around him and smiles like he’s the safest place in the world.
Khaos opens a new constellation and names it after Will—“The Steadfast One.”
---
It’s not the family he expected.
But it’s one that, even among eldritch chaos and overprotective reality gods—
He might just belong to.
Chapter 203: Spoiler Alert: It's Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: "Spoiler Alert: It's Apollo"
Tags: Humor, Chaotic Neutral Apollo, Fourth Wall? What Fourth Wall?, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Movie Spoilers, Petty God Behavior
---
There were many things the campers at Camp Half-Blood had learned to fear.
Drakons.
Math.
Nico's glare.
But none of them held a candle to one terrifying, divine force:
Apollo and his damn spoilers.
---
It started innocently enough.
The Apollo cabin was watching a movie night in the pavilion, surrounded by popcorn, campfire ambiance, and The Murder Garden Chronicles: Season 1 playing on a magical projection.
And then, mid-sentence, Apollo walked by with a casual wave and said:
“Oh, she dies in the finale. It’s ironic, really—death by roses.”
Everyone stared at him.
Will’s jaw dropped. “That’s… not in the book.”
Apollo just smirked, tossed a grape in his mouth, and walked off like a cryptic menace.
---
The spoilers got worse.
“Oh, he’s cheating on her with her brother.”
“Shame he loses both arms.”
“Enjoy him while you can—he’s the villain next season.”
And the worst part?
He was always right.
Even when the next season hadn’t aired. Or been written.
Clarisse once accused him of lying, and he just went, “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when the talking sword sacrifices itself for emotional closure.”
She did, in fact, cry.
---
“You can’t keep doing this!” Will yelled one day after Apollo spoiled the ending of Campfire Hearts: The Reunion Movie.
Apollo just looked amused. “I’m the god of prophecy, sunshine. I’m physically incapable of not knowing spoilers.”
“Then don’t say them!”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
---
He weaponized it.
When Hermes’s kid stole his favorite sunglasses, Apollo just leaned in real close and whispered, “In your favorite series, the ship crashes, your OTP breaks up, and the dog dies.”
The kid gave the glasses back immediately. Shaking.
---
When a new demigod tried to pick a fight with Will, Apollo strolled up, flipped his hair, and said:
“Oh hey. I liked your sister. She was cool in that one season before she got eaten by mirror demons.”
The kid immediately backed off.
---
The only one immune was Nico.
Mostly because Apollo once said, “Your favorite anime character dies in episode 7,” and Nico just stared him down and said, “He comes back in episode 9.”
Apollo, scandalized: “You’re like me. You read the spoilers first.”
Nico: “I am death, sunshine boy.”
---
Now there’s a rule at camp:
“No spoilers within a 50-foot radius of group viewings.”
Apollo ignores it.
He sits five feet away with a smirk and says things like, “Oh, I wouldn’t get too attached to him,” and “Notice how they’re wearing yellow? That’s the death flag color.”
Will throws popcorn at him.
Apollo just eats it.
---
Because he’s not just a sun god.
He’s not just a poet or a healer or a prophecy machine.
He’s the god of chaos by spoilers, and Camp Half-Blood will never know peace again.
Chapter 204: The Mouse Lord of Olympus
Summary:
General Nibbles reporting for duty!
Chapter Text
Title: “The Mouse Lord of Olympus”
Tags: Humor, Wholesome Chaos, Mouse-Sized Royalty, God of Plague (But in a cute way), Apollo Does What He Wants
---
It started with a scream.
Aphrodite-level scream.
Which meant it echoed across Olympus, shattered six wine goblets, and sent three naiads crying.
The gods rushed in—Ares with sword in hand, Athena sharpening a dagger, Dionysus sipping wine like this better be worth it—only to find Aphrodite standing on a golden table, pointing furiously.
“There. That. That hideous thing. It’s watching me!”
Huddled under a cushion, quivering and heartbreakingly tiny… was a single, innocent mouse.
---
Hermes snorted. “Seriously? It’s not even cursed. Yet.”
“It blinked at me!” Aphrodite shrieked, flipping her hair back dramatically. “With judgment.”
Artemis looked disgusted. “You screamed like that over a mouse? Honestly, you’re thousands of years old—”
“It touched my sandals, Artemis. My vintage golden Paphian sandals!”
Cue more dramatic screeching.
---
Enter Apollo.
He materialized mid-chaos with a golden glow and confused brows, holding a harp and wearing sunglasses indoors.
“I heard a divine-level shriek. Who’s dying?”
“Get rid of it,” Aphrodite said, still trembling and fanning herself.
Apollo turned, spotted the mouse, and…
Gasped.
---
“Oh my gods,” he whispered. “You poor, beautiful creature.”
The mouse blinked up at him with big watery eyes.
Ares muttered, “Don’t tell me he’s gonna—”
Apollo knelt, cupped the mouse in his hands like it was the Hope of the World™, and cradled it to his chest. “You’re safe now, tiny one. No one shall harm you on my watch.”
Everyone stared.
Zeus facepalmed. “Not this again.”
---
It escalated. Quickly.
Because the mouse in question? Pregnant.
And Apollo? Apollo took his new title very seriously.
He started bringing home strays.
Not dogs. Not cats.
Mice.
---
Small gray ones, spotted ones, white ones with beady pink eyes. He enchanted miniature armor for them. Built mouse fortresses in his temple.
“There’s a line, Apollo,” Hera gritted out one day as a mouse scurried past her throne carrying a speck of divine ambrosia.
Apollo beamed. “Isn’t he adorable? That’s Commander Whiskers. He handles food distribution.”
---
He assigned them ranks.
General Nibbles.
Lady Squeaks-a-lot.
The Royal Advisor, who wore a tiny monocle.
Even Dionysus begrudgingly called one of them “Sir Winecrumb” and gave it grapes.
---
His temple had signs like:
“Warning: Mice Crossing.”
“Do Not Step on the Sacred Squeakers.”
He even enchanted a golden chariot the size of a shoe for them. Pulled by enchanted crickets.
When Hermes laughed, Apollo whispered, “They once carried plague. Now they carry joy. I am their lord.”
Hermes stopped laughing.
---
Aphrodite still screams when one of them sneaks a piece of chocolate off her table.
But now she glares at Apollo instead. “You trained them.”
Apollo sips wine innocently. “Trained is a strong word. Bribed with divine cheese? Maybe.”
---
When one of his mice got injured (stepped on by a panicked demigod), Apollo held a full divine funeral.
With music.
A poem.
Tiny flowers.
Dionysus cried. “It had so much potential.”
---
And so, Olympus eventually gave up.
They stopped screaming, stopped panicking, and instead learned to accept the fact:
Apollo was the Lord of Mice.
And those fuzzy little agents of chaos?
Were treated better than half the gods.
Title: “The Mice's Revolution”
Tags: Mice-Made Chaos, Apollo’s Divine Pet Army, A Little Bit of Everything Goes Wrong
---
It started with a soft squeak. Then a frantic scamper. Then, the sound of something really important breaking.
Artemis looked up from her moonlit perch. "What was that sound?"
"I think one of Apollo's... mice..." Dionysus murmured from his grapevine lounge, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, look, they're organizing."
And they were. Apollo’s sacred mice, now with their little uniforms and shiny chariots, were forming ranks in the middle of the Temple of the Sun. They wore tiny medals and badges, giving off a determined aura—like they were about to overthrow Olympus or start an entirely new mouse monarchy.
General Nibbles, wearing a miniature crown, stood on a pedestal. “For the glory of Apollo!” he squeaked, sounding disturbingly regal for a creature the size of a walnut.
---
"You know," Hera sighed, "this is getting out of hand."
"I told you not to let him make a mouse army," Zeus muttered, rubbing his temples. "But no, you thought it was cute."
"Ares," Artemis spoke evenly, "I need you to go over there and do something about the mice.”
Ares snorted. “What, you want me to crush them with my fist? I don’t do petty things like that.”
Apollo wandered in, humming happily with a fresh bouquet of divine daisies. He was completely unaware of the tiny revolution forming.
"Good morning, everyone!" he beamed.
The room immediately fell into an eerie silence as all eyes turned to his army. The mice were just standing there in their impeccable little ranks, wearing tiny ceremonial armor that sparkled in the sunlight. It was… impressive, honestly.
Zeus raised an eyebrow. "Are we… are we allowing this to happen now?"
Apollo grinned widely. "Allowing? My dear father, I made this happen. General Nibbles has been leading the mice in our sacred army. They protect the sanctity of my temple and ensure that there is always food supply!"
Artemis crossed her arms. "This isn't just about food, Apollo. They’re plotting something, aren’t they?"
A tiny mouse scurried by carrying a large piece of parchment in its tiny paws. The mice were making plans. They were making strategies. They were writing out battle plans—on cheese-flavored parchment.
Apollo blinked. "Oh! They're planning their first siege! How adorable. They're thinking about attacking the mortal world for more… cheese."
Zeus winced. "Apollo, I swear to the gods—"
"No need to worry, Father!" Apollo said cheerfully, completely ignoring his father’s exasperation. "They'll make sure the mortals only get the finest cheese. You know how much they love dairy."
---
The next thing the gods knew, Apollo’s army of mice had set up tiny barricades at every exit of Olympus. They had stolen half the ambrosia supply, and somehow managed to set up trapdoors inside the grand halls of the Olympian palace.
"There's cheese everywhere," Demeter groaned, trying to pry her feet out of a mess of cheese crumbs and smelly parmesan.
"I’ve never seen anything like this,” Athena muttered, inspecting a surprisingly well-made blueprint of the palace drawn by a mouse with a tiny quill. “They’re smarter than I thought.”
Meanwhile, General Nibbles strutted up and down, giving orders in his tiny squeaky voice. “For the Sun God! For glory! For cheese!”
---
Eventually, the gods convened for a meeting, discussing how to handle the mouse uprising. Hera, who had been the most vocal about disapproving of Apollo’s mouse obsession, was now having second thoughts.
“Can we at least get rid of the traps?” she asked with a touch of exasperation.
Apollo, beaming with pride, didn’t even look guilty. “You’re just mad they’ve outsmarted you.” He put his hands behind his head, lounging in a plush chair as a mouse scurried across his lap and curled up. “But I’ll admit, this is a little much. I think we need to let them ‘restructure’.”
---
And so, the deal was struck. The mice would no longer siege Olympus, but Apollo did, in his typical fashion, make a deal with them.
“We’ll still hold the Sun’s Festival, yes?” Apollo asked.
General Nibbles gave a sharp nod. “Of course. For the light of our lives.” The mice saluted.
The gods sighed collectively. “At least he’s not trying to take over the mortal realm,” Dionysus remarked, running his fingers through his hair as a mouse scurried up his leg. “Could be worse.”
---
Apollo stood proudly in front of his temple, watching the tiny mice parade. He felt like a proud parent, beaming as if they had just won the universe’s best award. They were perfect, precious, and had learned so much from their “training.”
“You know, I think it might be time to teach them about storing ambrosia for the winter,” Apollo mused aloud, surveying the destruction of cheese.
And the gods, reluctantly, knew that they were not getting rid of the mice anytime soon.
Chapter 205: Prophetic Whimsy (And a Hint of Fear)
Chapter Text
Title: “Prophetic Whimsy (And a Hint of Fear)”
Tags: Unhinged Oracle Energy, Apollo Being Apollo, Everyone Is Just A Bit Scared, Sweetly Terrifying
---
It started on a Tuesday.
“Don’t forget to duck at precisely 3:47 PM,” Apollo said to Kayla, mid-sandwich bite.
She blinked. “Why?”
He just smiled sweetly, eyes glittering with sunshine and vague menace. “Just a feeling.”
Everyone in Cabin 7 turned to stare. Connor Stoll, who happened to be visiting for lunch, slowly put down his PB&J and scooted an inch farther away from Apollo.
“Is… that going to be a monster attack?” Kayla asked nervously.
Apollo giggled. “I never said that.”
“…Is it going to be worse than a monster attack?”
The god shrugged, already humming to himself and sipping nectar like nothing was wrong.
That day at 3:47 PM, a harpy from the woods sneezed so hard it dropped an entire tree branch directly above Kayla’s head. She ducked on instinct. The branch missed her by an inch.
---
The next time, it was Will.
They were sitting together on the camp porch when Apollo leaned over and whispered, “Too bad you're not going to stay here for the next three days.”
Will went rigid. “What?”
Apollo blinked innocently. “I mean, obviously, something’s going to come up. I hope you pack warm clothes.”
“I—Apollo, what kind of thing? Is Camp in danger?”
Apollo just gave that sunny, terrifyingly carefree grin again and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” before spinning on his heel and walking off with a spring in his step.
Two hours later, Will was summoned to help with a spontaneous healing crisis at a rogue demigod camp across the state line. He had to pack overnight things and grumbled the entire way about “cryptic shiny prophecy men.”
---
The worst moment?
Apollo walked past Chiron in the Big House, paused, tilted his head, and whispered, “It’s a shame about your teacups.”
Chiron looked up slowly, frozen. “What… about my teacups?”
Apollo beamed. “Oh, nothing! You won’t need them much longer anyway!”
Chiron proceeded to lock his entire china cabinet in a magical barrier. The next day, Clarisse got into an argument and accidentally threw an Ares-blessed javelin through the window, shattering the entire set.
When Chiron later glared at Apollo, the sun god simply offered him a new set, handmade by Hephaestus, and said, “Told you!”
---
By the end of the week, everyone was terrified. It wasn’t the predictions—they weren’t necessarily bad. It was that Apollo didn’t give context. He didn’t explain. He just dropped cryptic little bombs like:
“Shouldn’t have trusted that raccoon.”
“Say goodbye to those shoes. They had a good run.”
“Oh, it’s gonna rain chocolate. You’ll see.”
Sometimes it was true. Sometimes it wasn’t. But the point was: no one ever knew which.
---
By the weekend, Camp Half-Blood had collectively developed a trauma response.
“Apollo, how are you—” someone would start to ask.
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask that if I were you,” he’d say with a little hum, and they’d immediately retreat.
Even Nico avoided him like the plague. “I’ve seen too much death to deal with that kind of terror,” he muttered, glaring every time Apollo so much as smiled at him.
Apollo, of course, remained oblivious to the chaos he wrought.
“I’m just being helpful,” he insisted. “It’s my duty as the Oracle’s boss! And sunshine god!”
No one was convinced.
---
One day, he patted Annabeth on the head and said, “You’re not gonna remember this conversation by next week.”
She stared at him, narrowed her eyes, and whispered: “What did you do?”
Apollo just winked and vanished in a flash of golden mist.
Annabeth didn’t sleep for three days.
---
The end. (Until he opens his mouth again.)
Chapter 206: Brain, Brawn, and Brilliance
Chapter Text
Title: “Brain, Brawn, and Brilliance”
Tags: Competition Shenanigans, Overpowered Apollo, Overpowered Hephaestus, Sibling Rivalry, Chaos Gods Edition, Athena Has a Headache, Regret and Secondhand Embarrassment
---
It started, as most Olympian disasters do, with someone insulting Apollo.
"You? God of knowledge? Please, stick to singing and sunbathing,” Hermes said with a smirk.
Ares snorted. “I’ve seen stones with more intellect.”
Dionysus, sipping a Diet Coke, chimed in, “At least stones don’t compose badly timed haikus.”
Artemis rolled her eyes but didn’t stop them. "Don't tease him, he might start crying sonnets again."
Apollo gasped in the most dramatic way possible, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “You dare insult the intellect of the god of prophecy? The Oracle whisperer? The poetry patron?”
“I think you mean the god of glitter,” Hermes muttered.
And so, the Olympian Sibling Challenge was born.
---
The Contestants:
Team Brawn & Brains (and Bombs): Ares & Hermes
Team Mood Swings United: Dionysus & Artemis
Team Artistic Destruction: Apollo & Hephaestus
Referee (and glorified babysitter): Athena, who looked three seconds away from self-defenestration.
---
Challenge 1: Quiz Bee
Athena had painstakingly prepared a set of riddles, historical facts, mythical events, and even math questions.
It was supposed to be a fair test of intellect.
Ares answered “punch it” to every math problem.
Hermes tried to google things with a blessed iPhone (Athena vaporized it).
Dionysus got bored halfway and conjured a shrubbery.
Artemis just glared at everyone and got surprisingly high scores out of sheer spite.
Apollo, meanwhile?
He slayed.
He answered every question with a flourish. He solved impossible logic puzzles in haiku. He named historical events with timestamps and weather reports. He corrected Athena’s bonus round.
Hephaestus didn’t even try. He sat back, whirring little mechanical bees flying around his shoulders, and said, “I’m just here for the next round.”
Apollo winked. “We love a supportive king.”
By the end of it, Team Artistic Destruction won by 421 points. Out of 100.
---
Challenge 2: Creation Test
“Create something,” Athena said wearily. “Impress me. Please don’t destroy reality.”
Hermes summoned a golden roller-skating delivery eagle. Ares created a war chariot that caught fire upon existence.
Dionysus made a self-refilling wine barrel (okay, kind of impressive).
Artemis presented a glittering bow that refused to be touched by men (Hermes lost a finger testing it).
Then came Team Artistic Destruction.
Apollo and Hephaestus shared one look. That was all they needed.
In fifteen minutes, they created a floating amphitheater made of celestial glass, powered by sunfire, orbiting a mechanical solar lotus that changed phases with time.
It sang the entire Iliad in choral harmony, accompanied by a fireworks show and a fragrance of burnt cinnamon and pride.
Ares dropped his weapon. Hermes whispered, “What the Hades.”
Dionysus actually sobered up.
Artemis blinked.
Hephaestus folded his arms, grinning. “He did the aesthetics. I just added some fire.”
Apollo leaned dramatically against a golden arch and said, “And you said I wasn’t the god of knowledge.”
Athena gave them a perfect score. She also declared them disqualified on the grounds of "breaking all possible balance."
No one argued.
---
From then on, whenever someone called Apollo dumb, he just summoned a hologram of the amphitheater and raised a perfectly shaped brow.
Hermes never recovered.
Ares now cries when he sees glitter.
And Athena refuses to host another contest.
---
The end. (Until they do it again.)
Chapter 207: Meet the Other Side of the Family
Notes:
School is the worst I have so much homework!
Chapter Text
Title: “Meet the Other Side of the Family”
Tags: Apollo Cabin Centered, Mortals Meet the Gods, Found Family Feels, Parental Regret, Awkward Mortal Reunions, Godly Paternal Apollo, Lowkey Drama, Highkey Flirting
---
It was supposed to be a “Reconnection Day.” Chiron’s idea, honestly. A little heartwarming attempt to reforge bonds between demigods and their mortal families.
Cabin 7 was not thrilled.
"Do we have to participate?" Kayla asked flatly, already retreating behind a book.
Austin groaned. "My mom brought my stepdad and his two other kids. They're gonna try and tell me Camp is a cult again."
One kid muttered, "My uncle thinks I'm at a wellness retreat in Montana."
Another winced. “My mom’s already asking if I’ve ‘grown out of this phase.’”
It was awkward. The mortals stood around Camp Half-Blood like they were in a strange museum full of sweaty children and danger. They smiled too hard. Their hugs were stiff. Their questions were always just a bit off:
"Do they have air conditioning in your cabin?"
"So... how many monsters did you fight this week?"
"Are you still talking to that, um, sword girl?"
And the Apollo kids? They shrank. Pulled back into quiet, polite masks. Every laugh felt a bit forced. Every conversation was interrupted by the clanging discomfort of absence.
Then, around midday, he arrived.
---
Apollo strolled into camp with the glow of a freshly manifested sun, golden hair glinting, an acoustic guitar slung over his back for aesthetic. He wore jeans and a soft yellow hoodie that somehow made him look like the personified version of summer break.
“My favorite children!!” he beamed.
It was like someone flipped a switch.
“Dad!” Kayla lit up.
Austin instantly brightened. “I saved you some lemonade!”
One of the younger kids launched into a rambling story about defeating a manticore, and Apollo immediately knelt to their level with wide-eyed enthusiasm like they were recounting a cinematic masterpiece.
In a span of five minutes, Cabin 7 went from Avoiding Eye Contact to Clinging to Their God Like Starved Puppies.
The mortals stared.
Wide-eyed. Silent. Disbelieving.
---
Apollo tossed an arm around Austin and grinned. “Did you play your trumpet solo yet? I bet it blew everyone’s socks off.”
Austin nodded shyly, “I played it for Cabin Nine’s bonfire night.”
“Oh that’s what that sound was,” Hephaestus rumbled as he wandered by, casually munching a gear. “Very jazzy.”
Kayla, curled at Apollo’s side, was giggling uncontrollably while Artemis sat stiffly beside them, awkwardly offering her niece a flower crown made of moonlace. (It was the thought that counted.)
Even Hermes came by to ruffle one of the younger kids' hair and drop a sack of enchanted candy with a “Don’t tell your mortal parents, they’ll sue me.”
And the mortals? They were stuck watching their kids laugh and light up like they hadn’t all but shut down around them five minutes ago.
Some of the uncles looked at Apollo like they’d seen an angel. Which, to be fair, was close.
One stepmom whispered to another, “He’s… he’s single, right?”
Apollo caught that and winked. “Darling, the sun is never unavailable.”
---
It all crashed down when one of the younger kids asked, “Dad, how come none of them ever came to visit before?”
Everything froze. Apollo’s smile faltered. Just for a moment.
Then he stood, very calm, very quiet, golden eyes sharp with godly authority.
“I ask myself the same thing,” he said.
Artemis crossed her arms, visibly upset. Hermes looked away. Even Dionysus—yes, Dionysus—muttered, “They don’t even send letters.”
“I—I didn’t know we could,” one of the moms stammered. “I thought you chose to live here. That the gods wanted it that way.”
Apollo looked around at his kids, the way they leaned toward him, orbiting like planets around a sun, and his jaw tightened just slightly.
“No child chooses to be forgotten.”
---
Later, after the awkward mortals were ushered out, and letters had been heavily suggested, and certain stepdads were still watching Apollo with hearts in their eyes, the god of the sun curled up in a hammock at Cabin 7.
Austin sat by his side, trumpet in his lap. Kayla leaned against his legs, book open.
One of the younger kids piped up, “Dad? You’re never gonna forget us, right?”
Apollo chuckled, kissed the top of their head, and said, “Never, my bright stars. You're the pieces of my heart I got right.”
Chapter 208: Thread Lightly
Chapter Text
Title: “Thread Lightly”
Tags: Apollo & the Fates, Chaos Trio, Found Family, Sibling Energy, Prophetic Shenanigans, Time Is A Social Construct, Gods Being Gods, Olympus is Tired
---
No one knows how it started.
Maybe Apollo wandered into their lair one day because he got bored. Maybe Clotho thought he had “main character vibes” and invited him to hang out. Maybe Lachesis liked his poetry. Maybe Atropos just wanted someone to annoy with her scissor jokes.
Whatever the case, one day, Apollo just… started showing up at the Loom.
And never left.
---
“Apollo, why are you upside down?” Clotho asked, already resigned.
He was hanging off the Loom’s rafters like a bat. “Trying to see the threads from a new perspective.”
“That’s not how fate works,” Lachesis said, not even glancing up from her measuring tape.
“Art, Lachesis. It's called interpretation.”
Atropos, sharpening her scissors with the intensity of a vengeful librarian, grunted. “If you knock a single thread out of alignment, I’m cutting your shoelaces next.”
Apollo gasped. “Not the laces.”
---
Everyone on Olympus hated it.
Why? Because the Fates were already terrifying. Mysterious. Untouchable. Now, they giggled. They braided each other’s hair. They played cards. With Apollo.
And worst of all? They told jokes.
You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Lachesis say “Time’s up” and watch Atropos actually cut your shoelace while Apollo fake-faints in the background.
They gave Hades an actual heart attack once.
“STOP FORESHADOWING MY DEATH IN CHARADES!” he screamed, while Clotho mimed a skeleton and Apollo pointed to the underworld with jazz hands.
---
They became a power trio of chaos.
Athena tried to ask for a formal prophecy.
They made her play Uno for it. She lost.
Her answer was: “You’ll know when the squirrels scream.”
She hasn’t slept since.
Hermes walked in one time.
He walked out carrying seventeen cats and no memory of why.
Ares threatened to stab Apollo for stealing his popcorn.
The next day, every thread on the Loom spelled out “YOU WILL STEP ON A LEGO.”
He was cursed for weeks. It hurt his soul.
---
But Apollo loved them.
They didn’t flinch when he rambled about visions he didn’t understand.
They never mocked him for crying after seeing too many possible endings.
They let him nap in Clotho’s yarn pile when the sun god got too tired from holding up the world’s light.
In return, he brought them flower crowns.
Sang to them when they were too quiet.
Made them laugh even when all the threads screamed doom.
And sometimes—just sometimes—they let him help.
“Not that one,” Atropos said once, hesitating before cutting a tiny golden thread.
Apollo’s eyes glowed. “He still has a song left in him.”
She stared at him. Then put the scissors down.
---
Fate was supposed to be absolute.
But with Apollo around, even destiny started getting annoyingly cheerful.
Zeus once growled, “Why are all my fates written in sparkly ink now?”
Clotho just grinned. “Because someone brought us glitter pens.”
Apollo: “You’re welcome.”
---
In the end, they were terrifying.
Unstoppable.
Unknowable.
And also somehow, the Olympian equivalent of four feral cats who discovered coffee and chaos and called it friendship.
Don’t mess with Fate.
And definitely don’t mess with Apollo’s besties.
Because he’ll see it coming.
And they’ll make sure you feel it.
Chapter 209: Rays of Revelation
Chapter Text
Title: “Rays of Revelation”
Tags: Helios Raises Apollo, Overprotective Dad & Grandpa Energy, Zeus Gets What He Deserves, Found Family, Plot Twist After Plot Twist, Olympus Is Tired Again, Chaos but Make It Domestic
---
It started when Will Solace casually said:
“Hey, why does that flaming chariot in the sky keep circling Camp Half-Blood every morning?”
No one thought much of it. Just some weird celestial omen thing.
Until it landed.
And out stepped Helios. In all his fiery, sun-chiseled glory. Hair of living flame. Eyes like solar flares. Radiating heat and judgment.
He walked right past Chiron. Past the campers. Past Dionysus, who was mid-sip and spat his Diet Coke in terror.
And went straight to Apollo.
“Apollo,” he said with the kind of warmth that could melt glaciers, “my son.”
---
Everyone paused.
Will: “...excuse me?”
Nico: “I KNEW something was weird with the sun today.”
Annabeth: “Wait. Wait wait wait. Wait. Did he just say son??”
Percy: “I didn’t even know titans did dad hugs.”
Hermes, whispering: “...Zeus is gonna piss himself.”
---
Zeus, elsewhere on Olympus, did in fact, piss himself.
---
Turns out, Helios raised Apollo.
After Leto gave birth and had to hide, it was Helios who swooped in like some flaming kidnapper-uncle-babysitter hybrid.
Why?
“Because he looked like he had sun god potential,” Helios said simply, as if stealing a divine baby was a normal internship offer.
He raised Apollo in his palace. Taught him how to glow, how to sing light into the world, how to blind idiots with dignity.
He was the dad who attended every lyre recital. Who taught him about constellations before bedtime.
He is also the reason Apollo never learned how money works (“The sun doesn’t pay taxes, dear.”)
---
And when the gods found out Apollo was turned mortal by Zeus?
Helios descended.
The sky turned orange.
The air shimmered with heat.
And in a booming, enraged voice heard throughout Olympus, he declared:
“WHO DARES TURN MY BABY INTO A MORTAL RAT??”
Zeus hid under the nearest table. Athena slowly scooted her chair away from him. Hera got popcorn.
---
Helios has since declared himself grandfather to all Apollo kids.
And he’s taking it very seriously.
The next time someone tried to bully Kayla at school?
The sun temporarily refused to rise.
Will got sick?
Helios flew down with a constellation-sized blanket and a planet made of soup.
Austin needed a new saxophone?
Helios summoned one forged from star metal.
Campers started whispering that the Apollo cabin had “solar mafia protection.”
They’re not wrong.
---
The best part?
Apollo is absolutely basking in it.
He leans into Helios’s hugs, lets him fix his hair, lets him embarrass him in front of everyone with stories like:
“Once, he tried to smite a shadow. Thought it was threatening me. Turned out it was just his own.”
And Will?
Will has never felt more grandfathered in.
Literally.
---
In conclusion:
Zeus is not the real sun dad.
Helios is.
Apollo is thriving.
His kids are worshipped and fed starlight soup.
And the next time anyone calls Apollo “dumb” or “useless”—
They find the sun glaring at them.
Literally.
---
Olympus, updated status: Constantly confused. Mildly terrified. Emotionally compromised.
And Helios? Helios is just planning the next family barbecue. On the surface of Mercury.
Chapter 210: Sunlight and Steel: A Sibling Story
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight and Steel: A Sibling Story”
Tags: Genderbent Apollo, Genderbent Artemis, Overprotective Brother, Feared Older Sibling, Godly Family Drama, Uncle Arty Energy, Protective Siblings, Chaos Ensues
---
It’s hard being the daughter of Zeus.
Harder still when you’re Apollo, radiant goddess of the sun, music, healing, prophecy... and sibling to the most terrifying being on Olympus.
Artemis the Rage
---
“Arty, I don’t need you to threaten every person who breathes near me,” Apollo said, lounging on a golden divan in her temple, sipping nectar from a glass that somehow refilled itself whenever she blinked.
Artemis didn’t even blink. “He looked at you like he wanted to propose. Or stab you. Either way, dead now.”
“...He was delivering mail.”
“Exactly.”
---
Artemis was everything a god should be feared for.
He was tall, wild-eyed, divine steel wrapped in moonlight.
He moved with the grace of a predator and the silence of death.
And he loved his sister more than life itself.
---
“I warned you,” he said once, standing in front of Zeus, blade drawn and glowing silver, “if you ever hurt her again, I will take your throne and mount your beard on a pike.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Zeus snarled.
Apollo, standing behind Arty with puffy eyes and sniffles, whispered, “he totally would.”
He did.
Everyone fled Olympus for a week. Even Hera vacationed in the Underworld.
---
The irony? Artemis still hated men.
Despised them.
But Apollo’s kids?
Oh, they were perfect.
“Because they came from you,” he said once, casually holding Will like a cat. “Which makes them pure. You birthed greatness.”
Will did not know what to do with that information. Nico tried to pull him away once.
Artemis growled.
Nico ran. Fast.
---
He was the kind of uncle who’d drop ten celestial bucks on any achievement.
“Will healed a broken arm? THE CHILD DESERVES A CHARIOT.”
“Kayla got an A? I’m giving her a constellation.”
“Your mortal just implied Polly’s music is ‘annoying’? Oh. Oh. There goes Kansas.”
---
Apollo (or Polly, as Arty insisted on calling her) was the only one who could get him to not obliterate cities on a daily basis.
“Arty, love of my afterlife,” she would coo, arms around his shoulders, “please do not start a war because someone bumped into me at the Agora.”
Artemis narrowed his eyes, murderous and pouting. “...Fine. But I’m sending them mice.”
“...You’ve been spending too much time with my cabin.”
---
Polly could be bright, teasing, full of giggles and sparkles—
But let someone make her cry?
There’d be silence.
Then a breeze.
Then the entire pantheon freezing because:
“WHO MADE POLLY CRY?”
One time, it was Ares. He said her new ballad was “too emotional.”
The war god is still missing. Rumors say he was last seen being yeeted into space by a silver-glowing arrow.
---
And despite it all—
Despite the death threats, the knives, the immortal sibling drama—
Apollo always looped her arm through Arty’s, rested her cheek on his shoulder, and said:
“You’re the best brother a sun goddess could ever ask for.”
And Artemis, fierce and deadly, simply replied:
“I know.”
---
(And yes, Nico still refuses to enter the Apollo cabin without a mirror, some garlic, and three anti-possession runes. Just in case.)
Chapter 211: A Day in the Life of an Apollo Kid
Chapter Text
Title: "A Day in the Life of an Apollo Kid"
Tags: Camp Half-Blood, Apollo Being Apollo, Long-Suffering Children, Chaos Dad, Eye Twitching, Demigod Problems, Found Family Vibes
---
“Kayla. Kayla, he’s doing it again.”
Kayla didn’t even look up from restringing her bow. “Did he throw glitter into someone’s open wound again?”
“No. Worse,” Austin deadpanned, pointing toward the edge of the forest.
There stood Apollo. Glowing. Shirtless. Surrounded by sparkles. Strumming a lyre while passionately singing about the medical benefits of blueberries to a crowd of mice. Literal mice.
Kayla sighed. “This is why Dionysus drinks.”
---
Being a child of Apollo came with many perks:
- Good aim
- Great healing skills
- Killer cheekbones
But no one tells you about the emotional labor of having Apollo as your divine parent.
---
“Dad, please stop trying to offer dating advice to the Ares kids,” Will said one morning, exhausted, sipping his third coffee.
“They were asking for help!” Apollo protested, his golden eyes wide and innocent. “They said they wanted help conquering hearts. I’m a romantic expert!”
“You recommended interpretive dance battles,” Will muttered.
“Exactly!”
“They now think mating rituals involve glitter and finger guns.”
Apollo grinned, proud.
Will walked into a wall.
---
There were group therapy sessions.
Not for trauma.
But for dealing with their father.
“We need a support group,” said one girl, deadpan. “The Aphrodite kids have beauty tips. The Hades kids have death bonds. We need ‘Sons and Daughters of the God Who Accidentally Blew Up a Building Because Someone Mocked His Music Club.’”
“I want that on a T-shirt,” muttered another.
---
They’d learned to accept certain truths:
- He will always pop in during training to “inspire morale” by breakdancing mid-spar.
- He will show up with three injured owls and declare they are your new siblings.
- He has never understood money. Or boundaries.
- If he gets emotional, it’s either a spontaneous musical number or an earthquake. Sometimes both.
---
One time, Will stubbed his toe. A little thing. A normal thing.
Apollo showed up in full golden chariot mode, demanding to know who hurt his precious healer child. He summoned sunlight so bright it melted the camp’s canoe dock.
Will sat in the infirmary, holding ice to his foot, while Chiron screamed in the background.
Austin offered him a lollipop.
“...Why is this my life?” Will mumbled.
“Because we were born hot and unlucky.”
---
Still, despite the chaos, the unsolicited songs, the occasional apocalyptic temper tantrums in the name of love—
When Apollo smiled at them like they were the center of his universe, arms wide open and sun literally radiating around him...
They guessed it was worth it.
Probably.
“I brought snacks!” Apollo beamed, entering the cabin.
The entire Apollo cabin flinched.
“What kind of snacks?” Kayla asked cautiously.
Apollo dumped a glittery bucket of sun-shaped granola bars on the floor. “Solar power, baby!”
They stared.
Will sighed. “Someone go get Chiron. I think these are radioactive.”
(They’ve all agreed the next time Dad shows up with another mouse musical, they’re faking a cabin-wide illness.)
Chapter 212: The Lost Pages of Light
Chapter Text
Title: “The Lost Pages of Light”
Tags: Demigod Shenanigans, Young Apollo Was a Prodigy, Masterpiece Hidden in the Attic, Camp Half-Blood Chaos, Writer Apollo, Demigods Being Fans, Ancient Literature, Godly Modesty (Lies)
---
It all started when Cecil from Hermes cabin decided to poke around the Big House attic.
“I was looking for secret godly weapons,” he claimed.
“You found a dusty box of old books and cried because a spider touched your hand,” said Annabeth.
“Details,” Cecil sniffed.
---
Among the mess of ancient scrolls, broken lyres, and something that might’ve been Dionysus’s first wine bottle, they found it:
A thin leather-bound book, gold-edged, covered in sun symbols and faint constellations.
On the inside cover, in elegant handwriting:
“By the glorious hand of Apollo, God of the Sun, Poetry, and Extreme Awesomeness (and other things too numerous to list). Age: 296.”
The campers blinked.
“He...wrote this when he was two hundred and ninety-six?” Lou Ellen asked.
“Gods age differently,” Will muttered, already flipping pages.
---
What followed was a descent into literary obsession.
Because the book?
Was a masterpiece.
A sprawling epic that combined poetry and prose.
A story of stars falling in love with mortals.
Of empires rising and falling based on music.
Of a lonely godling who weaved stories to battle the ache of immortality.
It was beautiful. Tragic. Funny. Riveting.
And it ended on a cliffhanger.
---
They screamed.
“I NEED TO KNOW IF ARIANNE SURVIVES!” sobbed a son of Hermes, clutching the book like it was life itself.
“He wouldn’t kill her off! Right?! She just reunited with the constellation king!!” a daughter of Athena yelled.
“Wait—what if he dies instead?!” gasped a child of Hephaestus.
“We need to find Apollo!” Will declared.
Everyone turned to him.
“…No, I didn’t mean me—”
---
Apollo was lounging by the strawberry fields when they arrived like a literary-hungry mob.
“Oh hey kids!” he greeted cheerfully. “Want to hear my new song about the therapeutic effects of mangoes?”
“You wrote The Falling Star Chronicles?!” Lou Ellen practically screamed.
Apollo blinked. “Oh. That old thing?”
“That old thing is the most brilliant piece of literature we’ve ever read!” Annabeth said, nearly shaking.
Austin looked personally offended. “You left us on a CLIFFHANGER, Dad.”
“Oh, that? I wrote that when I was a godling. Barely had ten thousand years under my belt.”
“You wrote this as a BABY?” Will hissed.
“I was in my poetic phase! Young, mysterious, full of dreams...and caffeinated nectar.” Apollo sighed dramatically.
---
Cue the begging.
“Please finish the story!”
“We’ll offer you like—ambrosia. Or blue pens.”
“I’ll do your chores for a week!” said Kayla.
Apollo smirked. “Tempting. But I don’t even remember where I was going with it.”
“WE HAVE THEORIES!” someone yelled from the back.
“Multiple corkboards!” added another.
---
Eventually, Apollo gave in (he was weak to compliments and also someone promised him an “Apollo Fan Club” T-shirt).
“Alright, alright! But I make no promises it’ll be as good as before.”
Spoiler alert: It was even better.
Because this time, his kids helped him write. They added snark, coded messages, battle scenes, and notes in the margins like “No one cries this beautifully, Father.”
They read it aloud under starlight, turning pages together like scripture.
---
Some say The Falling Star Chronicles was never finished.
Others say Apollo keeps adding to it—just to keep the story alive.
But one thing’s for sure:
Somewhere in Cabin 7, there is a book, wrapped in sunlight and ink, with countless fingerprints and scribbled laughter on its pages.
And it’s perfect.
(Also, Chiron is very upset because half the camp is now skipping sword training to argue about plot twists.)
Chapter 213: The Sun Grows Cold
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun Grows Cold”
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Poisoned Apollo, Godly Panic, Camp Half-Blood Mystery, Overprotective Artemis, Apollo’s Kids to the Rescue, Olympian Drama, Whodunit
---
It happened during breakfast.
Apollo sat on a rock near the strawberry fields, golden robes lazily draped over one shoulder, humming a tune about seagulls and sonnets. Will had handed him a cup of tea, lovingly brewed with herbs from the camp’s garden, and Apollo had taken a grateful sip.
The first sign something was wrong was the silence.
The second was the clatter of the teacup slipping from Apollo’s fingers.
The third was the way the god of the sun—radiant, immortal, too brilliant to dim—collapsed onto the grass, eyes wide, hand trembling.
---
Camp exploded into chaos.
“DAD?” Will’s voice cracked as he dropped to his knees, trying to stabilize Apollo. “No no no—”
“What’s happening?!” Chiron demanded, pushing through the gathering campers.
“He’s burning up—no, cooling down—”
Apollo was shaking. Sunlight flickered violently around him like a candle in wind. His skin, usually glowing gold, had paled to a sickly yellow. His lips were cracked. He didn’t speak. He just looked at Will, at Kayla, at the sky—
And then he stopped moving.
---
That night, the sun didn’t rise.
The world woke in darkness.
And Olympus panicked.
---
Artemis arrived first.
She didn’t say a word—just appeared at the camp border, eyes glowing like moons and a hunting knife already in her hand.
“Who touched him?” she hissed, frost creeping into her voice. “Who dared touch my twin?”
The tea was tested. The mug analyzed. It was poisoned. Subtle. Ancient. Designed not to kill a mortal—but to cripple a god.
And worse… it was tailored for Apollo.
---
The gods met in emergency council.
“It could be Titan remnants,” Athena theorized.
“Or a mortal with forbidden knowledge,” Hades murmured.
“He’s immortal, he can’t die,” Hera insisted.
“He’s my baby brother, and someone hurt him,” Artemis snapped. “And I will find them.”
---
At Camp Half-Blood, Will and Kayla led the charge.
They searched Apollo’s temple for anything—old enemies, cursed scrolls, strange visitors.
They discovered a flower, tucked in a scroll—a rare, extinct herb from the Underworld. One that matched the poison’s signature.
“We have to go to the Underworld,” Kayla said grimly.
---
They made the journey—through shadow and silence, bargaining with Charon, pleading with Persephone, and finally reaching Hades.
“Someone took Underworld herbs,” Will told him, voice shaking. “They used it on my father. Please. Help us.”
Hades was silent for a long moment. Then he said:
“There’s only one who still cultivates that flower… and she is not kind to trespassers.”
---
The quest was hellish.
Through forgotten forests. Past rivers that whispered secrets. Battling old curses and new ones. Facing illusions of Apollo, calling out to them—“Why didn’t you stop this?”
They found the cure in the hands of a shade who hated the sun. They had to fight for it. Bleeding and breaking and pushing forward because Apollo would’ve done the same for them.
---
Back at camp, three days later, they gave him the elixir.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then—his breath caught.
Light flooded his body. He gasped. Sunlight exploded from his chest in a radiant wave, lighting the sky in a brilliance so pure it brought tears to every camper’s eyes.
Apollo opened his eyes.
And smiled weakly.
“Ugh,” he rasped. “Why does my mouth taste like corpse-flowers?”
Will cried. Kayla hit him. Artemis hugged him so hard she nearly crushed his ribs.
---
Later, they found the culprit.
A minor godling. Forgotten. Bitter. Blaming Apollo for a song he never wrote.
The punishment was swift.
But Apollo?
He just looked at the stars that night, quieter than usual, a shadow behind his smile.
“Guess I really can’t have tea with strangers anymore,” he joked.
But his kids never let him drink anything alone again.
And Artemis watched him like a hawk.
Because once the sun grows cold… the world remembers just how much they need it warm.
Chapter 214: The Olympian Honey Trap
Notes:
Can all parents that are fucking over protective and horrible die?
Chapter Text
Title: "The Olympian Honey Trap"
Tags: Humor, Slight Crack, Seductive Apollo, Gods Being Lazy, Demigods Are Done, Misuse of Beauty, Diplomacy via Flirting, Apollo's Kids Are Mortified, Minor Angst if you squint
---
You know how some gods wield thunderbolts, swords, or strategy?
Apollo? He wields thighs.
And the gods are not above exploiting that fact.
---
There was a time, centuries ago, when gods settled disputes with duels or clever political maneuvering. Now? Now they use Apollo.
“Apollo, sweetheart,” Aphrodite purrs, draping herself dramatically across her throne. “That chaos spirit is making noise again.”
“What kind of noise?”
“Loud. Annoying. Wants a war.”
Apollo sighs. “Let me guess. You want me to—”
“Wear the gold tunic,” Ares interrupts. “The one with the slit.”
“I hate that tunic.”
Zeus slaps his knee. “That's the spirit, son!”
---
The plan is always the same:
1. Send Apollo.
2. Let him flirt.
3. Watch the problem melt under a dazzling smile, musical serenade, and maybe a shoulder touch.
4. Avoid war.
It works too well.
---
It worked on a vengeful sea goddess ("Oh, I wasn’t mad, I was just… flustered, my bad.”)
It worked on the King of Djinns ("Your eyes hold galaxies," Apollo whispered. The djinn blushed for seven hours.)
It even worked on Hades once. (No one talks about it. Persephone just gave Apollo a look. He fled Olympus for a month.)
---
Back at Camp Half-Blood, the children of Apollo are traumatized.
“You don’t understand,” Will says, head in hands. “We get prophecies now of our dad... winking people into submission.”
“Last time, he seduced a chaos beast mid-tantrum. Do you know how terrifying it is to hear your immortal parent purr, ‘Want to see my sun chariot?’ like it’s a pick-up line?!”
Kayla nods solemnly. “I haven’t slept in four days.”
---
Apollo doesn’t even deny it anymore.
“Hey, if I can stop a war with a strategically timed hip sway and some poetry—why not?”
“But why must the tunic be so short?” Artemis glares from the corner.
“Freedom of movement.”
“I can see your thighs from here, Polly!”
“You’re welcome.”
---
One day, it backfires.
They send him to charm a powerful witch-queen to avoid divine trial.
She falls in love with him.
And refuses to let him leave.
Cue: Apollo screaming, “I’M TOO PRETTY FOR THIS!” as he flees a flying palace with lovestruck monsters on his tail.
---
After that, even he puts a cap on it.
“New rule,” he declares. “Only three seductions per month.”
The gods groan.
Demigods sigh in relief.
Aphrodite smirks. “...But you still have that tunic, right?”
Apollo: “...No comment.”
Title: “The Olympian Honey Trap: Part 2 – Demigods Learn the Ways”
Tags: Humor, Crack, Strategic Seduction, Apollo Kids Weaponize Beauty, Quest Shenanigans, Protective Dad Apollo, Camp Half-Blood Chaos, Flustered Monsters, Hades Is Done
---
After years of being exposed to Apollo’s divine charisma, his demigod children… adapted.
And by "adapted", we mean they began weaponizing their hereditary flirt powers.
---
It started when Will Solace got cornered on a quest.
A giant cyclops demanded a toll to cross a bridge.
Will, exhausted and muddy, blinked, smiled, and casually asked:
"Has anyone told you your eye has excellent symmetry?"
The cyclops turned pink. Let them cross for free. Gave them snacks.
Kayla stared at him for five full minutes.
“…Did you just Apollo that thing?”
Will looked horrified. “Oh no. It’s happening.”
---
After that?
It became strategy.
Step 1: Smile.
Step 2: Compliment.
Step 3: Strategic hair toss, or roll up your sleeves just right.
Step 4: Leave enemy confused, charmed, or flustered enough to forget what they were doing.
---
They even gave it a name: Project Golden Tongue.
“Do we use weapons? Yes,” Kayla says.
“But if we can flirt our way past the murder bear, why not?”
---
Apollo finds out during a quest report.
Will: “So then I told the manticore his tail was very sharp and asked how often he worked out.”
Apollo: “…”
Will: “And then we got the scroll, he let us leave, and I got his number—as a backup contact, don’t worry.”
Apollo: WHEEZING WITH PRIDE.
“My child has game. That’s my boy.”
---
The rest of Olympus? Horrified.
Artemis nearly threw a javelin.
“They’re seducing monsters now? Polly, control your offspring!”
“I didn’t teach them!” Apollo says, wiping a proud tear. “They just… watched and learned.”
Hades: “One of your kids winked at my fury. My fury. Do you know how long it took to stop her from swooning?”
---
Things escalate.
On one mission, three Apollo kids successfully seduce a temple guardian, a harpy librarian, and a literal wall that needed to be sweet-talked to open.
The wall blushed. It turned rose gold.
Even monsters start warning each other.
“Careful. If you see a pretty one with a bow and golden eyes? RUN. They’ll compliment your horns. You’ll fall in love. And then they’ll steal the artifact while you write poetry about them.”
---
Eventually, Apollo sits his children down.
“I’m proud of you. I truly am.”
They all preen.
“But,” he says, very seriously, “if I hear one more story about a half-harpy, half-minotaur with a crush writing you songs, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Will: “…What if they’re really good songs?”
Apollo, melting: “Ugh. FINE. But only if you bring me a copy.”
Chapter 215: Falling with Style (Apollo Edition)
Chapter Text
Title: “Falling with Style (Apollo Edition)”
Tags: Humor, Graceful Disaster, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Demigods Are So Done, Apollo Being Ridiculously Pretty
---
It started with a banana peel.
Yes, a banana peel. On the training field. Don’t ask how it got there.
Apollo, god of music, poetry, plague, sun, beauty, etcetera, was striding through Camp Half-Blood in full divine glory—sunlight kissing his hair, a lyre strapped to his back, smile bright enough to cause mild blindness.
He stepped on the peel.
Slipped.
Twisted.
Spun.
Flipped.
Landed in a perfect split.
Sparkles.
---
“Did he just—?” Will Solace blinked.
“Yes,” said Nico, deadpan, “he fell like a Disney princess.”
---
It wasn’t a one-time thing either.
Apollo tripped on a root during archery practice. Everyone gasped.
But instead of hitting the ground like a normal person, he twirled, arms extended like a ballerina, and landed on his knees, hair fluttering, face tilted to the sun like he meant to do that.
Someone clapped.
He bowed.
---
Clarisse was furious.
“How the Hades does he fall like that? I stub my toe and look like a dying hippo!”
“He’s… Apollo?” Percy offered weakly, watching as the god walked into a doorframe five seconds later and somehow made that look like performance art.
---
It got worse during Capture the Flag.
Apollo tried to leap dramatically from a tree.
Tried.
He misjudged the height, caught his cape on a branch, spun down like a ribbon, and crash-landed in a heap of limbs and fabric.
Aphrodite kids swooned. Chiron gave him a 9.5.
“Point five deduction for the yelp,” he noted.
---
Even Artemis was annoyed.
“Can you not look good while flailing?” she hissed as he tripped over her stag.
“I don’t try,” Apollo said, pouting, a blade of grass in his hair. “It’s the curse of being fabulous.”
---
Eventually, the demigods just… gave up.
He fell down the dining pavilion stairs—twice.
Spilled ambrosia on himself—thrice.
Walked into a tree while monologuing—four times in one week.
Each time, he made it look like a photoshoot.
---
They started keeping score.
“Three stumbles, two spins, one dramatic hair flip,” Will said, jotting it down.
“He almost faceplanted into the hearth,” Nico added.
“But he smiled the whole time,” chirped Kayla. “So technically, it counts as radiant.”
---
Apollo, sprawled across a bench, legs over the backrest, eating grapes:
“You’re all just jealous that gravity worships me.”
Chapter 216: The Patron of Heroes
Notes:
Plz ignore the low word counts
Chapter Text
Title: “The Patron of Heroes”
Tags: Mythological History, Hidden Kindness, Apollo Being Soft, Found Family Energy, Immortal Angst, Hero Worship, Gods Being Gods
---
Most knew Apollo as the god of the sun, music, prophecy, and plague.
Some remembered his title as the Lord of Mice.
Others called him the God of Beauty, of Archery, of Healing.
Few remembered his most quiet title.
The Patron of Heroes.
---
It began when he was young—barely more than a godling.
He saw a mortal boy with trembling hands draw a blade to protect his village from monsters.
Apollo healed his wounds and gave him a song that would bring courage to any heart.
The boy survived.
The monsters didn't.
Apollo didn’t stay long enough for thanks.
---
He helped Heracles.
Not just with prophecy, but when Heracles wept after his madness-induced killings. Apollo sat beside him, whispering verses of forgiveness, of redemption, of strength.
He offered trials not to punish, but to help Heracles heal.
He helped him become a hero again.
---
He helped Atalanta.
When no one else believed she could be a warrior, Apollo sent her dreams of golden arrows.
He hid in the crowd when she raced her suitors and whispered wind beneath her feet.
He stood in the shadows, clapping when she won. Always clapping.
---
He tried to help Achilles.
But some people are not meant to be saved from fate.
Still, he sang lullabies to Patroclus’s grave when no one else would.
---
In secret, he helped Roman and Greek heroes. Norse, Egyptian, even mortal warriors outside the myths.
He taught them songs to remember their loved ones.
He sent golden animals to guide lost heroes back home.
He stood invisible beside their beds when they cried themselves to sleep.
---
And now?
He walks through Camp Half-Blood humming old lullabies.
He teaches demigods the songs of their ancestors, sings to them on nights when grief feels too heavy, and tells stories of forgotten heroes who made it through.
He heals wounds not just with medicine, but with hope.
---
"Why?" Nico once asked him. "Why do you care so much about heroes?"
Apollo looked at him, and for once, didn’t smile.
"Because they care too much, try too hard, and die too young. Someone should love them for it."
---
And in the shadows of time, painted on the walls of forgotten temples and carved into the corners of ancient swords, there is always a name:
Apóllōn — Patron of the Broken, the Brave, the Bright.
Chapter 217: The Sun’s Command
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun’s Command”
Tags: Mythical Power, Soft God Apollo, Divine Authority, Nature Magic, Inanimate Objects Love Apollo, Awe and Wonder, Unknowing Power, Solarpunk Vibes
---
There’s a reason they call Apollo beloved by all things.
Not just mortals. Not just gods. Not just heroes or artists or beasts.
Everything loves him.
Because Apollo radiates warmth that even stone finds comforting.
Because he sings with such grace that rivers remember their first song.
Because he brings beauty to the world just by being in it.
---
Once, a demigod watched Apollo walk toward a waterfall.
It was wild, roaring, unforgiving—like nature proving it didn’t care.
But when Apollo stood before it and said gently,
> “Excuse me, I’d like to pass,”
the waterfall parted.
Like a curtain drawn back.
Like a bowing crowd before royalty.
Like it wanted to listen.
---
Trees shift to provide him shade.
Thrones carve themselves in stone when he wants to sit.
Mountains make paths under his feet.
Suns pause their descent just to hold his glow a moment longer.
---
When asked, Apollo blinks innocently. “I didn’t even notice,” he hums, like the laws of nature aren't rearranging themselves in his wake.
---
There was a moment—once—when someone tried to cage him. A powerful sorcerer who thought gods could be bent.
Apollo, trapped in stone walls, tilted his head and whispered:
> “Open.”
The walls cracked like they had hearts breaking.
The ceiling shattered like it was ashamed.
The ground beneath the sorcerer dragged him down.
Apollo stepped out, sunlight blooming behind him.
The forest swayed.
The air sparkled.
And the world sang.
---
He doesn’t command because he wants to be worshipped.
He asks gently. He speaks kindly.
And because of that, the world always answers.
Chapter 218: Wait, You Dated Who?!
Chapter Text
Title: “Wait, You Dated Who?!”
Tags: Apollo’s Wild Love Life, Demigod Shenanigans, Famous Exes, Chaotic Family Bonding, Mythological Crack, Overwhelmed Demigods, Storytime With Dad
---
It started with a simple question.
Will had been organizing some old photos when Kayla casually asked,
"Hey Dad, how many lovers have you had?”
Apollo blinked, fork halfway to his mouth.
The other Apollo kids froze.
Will: “...That’s probably an inappropriate question.”
Austin: “But now we need to know.”
Apollo: “Do you mean romantically, physically, or those weird centuries-long flirtationships that involved war crimes?”
Everyone: “WHAT??”
---
He starts listing them off.
“Well, you’ve heard of Hyacinthus. Sweet boy. Died tragically. Zeus still won’t let me punch him for what happened.”
“There was also Adonis for a brief minute—shared custody with Aphrodite.”
“Oh, and that one time I dated Helen of Troy. Before the war. She said I was prettier than Paris.”
Will: “You dated Helen of Troy?”
Apollo: “We vibed over poetry.”
Kayla: “Wait, didn’t she cause a war?”
Apollo: “Technically, the men caused a war. Helen just existed fabulously.”
---
The list got longer.
“Sappho—yes, that Sappho. We had this whole artistic duel that turned into mutual adoration.”
“That one Pharaoh? Super obsessed with the sun. Worshipped me, invited me for tea, one thing led to another—”
“That entire Amazonian war captain? We wrestled for five hours, then fell in love for two weeks. Glorious.”
“Oh! One of the Muses! Erato. I tried dating her and it turned into the musical equivalent of a nuclear disaster. 0/10, great passion, poor compatibility.”
---
Eventually, it just got ridiculous.
“Da Vinci had a crush on me. I modeled for some of his early sketches.”
“A dragon shapeshifter princess in another dimension. Don’t ask. We had a castle in the sky.”
“A mortal named Harlan in the 1980s. Wrote me 700 songs. All of them terrible.”
Austin, stunned: “...You literally dated people who changed the course of history.”
Apollo: “Yeah, but my true greatest love is... art.”
Will: “Liar.”
Apollo: “Okay, fine. Hyacinthus. But art is a close second!”
---
And of course, the kicker:
Kayla: “Are any of them still alive?”
Apollo, grinning:
“Some. And some are haunting me. And some became constellations.
Honestly? I’ve stopped checking.”
---
The demigods all agree to never ask again.
Except now they want a family chart.
Apollo pulls out a divine scrapbook and three timelines.
Chaos ensures.
Chapter 219: The God of Gold (and Sparkle)
Chapter Text
Title: “The God of Gold (and Sparkle)”
Tags: Apollo Being Extra, Prince of Olympus, Jewelry Hoarder, Fashion God, Sibling Reactions, Demigod Confusion, Canon? Who’s She?
---
No one expected the blinding shine when Apollo walked into the throne room.
His presence alone usually glowed—but this was excessive.
Like a living chandelier had discovered runway modeling.
“Do you have to wear all of it?” Artemis groaned.
“Of course,” Apollo said, adjusting a third necklace over a golden chestplate. “The earrings match the cuff bracelets. And the anklets are symbolic.”
“Symbolic of what?”
“Being fabulous.”
---
Demigods from Cabin 7 had learned to stop questioning it.
He had a vault on Olympus just for accessories.
Rings for every finger (sometimes toes), arm cuffs, brooches, tiaras, waist chains, divine piercings—
“Is that a sunstone choker?” Will once asked.
“Yes,” Apollo said proudly. “Infused with literal sunlight. It hums when I’m happy.”
“It’s humming now.”
“Because you’re here, sunshine.”
---
And then there was… the crown.
A masterpiece of sun-forged gold, white diamonds, and fire opals.
The crest of his divinity.
Forged by Hephaestus, blessed by Hera, enchanted by Hestia.
He only wore it on “Official Prince of Olympus Business.”
(Or when he wanted to show up Zeus.)
---
One day, Hermes asked:
“Why so much jewelry, Golden Boy?”
Apollo shrugged, bracelets clinking.
“Because I can. Because it’s art. Because I’m a god of beauty. And because looking this good should be a crime.”
---
He once dropped one ring in front of Aphrodite. She picked it up and frowned.
“That’s mine.”
“Nope. Now it’s mine.”
“You little—”
“Too slow.”
---
He even gave Artemis a hair pin once.
She acted annoyed.
She kept it forever.
---
If anyone asked why he had a divine collection worthy of royalty?
Apollo would simply say:
“I am royalty.
Son of Zeus. Prince of Olympus.
Now hush and hand me that sunstone toe ring."
Chapter 220: Blinding Presence
Chapter Text
Title: "Blinding Presence"
Tags: Apollo Being Apollo, Inter-Pantheon Shenanigans, Gods in Awe, Beauty Problems, Dramatic Cloaks, Overprotective Siblings, Hidden Face Trope, Jealous Zeus Moments
---
It started after that meeting with the Norse.
The one where Odin stopped mid-sentence.
Where Thor dropped his hammer.
Where Freyja leaned way too close and asked if Apollo was “free this evening.”
Zeus hadn’t stopped glaring since.
“From now on,” Zeus gritted through his teeth, “Cover. Your. Face.”
---
Apollo, of course, was not thrilled.
"I am the sun, Father. You want me to dim myself?”
“I want to get through a single meeting without a god trying to write you a love poem on the spot!”
He protested, loudly, dramatically, with sparkles in the air for added effect.
But in the end…he wore the veil.
---
It was a thin, golden fabric. Translucent with woven sun threads.
Still divine, still radiant—but just enough to keep other pantheons from losing their minds.
Except it didn’t really help.
---
During the inter-pantheon summit:
The Egyptian gods whispered among themselves. Anubis blushed.
Bastet purred a compliment across the table.
Loki smirked and tried to flirt.
Kitsune deities giggled behind fans.
Quetzalcoatl left a feather on Apollo’s seat as a gift.
Even Ra looked a little starstruck.
Artemis nearly drew her bow.
“One more god sends you an offering mid-meeting,” she warned, “and I will end them.”
---
Apollo stayed quiet, seated calmly behind his shimmering veil, hands folded, face mostly hidden.
But everyone could feel it.
The beauty. The presence.
The impossible grace even in stillness.
---
"This is unfair,” Poseidon muttered to Athena.
“He’s glowing through enchanted fabric.”
“And breathing sparkles,” Athena added, rubbing her temple.
---
When the meeting ended, Zeus turned to Apollo and snapped,
“Next time, wear a sack.”
Apollo smiled beneath the veil.
“That would only enhance the mystique, Father.”
Title: "Blinding Presence — Part 2: The Veil Falls"
Tags: Apollo’s Unhinged Beauty, Gods in Love, Inter-Pantheon Chaos, Jealousy, Protective Siblings, Flirting Gods, Zeus Has a Stroke
---
The meeting was going well.
Well, by Olympian standards.
Which meant no one had been turned into a goat yet.
Until it happened.
A breeze.
A gentle, divine breeze from the wind god Fujin passing by.
Apollo’s veil fluttered—
And then it slipped.
---
For a moment, silence.
Then—
Ra dropped his goblet.
Freyja clutched her chest and whispered, “By all that is golden…”
Anubis audibly whimpered.
Amaterasu fainted.
Loki leaned back with a slow, delighted, “Oh, finally.”
Horus took actual psychic damage.
---
Chaos ensued.
Every god in the chamber stood up at once.
Declarations of love, marriage proposals, sacred offerings, family heirlooms—someone even gave him a planet.
A planet.
Zeus’s eye twitched so hard he almost summoned a thunderstorm.
Again.
---
Apollo blinked. “Oops,” he said cheerfully, not sounding sorry at all.
Artemis launched herself over the table like a wild animal.
“BACK OFF, YOU THIRSTY EXCUSES FOR DEITIES!”
She shoved a love-drunk god into a pillar.
Hermes started shouting bets.
Athena tried to install a shield spell over Apollo with shaking hands.
Hades was sipping wine and watching the chaos with mild amusement.
“This is better than the Underworld dramas.”
---
Zeus stood, voice thunderous:
"HE IS WEARING TWO VEILS NEXT TIME!”
Apollo just smiled serenely, tilting his face toward the sunbeam that followed him inside.
Even the shadows wanted to bask in his light.
---
That night, offerings poured into his temple from multiple pantheons.
Temples. Crowns. Golden oceans. Star maps. A constellation was renamed after him.
Again.
---
Apollo to Artemis:
"See? This is why I didn’t want to wear the veil.”
Artemis, loading arrows:
“This is why we hide you, Polly!”
Title: "Blinding Presence – Part 3: The Abduction Attempts Begin"
Tags: Beauty-Induced Madness, Overprotective Artemis, Flirt Wars, Divine Kidnap Attempts, Apollo Deserves Better, Inter-Pantheon Thirst
---
It started with a gift basket.
Very sweet.
Normal.
Until you realize it came from Frey, god of fertility and beauty.
And contained a golden chariot, a wedding contract, and a small planet with Apollo’s name inscribed in rings of stardust.
---
“Respectfully,” Apollo said, holding the note, “what the actual Hades is this?”
Artemis stared at the note, then at the divine pony attached to the chariot.
"They’re trying to steal you, Polly.”
Apollo blinked. “Oh. Again?”
---
Attempt 1:
Frey shows up in full ceremonial garb, tries to court-nap Apollo with a literal entourage of singing nymphs.
Artemis shot his belt buckle off.
He fled.
---
Attempt 2:
Loki shapeshifts into a dazzling demigod to seduce Apollo.
Apollo sees through it in three seconds and compliments his mascara.
Loki still counts it as a win.
---
Attempt 3:
Ra invites Apollo to a “private solar bonding ritual.”
Artemis breaks through the Egyptian temple roof and drags Apollo out by the wrist.
"YOU’RE NOT MARRYING THE SUN AGAIN!”
---
Zeus, watching it unfold:
“You know, this wouldn’t happen if you just wore the double veil like I said.”
Apollo, sipping nectar:
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Father.”
---
Meanwhile, Aphrodite made popcorn.
Hera made notes on divine diplomacy through flirtation.
Hades hosted a betting pool on which pantheon would succeed first.
Athena calculated probabilities and began designing a secure vault to store Apollo in.
---
Then came the real threat:
An anonymous admirer from the Primordial Court.
Gift: a floating constellation garden that whispered, “My starlight longs for yours.”
Artemis almost declared war.
---
Apollo, lounging in his golden hammock:
“Honestly, I feel kind of flattered.”
Hermes, hiding behind a shield:
“You are the divine version of a sugar rush and a heartbreak in one. Of course they want you.”
---
Artemis started writing a new law:
“All gods must be at least five galaxies away from my brother unless approved.”
Chapter 221: The Light God’s Halloween Horror
Chapter Text
Title: “The Light God’s Halloween Horror”
Tags: Halloween Chaos, Scaredy-God Apollo, Trick-or-Treat, God of Light Gets Spooked, His Kids Are Menaces, Artemis Laughs
---
Apollo loved Halloween.
Not in the “oooh spooky darkness” kind of way—
More like the “aesthetic, candy, costume, everyone lets me be dramatic” kind of way.
He went all out every year:
Coordinated outfits with the Apollo cabin
Hand-crafted golden jack-o’-lanterns that glowed with actual sunlight
Sang spooky lullabies on a lyre that made the stars shimmer
He was a VIBE.
But here’s the thing.
He’s the god of light.
So…
He’s also a total scaredy-cat.
---
Cue Halloween at Camp Half-Blood.
Apollo struts in dressed as a glittering vampire bard, cape fluttering, rings shining, charm turned to eleven.
He’s already handed out 57 glow-in-the-dark candy bags to his kids.
And then... someone pops out of a bush in a skeleton mask.
Screams.
Golden arrows fly. A lyre is thrown.
A poor nymph now has to regrow her pumpkin patch.
---
Will Solace, not even looking up:
“That’s the fourth time this week.”
Kayla:
“He says he’s immune to fear.”
Austin:
“Until someone knocks over a broom.”
---
Nico walks past in a cloak.
Apollo sees movement in the corner of his eye—
Trips on his own cape, screams, and flings himself onto a hay bale.
“YOU CAN’T JUST GLIDE LIKE THAT, NICO.”
Nico, stone-faced:
“I was walking.”
---
Then there’s the haunted corn maze.
Apollo bravely volunteers to go with his cabin.
Three minutes in:
A scarecrow shifts slightly.
Apollo yelps, jumps into Will’s arms, and refuses to let go.
---
Later that night, as he hides under a blanket after a raccoon jumped from a tree:
Artemis sips her cider calmly beside him.
“You do realize you are a literal god, right?”
“Says the guy who stared down Typhon.”
Apollo, trembling:
“Typhon didn’t wear a plague doctor mask, Arty.”
---
Despite the chaos, the Apollo cabin wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Because once the fear faded and the candy settled, Apollo would gather them around a bonfire,
cast illusionary stars in the air,
and tell stories that made the dead leaves dance and the night feel magic.
Even if he did nearly faint when a squirrel ran by.
Chapter 222: The Sun God’s Secret Talent
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun God’s Secret Talent"
Tags: wholesome, Apollo cooks, Camp Half-Blood bonding, jealous gods, demigods in awe
It started innocently enough.
The Apollo cabin was lounging after training, sprawled across picnic tables and sun-warmed benches, when one of the younger kids casually asked:
“Hey Dad, can you cook?”
Apollo blinked. Mid-lyre tune. Mid-drink. Mid-glow.
“…Cook?”
“Yeah! Like, actually cook. Not just bake those celestial cupcakes you bribed Chiron with last week.”
Will smirked. “Be careful, you’ll summon The Apron.”
Kayla leaned forward. “Wait. What’s The Apron?”
Austin: “He means The Golden Apron.”
Apollo stood up. His eyes lit like twin suns.
"It’s been… centuries. But if the children want a feast—then a feast they shall have!”
---
Ten minutes later.
Apollo was in the camp kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, wearing a blindingly golden apron embroidered with suns and constellations. His hair was in a messy bun, glowing just slightly. The entire Apollo cabin (and a few curious Hermes kids) watched from the doorway, whispering like they were about to witness a divine miracle.
"Why is he slicing so fast?”
“He’s not using a knife. That’s just light.”
“Did that egg just crack itself?”
“Did he just—speak to the soup? Is it blushing?”
The entire kitchen was a spectacle. Olive oil shimmered in the pan as if kissed by Helios. Garlic danced in mid-air before falling perfectly chopped. Spices whirled like musical notes around his fingers.
“Cooking is like music,” Apollo said, spinning a pan.
“A good meal is a symphony for the soul.”
---
An hour later, the demigods were seated in stunned silence around the tables.
Apollo set down the final dish: sun-glazed ambrosia-roasted chicken, honey thyme vegetables, fresh pita, soft golden rice with wild herbs, and a citrus tart that shimmered like starlight.
They took a bite.
And then—
“OH MY GODS.”
“I’M NEVER EATING CHIRON’S STEW AGAIN.”
“I JUST ASCENDED.”
Even Mr. D peeked out from his cabin. “What’s that smell? Did someone… actually cook something edible?”
---
Word spread fast.
Even some of the other cabins sneaked over “just to look.”
Hermes dropped a fork. Aphrodite popped in to try the tart. Ares muttered something about “stealing his seasonings.” Artemis begrudgingly admitted her brother might be useful outside archery.
Zeus nearly cried over a bite of the lemon herb bread.
“WHO TAUGHT YOU THIS?”
Apollo smiled, basking in the praise like a sunflower in bloom.
“Oh, just a few centuries of practice. And maybe the goddess of cooking and seasoning once called me ‘acceptable.’”
---
From that day on, the Apollo cabin begged for more cooking nights. And every time, Apollo would dramatically “reluctantly agree,” only to show up 10 minutes later with the apron already on.
Turns out, the god of music and prophecy?
Also the god of five-star meals.
And no one complained.
(Except Dionysus. Because Apollo wouldn’t share the wine reduction.)
Chapter 223: He Remembers
Chapter Text
Title: “He Remembers”
Tags: Wholesome, Found Family, Apollo is the Best Dad, Camp Half-Blood Feels
---
Will had gotten used to being at the center of a lot of Camp Half-Blood’s chaos.
But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared him for the sheer chaos of watching Apollo suddenly appear in the middle of the archery field with a picnic basket, a ridiculously big sun hat, and a beaming smile like he didn’t just descend from Olympus unannounced.
“Will! I brought your favorite—those lemon-honey sandwiches you always loved during your middle school years. With the crusts cut off.”
Will blinked. “I haven’t mentioned those since I was twelve.”
Apollo winked.
“And Kayla! I saw you got a new bow—your stance is looking a little off though, did you sprain your wrist again in that climbing race with... mm, Sadie, right? That mortal girl from school who you said had killer eyeliner?”
Kayla just stared.
“…You remembered Sadie?”
“Of course! She got you that sketchbook for your birthday last year—oh! Speaking of, Austin, I sent you that vinyl you wanted. The one by that band you said reminded you of your mom. It should be in your cabin by now.”
Austin hadn’t even told Chiron about that.
---
The rest of the Apollo cabin gathered fast, drawn by the gravitational pull of their radiant, sunshine-wrapped father.
And one by one, Apollo greeted them.
By name.
By birthdays.
By their inside jokes.
He brought small gifts—sketchpads, guitar picks, bracelets, energy drinks for late-night monster-hunting missions. He remembered their allergies, their comfort snacks, the names of their mortal friends and pets.
He even remembered embarrassing nicknames from when they were six.
(“Please never call me ‘Twinklestorm’ again in front of my cabinmates.” “Never, ever, sweetheart. Just when it’s funny.”)
---
“I just… don’t get it,” whispered a Hermes kid watching from behind a tree. “Doesn’t he have like, a thousand children?”
“Yeah,” Will said, watching his dad argue with a squirrel (and win). “And he knows us all.”
The kids from other cabins whispered too—comparing their own godly parent visits. Rare. Vague. Awkward. Impersonal.
But Apollo? Apollo showed up with warm hugs, inside jokes, and genuine interest in how your art project was going.
---
Later, when the sun dipped low and most campers had wandered off, Will sat beside his dad and asked, “How do you remember it all? You’re a god.”
Apollo just smiled softly and ruffled his hair.
“Because you’re mine. And I choose to remember.”
And somehow, in that moment, that meant more than immortality or music or prophecy combined.
Chapter 224: Fourth Wall? Never Heard of Her.
Chapter Text
Title: “Fourth Wall? Never Heard of Her.”
Tags: Crack, Fluff, Anime Shenanigans, Apollo Breaks Reality, Demigods are Done
---
The Apollo cabin—and a few stowaways from Hermes and Hephaestus—were gathered around the camp’s common room TV. Popcorn bowls, soda cans, and heated debates about power scaling littered the area like war debris.
“What do you mean Gojou’s stronger than Saitama?! He’s a mortal—”
“He’s got limitless cursed energy, Max! Cursed. Energy.”
“ONE PUNCH.”
“Limitless—”
“ONE PUNCH!”
Amid the chaos, Apollo lounged on the couch like he owned it (because he kind of did), wearing sunglasses indoors and sipping peach iced tea. He was halfway watching, halfway humming an unreleased Taylor Swift song—yes, he’d heard it early, no he wasn’t sharing.
On screen, a certain white-haired sorcerer smirked dramatically and made a snarky comment.
Apollo chuckled.
“Honestly, he’s way more awkward in real life. Did you know he collects weird cat keychains?”
The room went still.
Will slowly turned. “What?”
Apollo blinked innocently. “What?”
“You just said—did you say real life?”
Apollo paused, then sipped his tea again.
“Oh. Right. You’re not supposed to know that.”
Austin squinted. “...Are you telling us you’ve met Satoru Gojou?”
“And Ichigo,” Apollo said casually, stretching. “And Shinobu, and Gojo’s fanclub—oh, and that guy from that food anime who won’t stop moaning while cooking.”
Kayla stared. “...Yukihira?”
“Yeah! That one.”
The silence could shatter.
“How—HOW?”
“Well,” Apollo said, in that too-casual tone that meant absolutely unhinged god nonsense incoming, “I was just playing with divine perception and poetry one day, and I realized fiction and myth aren’t that different. Stories live. So I poked around. Then I fell into an anime dimension. Tripped over a kappa. Became a Shinigami for three days. You know, normal stuff.”
“THAT’S NOT NORMAL!”
“Technically,” he continued, “the gods could all do it, but they haven’t figured out how. Or tried. They think anime is just ‘weird mortal lights and noises.’ Poseidon thought Naruto was a fishing documentary.”
“Of course he did.”
Apollo shrugged. “Anyway, Levi cleans obsessively offscreen, Gojou’s sunglasses are prescription, and yes, Kakashi really does read those books at inopportune moments.”
“...Can you take us with you?” one Hermes kid whispered.
Apollo grinned. “Only if you survive my anime world survival boot camp.”
Will: “Please no.”
Apollo: “Too late. We start tomorrow. Training arc time!”
---
That’s how the Apollo cabin ended up doing slow-motion power-up poses at dawn, trying to figure out who would be their rival, and debating who among them had protagonist energy.
And somewhere, in a slightly cracked fourth wall of the universe, Gojo Satoru sneezed in confusion.
Title: “Fourth Wall? Still Don’t Know Her.” (Part 2)
Tags: Crack, Anime x Myth, Jealousy, Fluff, Apollo Attracts Everyone, Artemis Is So Done, Demigods are Screaming
---
It started with a thud.
No lightning. No dramatic sky rips. Just a thud near the strawberry fields.
"Someone go check that out," Chiron sighed, clearly done with demigod nonsense by 10 a.m.
Will, Kayla, and Austin arrived to find three very familiar figures standing up, brushing dust off their coats.
“Oh my gods,” Kayla whispered. “That’s—”
“Levi Ackerman,” Austin muttered, wide-eyed.
“Gojo freakin’ Satoru,” Will said, already feeling a headache form.
“And—oh gods—wait, is that—IT’S KAKASHI!”
“Yo,” Gojo said, pulling down his blindfold just enough to wink. “Is this Camp Half-Blood? We’re looking for Apollo.”
Austin blinked. “Why?”
“He owes me sake. And an explanation,” Kakashi added, lifting his book to hide a smirk. “He left a haiku on my porch and vanished.”
Will: “...That sounds like him.”
Levi, ever succinct, dusted himself off. “He also kidnapped my cat.”
“...That also sounds like him.”
Before the kids could process anything, a glow filled the air and Apollo appeared. Sunlight glimmered behind him, golden laurel on his head, wearing a Camp Half-Blood hoodie like it was a designer robe.
“‘Pollo,” Gojo grinned. “Miss me?”
Apollo blinked. “Gojo? Levi? Kakashi? Wait, how did you guys get here?”
“You left a literal inter-dimensional trail of glitter,” Kakashi said.
Levi crossed his arms. “And you told my cat to follow you. She turned into a sunbeam.”
Apollo smiled sheepishly. “Ah. Right. Sunny’s a good girl.”
Will, off to the side, whispered, “Is this a fever dream? Did Apollo just reverse-isekai half the anime world?”
Kayla: “I think we need therapy.”
Gojo sauntered up, completely ignoring the growing crowd of screaming campers. “So, ‘Pollo. Got time to catch up? Maybe dinner under the stars?” He slung an arm around Apollo’s shoulder.
Apollo blinked. “You’re flirting with me?”
“Of course I am.”
“...Well I am stunning,” Apollo admitted.
Enter Artemis.
She appeared like a thunderclap with arrows practically glowing, eyes narrowed, absolutely radiating overprotective big brother energy.
“Polly,” she said sweetly. “Who are these men touching you?”
Apollo: “Arty, please don’t murder them in front of the strawberries.”
Gojo grinned. “So you’re Artemis. Apollo talks about you a lot.”
“Does he now?” Artemis said, already sizing him up like prey.
Levi looked at her, unimpressed. “Hn. Protective. I get it.”
Artemis turned to Apollo. “You brought them here?”
Apollo raised his hands. “Technically, the multiverse did. Also, they followed the glitter.”
Demigods: “YOU SPREAD GLITTER BETWEEN DIMENSIONS?!”
Apollo: “It was biodegradable!”
Gojo: “Still sparkly.”
Kakashi: “Tasted like citrus.”
Will had enough. “So do we have interdimensional guests now or what?”
Apollo, casually linking arms with Gojo and giving Kakashi a peace sign: “Yep. Camp Half-Blood’s got crossover episodes now. Welcome to Season 2.”
Chapter 225: We’re the Protective Ones Now
Chapter Text
Title: "We’re the Protective Ones Now"
Tags: Fem!Apollo, Protective Demigod Children, Fluff, Humor, Overprotective Family Vibes, Embarrassed Goddess
---
Apollo was used to being protective. She protected her siblings. Her kids. Camp Half-Blood. The entire sunlit sky if she had to.
But lately?
Things had changed.
Way too much.
It started when she sneezed.
Just a tiny, sunbeam-sparkle sneeze while chatting with Will, Kayla, Austin, and a few of her other demigod children. She didn't even drop her nectar.
“Bless you,” Will had said. “...You okay?”
“Just a little divine dust,” Apollo reassured with a smile.
That was her first mistake.
Kayla squinted. “You sure? You’re glowing at like... 73%.”
Austin: “Usually you’re at a full 100% post-midday.”
Apollo blinked. “You’re tracking my glow levels?”
Will took out a literal notebook. “Of course. We’re your kids. Gotta monitor your divine energy output in case of burnout.”
Apollo: “I’M A GODDESS.”
Will: “You’re our mom first.”
She was dragged to the infirmary. Forced to sit on a very pink beanbag chair. Wrapped in three blankets. Given ten types of herbal tea (two of which she invented).
Apollo sipped her tea grumpily. “This is ridiculous.”
Kayla fluffed her hair. “Shhh, drink your starlight chamomile. We steeped it in moonlight just for you.”
---
The next time she tried to go on a quest to help some hero in Arizona, she found her chariot wheels missing.
“Austin,” she said flatly. “Where are my wheels?”
“Temporarily confiscated,” Austin replied, unbothered. “We voted. No quests for you until further notice.”
“Voted? I’m a god—”
“We know. Our god. And we’re not letting you get eaten by another monster just because you ‘felt bad for the guy with the horns and nine swords.’”
“He was misunderstood!”
“He tried to shish kebab you!”
Apollo pouted, crossing her arms. “You guys are mean.”
Will sighed and handed her a fresh smoothie. “We love you, Mom. Now sit back and let us worry for once.”
---
The worst part?
She secretly loved it.
She loved the way they checked on her. The way they’d bicker over her favorite teas. The way they refused to let anyone speak to her with even a hint of disrespect.
She loved the handmade jewelry Kayla crafted her. The daily hugs from Austin. The exhausted forehead kisses from Will whenever he returned from healer duty and grumbled, “Did you eat today?”
She, the goddess of the sun, basked in their light now.
Even if they were annoying and overbearing and made her wear sunscreen inside.
Title: “We’re the Protective Ones Now” – Part 2
Tags: Fem!Apollo, Protective Demigod Children, Fluff, Humor, Overprotective Chaos, Godly Mom Problems, Unintentional Intimidation
---
It all started when someone flirted.
Not in a subtle, "your eyes are like the sunrise" kind of way.
No.
A son of Aphrodite, charming and bold, walked right up to Apollo while she was admiring the strawberry fields and said, “You know, if you weren’t a literal goddess, I’d still say you were divine.”
Apollo blinked. She smiled. “Oh, that’s sweet—”
Then the world ended.
“What did you just say to our mother?” Will’s voice cut through the air like a scalpel.
Kayla popped out of nowhere like a vengeful archer. “Are you flirting with our mom?!”
Austin, dragging a sun-charmed baseball bat: “She’s not available, bro. Get lost.”
The son of Aphrodite, now realizing he had made a fatal mistake, held up his hands. “I didn’t know she had company—”
“Company?!” Kayla hissed. “We’re her children!”
Apollo, stuck in the middle of this, waved her hands awkwardly. “Kids, it was just a compliment—”
“Nope,” Will said. “Boundaries. Respect. Distance.”
Austin added, “And maybe a restraining order.”
Apollo sighed. “You’re all being dramatic.”
“You’re too pretty to be safe in public!” Kayla whined, shielding her with her arms like a bodyguard.
“You literally glow,” Austin muttered. “It’s unfair.”
---
Later that week, Hermes passed by and dared to wink at Apollo for fun.
Just a little sibling mischief.
He was immediately tackled.
“What the Hades is wrong with you?!” Will shouted.
“She’s our mom, Hermes!” Kayla snapped.
“I’m her brother—!”
“Still gross,” Austin snarled.
Apollo stood nearby, sipping iced ambrosia with a completely exhausted look on her face.
“Gods, I need a vacation.”
---
The final straw came when Dionysus offhandedly said, “You're looking quite radiant today, Apollo. Trying to seduce someone?”
Cue a chair being pushed back. Will cracked his knuckles.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
“Please do,” Austin muttered.
“No, I got this one,” Kayla said, stringing her bow. “Respectfully.”
Apollo practically screeched, “HE’S A GOD, YOU CAN’T—!”
“You deserve better than flirty wine goblins,” Will said as if it were law.
---
Apollo’s children had officially become terrifying.
She wasn’t sure whether to be touched or to put herself in witness protection.
Probably both.
But when the chaos settled and they were all snuggled against her during a movie night — Kayla stealing her popcorn, Austin hogging the blanket, Will passed out on her shoulder — Apollo smiled to herself.
Being protected… wasn’t so bad.
Even if it meant she’d never be able to flirt again without starting a war.
Chapter 226: Till Death and Sunlight Do Us Part
Chapter Text
Title: "Till Death and Sunlight Do Us Part"
Tags: Secret Marriage, Apollo x Anubis, Jealous Suitors, Chaos, Gods Being Nosy, Unbothered Husbands, Demigod Reactions, Mythology Crossover
---
It started with a ring.
A sleek, gold-and-obsidian band on Apollo’s finger that glinted just a little too suspiciously during an inter-pantheon meeting.
Hermes squinted at it. “What’s that?”
“Fashion,” Apollo said with a smile that was way too innocent.
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never worn that before.”
“It’s new,” Apollo said. “Very in-season. Matches my vibe.”
Athena narrowed her eyes. “That’s a wedding band.”
The room went silent.
Hera dropped her goblet.
Poseidon choked on his wine.
Zeus stared at his son like he was trying to calculate how he had missed a wedding.
“…Apollo,” Artemis said slowly, “Who did you marry?”
And right on cue, a swirling shadow portal opened—and out stepped Anubis, cool, calm, and holding two cups of black coffee like nothing was wrong.
“Sorry I’m late, beloved. Your eyeliner,” he added casually, “is crooked.”
Apollo beamed. “Thank you, darling.”
Everyone else:
CHAOS.
---
The Greek gods: panicking.
The Egyptian gods: smug.
Apollo’s many past (and present?) suitors: FURIOUS.
Aphrodite threw a fit. “You didn’t tell me?! I planned five weddings for you in my head already!!”
Hermes: “How?! When?! You live in different pantheons!?”
Hades: “You married the God of the Dead. Apollo. That’s my genre.”
Zeus: “Did you even ask for my blessing?!”
Apollo, sipping his Anubis-delivered coffee, completely unbothered: “No.”
---
The worst reactions?
The suitors.
Male, female, divine, mortal—Apollo had fans across realms. And none of them were taking it well.
Eros was sulking in the corner. “I was supposed to be your tragic love arc.”
Ares challenged Anubis to a duel. Anubis responded by staring at him for five full seconds. Ares backed down.
Helios (yes, dad Helios): “I approve. He’s brooding and threatening. That’s our type.”
---
Apollo and Anubis?
Thriving.
Matching outfits. Secret date nights in the Underworld and sunrises in Egypt. Anubis making moon-shaped pancakes. Apollo planting sunflowers around every temple Anubis visited.
Artemis finally cornered them both. “You better not break my brother’s heart.”
Anubis, deadpan: “He proposed to me. I’m doomed either way.”
Apollo, smug: “That’s true.”
---
Meanwhile, the demigods:
Will: “WAIT. Does this make me the stepson of Anubis?!”
Nico: “…Actually, that explains a lot.”
Kayla: “Are you going to start dressing in black robes now?”
Apollo: “Please, I have a brand to maintain.”
---
And the gods slowly realized that no matter how much they tried to figure it out, the real mystery wasn’t how Apollo and Anubis got married.
It was how they kept it secret for this long.
Answer? They didn’t. They just kissed in shadows and sunbeams while everyone else wasn’t paying attention.
---
Bonus Scene:
One of Apollo’s past lovers tried to flirt.
Anubis blinked once.
They fainted on the spot.
Apollo kissed his husband’s cheek. “Still got it, huh?”
Anubis: “Unfortunately for them, yes.”
Chapter 227: Golden Arrows and Green Eyes
Chapter Text
Title: "Golden Arrows and Green Eyes"
Fandoms: DC Universe × Percy Jackson (Camp Half-Blood)
Tags: Adopted Damian Wayne, Godly Parent Apollo, Found Family, Batfam Drama, Angst & Fluff, Protective Dad Apollo, Demigod Damian, Camp Chaos, Dramatic Reunions
---
Damian was ten when Apollo found him.
Bloodied, angry, quiet—but burning with potential. A boy who had already seen too much death, and wielded it with alarming skill. The world saw a killer. Apollo saw a spark.
“Your soul shines too brightly to be a weapon,” he had said, crouching before the boy. “You’re mine now, little sun.”
Damian hadn’t smiled at that. But he hadn’t stabbed him either.
Progress.
---
It was... strange, at first. The warmth. The laughter. The affection.
Apollo was overwhelming—sunshine and compliments, hugs and songs, ridiculously perfect pancakes and glowy bedtime stories.
Damian tried to resist. He did. But eventually... it was nice. It was good.
For the first time in his life, he was allowed to be a child.
---
By the time Damian turned 14, he was a force to be reckoned with at Camp Half-Blood.
Sword prodigy? Obviously.
Fluent in Ancient Greek? Duh.
Captain of the archery team? Not surprising, considering who his dad was.
He had friends now—real ones. Will teased him, Kayla taught him how to braid sunflowers into hair (he glared, but wore them anyway), and Apollo?
Apollo adored him.
“My brilliant son,” he’d boast, ruffling Damian’s hair in front of everyone. “My lethal little ray of sunshine.”
Damian scowled. He secretly loved it.
---
Then... the Bat Family found him.
It started with a League informant. Then a whisper from the gods. And finally, a tracker Talia had embedded in her son years ago.
They arrived at Camp Half-Blood expecting blood, chains, a hostage situation.
What they found was Damian Wayne in golden camp armor, hair slightly curled from sun, arguing with a dryad about tomato placement in the garden.
Bruce was speechless.
Dick blinked. “Is... is that Damian... laughing?”
Talia stepped forward, rage boiling. “You stole him, sun god.”
Ra’s al Ghul sneered, hand already on his sword. “Return the Demon Heir to his true family.”
Apollo didn’t move from where he stood, arms crossed, golden eyes narrowed. “He’s not a tool for your war. He’s my son.”
“Your claim is void,” Ra’s spat. “You are no mortal. You are not his blood.”
Apollo’s smile turned razor-sharp. “And yet, I’m the one he chose.”
---
The camp fell silent as Damian stepped forward. Cold green eyes locked onto the people who had once dictated his fate.
“You lost the right to call yourselves my family the day you taught me killing was the only way to be loved.”
Talia flinched.
Damian’s voice never wavered. “Apollo didn’t just take me in. He healed me. He taught me light. He let me live.”
Ra’s snarled. “You are mine—”
“I am not yours!” Damian snapped, aura flaring. “I am Damian, son of Apollo. And the only father I acknowledge is him.”
Apollo rested a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder, proud.
---
The Batfam tried to reason. Bruce begged. Talia cried. But Damian wouldn’t budge.
“I forgive you,” he said. “But I won’t go back.”
And with that, the sun god raised a hand. The earth glowed gold. And the intruders were sent home—blinded by light, their hearts heavy with loss.
---
Later that night, Apollo found Damian at the top of Half-Blood Hill, hugging his knees.
“They looked at me like I was still broken,” he whispered.
Apollo sat beside him, pulling him into a warm side hug. “You’re not broken, little star. You’re becoming whole.”
A pause. Then, in a soft voice only the wind could hear:
“I’m proud of you.”
Damian smiled faintly. “I know.”
Chapter 228: The Return of the Sunny Terror
Chapter Text
Title: The Return of the Sunny Terror
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Mythological Crossover
Tags: Overpowered Apollo, Protective Dad Apollo, God of Everything, Pantheon Meeting, Demigods Witness Divine Wrath, “Sunny Terror” Lives, Do Not Insult Apollo’s Kids
---
There was once a time when all gods feared Apollo.
The radiant god who could scorch cities with a glance, strike down titans mid-laugh, and speak truths so potent that reality itself bent to his voice. The one whose beauty blinded, whose arrows never missed, whose song could cause madness or miracles.
He was called the Sunny Terror.
But centuries passed. Millennia. And over time, the world forgot.
Even some gods forgot.
Apollo let them. Let them see only the bright smile, the flirtatious wink, the gold-haired poet and sunshine fool. Let them underestimate. Let them sleep easy.
But today… they’d remember.
---
It was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting—one of those grand multi-pantheon summits where everyone acted like they could share space without passive-aggressively declaring war.
Greek, Norse, Egyptian, Shinto, Hindu, Roman, and more were all present.
Demigods were allowed to observe, seated behind the gods with Chiron beside them. Apollo’s kids were gathered together, chatting softly. Will, Kayla, and the others were excited to witness history.
And then he spoke.
A war god from a lesser-known pantheon, too loud and too smug for someone with nothing to back it up. He scoffed at a proposal and said—loud enough to echo:
“Why are Apollo’s children even here? What would they do? Blinding us with glitter? Singing bad poetry until we surrender?”
Laughter followed. A few chuckles. Some gods smirked. Even a few Greek ones looked awkward.
Apollo was silent.
Then he stood up.
The room went quiet.
Gone was the smiling, sparkling god in sun-patterned robes.
What remained was something ancient. Divine.
The gold of his eyes turned molten. The very air began to vibrate, crackling with pressure and heat. Light poured from him—but not gentle light.
This was the sun at its cruelest. The blinding noon of deserts. The searing flash before a bomb drops.
His voice, when it came, was soft.
“Did you just insult my children?”
The war god laughed. “They’re weak. You’re weak. You—”
The insult never finished.
A single word left Apollo’s lips—an ancient word no one had heard in thousands of years.
The war god screamed.
He fell to the floor, writhing, eyes wide as if seeing all his worst nightmares at once. Blood trickled from his ears. His mouth frothed.
“Apollo,” Zeus said, half-rising, “stand down—”
“Sit,” Apollo snapped.
Zeus sat.
Even Odin tensed. Horus looked uneasy. Amaterasu’s eyes widened in silent respect. The Hindu gods stilled entirely.
The demigods had never seen their dad like this.
Even Will was stunned.
Chiron whispered to no one, “Oh gods... the Sunny Terror…”
Apollo stepped forward slowly, glowing so brightly the floor sizzled beneath his feet.
“I have held back for centuries,” he said, eyes never leaving the trembling form of the now-silent war god. “I became soft. Warm. Kind. For them.”
He pointed at his children. “Because they deserve a father who is gentle.”
Then he turned back to the assembly.
“But do not mistake my kindness as weakness. I was born a weapon. I made the sun obey. I watched gods crumble beneath my gaze. And I will not—ever—tolerate slander toward my children.”
A beat of silence.
“I could unmake your name from every scroll, every temple, every whisper of mortal breath. You would never have existed.”
He smiled.
“Do you want to test me?”
The war god did not answer. He couldn’t.
Apollo turned back to his children, radiant warmth rushing to him like dawn after a storm. “You okay?” he asked, voice now soft again.
Will blinked. “...I’m so scared, but also I’ve never felt more protected in my life.”
“Same,” Kayla whispered.
Apollo ruffled their hair like he hadn’t just caused a pantheon to shiver in fear.
“Good. Who wants celebratory ice cream?”
---
And so the meeting resumed. No one dared mention Apollo’s name again without reverence.
Because the Sunny Terror had smiled again—but now, they all remembered what was hidden behind it.
And no one… ever insulted Apollo’s children again.
Chapter 229: Secrets of Sun and Shadow
Chapter Text
Title: Secrets of Sun and Shadow
Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Tags: Secret Marriage, Married Apollo, Husband Hades, Nico and Will Are Stepbrothers, Awkward Family Realizations, Camp Half-Blood Chaos, Humor, Fluff, Found Family
---
Camp Half-Blood was enjoying a slow afternoon.
No monsters. No training emergencies. No Dionysus-induced storms. Just a peaceful, sunny day—thankfully not caused by Apollo being dramatic.
Most of the Apollo cabin lounged on the hill, basking like content cats in the sun. Will Solace was sitting in the shade with Nico, tangled up beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Everyone knew those two were disgustingly in love at this point.
Chiron had just finished his weekly “Ask Your Godly Parent” Q&A (an idea Will called Parent Hour, and Apollo had named Radiance and Responsibility, because of course he did).
Demigods from all cabins gathered to listen in, Apollo reclining on a golden folding chair at the front of the pavilion, sunglasses on, legs crossed, wearing a sun-themed robe that fluttered despite the lack of wind.
Will nudged Nico. “Bet you five drachmas someone asks Dad about love.”
“I’m not betting against something that obvious,” Nico deadpanned.
Then it happened.
One of Apollo’s younger kids raised their hand and, as only an innocent child could, asked:
“Why are you one of the only Olympians who's not married? Even Ares got married eventually!”
The entire camp went quiet.
Will blinked.
Nico choked on his water.
Apollo paused, lowered his sunglasses, and blinked in surprise. “I’m... not married?”
Everyone stared.
“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’ve been married since I was 2,456 years old. That's sixteen in human years.”
The camp exploded.
“What?!”
“To who?!”
“You never told us!”
Will looked personally betrayed. “YOU’RE MARRIED?!”
Apollo tilted his head. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”
“YOU NEVER TOLD US,” Kayla snapped.
“To who?!” cried Cecil.
Apollo blinked like it was obvious. “Hades, of course.”
Silence.
Nico made a sound somewhere between a squawk and a soul leaving a body. Will turned to him with the slow horror of a man realizing he’s on a soap opera.
“…We’re stepsiblings,” Will whispered.
Nico just stared at the ground. “I need a minute.”
“I need like... three decades.”
“You married Hades?!” Annabeth shouted from the Athena table. “And didn’t tell anyone?!”
Apollo looked mildly sheepish. “We wanted it private. It was romantic. Starlight vows, Underworld roses, a blood moon wedding. You know, intimate.”
Percy leaned toward Annabeth. “You think Persephone knows?”
“She better.”
Will ran both hands down his face. “How did we miss this? How—why—what?!”
“I’m more concerned about the fact we’ve been flirting and dating while our dads are literally married,” Nico muttered, darkly.
Apollo waved a hand. “Don’t worry! You two started long after the marriage, and there’s no blood relation whatsoever. Emotionally tangled? Sure. Dramatic? Definitely. But not illegal!”
“Thank the gods,” Will groaned. “Because I’m not giving him up.”
Nico went red.
Apollo beamed proudly. “Aww, my little stars. That’s the spirit!”
Chiron was sipping tea in the background, looking exhausted.
“Are we going to talk about the fact Hades married Apollo?” Clarisse grumbled. “How did that happen?”
Apollo grinned. “He fell for my poetry.”
“Of course he did,” Nico mumbled.
Will shook his head. “You know what? I’m choosing not to process this. We’re going to dinner. Let’s go, love-of-my-life-who-is-also-my-stepbrother.”
“I hate that title.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
---
Later that night, deep in the Underworld, Hades read the reports of Camp’s reaction with a groan.
“You told them, didn’t you?”
Apollo, lounging across his desk, smiled brightly. “Well, they asked.”
Hades sighed, but there was a ghost of fondness in his voice. “This is going to cause problems.”
“I know,” Apollo said cheerfully. “Isn’t it fun?”
---
And that is how the entire camp learned that the god of the sun had been married to the god of the dead for literal millennia—and that Will and Nico had unknowingly been stepsiblings this whole time.
Naturally, it only made their chaotic family more iconic.
Chapter 230: The Sun in the Void
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun in the Void
---
Chapter 1: The Birth That Shook the Cosmos
The moment Apollo was born, the cosmos trembled.
Not just because a new god of the sun, music, and prophecy had entered the world—but because something far older, far more *primordial*, had taken notice.
Chaos, the formless void from which all existence had sprung, felt the disturbance like a ripple in the abyss. A spark of light, bright and golden, flickered in the endless dark, and for the first time in eons, Chaos was *curious*.
He had watched the gods from afar, amused by their petty squabbles, their fleeting passions. But this—this was different. This light called to him, sang to him in a way nothing ever had.
And so, for the first time since the dawn of creation, Chaos took form.
---
Chapter 2: A Child of Light in the Arms of the Void
Leto had barely finished cradling her newborn son when the air before her *ripped*.
Space itself tore open, and from the endless dark stepped a being of impossible beauty—tall, with skin like polished obsidian, eyes like swirling galaxies, and hair that cascaded like liquid night.
Leto gasped, clutching Apollo tighter. "W-Who—?"
Chaos ignored her. His gaze was fixed on the child in her arms—golden-haired, radiant, *perfect*.
"He is mine," Chaos declared, his voice resonating like the echo of creation itself.
Before Leto could protest, before even Zeus could intervene, Chaos reached out—and Apollo vanished into the void with him.
---
Chapter 3: Raised in the Abyss
Apollo grew up in the endless expanse of Chaos’ realm, cradled in darkness yet never consumed by it. His light only grew brighter, purer, under Chaos’ watchful gaze.
The primordial being taught him secrets no Olympian could fathom—the songs of dying stars, the whispers of time before time, the way reality bent and twisted at the edges of existence. Apollo drank it all in, his laughter like sunlight piercing the abyss.
And Chaos, who had never known desire, found himself *hungry*.
Not just for Apollo’s light—but for *him*.
---
Chapter 4: The Consort of the Void
When Apollo came of age, Chaos claimed him in truth.
No ceremony, no witnesses—just the two of them, entwined in the heart of the abyss.
"You were always meant to be mine," Chaos murmured, his hands tracing Apollo’s sun-kissed skin, his lips brushing the god’s throat.
Apollo arched into him, golden eyes burning. "And you were always meant to be my darkness."
Their coupling was a clash of opposites—Apollo’s radiant heat against Chaos’ cool void, light and shadow merging until neither could tell where one ended and the other began. Chaos took him with a possessiveness that bordered on worship, his touch both gentle and inexorable, as if he could fuse their very essences together.
Apollo cried out, his body alight with pleasure, his divinity sparking like a star going supernova. Chaos drank in every sound, every shudder, his own release a wave of crushing *nothingness* that threatened to unravel Apollo entirely.
When it was over, Apollo lay panting in his arms, his glow dimmed but never extinguished.
"Mine," Chaos whispered, kissing him deeply.
"Yours," Apollo agreed.
---
Chapter 5: The Sun’s Legacy
From Apollo’s radiance came children—demigods born not of mortal blood, but from sparks of sun left drifting through the world. Wherever his light lingered, a child might bloom. Not by chance, but by intention. By love.
And Apollo, Husband of Chaos, raised them as his own.
Camp Half-Blood would later wonder why so many of Apollo’s children bore his features so clearly despite no recorded mortal parent. Why they spoke of dreams in the void and heard their father sing stars into their minds.
They would never guess the truth: that their father, golden and warm, was the beloved consort of the first and oldest being, who whispered the cosmos into being—and chose to give it light.
Chapter 231: Chitons, Chaos, and Chaperones
Chapter Text
Title: Chitons, Chaos, and Chaperones
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology
Tags: Genderbent Apollo (Polly), Genderbent Artemis (Arty), Overprotective Hunters, Extremely Affectionate Siblings, Protective Big Brother Arty, Mythology Shenanigans, Immortal Drama, Helios Dad Energy, No Name Changes, Humor & Fluff with a touch of Vengeance
---
If you were to walk into Olympus unannounced, you might be surprised.
Not by the towering columns or the floating gardens. Not by the ambrosia waterfalls or the pegasus stables built entirely out of light. No, you’d be surprised by the twins.
Specifically, by how Lady Polly, goddess of the sun, music, prophecy, and sparkle-dramatics, was currently lounging across her twin brother Arty’s lap like a sun-drenched cat.
Polly wore one of her signature scandalously tiny chitons—because “sunshine needs freedom, baby”—and Arty, serene and radiantly unbothered in his full chiton, had a hand absentmindedly brushing through her hair while reading a book.
The Hunters sat nearby, looking absolutely ready to smite anyone who dared breathe wrong.
“Are we sure Polly is the goddess of the sun?” whispered a passing nymph. “She’s got so much moon princess energy—”
“No,” one of the Hunters growled, drawing her bow. “She’s our sun princess. And if you keep ogling her, I’ll turn your legs into vines.”
“Okay,” the nymph squeaked, and ran.
---
Polly was affectionate—extremely so. And now that the fear of making her twin uncomfortable was gone, she didn’t hold back.
Kisses to Arty’s cheek, dramatic embraces, giggling as she braided flowers into his hair. Arty just sighed and let her. He was used to her sunshine. He loved her sunshine. He’d burn the world for her smile.
And the Hunters? Oh, they loved her too.
So when someone—some unfortunate immortal—decided to peek at Polly while she bathed in a sacred spring, they learned three things:
1. Polly could scream loud enough to shatter windows.
2. Arty could summon god-killing arrows faster than most mortals could blink.
3. And the Hunters? The Hunters would hunt.
By the time the cowardly peeping god was dragged back before the twins—singed, bruised, and looking like he regretted his whole existence—Arty was glowing with silver fury.
“You dare watch my sister while she bathes?” Arty said, voice cold and calm, which was always the scariest.
Polly, wrapped in a sun-warmed cloak and clutching her bow, stood next to him like a vengeful goddess. “I could’ve handled him, Arty.”
“I know,” Arty said, putting a protective arm around her. “But I wanted to.”
The god begged for mercy. The Hunters sharpened their knives. The god got turned into a goat.
Justice.
---
Then came the suitors.
Because of course they came. She was Polly.
Gods lined up. Apollonian fanboys, minor gods, even a few primordials who really should’ve known better.
But before they could even kneel, they were met by two immovable forces:
Helios, flaming titan of solar wrath, who declared, “No one dates my daughter unless they can outshine the sun. Spoiler alert: they can’t.”
And Arty, casually cleaning a celestial knife while whispering to a Hunter, “Do we still have that pit full of man-eating lions?”
“Ready and waiting.”
The suitors disappeared fast.
---
Despite all this, Polly remained a light in everyone’s life. She danced barefoot through Olympus, played music that made even Hades cry, and told jokes that made Chiron wheeze. She wasn’t just radiant—she was radiance.
And Arty? He stood at her side like the moon beside the sun. Calm, fierce, unshakable. Her shield. Her best friend. Her twin.
One day, a very confused Hermes asked, “So who’s the older twin again?”
Polly pointed to herself with a grin. “Obviously me.”
Arty just rolled his eyes. “By two seconds, and you cried first.”
“But I looked better doing it.”
Helios sipped his solar tea. “They get it from me.”
---
Somewhere on Olympus, Dionysus muttered, “They’re going to burn the world in glitter and arrows.”
And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.
Chapter 232: Solar Wrath, Primordial Chaos, and Their Favorite Sunbeam
Notes:
Going to school for 6 hours+ now
Chapter Text
Title: Solar Wrath, Primordial Chaos, and Their Favorite Sunbeam
Fandom: Greek Mythology / Percy Jackson
Tags: Genderbent Apollo (Polly), Married Khaos & Polly, Dad Helios, Overprotective Family, Threats to Other Pantheons, Chaos and Fire Couple Energy, Primordials, Overkill Protection Squad, Fluff & Power Showoff
---
If there was one rule across all realms, pantheons, and planes of existence, it was this:
Do not mess with Polly.
Ever. Under any circumstance. Not unless you had a death wish—and even then, it’d be a really dramatic death.
Because Polly wasn’t just the sun goddess. She wasn’t just the god of music, prophecy, and radiance wrapped in a teeny-tiny sparkly chiton and warm giggles.
No, Polly was the beloved daughter of Helios. The wife of Primordial Chaos.
And between those two?
Well. Let’s just say Zeus once called her annoying, and Helios lit Olympus on fire while Khaos disassembled time in retaliation.
---
Polly, of course, was mostly oblivious. She’d be spinning in circles barefoot in the middle of a council meeting, braiding sunflowers into Nyx’s hair, while Ares had a knife to someone’s throat and Khaos had quietly rearranged the concept of gravity.
And Helios?
He just stood there. Burning.
Like the sun. But angrier.
---
It started when a minor Egyptian god called Polly “silly.”
Harmless, right? Just a snide remark. Nothing worth war.
Wrong.
Because Helios’ eyes narrowed, and the temperature of the universe spiked.
“You said what about my daughter?” Helios growled, voice hot enough to boil oceans.
“I–I just meant she’s a bit... whimsical—”
“Whimsical?” The fire in Helios’ hair exploded. “Say it again, see if you survive.”
And when the god tried to retreat?
Khaos appeared beside Polly, gently brushing dust from her chiton and smiling in that eerily sweet way only a primordial being could.
“She is my wife,” Khaos said softly. “I once devoured a realm because someone scuffed her sandal.”
The room went silent.
“Don’t worry,” Polly chirped. “They’re just being dramatic.”
Everyone nodded. Terrified.
---
It got worse when a Hindu deity casually flirted with Polly during an inter-pantheon summit.
Now normally, this would’ve ended in awkward laughter. Maybe some tension. Not... apocalypse.
But Polly, ever polite, just smiled and thanked them.
And suddenly—
Helios descended.
On a flaming chariot made of solar flares and cosmic lions.
“You DARE flirt with my daughter in front of me?!” Helios bellowed.
Meanwhile, Khaos appeared again, not saying a word, but the void itself curled around her like a snake ready to strike.
Even the Primordials flinched.
---
Nobody knew how Helios managed to make Khaos fear him. Not even Khaos. He once whispered to Polly:
“Your father... unsettles me. He burns through logic.”
“I think it’s the hair,” Polly replied, totally sincere.
“I fear the hair.”
“Me too sometimes,” Polly admitted.
---
Together, Helios and Khaos were the ultimate Overkill Protection Duo.
Polly once got a paper cut. A paper cut.
Helios declared war on the god of forests for the tree pulp.
Khaos made the concept of paper vanish for a week.
Meanwhile, Polly was sipping lemonade and making flower crowns.
---
One day, Dionysus asked, “Why are you two like this? She’s a grown goddess.”
Helios growled, “She’s my baby.”
Khaos added, “She’s my shining voidling.”
Polly blinked. “I’m your what?”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Khaos said. “It’s romantic.”
“Okay!” Polly beamed.
Everyone else trembled.
---
In the end, Polly just kept vibing, unaware that her existence caused every major deity to lose sleep. She kissed Khaos’s cheek, hugged Helios tight, and skipped down Olympus with a bag of glitter and death following behind her.
And if the sky trembled every time someone looked at her wrong?
That’s just how it was.
Chapter 233: A Light in the Pit
Chapter Text
Title: A Light in the Pit
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology
Tags: Genderbent Apollo (Polly), Tartarus x Polly, Married Gods, Protective Tartarus, Good Parent Polly, Overprotective Family, Helios is Scary, Artemis is Scarier, Will Solace Gets Justice, Slight Angst, Fluff & Chaos
---
Everyone knew Tartarus was the most terrifying being in existence. He was the Pit. The prison. The end. The place where nightmares were born.
Except apparently to Polly's children.
To them? Tartarus was Dad.
---
It had started with an unexpected romance— Apollo, affectionately called Polly, married to Tartarus himself.
The gods were still recovering from the shock.
“I give it two months,” Hermes had said.
“It’s already been eight years,” Chiron pointed out.
And every single god collectively ignored how happy Polly looked.
---
Polly, radiant and dramatic, always the embodiment of joy and affection, was adored by Tartarus. And somehow, somehow, Tartarus—the literal embodiment of the abyss—was actually a fantastic dad.
Will, Kayla, Austin, and the rest? Absolutely spoiled.
They’d drop by the Pit like it was Camp David.
“Going to Dad’s!” Kayla would yell over her shoulder.
“You mean the sun god?”
“No, the Pit dad.”
“Oh. Right. That one.”
---
Campers had no idea what was going on.
“I thought the Pit was cursed.”
“It is,” Will replied, adjusting his shades. “But also there’s a tea garden now. Dad grows soulblooms.”
“Who is your dad again?”
“Tartarus.”
Silence.
“...How are you not traumatized?”
“Oh, I am,” Will said cheerfully. “But not from him.”
---
Will’s issues were of another breed.
See, Naomi Solace had remarried. Will didn’t fit in with her new husband or the new kids—two stepbrothers, and two half-brothers. Naomi made it clear who she chose. And it wasn't him.
So when she invited Will to come on a “family vacation,” he agreed.
And brought Tartarus.
Because nothing screams bonding like exposing your stepfamily to a primordial god of punishment.
---
The moment Tartarus appeared in the mortal realm, the temperature dropped.
The air thickened. Shadows twisted.
Naomi’s husband turned gray.
“Is that... your grandfather?” one of the stepbrothers whispered.
Will smiled.
“No. That’s my dad.”
Tartarus loomed behind him, all smoky void and piercing gold eyes, saying nothing.
Naomi forced a smile. “Oh, Will, it’s so good to—”
“I know what you did to my son.” Tartarus's voice was quiet, which somehow made it worse.
Naomi froze.
Will’s stepbrothers started crying.
Tartarus kept smiling. It was not reassuring.
“I’ll only say this once,” he said. “Hurt him again, and I will show you parts of your soul you didn’t know existed.”
Then he handed Will a cookie.
“Time to go home, my little sunfruit.”
Will nodded happily, holding his dad’s clawed hand while leaving his crying stepbrothers and very pale stepfather behind.
---
Back in the Pit, Polly was watering void-flowers in a sparkly chiton when they returned.
“Did you make sure not to traumatize them too much, love?” she asked, voice musical.
“I only hinted at what eternity feels like,” Tartarus said, brushing her hair back.
“You’re so gentle,” Polly cooed.
Will gagged. “Gross.”
“Affectionate!” Polly corrected. “Let me love my husband in peace!”
---
Later that night, Artemis visited.
Tartarus—who terrified Olympus—stood up straighter.
Helios arrived ten minutes later and looked at Tartarus.
Tartarus immediately offered Polly more tea and sat down quietly.
Polly giggled, smug.
---
As for the kids?
They still vacationed in the Pit.
Austin brought marshmallows once and tried to roast them over a soulfire.
It worked.
Chapter 234: Primordial Problems: Apollo’s Very Protective Family
Chapter Text
Title: Primordial Problems: Apollo’s Very Protective Family
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Genderbent Apollo (Polly), Dad!Khaos, Primordial Siblings, Overprotective Family, Nico Gets Bullied (Lovingly), Fluff, Chaos, Protective Grandpa Khaos, Unhinged Family Dinners, Poor Nico
---
Nico di Angelo did not sign up for this.
He was just dating Will Solace. That was it. Nothing strange. Nothing dangerous.
Except—well. He’d forgotten one tiny detail.
Will’s mom was Apollo.
Except now she was Polly—gorgeous, golden, endlessly affectionate. And Polly? Was the adopted daughter of the Primordial of Everything, Khaos.
As in, THE Khaos.
---
“I’ve decided you cannot get married,” Khaos declared, looming like a multiverse in dad-mode, voice like cracking galaxies.
Polly blinked. “I’m not even dating anyone right now—”
“Exactly. Let’s keep it that way.”
Polly pouted. “But Daaaad—”
“Nope. Denied.”
Polly turned to Gaia for backup.
Gaia gave her a cookie and muttered, “I support you, sweetie, but Khaos is still mad about the sun god who tried to flirt with you last millennia.”
“I turned him into a candle!”
“Which Khaos now uses to light the Void. He’s sentimental.”
---
Khaos wasn’t alone.
Polly’s adopted siblings—the Primordials—were a walking hazard level of overprotectiveness.
Nyx once sent a nightmare that made a boy cry blood because he insulted Polly’s fashion sense.
Erebus tried to blind someone for looking at her “the wrong way.”
Aether glowed so bright around Nico the first time they met that Nico thought he’d died.
---
Polly: “Guys, please. I’m just existing.”
Thanatos: “And that’s dangerous enough.”
Chronos: “Also, what do you mean you're dating?”
Polly: “WILL is dating! Not me!”
Chronos: “That boy is courting your child? Let me rewind his bones.”
Polly: “NO. BAD TIME DAD.”
---
Nico did try to be brave.
“Hi, I’m Nico—”
Khaos looked at him like he was a mosquito.
“Have you ever died before?” Khaos asked calmly. “Because you’re about to find out how permanently it can happen.”
Nico blinked.
Will stepped between them. “Mom, please tell Grandpa to stop threatening my boyfriend.”
Polly, lounging in her sparkly sun chiton and sipping nectar from a cosmic goblet:
“Chaos-dad, play nice. Nico’s fragile and cute and terrified—don’t scare him so early!”
Khaos: “Fine. I’ll wait until after dinner.”
Will: “That doesn’t help!”
---
Later, at their weekly family dinner in the Void:
Ananke made a three-dimensional probability salad.
Hypnos fell asleep in the potatoes.
Tartarus refused to sit next to Nyx again after she accidentally dissolved the breadbasket.
Helios popped in just to glare at Khaos for not letting Polly marry yet.
And Nico? Sat. Very. Still.
Khaos, halfway through threatening the Titans for existing, turned to Polly.
“You’re still my little starbeam.”
Polly beamed. “Love you too, Dad.”
Will squeezed Nico’s hand. “Welcome to the family.”
Nico, pale: “I miss the Underworld.”
Chapter 235: The Sun’s Flower, The War’s Shadow
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun’s Flower, The War’s Shadow
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Genderbent Apollo (Polly), Hyacinthus Lives AU, Married Gods, Overprotective Spouse, Scary Ancient Boyfriend, Claimed by Both Parents, Terrified Greeks, Soft for Polly Only, Chaos, Found Family
---
Before there was terror, there was Sparta.
And before Sparta was a city of warriors, it feared something else entirely.
Someone.
Hyacinthus.
Born of Lacedaemon and muse-kissed blood, he was beauty weaponized—sharp cheekbones and sharper instincts, with a gaze that made grown men flinch.
He died young, like a tragic legend.
Except he didn’t stay dead.
---
Three days after his funeral pyre, when Sparta was still mourning in silence, the skies burst open in gold and wrath.
And Polly descended.
Hair blazing, eyes tearful, voice shaking the heavens.
“A god doesn’t lose her love. Not like this.”
She kissed the ash and called his name—and death, even Death himself, dared not resist her.
Hyacinthus woke up in her arms.
Then and there, the two were married—sunlight and shadow, softness and steel, warmth and wrath.
They say Helios himself gave her away.
---
So came the new era.
Hyacinthus, husband to the sun goddess, didn’t like anyone. He didn’t want to.
And he made it very clear.
When their first child was claimed at Camp Half-Blood, it was a sunny day. Birds sang. Chiron smiled.
Until the air cracked like glass.
Twin symbols appeared over the camper's head: a golden sun and a blooming hyacinth wreathed in violet flame.
Everyone stared.
“…Did we just witness a joint godly claim?” Annabeth whispered.
Chiron nodded, pale. “And only one of those gods likes mortals.”
---
Polly loved her kids. She doted on them, remembered birthdays, packed ambrosia snacks, and made flower crowns.
She also cuddled Hyacinthus like a koala in front of everyone.
Meanwhile, Hyacinthus glared at the rest of the world like it personally killed his puppy.
---
One time, a son of Ares called one of Polly’s kids “sunshine trash.”
Three seconds later, Hyacinthus appeared.
He didn’t say a word. Just smiled.
The Ares kid wet himself.
He was never seen again.
---
Another camper asked Polly out. Just asked.
“Hey, Lady Polly, if you’re ever single—”
The ground split.
Hyacinthus rose from the crack with the deadliest aura Camp had ever seen.
“She’s not.”
“Right. Of course. So sorry.”
---
Even the gods were nervous around him.
Hera: “You terrify me.”
Hyacinthus: “Good.”
Poseidon: “You’re still mortal—”
Hyacinthus: smiles coldly
Apollo (sipping tea): “He’s not. I fixed that.”
---
Despite it all, around Polly, Hyacinthus melted.
He carried her like glass. Doted on her every word. Rubbed her shoulders after meetings. Kissed her forehead every ten minutes.
Was the little spoon.
He kept a sun-charm she made him as a necklace. Wore it into battle.
Polly, laying on his lap during council meetings in a gold-trimmed chiton:
“My war god hubby is the best.”
Hyacinthus (murder-staring at anyone who even blinked wrong):
“Only for you.”
---
New Apollo kids? Welcome. You have TWO terrifying but loving parents now.
Someone hurts you?
Polly will burn them.
Hyacinthus will make sure their bloodline doesn’t continue.
Family vacations? Sometimes Tartarus. Sometimes Elysium. Hyacinthus hates the beach. Polly insists.
The only thing scarier than Hyacinthus?
Polly crying.
So don’t be that guy.
Chapter 236: The Sun's Secret
Notes:
I might have fallen asleep while doing this...
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun's Secret
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Secret Patron Apollo, Underworld Trip, Surprising Revelations, Family, Gods' Reactions, Drama
---
The Underworld was, for the most part, a terrifying place—dark, cold, and filled with unspoken tension. Yet, for the demigods of Camp Half-Blood, this particular trip was for a purpose: a mission. They were supposed to check up on some weird disturbances in the Underworld's realms that had recently started shaking the balance.
It was meant to be a routine visit. And it should have been.
But things never went according to plan.
As the group of demigods trekked through the misty, shadow-filled halls of Hades' domain, they did their best to stay close and not wander too far. After all, wandering here meant you'd never see daylight again.
“Don’t even think about getting lost,” Annabeth muttered under her breath as she walked beside Percy, giving him a pointed look.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m good, I’m good,” Percy grinned back, his sarcasm easing some of the tension in the group.
The gods were all busy with their own matters, so it was only the demigods on this mission. Apollo, of course, had stayed behind to "keep the camp safe"—that was what he'd said, anyway.
But Apollo had a reputation for being a little... overbearing when it came to his children. Not that they were complaining. In fact, Apollo had a way of making them feel like everything would be okay—even if, at times, they weren't entirely sure why.
---
It wasn’t until they reached the Gates of the Underworld, standing before the darkened void that separated the living from the dead, that they noticed something was off.
The ground trembled beneath their feet. Not the usual tremors, but something... heavier.
And then they heard it.
A sudden, resounding voice, soft but strong, like the sun’s rays cutting through the clouds.
“Stop.”
Everyone froze.
“W-who said that?” Leo stammered, looking around nervously, clearly not accustomed to this kind of intimidation.
But as they turned, there was Apollo, standing at the entrance to the Underworld—glowing so brightly that for a split second, the very Underworld itself seemed to hesitate before swallowing the light.
“Apollo?” Percy gasped, looking more confused than ever. “What are you doing here?”
Apollo gave them a soft smile, his golden hair and glowing skin illuminating the room like a torch. “Ah, I was just keeping an eye on things. You know, for the sun god,” he teased. “But it looks like I wasn’t the only one interested in the Underworld’s little... disturbances.” He gestured toward the gates.
The demigods exchanged confused glances. They hadn’t expected Apollo to show up here. Then again, this was Apollo—the god who could be everywhere at once. But something was off.
“How... did you get here?” Annabeth asked slowly, her eyes narrowing. “We didn’t see you come in.”
Apollo tilted his head, his golden eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion. “It’s simple, really. I’m the patron of many things, my dear. And this? This is where it all comes together.”
And that’s when it happened.
The gates of the Underworld flung open on their own.
Out of the shadows, Hades appeared, his pale, gray figure stepping forward with the unmistakable air of someone used to being in control. The demigods immediately tensed, but Apollo remained calm.
“You’re... you’re here to deal with the disturbance?” Percy asked, unsure of what else to say. The god of the Underworld was not someone you could just casually chat with.
Hades glanced toward Apollo, and the shift in his expression was subtle, but noticeable. A flicker of respect passed between them. Then, for the first time, Hades spoke to the group, his voice cool and commanding.
“We are here for something far more important,” Hades said. “Apollo has always been the unseen force of this world. His influence spreads farther than you realize.”
“Wait.” Annabeth’s eyes widened. “Are you saying Apollo is...”
Apollo nodded, his smile warm. “Patron of all gods. Yes.”
The demigods stood in stunned silence.
The gods all thought they knew who Apollo was. They saw him as the god of the sun, of music, of prophecy, of archery, and many other things. But only a few of his closest allies, like Hades himself and perhaps a handful of others, knew the full extent of Apollo's true role.
Apollo wasn’t just a god of light. He was everything that powered the gods. The sun was his, but he also held sway over time itself—over fate, over the heavens. Even Zeus deferred to him on certain matters, for Apollo’s reach extended into places even the king of the gods could not touch.
He was the heartbeat of Olympus, the pulse that kept the gods in motion.
And the demigods? They had no idea.
---
“Wait,” Percy said, breaking the stunned silence. “You’re the patron of all gods? Even... them?” He glanced toward Hades, trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke.
“Especially them,” Apollo answered smoothly, his gaze turning toward Hades for a brief moment before returning to the group. “I keep the balance. Without me, the gods would falter. That’s why I’m always so busy, you see.”
The demigods were still trying to process the weight of his words. But as they did, they realized something else.
They realized that the very nature of their existence, of the gods’ existence, was tied to Apollo in ways they’d never even begun to imagine. All the gods, all their powers, even their lives, were held together by him.
“You... are the one who made the prophecy for the Battle of the Gods, right?” Annabeth asked carefully, almost whispering.
Apollo’s smile turned sad, a flash of old wisdom in his eyes. “Yes. I’m the one who guided it all. It’s my job to ensure that the stars align in their proper order.”
And just like that, the secret was out. The demigods were staring at the most important god they had ever met, and they hadn’t even known it.
---
The gods would never talk about it. They never did. They pretended they hadn’t seen the subtle exchanges between Apollo and the other gods—the respect, the quiet acknowledgment of his true place in the world.
But the demigods would remember. They’d remember that Apollo wasn’t just a shining god of light.
He was their patron. The one who kept everything running. The one they’d always known and never realized was at the center of everything.
And as Apollo turned toward the gates of the Underworld, smiling softly, his voice warm and full of quiet power, the demigods couldn't help but feel a little... different.
“Shall we continue with our little mission?” Apollo asked, as if nothing had changed.
They all nodded, ready to follow their god.
Chapter 237: The Veil and the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: The Veil and the Sun
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Protective Gods, Trauma, Found Family, Emotional Reveal, Justice, Veiled Apollo, Past Assault, Greek Mythology
---
They didn’t remember the day it started—at least, not exactly.
But they remembered when the change settled in like fog.
Apollo, once the most vibrant god on Olympus, stopped letting anyone near him. He stopped performing music in person, stopped giving hugs, and stopped letting his light shine too brightly.
And the veil appeared.
At first, it was a beautiful piece of golden silk that draped over his hair and face. Everyone assumed it was some aesthetic experiment—after all, he was Apollo.
But then it never came off.
Not when Artemis called him.
Not when Hermes joked.
Not when Dionysus shouted at him for blinding campers again.
And especially not when his children reached for him.
Even Will.
“Why do you wear the veil, dad?”
Apollo would just smile. A soft, painful smile. “The sun still shines behind the clouds, little star.”
---
Decades passed.
Then a century.
The veil remained.
Camp Half-Blood learned not to question it. He was still Apollo, still kind, still warm—but wrapped in distance, in silk and light that refused to touch.
Until one day.
Will Solace stood before the campfire, older now, his own children attending the camp he once called home. And there, at the edge of the flame’s glow, stood Apollo. Veiled, as always.
But something had shifted.
“Can I…?” Will asked again, softer this time. “Can I hold your hand?”
Apollo flinched. Not from disgust—but from memory.
And then, like sunlight breaking through years of cloud, Apollo let out a breath.
“Come, everyone,” he said, voice trembling. “There’s a story I need to tell.”
---
The entire camp gathered around the hearth, even Chiron, even the dryads, even the godly messengers in disguise. No one knew what was happening—only that Apollo had never asked for silence like this before.
And then he lifted the veil.
Gasps echoed through the amphitheater.
Not from horror—he was still beautiful—but from what that veil meant.
He hadn’t shown his face to anyone in over a hundred years.
And then he spoke.
“I was…” Apollo choked, then held himself still. “I was seen. Touched. Hurt. In a place I should have been safe.”
The world hushed. Not even a cricket dared chirp.
“It wasn’t a war. It wasn’t punishment. I wasn’t being punished. I was betrayed.”
He told them, slowly, carefully—how he’d gone to visit a secluded temple of his own, one tended by a mortal prophet he trusted. How the attacker wasn’t a stranger. How he was made to feel like prey.
And how no one—not a single god—had noticed his silence.
“I veiled myself,” Apollo whispered, tears falling like rays of gold. “Because if I hid long enough, maybe it wouldn’t feel real.”
And that’s when everything cracked.
The entire camp rose. The rage that followed was instantaneous.
Artemis exploded into starlight, a howl of fury shattering trees.
Zeus descended in a storm, speechless for once in his godly life.
Poseidon’s eyes turned black.
Hades left the Underworld.
Even Hermes, trickster and light-hearted, stood still with hands curled into fists.
“Who was it?” Artemis demanded, trembling. “Tell me who touched my brother.”
Apollo hesitated—but only for a breath.
Then he named the god.
---
What followed would be remembered for centuries as the Hunt of the Veil.
The gods, united for the first time in generations, turned on the one who dared lay a hand on the sun.
He was not allowed to die. Death was too kind.
He would be seen.
He would be remembered.
Apollo’s veil remained—for a time. Not because he needed to hide, but because it had become a symbol.
Of healing.
Of strength.
Of a god who survived.
And when he lifted it again for Will, and for his great-grandchildren, he did so not as a victim—
—but as a sun that refused to stop shining.
Chapter 238: Sunshine Sister
Notes:
Smuts take longer to come out—(I am also a bit sleep deprived from homework and keep falling out)
Chapter Text
Title: Sunshine Sister
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Trans Apollo (female), Supportive Artemis, Wholesome Hunter Chaos, Gender Affirmation, Family Feels, Comfort
---
It happened one soft afternoon, just before sunset.
Artemis sat on a log just outside the Hunters' clearing, whittling a branch into a bowstring hook, when a soft breeze rolled through the forest—sun-warm and golden.
"Apollo," she said without looking, lips quirking. "I told you, you can’t sneak up on a hunter.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” her twin replied, hovering nearby like a nervous sunbeam. “I was… gathering courage.”
Artemis blinked and turned. Apollo—her twin, her rival in archery, poetry, and divine sass—stood awkwardly, fingers fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves. Her golden hair was pulled back into a messy braid, her eyes unsure but shining.
Something about her was different. Softer. More her.
“Apollo?” Artemis said carefully, setting her carving knife down. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for… a long time.” Apollo’s voice trembled slightly, but she kept her gaze steady. “I’m not your brother.”
A pause.
Then: “I’m your sister.”
Artemis blinked once.
Twice.
And then she tackled Apollo in a hug so hard they both nearly fell over.
“I have a sister! I have a SISTER!” Artemis shouted, suddenly sixteen again and full of joy. “WHY DID YOU WAIT SO LONG TO TELL ME?!”
“I—I didn’t know how you’d react,” Apollo mumbled into her shoulder. “You and the Hunters…”
“You thought I—?” Artemis pulled back, eyes wide and wounded. “Apollo—no. You’re my sister. Always. And the Hunters are going to lose their minds—in a good way!”
She turned on her heel and let out a high whistle.
Within seconds, a dozen Hunters burst from the trees, bows drawn, prepared for battle.
“What’s wrong?” Thalia demanded. “Who are we stabbing?”
“No stabbing!” Artemis chirped, bouncing on her toes. “Just celebrating!”
She turned and threw an arm around Apollo’s shoulders. “Everyone, meet my sister. My real sister. Apollo.”
There was a pause.
Then a shout.
“OH MY GODDESS, YOU’RE SO PRETTY.”
“Wait, can we give her a makeover?”
“Can she join the pillow fights?!”
“I bet she sings better than you, Thalia.”
“HEY—”
Apollo, overwhelmed and speechless, stared as the Hunters swarmed her, complimenting her hair, asking about her wardrobe, and arguing over which tunic color she’d look best in. Thalia was grumbling in the background but hiding a smile.
She looked at Artemis.
And Artemis just smiled back, soft and proud.
“You’re home, sis.”
And for the first time in centuries, Apollo—the sun goddess, artist, protector, mother of many—felt like she was shining in the right body, with the right people.
The Hunters may have taken a vow to shun romance.
But they had never vowed to shun joy.
Chapter 239: Bear With Me
Chapter Text
Title: Bear With Me
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Humor, Chaos, Sibling Antics, Animal-Loving Apollo, Ares vs. Polar Bear, Olympus Shenanigans
---
There were many unspoken rules among the Olympian gods—like not drinking Dionysus' experimental wine and never asking Hera about her “mortal phase.” But there was one official, chiseled-in-marble decree that stood as a permanent reminder in bold golden letters atop Olympus’s main council room:
"APOLLO IS FORBIDDEN TO BRING ANIMALS LARGER THAN A FOX TO ANY SANCTUARY, COUNCIL MEETING, OR SACRED DOMAIN. THIS INCLUDES BUT IS NOT LIMITED TO: BEARS, ELKS, LIONS, GIANT SNAKES, COWS, THAT ONE WHALE, AND ‘MR. FLUFFLES.’”
It all began when Apollo, radiant and smug, waltzed into the Olympian council chamber with a snow-white polar bear padding behind him.
“Guys,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “This is Snowball. He’s chill. Literally.”
Snowball blinked slowly, then licked Apollo’s golden hand.
Hades raised an eyebrow from his throne. “Is that… an arctic apex predator?”
“I dunno, man,” Hermes said, side-eyeing the bear. “Looks like he eats nightmares for breakfast.”
Zeus massaged his temple. “Apollo. Why.”
“He was cold and lonely!” Apollo replied, scandalized. “He wanted friends. And I thought… who better than my brothers and sisters?”
Before anyone could object, Ares—half-listening, half-polishing his war axe—grunted and said, “If that oversized snow rat gets near me, I’ll turn it into a rug.”
Snowball took offense.
With a sudden roar, the bear launched at Ares, knocking the god of war clear across the council chamber and into the wall with a crash that shook Mount Olympus.
“OH MY GODS—”
“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” Hermes began chanting, while Dionysus casually pulled out popcorn from his coat.
“MY BEAR!” Apollo shrieked, shielding Snowball like a concerned mother hen.
Ares, fuming and slightly bleeding, charged back with a war cry that sounded suspiciously like “FOR SPARTA!”
What followed could only be described as a clash of legends: Ares and Snowball rolling across marble floors, growling, biting, wrestling—until Ares was pinned by two giant polar bear paws and a tongue aggressively licking his face.
The room descended into chaos. Athena laughed so hard her helm slipped sideways.
“Remind me to thank Snowball,” she wheezed. “That’s the most humbling thing I’ve ever seen.”
Artemis, sipping tea like a smug older sister, smirked. “Told you. My twin makes the best friends.”
In the end, Apollo was made to swear under divine contract not to bring anything larger than a fox to Olympus, Camp Half-Blood, or anywhere within a 50-mile radius of Ares.
Snowball was gifted a private glacial sanctuary with weekly visitations by Apollo (supervised by Athena and one very traumatized Ares).
And as for Ares?
He never lived it down.
Hermes had shirts printed: "Snowball: 1, War: 0."
And Apollo?
He just grinned and whispered to Artemis one day, “I found a lynx cub. Think I can pass it off as a large housecat?”
Her cackle could be heard from Delphi to Olympus.
---
Sometimes chaos looks like war.
Sometimes it just wears fur and gives you a bear hug.
Chapter 240: The Secret Will of Zeus
Chapter Text
Title: The Secret Will of Zeus
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Found Family, Soft Zeus, Heir to Olympus, Politics & Strategy, Sibling Dynamics, Hidden Plans
---
Zeus would never say it out loud. Gods, no.
He would smite anyone who even suggested he would ever step down from Olympus, retire, or relinquish a single spark of his sky-forged authority. He was the King of the Gods, Lord of the Sky, Master of Olympus, etcetera, etcetera.
But.
But.
On rare, rare nights—when Olympus was quiet and the stars above crackled with a calm kind of thunder—he sat in his throne and thought.
About the future.
About the weight.
About his children.
Because he had seen what would happen. Not just through prophecy, but in the very way the world turned. Mortals grew louder, monsters evolved, the gods were being reshaped, constantly reborn in memory and worship.
One day, someone else would need to hold the lightning.
And if that day ever came…
He already knew who would get the keys.
---
Athena.
There was no doubt in his mind. His daughter, ever-sharp, ever-rational, could balance the books of Olympus with her eyes closed. She would master the laws, the treaties, the structure of divine rule with her breath alone.
But diplomacy?
Politics?
Dealing with people?
Even Athena herself would scoff. She preferred command to conversation, precision over pleasantries.
---
Apollo.
Now there was a silver-tongued charmer if Zeus ever saw one. That boy could soothe a drakon with a lullaby and make a fury laugh with a poem. Apollo didn’t just make friends—he forged loyalties in the unlikeliest of places.
And mortals adored him.
So did monsters.
Even the gods of other pantheons—those uptight Egyptian featherheads and those ever-stoic Norse runeboys—tolerated Apollo with begrudging smiles, because everyone liked the sun.
He was brightness and brilliance and baffling amounts of charm. A born diplomat, a master of image, a god who knew how to be seen.
So yes. Zeus would never say it.
But in the impossible event that he were to step down, hypothetically...
Athena would shape the core.
Apollo would lead the world.
---
He never told them, of course.
But once, when he passed Apollo laughing with a young drakon hatchling curled in his lap, telling stories to both it and a satyr child who had wandered by, Zeus had paused.
He watched the way sunlight danced around his son—no, not just a son… something far greater—and saw how effortlessly peace followed him.
He said nothing. Just walked on.
But the next morning, the official records of Olympus were updated with a backup security contingency no one noticed.
In case of cataclysm, war, or abdication of the throne…
Primary authority shall be divided equally between Athena and Apollo.
Zeus grumbled to himself the whole time.
Then went back to ruling.
Like he always would.
(Probably.)
(Maybe.)
(...Shut up.)
---
The storm never dies,but sometimes it rests in golden hands and gray eyes.
Chapter 241: Golden Ray of the Family
Chapter Text
Title: Golden Ray of the Family
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology AU
Tags: Godling Apollo, Baby God Moments, Soft!Uncles, Favorite Nephew, Family Fluff, Protective Hades, Dotting Poseidon, Best Aunt Hestia
---
When Apollo was born, the sky didn’t just light up.
It sang.
Not in the way mortals hear music—but in the divine way stars vibrate and the sun hums into existence. He was small, golden, giggly, and somehow managed to smack Zeus in the face with a baby rattle made of sunlight within the first thirty minutes of life.
Everyone was horrified.
Everyone except Poseidon, Hades, and Hestia.
---
Hestia was the first to cradle him. She didn’t care that he radiated sunlight so strong it nearly blinded a lesser goddess. She just held him close and cooed, “Oh, you’re warm enough to melt the coldest hearts, aren’t you?”
Apollo immediately burped fire.
She called it charming.
She never missed a single moment in his early years. She made him tiny golden sandals for his first steps. She taught him how to hum lullabies that soothed even the most chaotic storms. She had dibs on babysitting, always.
---
Poseidon wasn’t exactly known for being soft.
But one look at the sun godling’s enormous golden eyes and ridiculous laugh and he caved harder than Atlantis did that one time (that wasn’t his fault, thank you).
Apollo would sit on Poseidon’s shoulder and pretend to “command the seas,” waving his chubby arms as whales leapt in the distance. Poseidon made it happen every time.
He even let baby Apollo ride a hippocampus into battle once.
(A small battle. A very small one. It was supervised.)
He carved a coral trident the size of a spoon and declared Apollo the honorary prince of the waves.
---
Hades was the most surprising.
He didn’t even like visiting Olympus. But when Apollo toddled into the Underworld for the first time and tugged on his robes asking if “Uncle Hady wants to see my sparkle rock?” he…
Well.
He melted.
That sparkle rock was later found to be a literal soul fragment of light.
He still keeps it in his pocket.
Hades taught him how to walk silently in the dark, how to soothe spirits with gentle music, and once let him sit on Cerberus’s head. He also nearly obliterated a minor god who dared say Apollo “wasn’t that special.”
(He very calmly turned them into a shadow puddle.)
(And then gave Apollo a cookie.)
---
And even now—centuries later—when Apollo walks into a room with that same golden laugh and sunny smile, his uncles and aunt can’t help but soften.
He may be a powerful god now. A legend. A warrior. A healer.
But to Poseidon, Hades, and Hestia—
He’s still their little sunbeam.
Their golden godling.
Their favorite nephew.
(And gods help anyone who messes with him.)
Chapter 242: When the Future Breaks Through
Chapter Text
Title: When the Future Breaks Through
Fandom: Percy Jackson / Greek Mythology
Tags: Prophecy Origins, Baby Apollo, Scared Gods, First Time, Drama & Angst, Found Family, Protective Olympians, Zeus being a Worried Dad (but pretending not to be), Birth of the Oracle System
---
It happened on a warm day in Olympus, the kind where the air shimmered with lazy heat and even the gods lounged about in boredom, waiting for something entertaining—or at least mildly catastrophic—to happen.
They got more than they bargained for.
---
Apollo was young, still gangly and radiant in the way only a godling made of sunlight could be. Barefoot, dressed in a loose white chiton, he wandered into the throne room mid-discussion about some mortal war brewing in the east.
"Are we gonna let them blow each other up?" Ares had asked, sharpening a blade on Hera's patience.
Apollo paused mid-step. His golden eyes glazed over, and the room stilled. Even Hestia, who’d been gently poking at a fireball in her hand, turned to watch.
Then the screaming started.
---
It wasn’t mortal screaming—it was divine. A sound older than time, echoing with a thousand voices and fates entangled. Apollo’s body jerked violently as the light around him flared into violent gold, too bright to look at. His mouth opened and out came words no one understood—until they realized it wasn’t just gibberish.
It was prophecy.
Foretelling the rise of Rome. The fall of great cities. The sacrifice of heroes not yet born.
And all the while his body spasmed, arms twitching, legs seizing, eyes glowing so intensely they looked burned from within.
---
“MAKE IT STOP!” Hermes had shouted, panic uncharacteristically evident.
Zeus leapt from his throne. Poseidon had moved fastest, cushioning Apollo with water conjured from the air itself, keeping his skull from hitting marble. Even Hades emerged from shadows, eyes wide with something like... fear.
Hestia dropped her flame and knelt by her baby brother.
“Breathe, little one. You have to breathe.”
Apollo collapsed in her arms, unconscious, a whisper of burnt gold still crackling around his body.
---
When he woke up, days later, the first thing he asked was:
"Did it help?"
And nobody knew what to say.
---
After that, rules were made.
One: Apollo would not be allowed to channel full prophecy through himself again.
Two: Prophecy had to be filtered, shared, divided—through mortals, temples, and chosen vessels.
Three: A system would be built—Oracles, Seers, Pythia—so that Apollo could breathe without dying on the floor each time the future wanted to speak.
Zeus personally carved the first Oracle’s space into the rocks of Delphi. Hades blessed it with protection. Poseidon made sure the waters nearby would keep the seer’s mind intact.
They had all been scared.
Even Zeus.
(Though he never admitted it.)
---
Later, they would all say they had learned something that day.
One: Prophecy is a burden.
Two: Apollo, though born of light, is not invincible.
Three: Even sunlight can break if it bears too much alone.
And from then on, when prophecy stirred in his bones, Apollo would send it out—to Pythia, to chosen mortals—never again bearing it by himself.
But they never forgot that first day.
They never forgot what it looked like when the sun screamed.
Chapter 243: The Worm Incident of Camp Half-Blood
Chapter Text
Title: The Worm Incident of Camp Half-Blood
Tags: Humor, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Worms Are Gross, Apollo Has A Meltdown, Artemis Is Done, Dionysus Is Grumpy, Chiron Needs A Break, Campers Are Traumatized
---
It began, as most disasters do, with something small.
Like, say... a worm.
Not even a particularly big worm. Just an ordinary, squishy, mildly damp earthworm that happened to fall out of a tree during a nature walk and land directly on the shoulder of Apollo, god of the sun, music, poetry, prophecy, and—currently—sheer panic.
---
Campers screamed.
Not because of the worm.
Because Apollo screamed first.
---
"GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF—" he shrieked, flailing like a man possessed. Light exploded from his body in erratic bursts, golden and unstable, burning small craters into the ground as his chiton billowed dramatically. Campers dove behind trees, ducked under tables, and one poor Ares kid launched themselves into the lake.
"Apollo—!" Chiron shouted, galloping toward him. "It's just a worm—"
"IT'S NOT JUST A WORM, CHIRON!" Apollo shrieked. "It's a cursed noodle of the dirt, it is a squirming disgrace! Why is it wet?! Why does it move like that?!"
The worm had long since slithered away.
But Apollo was not over it.
---
Cabin 7 windows cracked under the sheer noise of the panic. Cabin 5’s banner caught fire (no one knows how). Cabin 3’s fountain turned to boiling water for five seconds.
Dionysus sighed, snapped his fingers to turn his Diet Coke into wine, and dialed Artemis on the Olympus line.
---
She arrived in minutes.
Clad in silver armor and exasperation, Artemis found her twin clinging to the roof of the Arts & Crafts cabin like a traumatized cat.
"Polly." Her voice was firm. "Get. Down."
"I will not! There are creatures of slime and filth below!"
Artemis blinked. "A worm touched you, didn’t it?"
Apollo whimpered.
---
Twenty minutes later, Apollo was wrapped in an emergency glitter-blanket (confiscated from Cabin 9), sipping juice from a sun-themed mug, and mumbling about “the horrors of segmented bodies.”
Artemis had burned the area around the worm. Twice.
Chiron had gone to lie down.
Dionysus returned to his crossword.
The campers?
They added “Worms are Apollo’s mortal enemy” to the chalkboard of divine weaknesses—right next to Ares hates poetry and Zeus can’t stand pigeons.
---
And so the legend of the Worm Incident lived on.
No one ever mentioned the W-word around Apollo again.
Ever.
Chapter 244: The Sun Forgotten, The Sun Returned
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun Forgotten, The Sun Returned
Tags: Baby Apollo, Time Shenanigans, Kronos Being a Menace, Percy's Accidental God Babysitting, Whump Turned Wholesome, Percabeth, Baby!God, Found Family Vibes
---
It should have been one of Olympus's greatest moments.
The birth of twins—Artemis and Apollo—gods of the moon and sun, of wilderness and prophecy, hunters and healers.
Their arrival marked a new era. Even Hades smiled. Even Zeus shed a single dramatic tear.
And then Kronos stirred.
Still half-contained in the depths of Tartarus, the Titan King made a final, desperate attempt at freedom. A golden shockwave tore through Olympus—clashing with the gods, hurling spells and swords and titan-ichor.
In the chaos, a scream. A tiny one.
Apollo.
His cradle shattered. His form—a glow of starlight and sunfire—disappeared.
The gods searched. Mourned. Even Artemis—newborn and divine—screamed for her twin until her throat gave out.
Apollo was gone. Presumed dead.
---
Years Later…
"Annabeth," Percy said slowly, holding his sword just a bit tighter, "Why is there a baby glowing in the grass?"
Grover blinked. "That's… not a normal mortal baby."
The trio had been on their way to Olympus to return Zeus’s lightning bolt, and the last thing they expected was a toddler made of literal sunlight, rolling in the flowers of an abandoned meadow, giggling at nothing and poking fireflies with chubby fingers.
He wore no clothes, just soft wrappings of divine silk, and his hair glowed like dawn.
"Sun," the baby chirped, pointing to Percy. Then giggled. "Pecy!"
Percy blinked. "...What."
---
“Pecy” turned out to be Apollo’s favorite thing.
He followed Percy around like a duckling, sometimes crawling, sometimes hovering slightly above the ground like gravity wasn’t worth obeying. He clung to Percy’s hoodie and whined when anyone else tried to hold him.
Annabeth was the one to put it together, squinting at the divine aura.
“This isn’t a godling. This is Apollo. This is the missing god.”
Grover nearly fainted.
---
They brought him to Olympus.
The reaction was… loud.
Artemis was the first to arrive—abandoning a hunt and throwing herself into the arms of her still-giggling brother. She didn’t cry. She just didn’t let him go.
Zeus cried again. Dramatically. Hera threatened Kronos’s memory.
Hestia quietly hugged Percy and whispered, “Thank you.”
---
Kronos hadn’t killed Apollo. He’d just thrown him through time, hurling the newborn godling into the future, where he landed softly in a meadow the Fates had hidden him in.
Until Percy found him.
---
Apollo didn’t remember much. He eventually regrew into his full form, slowly, still favoring Percy’s lap like it was a throne. Even as a teen god, he sometimes called him “Pecy” when he was sleepy.
Percy never admitted it, but he kind of liked it.
And when Olympus next met in council, there was a new title recorded in Apollo’s temple:
“Pecy: Rescuer of the Light.”
Chapter 245: Etched in Light
Chapter Text
Title: Etched in Light
Tags: Emotional Apollo, Dad!Apollo, Protective Dad Vibes, Sketchbooks, Memory, Child Deity Feels, Hints of Family Trauma, Soft Whump, Bittersweet
---
Deep in Apollo’s temple, where few are ever allowed to enter, there is a chamber of golden warmth—filled with the faint hum of light and the scent of wildflowers that never die.
And in its heart: books. Dozens. Hundreds.
Not filled with prophecies.
Not filled with hymns.
But sketches.
Every page, every stroke, made by Apollo’s own hand. His sun-kissed fingers tracing the story of every child he’s ever fathered—divine and mortal. Drawings of cheeks pudgy with youth. Of limbs growing longer, clumsier, stronger. Eyes bright with wonder, or dimmed by sorrow.
Will Solace, laughing in the sunlight, aged from a boy of five to the healer he became.
Asclepius, eyes always a little too sharp, sketched in softer lines because Apollo remembered the gentle way he held birds as a child.
Hyacinthus, though no blood of his own flowed through him, had entire volumes. Every tilt of the head. Every shift in emotion. Apollo didn’t need to see him to remember—he had already committed his face to light.
Even the children long gone—those whose names were erased, whose cities had been buried by time—lived again in graphite and gold-leaf ink, carefully drawn into existence.
He never forgot a single face.
---
Once, Hermes asked him why he did it.
“Because someone has to remember,” Apollo said, not looking up. “Because Zeus forgot our names the moment we outgrew his favor. I won’t do that to mine.”
There was steel in his voice that day. Even Artemis—his twin who knew all his tones—sat silently beside him, her bow in her lap, her own hand resting against one of the books.
---
When new children were claimed, Apollo sometimes gave them their pages.
Not to keep.
But to see. To understand that they mattered. That he saw them.
Even Nico had one, though he’d never admit it.
And when Chiron once dared to ask what Apollo would do if he ever ran out of space, the god only smiled softly.
“I’ll make a new sun to hold them.”
And knowing him—
He would.
Chapter 246: Actually, That’s Not How It Happened
Chapter Text
Title: Actually, That’s Not How It Happened
Tags: Dad!Apollo, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Mythology Humor, Teaching Moments, Chaos Ensues, Overprotective Dad Energy, Sassy Apollo, Correcting Mortal Mistakes
---
It started innocently enough.
A lazy afternoon at Camp Half-Blood. Some of Apollo's kids were lying around the strawberry fields, flipping through old, worn copies of Greek Mythology: Tales of the Gods.
Will Solace had one propped against his knees, squinting. His siblings crowded around, snickering or commenting loudly about the drama.
Apollo, who had materialized to visit, hummed a soft tune as he approached.
And then.
He heard it.
> "It says here that Zeus and Poseidon fought over Hera’s favor for a hundred years—" Will read out loud.
Apollo froze.
The lyre he was strumming gave an off-key shriek.
He appeared behind Will in an instant, peering over his shoulder like a horrified librarian.
"FALSE!" Apollo declared, snatching the book. "Firstly—Poseidon couldn’t even stay interested for a hundred minutes, much less a hundred years. Secondly—Hera would’ve sooner yeeted them into the Styx than 'grant favor'. Thirdly—do you realize how awkward family dinners would’ve been?"
The campers blinked.
"And this," Apollo jabbed another page, "says Artemis once turned a hunter into a deer for asking to join her Hunt. Complete lies! Artemis is scary, not unreasonable. She only does that if you get creepy about it!"
There was a pause.
"…Creepy how?" Kayla dared to ask.
Apollo gave her a look. "You don’t wanna know."
He flipped a few pages dramatically.
"‘Apollo was a vindictive god, cursing mortals for no reason.’" Apollo read aloud, voice rising in horror. "HELLO? EXCUSE ME? I had reasons! You think it’s 'no reason' to punish a guy who tried to rob my temple with his goat?"
Austin choked. "With his goat?!"
"WITH HIS GOAT!" Apollo repeated furiously. "He tied it to the altar! I was disrespected AND emotionally traumatized!"
Another camper cautiously held up a different book. "Uh...what about this one? It says Aphrodite and Apollo hated each other?"
Apollo placed a hand dramatically over his heart.
"I love my dear great aunt dearly. I mean, we fought over who was prettier once, but honestly? She won. I even painted a mural about it. She still has it in her villa."
"But what about the Trojan War stuff?" Will asked.
"Long story short," Apollo said, tossing the book casually over his shoulder, "We were messy, not murderous. Big difference."
---
By the time Chiron wandered over to see what the commotion was about, Apollo had started tearing through the camp library, tossing inaccurate books into a bonfire he had conjured out of spite.
"No child of mine will grow up believing I’m some random madman throwing curses around like confetti!"
Chiron sighed and massaged his temples.
Dionysus, watching from a deck chair, sipped his Diet Coke and muttered, "Honestly, this is the most parental I’ve seen him be in centuries."
---
By sunset, Camp Half-Blood had a new mandatory mythological studies class.
Professor Apollo’s first lesson?
“How to Not Slander Your Dad 101.”
Attendance was not optional.
Chapter 247: Where’s Their Camp?
Chapter Text
Title: Where’s Their Camp?
Tags: Camp Half-Blood, Demigod Shenanigans, Apollo Being a Teacher, Deep Worldbuilding, Casual Humor, Sweet Moments
---
It was during a slow, golden afternoon at Camp Half-Blood when the question came up.
The campers had gathered around the campfire early, roasting marshmallows and telling weird stories about their quests — or, in Clovis's case, mostly about sleeping through them.
The fire crackled warmly as a few of Apollo’s kids leaned on each other, half-dozing.
Chiron was playing soft music on a lyre, and everything was just peacefully... perfect.
That is, until little Cecil from the Hermes cabin squinted into the flames and asked,
"Hey... why is there only a Camp Half-Blood? Why don't the Egyptian or Norse or, like, other pantheons have their own camps?"
The question hung in the air.
Will Solace frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah... I mean, it's not like we're the only ones with gods and demigods, right?"
Other campers murmured agreement, some sitting up more.
From where he sat perched casually on a log, Apollo — who had been tuning a literal solar-powered guitar — chuckled lightly. "Ooooh, you adorable little theorists," he said fondly, golden eyes gleaming. "Alright, settle in. Storytime."
The campers all shuffled closer, marshmallows forgotten.
Apollo tilted his head and started, voice bright and theatrical:
"There are other camps... or at least, places where demigods gather! They’re just hidden. Way better hidden than this one. Coughs pointedly at the woods where monsters sometimes wander in. Different pantheons have different rules. Some gods take responsibility for their kids. Some... don't.
For example — the Egyptians? They've got the House of Life. It's more for magicians, but it overlaps a lot with demigods and gods walking around in mortal bodies.
Norse? Valhalla's an option... if you like dying heroically and waking up in a meat feast every day."
Some campers grimaced at that description. Apollo just grinned.
"And the Romans? Well... you know New Rome exists. Some of you have seen it. They're a lot stricter about citizenship and military ranks and all that."
"As for the others," Apollo continued, spinning his guitar lazily, "there are whisper networks. Safehouses, temples, old family lines passing down protection spells. Some pantheons... just don't like organizing their kids. Thinks it’s too much trouble. Some pantheons would rather keep their mortal spawn secret."
"Wait," Kayla piped up, "then... are we lucky?"
Apollo smiled, soft and sad all at once. "Yes. You are."
The fire crackled again.
Chiron added, his voice low and fond, "Camp Half-Blood exists because a group of gods... and heroes... decided their children deserved better. They fought for this place to be real. It wasn't given freely."
"And even now," Apollo said, stretching his arms dramatically, "it’s a work in progress. Sometimes it fails. Sometimes it shines." He paused, smiling crookedly. "But it's yours. Ours. We built something beautiful. Even if there are monsters at the border and Ares occasionally tries to arm-wrestle the sun."
That got a few snickers.
"And one day," Apollo said, tapping Will’s nose playfully, "maybe you guys will be the ones to build new places. Not just for Greek demigods — but for everyone."
The campers were quiet after that.
But it was a good kind of quiet — the kind that settled into your bones like warm sunlight.
---
That night, when everyone returned to their cabins, more than one demigod fell asleep dreaming of safehouses and cities and places where kids like them — all kinds of kids — could live without fear.
And Apollo sat on the roof of the Big House, quietly smiling to himself under the stars.
Because maybe, just maybe, they’d make it happen.
Chapter 248: You Did WHAT to the Laurels?!
Chapter Text
Title: You Did WHAT to the Laurels?!
Tags: Apollo Being Done, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Angry Gods, Sweet Revenge, Humor, Protective Camp
---
It was a normal sunny day at Camp Half-Blood.
Well — normal in the sense that no monsters were currently attacking, no cabins were accidentally on fire, and no gods had decided to throw a fit yet. Pretty normal.
Campers were lounging around the training fields, polishing swords or gossiping about quests when the peaceful air shattered.
A horrified scream echoed from near the Big House.
"THE LAURELS?!"
Several campers flinched. A few scattered instinctively, assuming something big and bad was about to happen.
When they turned toward the noise, they found a scene of chaos:
Apollo — shining, golden, beautiful Apollo — stood there, trembling in pure, livid shock.
His bow had appeared in his hands without him realizing. His entire aura was practically buzzing, like a sun about to explode.
And at his feet, where once a small ceremonial laurel bush had grown — a treasured little shrine tended to with love — was a pile of ash.
Standing guiltily nearby was a clueless visiting demigod from outside camp, holding a burnt stick and looking utterly bewildered.
"I-I thought it was... just a regular plant?" the poor soul stammered.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Until Will Solace facepalmed so hard it echoed like a slap.
"That's literally like burning a crown in front of a king," he muttered to no one in particular.
Apollo’s golden gaze slowly turned toward the culprit, eyes glowing like miniature suns.
"You," he said, voice deceptively calm, "have committed a cardinal sin."
The demigod whimpered.
From the cabins, more campers began peeking out — quickly realizing that something entertaining (and possibly dangerous) was happening.
Even Chiron galloped over in a hurry, trying to assess if he needed to stop another divine incident.
"Apollo," Chiron said carefully, "let's all calm down—"
"CALM DOWN?!" Apollo shrieked, throwing his arms dramatically to the sky. "YOU WOULD ASK ME TO BE CALM? ME?! WHEN THIS—" He gestured at the ashes mournfully. "THIS TRAGEDY—HAS BEFALLEN MY SACRED LAURELS?!"
A gust of hot wind circled around him, like even the sun itself was angry on his behalf.
Artemis flashed into existence a second later, silver bow drawn, hair flying.
"Who burned my brother’s laurels?" she demanded.
The poor demigod fainted on the spot.
---
Later, the camp gathered near the remains of the laurel bush. Apollo held a small ceremony — complete with dramatic poetry readings and the most emotional eulogy ever heard — while the campers awkwardly tried not to laugh.
(Artemis openly laughed though. She thought it was hilarious.)
(Athena sent a letter suggesting planting flame-resistant laurels next time.)
(Ares just asked if he could duel the polar bear again, which was somehow totally unrelated but still made Apollo yell.)
The poor kid who had burned the laurels?
Sentenced by Apollo to community service: personally replanting and caring for an entire grove of new laurels for the next five years.
"You shall learn to respect what is sacred," Apollo had intoned dramatically, glowing with divine righteousness.
"Also, you're banned from using matches forever. Forever."
Nobody ever burned laurels again.
Ever.
Chapter 249: Apollo’s Phone is a Horror Movie (According to Camp Half-Blood)
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo’s Phone is a Horror Movie (According to Camp Half-Blood)
Tags: Humor, Camp Half-Blood Shenanigans, Apollo is an Overachiever, Organized Chaos, Campers in Shock
---
It all started because Leo accidentally spilled his soda on Apollo's phone.
(Or rather, Apollo tossed it at him to show off a meme and Leo fumbled the catch like an idiot.)
Thankfully, Apollo — despite looking one heartbeat away from divine smiting — sighed dramatically and let Leo and the others clean it.
"Just be careful with it," he said, wringing his hands. "All my important files are there!"
Of course, the second Apollo turned his back, Leo, Annabeth, Will, and Percy gave each other one look — and promptly snooped.
---
The first thing they noticed was that Apollo’s lock screen was a photo collage of his kids.
Like — not just the godly kids either. Literally everyone he considered his kid. Including random mortal descendants.
Will’s photo was front and center with glitter effects.
"Aww," Will muttered, embarrassed.
Then they actually unlocked the phone.
The home screen was terrifying.
Rows and rows of apps, all perfectly color-coded and divided into folders titled things like "Sun Maintenance," "Monster Friend Tracker," "Emergency Sonnets," "Healing On The Go," and — weirdly — "Panic Buttons (for fun)."
Leo stared.
"Is that... is that an app called Summon A Mini Sun?"
"I don't want to know," Annabeth said immediately.
Percy squinted at another folder labeled "Prophecy Drafts."
"And... is this a Pinterest board called 'Aesthetic Deaths'???"
"HE'S WORSE THAN NYX," Leo whispered in awe.
---
The Contacts app was a whole different horror show.
Everyone — everyone — was categorized.
There were entire groups labeled "Children: Golden Era," "Children: Silver Era," "Demigods I Must Threaten," "Emergency Helplines (Actual Monsters Who Owe Me Favors)," and "People Who Still Owe Me Ambrosia (LOOKING AT YOU, HERMES)."
Artemis was saved as "Best Big Sister Ever - Will Murder For Me."
Zeus was saved under "Bio Dad (ugh)."
Chiron was "Best Centaur Dad #2."
And there was an entire emergency contact group called "If I Die, Get Revenge," consisting of Hades, Poseidon, and surprisingly, Dionysus.
---
Then they opened his Notes app.
And screamed.
There were THOUSANDS of notes.
- Daily lists of affirmations ("I am the brightest star! I am the best uncle!")
- Random poems he wrote at 3am.
- Entire lyrics for songs that could either be Grammy-worthy or mental breakdowns.
- Lists of "Future Threats to Smite."
- Lists of "Children to Check On." (Will’s name showed up twelve times.)
- Sketches of everyone's faces from memory, painstakingly detailed.
- Detailed, rambling dreams about inventing new types of sunlight.
- A folder titled "Terrible Pickup Lines (Use Wisely)."
Percy read one aloud:
"If you were a star, you'd be my sunburn."
He immediately regretted it.
---
When Apollo finally came back and saw them all frozen around his phone, he arched an eyebrow.
"I told you to be careful," he said smugly.
"And now you know the truth."
"...What truth?" Will croaked.
Apollo flipped his hair like he was in a shampoo commercial.
"That I am very organized, emotionally complicated, and have way too much time when I'm not causing plagues."
Leo dropped the phone like it was cursed.
Annabeth immediately started planning an intervention.
Percy?
He just patted Will on the back.
"Your dad is terrifying. I'm sorry, dude."
Will just nodded, wide-eyed.
Apollo winked.
"And don't even get me started on my secret second phone."
Title: Apollo’s Phone is a Horror Movie (Part 2: The Secret Second Phone)
Tags: Humor, Chaos, Apollo is Unhinged, Camp Half-Blood Disaster Hours, Poor Will Solace
---
After the first... incident with Apollo’s normal phone, you’d think the campers would learn their lesson.
They did not.
Because Apollo, in all his divine pride, made an offhand comment:
"Of course, that’s just the boring phone. The fun one is hidden."
Naturally, that triggered a full-scale, Camp Half-Blood-sanctioned heist mission.
---
It was easier than it should have been.
(Nothing is easy when Apollo is actively encouraging you while pretending not to.)
Annabeth was in charge of strategy.
Leo was in charge of tech.
Percy was in charge of — well, mostly tripping over things.
And Will... Will was trying to pretend he wasn’t related to this mess.
They finally found the secret second phone buried inside Apollo’s cabin — hidden inside a hollowed-out fake lyre.
(Annabeth respected the dedication to theme.)
---
The second phone turned on.
And immediately began playing elevator music.
"Welcome back, Sunshine! Would you like to destroy, delight, or doodle today?" the phone asked, perky and chipper.
Leo nearly dropped it.
"WHAT KIND OF OPTIONS ARE THOSE?"
Annabeth, ever the brave one, clicked "Delight."
The home screen opened.
And all of Camp Half-Blood fell into chaos.
---
The second phone was... unhinged.
The apps were weirder.
Folders included:
- "Memes for Future World Endings"
- "Monster Babysitting Guides"
- "Weaponized Music Notes"
- "Pranks To Pull On Zeus (Advanced Edition)"
- "Artemis Blackmail Folder (Love you sis)"
- "Emergency Party Planning" (this one had explosive confetti recipes.)
---
The Notes app was somehow worse.
- Recipes for "Sundrop Cupcakes" that could probably kill a mortal.
- Detailed plans for "If Olympus Turns Into A Musical."
- Shipping charts of literally every god. (Including himself. And he wrote essays about why he was everyone’s best match.)
- Drafts of divine pickup lines, even worse than the last ones. ("Are you a prophecy? Because I can’t escape my fate with you.")
- Sketches of everyone he wanted to smite but couldn’t yet. (Hermes and Hera appeared a lot.)
There was even a list titled:
- "100 Reasons Why Percy Jackson is My Favorite Seaweed Child"
(Will wanted to both laugh and cry.)
---
The contacts list?
There were three new contact groups:
- "Secret Mortal Friends Who Owe Me Favor$"
- "Emergency Snack Dealers"
- "Drama Queens of Olympus" (Zeus was triple listed.)
---
And then they found it.
The Vault Folder.
It was password-locked, but the hint was:
"Favorite color, my most common nickname, and how many times I've saved the world."
"Sunlight, Polly, and... I don't know, like fifty?" Leo guessed.
He got it right by some miracle.
Inside the vault were:
- Hundreds of candid photos of Camp Half-Blood campers laughing, training, celebrating birthdays.
- Secretly-taken selfies with Artemis looking grumpy but fond.
- Sketches of all his kids at different ages — mortal and immortal.
- Sweet little voice notes like "Remind Will he’s my sunshine on bad days."
- Plans to build mini temples for each of his demigod kids, personalized to their passions.
- A full recording of him singing lullabies for the children of Camp Half-Blood, just in case they had nightmares when he wasn’t there.
---
Everyone went silent.
Leo wiped his eyes aggressively.
Annabeth stared at the phone like it had grown another head.
Will just hugged the phone tightly to his chest.
"He’s a disaster," Annabeth said quietly, "but he’s... our disaster."
Percy nodded solemnly.
"Best uncle ever," he said.
---
When Apollo finally strolled in, humming and tossing a golden apple, he froze seeing everyone huddled around his second phone.
"...You found it, huh?"
They just tackled him in a group hug.
Apollo laughed, confused but delighted.
(He didn't even pretend to be mad.)
"Next time," he said brightly, "you guys have to solve the scavenger hunt for the third phone!"
Everyone froze.
"THIRD???"
"THIRD!!!!?????"
Apollo just winked and disappeared into a flash of sunlight.
Chapter 250: Apollo + Coffee = Camp Half-Blood’s Worst Night Ever
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo + Coffee = Camp Half-Blood’s Worst Night Ever
Tags: Humor, Chaos, Apollo is a Menace, Will Solace Suffering Agenda, Percy Has Regrets
---
It all started with a cup.
A harmless, innocent cup.
Will Solace, exhausted from a full day of healing reckless demigods and patching up broken bones, made himself a big, strong, nearly-lethal coffee.
He left it on a table outside the infirmary while he ran back inside to grab his jacket.
That was his mistake.
---
Apollo, wandering past in a sunny daze, spotted the cup.
He sniffed.
He tilted his head.
"Chocolate milk?" he said, voice filled with childlike excitement.
He did not question why it was in a paper cup labeled “Warning: Drink at Own Risk.”
He did not question why it smelled... bitter.
He did what anyone would do in his infinite wisdom.
He chugged it.
---
Fifteen minutes later, Camp Half-Blood entered the first stage of its apocalypse.
Apollo was vibrating.
Not moving.
Vibrating.
"I CAN FEEL THE SUN IN MY SOUL," he declared, climbing the Apollo Cabin’s roof.
Connor Stoll, from somewhere near the campfire, just shouted, "WHY IS HE GLOWING???"
Because yes. Apollo wasn’t just energetic. He was literally sparking.
Little bursts of gold light kept exploding off him like he was a living firework.
---
Will returned to find chaos.
"WHERE IS MY COFFEE??" he shouted.
Austin, fellow child of Apollo, just pointed wordlessly to the roof.
Where Apollo was now singing eight songs at once, playing an invisible guitar, and attempting to direct constellations into new shapes.
"I remade Orion into a better shape!" Apollo said proudly.
The stars were now forming what looked suspiciously like a giant smiling potato.
---
Chiron tried to intervene.
Keyword: tried.
He approached calmly, holding a calming herbal tea.
"Apollo, my boy, please—"
Apollo bolted.
Like a golden bullet, he shot across camp, dragging glitter and a trail of terrified nymphs behind him.
---
By midnight:
The strawberries from the strawberry fields had been organized into a smiling face the size of half the camp.
Dionysus banned Apollo from breathing near any vineyards.
Percy got tricked into racing Apollo across Long Island Sound. (Percy lost. Badly.)
Several cabins were now lightly levitating because Apollo had "given them pep talks."
Thalia Grace texted Artemis a picture with the caption: "YOUR BROTHER IS A MENACE, COME GET HIM."
Artemis simply texted back: "No."
---
Will Solace, meanwhile, aged approximately 10 years that night.
He tried everything:
Herbal teas (Apollo drank and immediately started juggling)
Soothing music (Apollo started remixing it)
Threats (Apollo made up a dramatic soap opera called "The Betrayal of the Coffee Prince")
Finally, Will pulled out his last resort:
"If you don’t sit down and behave, I’m telling Annabeth you ruined her star charts."
Apollo froze.
Visibly paled.
He sat down.
Immediately.
Back ramrod straight, legs folded like a good little sun god.
---
Apollo did not sleep that night.
Neither did most of Camp Half-Blood.
The next morning, Will found Apollo passed out facedown in the strawberry fields, cuddling a basket of berries.
A handmade sign rested beside him.
> "NO MORE COFFEE FOR THE SUN GOD."
"EVER."
Will agreed.
Vehemently.
Chapter 251: The Secrets of Olympus: Once Upon a Time, We Were Friends
Chapter Text
Title: The Secrets of Olympus: Once Upon a Time, We Were Friends
Tags: Fluff, Nostalgia, Gods Being (Shockingly) Soft, Bittersweet, Found Family
---
It wasn’t something they talked about anymore.
Not when Olympus was heavy with politics, arguments, ancient grudges, and the scars of wars that never seemed to heal.
But once — long ago — when they were still young gods, freshly born from Chaos, Earth, and Sky…
They had gotten along.
Maybe not perfectly. There were still arguments. There were always arguments (looking at you, Hera and Poseidon).
But it wasn’t spiteful then.
It was competitive like siblings wrestling in a field.
It was bickering that always ended in laughter.
It was Olympus as a home, not a throne.
---
Apollo remembered.
He remembered racing Hermes across the endless fields of Elysium, no cares in the world except who could touch the sky first.
He remembered Artemis pulling him into her games — even when she rolled her eyes and pretended she didn’t want him around — and the way Athena used to ruffle their hair fondly after they brought her shiny rocks as "offerings."
He remembered Hera teaching him how to braid laurels into crowns.
He remembered Hades telling stories — beautiful, slow, patient stories — by the riverbank when the world was quieter and there was still no separation between "bright" and "dark."
He remembered Poseidon laughing so hard he cried when baby Dionysus tried (and failed) to ride a dolphin.
He remembered Demeter slipping him sweets when Zeus said no.
Even Zeus — arrogant, blinding Zeus — used to swing him onto his shoulders like he weighed nothing, a crown of gold and sunshine perched high over the king of gods.
---
There were old photos too, hidden somewhere in Hera's personal temple, dusty and forgotten.
Images from before the mortals worshipped them in fear.
Before wars turned family into soldiers.
In one, Aphrodite and Artemis were arm-wrestling (and laughing so hard they both lost).
In another, Hephaestus was sitting in a half-finished throne with Apollo perched beside him, singing something to distract him from the weight of loneliness.
Hestia had caught them once, all bundled up asleep on Mount Olympus, a pile of divine children tangled together under the stars.
---
The demigods at Camp Half-Blood never knew.
Not until Percy stumbled across a memory sphere deep in the secret parts of the Big House — one that Mr. D (who actually looked sad for once) forgot to lock away.
In it, the gods were happy.
Younger. Lighter. Laughing.
So different from the towering, sharp-edged deities they knew now.
The campers sat in stunned silence as they watched.
Even Clarisse sniffled.
A little.
---
Later, when Apollo sat on the beach with Will and Kayla, strumming a quiet tune on his lyre, he said it aloud for the first time:
"We weren't always this way, you know."
Will blinked. "What way?"
"Tired," Apollo said simply. "Angry. Distant."
Kayla leaned into his side. "What changed?"
Apollo smiled — a sad, small thing.
"Time," he said. "Loss. Fear. And too many years trying to pretend we weren't hurt."
They sat there a long while, letting the waves sing the lullaby the gods had long since forgotten.
Chapter 252: Family Dinner (Mandatory, Absolutely Non-Negotiable
Chapter Text
Title: Family Dinner (Mandatory, Absolutely Non-Negotiable)
Tags: Fluff, Family Feels, Found Family, Secret Softies, Gods Being Disaster Siblings
---
It started as a threat.
Apollo, standing in the middle of the Olympian throne room, hands on his hips, golden eyes blazing:
"If you don't come to dinner, I will personally invade your temples with off-key ukulele concerts until you give in."
Even Zeus blinked. "You wouldn't dare."
Apollo smiled, slow and feral. "Test me."
The gods decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
---
And so, once a week, without fail, all the Olympians (and any strays like Hestia, Hades, and Dionysus) were dragged to a giant dinner table Apollo set up in a neutral meeting place (sometimes Camp Half-Blood, sometimes Olympus, once very awkwardly in the Underworld).
They grumbled.
They complained.
"I have a kingdom to run," Poseidon grouched, stabbing a giant shrimp.
"I could be hunting," Artemis sighed, picking at a salad.
"I have better things to do," Athena muttered, adjusting her spectacles.
But none of them ever actually missed a dinner.
Not even once.
---
There were arguments, of course.
(There were always arguments.)
Ares would try to fight Apollo over the seasoning of the steaks.
Hermes would swipe desserts and chaos would ensue.
Hephaestus would end up fixing something someone broke halfway through.
Aphrodite would bring obnoxiously fancy wine and gossip about mortals.
And yet…
There was laughter.
There were inside jokes so old even Athena chuckled at them.
There were games (sometimes very dangerous games, but still games).
There were quiet moments where Hades would slip Apollo a rare flower in thanks, or Hera would fuss with Dionysus's hair like he was still a toddler.
---
Once, Artemis caught Zeus smiling — really smiling — when Apollo challenged him to an impromptu music battle and cheated shamelessly by conjuring an entire chorus of ghostly backup singers.
She said nothing.
She just smiled too.
---
The demigods at Camp Half-Blood didn't understand at first.
Why were the gods all sitting around awkwardly once a week like some giant dysfunctional mortal family?
But over time, they learned.
If you sat quietly near enough to the fire, you could hear Poseidon teasing Athena about a prank that had happened millennia ago.
You could catch Hera and Demeter bickering over dessert recipes, and Hermes trading puns with Apollo so awful they made Hestia laugh until she cried.
It was messy.
It was loud.
It was home.
---
They still pretended to hate it, of course.
Out of principle.
But Apollo knew.
He saw the way Artemis reserved a seat for him every time, even when she showed up early and scowled about "being forced into mortal habits."
He saw how Ares would bring extra sparring stories to tell at the table (because he knew Apollo liked them).
He saw the way Dionysus always brought a new board game to sneak into the night.
They cared.
Even if none of them could say it.
---
And every week, as Apollo plopped into his seat with a blinding grin, he would announce:
"Welcome home, idiots. Now eat."
And somehow, impossibly, despite everything...
They always did.
Chapter 253: Apollo, the Ultimate People Person (Past, Present, and Always)
Chapter Text
Title: Apollo, the Ultimate People Person (Past, Present, and Always
Tags: Fluff, Canon Divergence, Ancient Memories, Apollo Being an Icon, Found Family Vibes
---
It was a little thing at first.
Apollo would walk through Camp Half-Blood, smiling at everyone, tossing a casual "Hey, your great-great-grandpa was terrible at lyre-playing, but your rhythm? Chef's kiss" at random campers.
At first, they thought he was joking.
They laughed awkwardly. "Haha, sure, Apollo. Grandpa Phil, bad at music. Good one."
Until Katie Gardner pulled out an old family journal from her satyr friend’s collection and—
Bam.
There it was, a letter from her ancestor complaining about failing lyre lessons in ancient Greece.
Everyone got real quiet after that.
---
Turns out?
Apollo knew everyone.
Like, literally everyone.
Not just names. Not just vague family lines. No.
He remembered them in vivid, almost embarrassing detail. Their quirks, their weird habits, the way one kid would always trip over their sandals, or how another used to sneak olives out of the temple offerings.
"Oh, your ancestor? Lovely woman. Used to weave flower crowns for my temple goats."
"Your grandfather? Great dude. Couldn’t wrestle to save his life but sang lullabies that made trees bloom."
"Your eighth great-uncle? Had the most obnoxious laugh. Sounded like a donkey sneezing. I miss him."
---
Even Chiron was thrown.
"How do you even remember all that?" he asked one day, genuinely baffled as Apollo balanced himself upside down on the camp's climbing wall.
Apollo blinked at him, golden eyes gleaming. "Because it matters."
"What does?"
"People." Apollo shrugged. "Mortals change so fast. They burn so brightly. They leave the best stories behind."
He grinned, flipping off the wall with perfect Olympian grace. "Besides, it’s fun to see if the freckles match up after a few centuries."
---
Campers started lining up after that, shyly asking if Apollo knew anything about their ancestors.
It became a thing.
Apollo would sit cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by wide-eyed kids, rattling off half-remembered stories about runaway weddings, heroic deaths, incredibly stupid dares, and ancient family feuds that made today’s drama look tame.
He told Nico how one of his ancestors had once beaten a minor god at a riddle contest.
He told Will that somewhere in his bloodline was a famous healer who once invented a treatment using fermented honey and rage.
He told Percy about an ancestor who had tried to steal the moon. (He failed, obviously, but Apollo was still very proud of the attempt.)
---
They learned that Apollo didn’t just remember.
He cherished it.
Every stumble. Every triumph. Every ridiculous, wonderful, utterly human moment.
He didn’t see mortals as tiny and fleeting and weak.
He saw them as epic.
And through his stories, the campers realized something they hadn't understood before:
They were part of a history so much bigger, so much brighter, than they'd ever known.
They mattered.
---
And Apollo — bright, chaotic, eternal Apollo —
never let them forget it.
Chapter 254: Partners in (Divine) Crime
Chapter Text
Title: Partners in (Divine) Crime
Tags: Fluff, Best Friends, Light Whimsical Tension, Platonic? Romantic? Who knows?, Olympus Drama
---
If there was one thing everyone on Olympus agreed on — and the gods agreed on very little — it was this:
Hermes and Apollo were a package deal.
---
It had been that way since Apollo first stormed Olympus looking for the little upstart who stole his sacred cattle.
Hermes, three days old and already smirking like he ruled the place, had met Apollo’s furious gaze with a grin that could only be described as illegal.
(And probably was, by mortal standards.)
Apollo had not, in fact, incinerated the baby.
He had, instead, decided that Hermes was hilarious.
---
From that moment on, it was over for the rest of the pantheon.
If there was mischief on Olympus? Hermes and Apollo.
If there was an "accidental" prank war between the gods? Hermes and Apollo.
If there was a suspiciously well-coordinated musical heist involving lyres, enchanted winged shoes, and a chorus of very confused dryads? Hermes and Apollo.
---
No one really knew what they were, though.
Some swore they were just friends.
Some were convinced they were lovers.
Some suspected it was both and neither and something Olympian that mortal words couldn’t quite pin down.
They napped together like lazy cats in sunbeams.
They bickered like siblings who had known each other across a thousand lifetimes.
They flirted like they were auditioning for a play only they understood.
They schemed like generals planning wars with smiles and winks.
Once, Dionysus made the mistake of asking directly at a council meeting.
"So... are you two a thing or what?"
(His exact words.)
Apollo just laughed, all golden mischief.
Hermes winked and said, "Maybe."
That was the only answer anyone ever got.
---
The mortals didn’t help either.
Ancient poets wrote sonnets about their bond.
Philosophers debated it over wine until they passed out.
One famous bard claimed he once saw Apollo kiss Hermes in a sun-drenched olive grove.
Another insisted they were seen bickering like old wives over a card game under a fig tree.
They were both probably right.
(Or probably wrong.)
---
At Camp Half-Blood, it was even worse.
The campers placed bets.
They wrote conspiracy theories.
They made a WHOLE WALL dedicated to tracking "evidence" in Cabin 11 (Hermes) and Cabin 7 (Apollo).
(Will Solace and Connor Stoll were co-presidents of the theory club. They argued constantly about which was correct.)
One afternoon, during a particularly chaotic game of Capture the Flag, Hermes and Apollo showed up at the camp holding hands and sharing an absurdly oversized scarf.
The theories reached a critical mass after that.
---
The truth?
It belonged only to them.
In the hidden corners of Olympus, in stolen sunsets and half-forgotten melodies, in easy laughter and the trust that spanned eons, Hermes and Apollo knew exactly what they were to each other.
And honestly?
That was enough.
Chapter 255: Sunlight and Pocket Space
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight and Pocket Space
Tags: Fluff, Humor, Helpful Apollo, "How does he do that?", Demigod Chaos
---
If you ever needed something at Camp Half-Blood, there were three options:
1. Ask Chiron (he would sigh heavily and eventually find it),
2. Ask Dionysus (he would say no),
3. Ask Apollo (he would hand it to you instantly like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat).
---
It became normal after a while.
Lose your sword during training? Apollo would casually pull out a replacement — perfectly your size.
Need medical supplies for a camper who tripped over their own feet? Apollo had an entire first-aid kit tucked somewhere under his jacket.
Someone once joked about needing a unicorn plushie for a little sibling visiting camp.
Apollo handed it over without hesitation.
(It was pink. It had sparkles. It neighed when you squeezed it.)
---
"How—"
"Where are you keeping all of that—"
"Are you using magic pockets?"
"Do you have a spell?"
"Are you bending space and time???"
"I NEED ANSWERS, SUNBOY."
The campers tried to ask.
Apollo would just smile serenely, absolutely refusing to explain.
Sometimes he'd wink.
Sometimes he'd just say, "A little preparation never hurts!"
Sometimes he would pull out something even more ridiculous just to mess with them.
Like the time he produced a full-sized canoe when Percy mentioned wanting to try rowing.
Or the time he casually plucked a giant golden umbrella from somewhere when a surprise rainstorm hit camp.
(Everyone huddled under it. It smelled like sunshine and lemons.)
---
The best part?
He never asked for thanks.
He just looked ridiculously pleased every time someone gasped in awe or used whatever he gave them.
"You're welcome!" he'd chirp, golden and proud, like handing out miracles was just part of a normal Tuesday.
---
Chiron eventually gave up trying to understand it.
Dionysus pretended not to be impressed.
Artemis, secretly, was furious she couldn't figure it out first.
(Somewhere in Cabin 7, there was an entire conspiracy board titled "Where Does Apollo Hide His Stuff" with string, maps, and increasingly desperate theories.)
---
In the end, it didn't matter.
Apollo always had what they needed.
And when you lived in a world of monsters, gods, and impossible quests...
having a sun god with a bottomless magic pocket on your side?
Well.
That was worth more than all the ambrosia in the world.
Chapter 256: Do Not Wake the Sun God
Chapter Text
Title: Do Not Wake the Sun God
Tags: Humor, Fluff, Slightly Terrifying Apollo, Poor Campers
---
As a rule, gods didn’t need sleep.
They could sleep if they wanted, but it wasn’t necessary. Most gods didn’t bother, finding it a mortal weakness.
Apollo?
Apollo loved sleep.
No, lived for it.
Curled up on sun-drenched grass, draped over a couch in Cabin 7, napping on top of the Oracle’s roof — anywhere the sunlight could touch him, Apollo could and would pass out in seconds.
And he looked angelic when he did.
Golden hair, soft breathing, peaceful expression — like something out of a painting.
BUT.
There was an unspoken law at Camp Half-Blood:
> Do. Not. Wake. Apollo.
---
One poor soul — a new Hermes kid — hadn’t been warned.
They saw Apollo dozing under a tree by the cabins, shirt half-untucked, a book covering his face.
Chiron was looking for Apollo.
The kid thought they’d be helpful.
They tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
Big mistake.
HUGE mistake.
---
Apollo’s eyes snapped open, burning gold-white, no pupils, no mercy.
The entire temperature dropped ten degrees.
The sunlight itself shivered.
Birds fled the trees.
"Who. Wakes. Me," he said, voice layered like a thousand thunderclaps and choirs at once.
The poor Hermes kid nearly passed out on the spot.
Dionysus — who had been sipping Diet Coke nearby — didn’t even look up. "Told you, rookie."
---
It wasn’t that Apollo hurt them. (He never actually hurt them.)
It was just… the sheer force of divine crankiness was enough to break even the most battle-hardened demigod.
The kid ran screaming into the Big House.
Chiron sighed and went to bribe Apollo awake with strawberry shortcake instead.
Apollo accepted it, blinked groggily, and was back to being his radiant, cheerful self within minutes.
No hard feelings.
(Except for the traumatized Hermes kid, who refused to go near Cabin 7 for a month.)
---
After that, the rule was repeated more firmly.
> If you see Apollo sleeping, you turn around. You leave. You throw a blanket over him and run. YOU DO NOT WAKE THE SUN GOD.
Even Clarisse knew better.
Even Ares himself allegedly flinched once when Apollo snapped awake after a nap during a council meeting.
(Some say Apollo still holds the record for the scariest glare on Olympus.)
---
Nowadays, Camp Half-Blood campers treat napping Apollo like sacred ground.
They leave him offerings.
They walk quietly around him.
They have learned.
Fear is the greatest teacher.
(And Apollo? Apollo still naps happily in sunbeams, utterly unconcerned.)
Chapter 257: The Perils of Being Pretty
Chapter Text
Title: The Perils of Being Pretty
Tags: Humor, Protective!Gods, Apollo Shenanigans, Fluff
---
There were many, many reasons Apollo should be more careful when wandering around.
He was a god.
He was powerful.
He was well-known.
But more importantly?
He was pretty.
Too pretty.
And history had taught him, again and again, that being beautiful was both a blessing and a colossal curse.
---
"You should at least wear a cloak," Artemis scolded once, tossing a heavy traveling robe at his head. "Or armor."
Apollo, lying upside down on a couch in Cabin 7 with sunglasses sliding down his nose, waved her off lazily. "But then no one could appreciate the art that is me."
Artemis pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's exactly the point, you vain idiot."
---
He had stories.
So many stories.
Like the time a king had tried to lock him in a tower just so he could "light up the halls."
Or when a queen had declared war just to force Apollo into marrying her daughter.
Or when a group of nymphs had literally fought over him like some divine tug-of-war match.
Or when even monsters had decided he was too beautiful to kill and instead tried to kidnap him.
("It’s honestly flattering," Apollo said once while Dionysus sprayed him with a water bottle like a misbehaving cat.)
---
The gods had learned (after way too many incidents) that if Apollo was left unsupervised, something ridiculous would happen within five minutes.
Now, when he visited the mortal world, he usually had:
One bodyguard sibling (Artemis, Hermes, or Athena on rotation)
A glamor charm (that he immediately broke because he hated hiding his face)
A VERY firm lecture from Chiron
Will Solace or Kayla texting him every five minutes to check in
None of it helped.
---
Apollo himself?
He thought it was hilarious.
He was used to it.
Sure, he was technically a natural target for admirers, kidnappers, monster hoarders, and occasionally even very confused cows (don't ask), but really — wasn’t that part of his charm?
Besides, if anyone got too close, he could always blind them with a flare of sunlight and make a very dramatic escape.
(He once cartwheeled off a castle wall just for the dramatics.)
---
In Conclusion:
Apollo is pretty.
He should probably be careful.
He is not.
Everyone else just has to suffer and chase after him.
(And they would — every time — because no matter how ridiculous Apollo was, they loved him.)
Chapter 258: The World's Most Protected Sunshine
Notes:
Oh no guys I'm starting to get a social life!
Chapter Text
Title: The World's Most Protected Sunshine
Tags: Humor, Found Family, Overprotective!Apollo, Overprotective!Pantheon, Poor!Nico, Will Solace Supremacy, Fluff with Mild Chaos
---
There were truths in life you could not argue.
The sky was blue.
The ocean was wet.
And Will Solace was Apollo’s favorite child.
It wasn’t even a secret.
Apollo didn't bother pretending.
He announced it. Loudly. Often. At completely inappropriate moments.
Once, during a war council, he'd patted Will’s head and said, “Best kid ever. 15/10. Would give birth to again.”
While Ares was trying to plan a battle.
Ares almost threw his spear.
Apollo almost threw hands.
It was a Thing.
---
The camp didn't even get mad about the favoritism.
Because, seriously?
Without Will, they would have been dead. Or worse. Like seriously worse.
Plague? Will.
Mass injuries? Will.
General morale in the pit? WILL.
Will Solace wasn’t just Apollo’s favorite.
He was everyone's favorite.
---
Poor Nico, though?
He was a different story.
Because while Apollo adored Nico as Will’s boyfriend (kind of — maybe — not really — okay fine, he tolerated him), he still spent way too much energy threatening him.
And not just Apollo.
Hades had personally given Nico a stern death glare that said "you break him you break."
Artemis had quietly handed Nico a list of ways to survive "if you ever hurt Will then the huntresses come after you."
Hermes had winked and given him a "Get Out of Death Free" card "for when Apollo finds you."
And that was before Zeus got involved.
---
But to be fair...
Nico was just as bad.
If anyone so much as looked at Will the wrong way?
Suddenly that poor fool was seeing the Underworld up close and personal.
One time, a random camp visitor flirted with Will.
In public.
At breakfast.
Percy described the scene later like this:
> "One second the guy was smiling, the next second there was a shadow clone dragging him into a pit. I think he’s still screaming."
Chiron just quietly added a new camp rule:
NO FLIRTING WITH WILL SOLACE. EVER.
---
Meanwhile, Apollo was thrilled.
He watched Nico, arms crossed and humming a sunny tune, while the poor unfortunate soul begged from inside a pit of bones and despair.
“See?!” Apollo beamed. “I knew you were a good influence on him!”
Nico did not correct him.
Because correcting Apollo usually ended with bright, blinding light and poetry recitals that lasted for hours.
---
And Will?
Will just facepalmed.
But secretly?
He loved it.
All of it.
Because it meant he was loved, in the most chaotic, dramatic, semi-terrifying way possible.
And that was perfectly fine with him.
Chapter 259: Mom Apollo and the World's Most Possessive Younger Siblings
Chapter Text
Title: Mom Apollo and the World's Most Possessive Younger Siblings
Tags: Humor, Fluff, Found Family, Protective!Hermes, Protective!Dionysus, Big Sibling Apollo, Hyacinthus is Dad
---
The gods had a secret.
(Not that unusual. They had a lot of secrets.)
But this one?
It was that Apollo basically raised half of Olympus.
---
Sure, Leto gave birth to Apollo and Artemis — the eldest.
("Technically," Artemis would say with a smirk. "By about seven minutes.")
But after that?
It was just chaos.
Baby gods popping out of existence, stumbling through Olympus, causing fires and earthquakes and other unpleasant surprises.
And the adult gods?
Busy.
Fighting titans.
Yelling at each other.
Having epic arguments about who invented the chariot.
Someone had to actually take care of the children.
That someone was Apollo.
---
Apollo fed them.
Apollo sang them lullabies.
Apollo taught them how to walk, how to talk, how to steal (thanks Hermes), how to not destroy the gardens (thanks Dionysus — that one didn't stick).
Even Chiron, in his infancy, was helped along by a beaming, patient Apollo, showing him how to read the stars.
(There was an actual myth about it, but no one liked talking about it because it made everyone get weirdly emotional.)
---
So, naturally, every single one of them grew up insanely possessive of Apollo.
Because, c'mon.
Mom.
Apollo gave total Mom Energy.
That gentle-but-tired patience. That ability to manage ten screaming toddlers and still make a flower crown. That way of kissing their heads and telling them they were the brightest stars he’d ever seen.
Hermes, Dionysus, Athena, heck even Ares — all of them — if you got too close to Apollo?
You were getting dealt with.
No hesitation.
---
The only exception?
Hyacinthus.
Hyacinthus, golden and soft-spoken, the only person they'd ever unanimously accepted into the "Apollo Inner Circle."
Why?
He brought Apollo flowers every day.
He played with the younger gods like they were his own tiny army.
He once helped Dionysus sneak a cow into Zeus’s throne room as a prank (best day ever).
He was Dad, simple as that.
Hermes even once climbed into Hyacinthus's lap and declared him "honorary secondary parent" at an Olympian meeting.
No one objected.
Not even Zeus.
---
One time, some random minor god tried flirting with Apollo at a party.
The results?
Hermes stole every stitch of their clothing.
Dionysus sent them into a wine-induced fever dream for three days.
Ares challenged them to a duel.
Artemis shot a warning arrow through their drink.
And Hyacinthus?
He smiled sweetly.
And made sure their name was erased from the records for a week.
(It was later called "The Great Erasure of That Fool.")
---
Meanwhile, Apollo just watched, hands on hips, laughing that brilliant, sunshine-filled laugh that made the world a little less dark.
He loved them.
He loved his chaotic, overprotective, violently loyal family.
And he would never, ever trade it for anything.
Chapter 260: The Sun’s Most Devoted Son
Notes:
FYI I'm not updating this on the weekend anymore
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun’s Most Devoted Son
Tags: Fem!Apollo, Protective!Asclepius, Genderbent!Willow Solace, Family Fluff, Overprotective Tendencies, Chaos
---
Apollo had many children.
She loved them all with her whole, radiant heart. Every laugh, every tear, every triumph and mistake.
She loved them because they were hers.
But.
There was one child who had been attached to her side from the moment he first blinked those wise, gold-flecked eyes at the world.
Asclepius.
---
Asclepius, the golden child, the healer whose hands could coax life from death.
The god who could stop plagues... or start them.
The god who could raise armies with a single whispered prayer — or bring entire empires to their knees if they so much as breathed wrong about his mother.
---
He was tall — so much taller than Apollo it became a running joke in Olympus.
"Hey, little goddess, need a stepstool to hug your own son?" Hermes would tease.
Apollo would just laugh and let Asclepius drape himself over her shoulders like a smug, oversized cat.
Because her boy could be as possessive and clingy as he wanted.
---
Since his childhood, Asclepius had followed her everywhere.
A golden shadow, a silent sentinel.
He sat by her throne at meetings. He trailed her during temple blessings. He stood stiffly at her side while she tuned her lyre at banquets.
Once, when Apollo tried slipping away to enjoy a rare moment of peace by the sea, Asclepius swam after her — fully clothed, sandals and all.
"Where you go, I go, Mother," he'd declared solemnly, dripping wet on the beach.
She couldn't even be mad.
---
Other gods?
Asclepius tolerated them at best.
Only Artemis, his uncle, was allowed near Apollo without immediate growling.
(And even then, he grumbled under his breath like an irate cat.)
---
Once, in ancient times, a foolish king had dared to insult Apollo.
Had dared to question her skill.
Had dared to sneer at her temples.
Asclepius smiled.
Then Asclepius let an incurable sickness sweep the land.
Medicine itself ceased to work.
No healers. No potions. No divine intervention.
The king fell to his knees before Apollo's temple, begging forgiveness, weeping in the dust.
Only when Apollo herself asked her son to stop did Asclepius relent.
---
Asclepius loved his demigod siblings, though.
According to him, the "dirty mortal blood" they carried was completely obliterated by the "pure ichor" they inherited from their divine mother.
"They're clean," he'd explain with an imperious nod. "Mother fixed them."
He was especially soft for the younger ones.
---
And Willow?
Oh, Willow Solace — sunny, stubborn, brilliant little Willow — was his absolute favorite.
No competition.
Not even close.
She was his sunshine sibling.
His miniature, mortal-ish twin.
---
Asclepius doted on her like she was a fragile piece of starlight.
He made sure no one looked at her wrong.
He made sure no one thought about looking at her wrong.
One boy flirted with her once at Camp Half-Blood.
The next day, he woke up with boils spelling "TOUCH HER AGAIN AND DIE" across his chest.
(The poor kid transferred to Camp Jupiter immediately.)
---
The gods mostly stayed out of it.
After all, no one wanted to be on the wrong side of an angry Asclepius.
Or, even worse, an angry Apollo.
Because, when it came down to it?
The sun burned hottest for her children.
And her children would burn the world for her.
Chapter 261: The Forgotten Day
Notes:
Happy birthday littleredridinghopd!
Chapter Text
Title: The Forgotten Day
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Birthday Surprise, Fluffy Chaos, Demigods & Gods Love Apollo, Soft!Apollo
---
Apollo wasn’t the type to expect much.
Well. That was a lie.
He was a god. He expected a lot. He just… didn’t say it out loud.
But today—his day—had felt off from the very start.
No one said anything.
Not a single “happy birthday.” Not even a nod from Hermes when they passed each other in the halls of Olympus. Artemis hadn’t sent her usual morning arrow-with-a-note. Even Will hadn’t texted.
He knew they were all busy.
Still, it stung.
It stung a lot.
---
By mid-afternoon, Apollo was wandering the corridors of Olympus with a cloud over his head—literally, a stormy little rain cloud he made himself because being the god of the sun didn’t mean he couldn’t mope dramatically.
“Whatever,” he muttered. “I don’t need anyone to remember. I’ll just—go write poetry about it. Sad, painful, accurate poetry.”
He passed Dionysus, who looked like he was holding back a grin and a bottle of glitter. Suspicious.
He passed Chiron, who shuffled a little too fast in the other direction. Also suspicious.
He found Artemis’ bow leaning against a doorframe like she had been just there—and ran off.
Too many coincidences.
But he was too sad to care.
Until—
He opened a door.
And—
BOOM.
Confetti exploded in his face.
“SURPRISE!!”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, APOLLO!”
He blinked, golden lashes dusted with glitter.
The room was full.
Gods, demigods, nymphs, dryads—everyone he knew and loved was here, crammed together beneath banners and golden balloons that read “GOD OF THE YEAR” and “BIRTHDAY BOY SUPREME.”
Artemis had a cake shaped like a chariot.
Will was holding a ukulele and smiling like the sun itself.
Even Hades showed up with a black cupcake. (“I tried.”)
And at the center of it all was a sign:
“We’d Never Forget You.”
Apollo stood there.
Speechless.
Eyes just a little watery.
“...You all suck,” he choked out with a wobble in his voice. “I thought you forgot.”
Artemis rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug.
Will joined in. Then Hermes. Then half the room.
“You’re Apollo,” Percy said from somewhere in the dogpile. “How could we ever forget you?”
Apollo smiled.
The rain cloud vanished.
Chapter 262: Short Queen of the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: Short Queen of the Sun
Tags: Humor, Genderbent Apollo, Sisterly Chaos, Height Teasing, Found Family, Fluff
---
Apollo had faced many trials in her immortal life.
Plagues, wars, heartbreaks, tragic poetry phases, Zeus’s nonsense.
But nothing—nothing—compared to the unbearable fact that everyone was taller than her.
Everyone.
---
At first, she thought it was a phase.
Sure, Artemis (her ever-glorious, always-smirking older brother) had sprouted like a divine tree while Apollo… stopped at 5'4.
“But I’m sunshine incarnate!” she declared once, climbing a rock to make a point. “I radiate.”
“Yes,” Hermes snorted, standing next to her with that insufferable 5'10 frame. “Like a particularly fierce dandelion.”
“Shut up!”
---
It didn’t help that her own kids outgrew her.
Will had passed her at thirteen. Asclepius had been taller than her since he could walk.
Even her demigod children called her “Mommy Sunspot” and bent down to hug her. Bent. Down.
“You’re adorable,” Will cooed once.
“I’m a god,” Apollo growled from her tiptoes.
---
It got worse.
Aphrodite? Taller.
Hephaestus? Taller.
Even Hestia, tiny fire-holding, barely-passes-the-door-frame Hestia, was half an inch taller.
“I blame Kronos,” Apollo muttered to Dionysus, who only nodded solemnly.
“Honestly, same.”
---
She once went to visit her great grandfather, Ouranos.
He patted her on the head like a cat.
A cat.
---
One day, Hermes tried to put a jar of nectar on the top shelf in front of her. Slowly. Staring. Smirking.
“You good there, Sunny?”
Apollo summoned the Sun and melted the shelf.
“Oops,” she said sweetly. “Guess I radiated too hard.”
---
And yet… when the teasing stopped, she got pouty.
They tried going a whole day without a single height comment.
By noon, Apollo was dramatically lying on the floor muttering “No one notices me anymore…”
By dinner, Hermes shoved a pillow under her feet at the table just to get a reaction.
“Oh look,” she perked up. “Finally, some attention!”
---
Despite the endless teasing, everyone knew better than to underestimate her.
She might be short.
But the last guy to mock her height?
He got a sunbeam to the face and now prays to her with a deep tan.
Chapter 263: The Golden Grandchild
Chapter Text
Title: The Golden Grandchild
Tags: Genderbent Apollo, Everyone Loves Apollo, Comedy, Family Chaos, Zeus Slander, Fluff, Immortal Family Politics
---
There were a lot of powerful beings in the universe—Titans, Primordials, Chaos itself.
And every single one of them had one thing in common:
They adored Apollo.
---
Not the usual “oh she’s nice” kind of affection. No, no.
We’re talking “builds her a temple because she hummed once” type love.
---
Artemis, taller, sharper, and older by a few minutes, could only watch in mild horror as his twin skipped through immortal halls and got spoiled by beings that hadn’t smiled in millennia.
Kronos, yes Kronos, the Titan of Destruction, once rumbled a “Sunshine” and handed her a divine candy.
Koios called her “brilliant little starlight.”
Phoebe, calm and composed, knitted her golden scarves that glittered with light runes.
Hyperion? Hyperion?? Said “I’d set the world on fire for her.”
Oceanus, whose favor nobody could understand, sent her sea-pearls once a month with no explanation. The sea just… liked her. Nobody questioned it anymore.
---
Then there was Helios.
“Oh, that’s my daughter,” he announced one day, completely unprompted.
“You already have kids,” Zeus pointed out.
“And yet none as radiant as my Sunshine.”
Apollo beamed. “Thanks, dad.”
Artemis: “You’re not even surprised.”
Apollo: “He brought me a whole chariot of fire last solstice.”
---
Zeus, meanwhile?
Zeus was suffering.
He once tried to yell at Apollo during the whole "turning-her-mortal" incident.
The fallout?
Let’s just say:
Kronos un-retired from being a dismembered soul and loomed ominously.
Nyx flickered at the edge of Olympus like a warning shadow.
Even Chaos blinked once.
Zeus tried to play it off.
“I just wanted her to learn humility!”
“She invented humility, you damp loaf,” Artemis snapped.
---
The Primordials were no better.
Gaia once patted Apollo’s cheek and said, “If anyone hurts you, I will personally regrow a new world without them.”
Uranus blessed her with eternal golden luck (no one knows what that means but it sparkled).
Even Tartarus grunted an uncomfortable, “She’s fine. Good aura. Leave her alone.”
---
Her demigod kids?
Untouchable.
They walked with the divine equivalent of security clearance, protection from three pantheons and a Primordial fan club. If anyone dared flirt or threaten one of them, reality hiccupped.
---
One day, Hermes leaned over to Artemis and whispered, “You think she knows?”
Artemis watched his sister laugh with Pontus while balancing a cosmic kitten made of light.
“Oh, she knows.”
Apollo glanced back, winked, and somehow—somehow—even Hades blushed.
Chapter 264: The Bestie Brigade: Parental Panic Edition
Chapter Text
Title: The Bestie Brigade: Parental Panic Edition
Tags: Apollo & Hermes are Besties, Overprotective Dad Energy, Parental Chaos, Humor, Light Angst, Nymph Disappearance, Demigod Protection Squad
---
The moment Will stepped into Camp Half-Blood’s infirmary with a light scratch down his arm, silence fell.
“What. Happened.” came Apollo’s voice—calm, cold, and absolutely not calm at all.
Will blinked, mildly surprised. “I tripped near the forest. A tree branch got me. It’s really nothing—”
But Apollo was already glowing. Literally. His golden eyes sparked with light, and the sun outside dimmed like it was holding its breath.
Hermes appeared two seconds later in a blur of feathers and panic.
“Who hurt him? Who do we kill?” he asked, holding a clipboard he probably stole mid-run.
“It was a tree,” Will said flatly. “It was a stupid twig—”
“A dryad?” Apollo’s tone was colder now. “Which one?”
“I don’t know—Dad, it’s not that serious—”
“He bled, Hermes.”
“Oh, that tree’s dead,” Hermes agreed, already typing something into his divine phone. “We’re logging her in the ‘accidental threats to godchildren’ list. Where’s Dionysus? I want a map of every tree spirit in that zone.”
Will groaned. “Please stop. It’s not—”
But it was too late. By sundown, the forest behind the Big House was eerily quiet. The specific nymph involved? Gone.
Just. Gone.
Chiron, wisely, did not ask.
---
Later that week, when Hermes found a scrape on one of his own kids from a "minor rockslide," he roped Apollo into investigating.
“That boulder had malicious intent,” Apollo muttered, inspecting the cliff.
“I knew it,” Hermes said, already drafting a cease-and-desist for the mountain spirit.
---
Their kids learned quickly:
Stub a toe? You get cupcakes and an ice pack.
Trip on a vine? That vine mysteriously disappears.
Someone insults you?
Oh.
Oh no.
Let’s just say, someone once called one of Apollo’s sons a “half-rate healer” in the arena. The next day? That camper’s hair turned into living snakes for three days.
Nobody proved it was Apollo. But Hermes had filmed the whole thing and called it Justice: A Documentary.
---
They might’ve been chaotic gods.
But when it came to their kids?
Even Zeus didn’t try anything.
Not after what happened to that tree.
Chapter 265: The Sun Carries His Children
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun Carries His Children
Tags: Protective Apollo, Birth Angst, Recovered Child, Found Family, Genderfluid Parenting, Overprotective Dad, Possessive Apollo, Apollo’s Children Love Him, Mortal Confusion, Divine Drama
---
There’s a reason Apollo always gives birth to his children now.
Not because of prophecy. Not because of divine biology (though the gods work in mysterious, inconveniently flexible ways). Not even because of vanity or power.
No.
It was fear.
It had happened once. Just once. Ages ago, when he’d been younger—carefree, reckless in his trust. He’d sired a child through a mortal woman, entrusted the birth and care to her hands, to her town, to their systems.
And someone had stolen the baby. Right out of their cradle. Just… taken them.
Apollo’s fury had scorched mountains. His grief drowned cities. But even with all the force of Olympus behind him, it took years to find the child again. Years the boy never remembered—but Apollo never forgot.
He never let it happen again.
So now, no matter the gender of his partner, he carried the child. Every time. He gestated them in a womb of light and warmth, a part of him as much as his music, his healing, his very soul.
When Will was born, his hands never trembled.
When Asclepius took his first breath, Apollo wept and wouldn’t let go.
When each of his children looked into his golden eyes and reached out—he swore the same vow over and over:
"Never again."
---
The mortals were…confused.
“You—you gave birth to them?” a mortal counselor asked once, staring at him in horror and awe.
Apollo, radiant and ancient, just blinked. “Yes?”
“But you’re—”
“A god. Immortal. I contain solar flares in my fingernails. Is childbirth where you draw the line?” His smile was sweet and vaguely threatening.
“But you’re too protective! Kids need space! They need freedom!”
That was when Will stepped forward. Tall. Calm. Glowing faintly. He smiled, gently, and said:
“You should really stop talking now.”
The counselor scoffed. “I’m just saying—he’s suffocating you.”
Asclepius, taller than everyone, stepped forward next. “Mortals tend to say that right before something very bad happens to them.”
“And we’re not gonna let anything bad happen to him,” Will added, eyes narrowed.
The room grew tense. Apollo just sipped his tea, watching with a tiny smile.
“You’re defending him too much,” the mortal snapped.
“Too much?” Will’s voice dropped. “He bled for us. Loved us. Protected us from monsters and gods alike. So, respectfully? You don’t get to tell us how to love our mom.”
“M-mom?”
“Yes,” Asclepius said, eyes glowing. “You don’t have to understand. Just know that you will respect her.”
---
They were a strange little family, Apollo and his golden children. Too radiant for the world, too fierce for its rules.
And Apollo?
He was no longer afraid.
Because now, his children protected him back.
And gods help anyone who ever tried to take them again.
Chapter 266: The Sun's King and His Golden Court
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun's King and His Golden Court
Tags: Revived Hyacinthus, King of Sparta, Married to Apollo, Protective Parents, Nico di Angelo, Humor, Fluff, Over-the-Top Wedding, Scary Dad Energy, Divine Family, Nicknames
---
Everyone fears the King of Sparta.
Not just mortals. Not just demigods. No—everyone. Titans, Primordials, monsters, Olympians... Even Ares watches his words around him now.
Because Hyacinthus—Cinthi, as Apollo lovingly calls him—is not the fragile youth history misremembered. No. He came back from the dead taller, meaner, immortal, and crowned King of Sparta after taking the city in three days with a spear made of starlight and sunflower stems.
And then one day, without warning, he showed up on Olympus in full regalia, gold crown gleaming, hand tightly holding Apollo’s as he said:
“I’m marrying him. Invite everyone.”
Everyone came.
Zeus was forced to officiate.
The wedding shattered ten records, three timelines, and at least one mortal religion. Apollo wore a dress that shimmered like flame, and Hyacinthus wore Spartan armor with sunbursts etched into the metal. It was divine. Terrifying. Unforgettable.
Even now, centuries later, demigods whisper about The Wedding. No other event ever came close.
---
In the present day, the Apollo kids lounge on floating cushions of sunlight in Cabin 7, sipping lemonade and gossiping while their two divine dads sunbathe together—Cinthi polishing a dagger, and Polly reading a poetry book that he swears is not about Hyacinthus even though it clearly is.
Will Solace is seated between them, trying not to die of secondhand embarrassment.
It’s hard to relax when your dads are them.
“Hey, Dad,” Will says hesitantly. “Nico’s coming over.”
Cinthi immediately lifts his head, eyes glowing with that eerie, ancient warlord energy. “The Hades boy?”
Will sighs. “Yes. My boyfriend, remember?”
“Questionable.”
“Cinthi,” Polly drawls from behind his sunglasses, “you promised not to interrogate Nico without me present.”
“I’m just saying, he’s been sniffing around our sunshine a lot. Maybe he needs a reminder that I’ve personally ended wars for less.”
Will groans. “Dad, no death threats!”
Apollo adds helpfully, “At least not until after dinner.”
When Nico does show up, he’s met with a dead silent Cabin 7, every other camper watching the doorway with giddy fear.
Cinthi appears from nowhere. Of course. Holding a spear. And smiling without warmth.
“So,” he says in that calm, terrifying voice of his. “You’ve come again.”
Nico, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. “Hello, King Hyacinthus. I brought sunflowers for you and—”
“Cute.” Cinthi steps forward. “I brought nightmares for you. Want to see them?”
“Cinthi.” Apollo finally sighs, floating over and gently tapping his husband’s nose. “Play nice.”
“Not when it comes to our baby boy, Polly. You know that.”
Will groans into his hands.
Apollo just laughs, curls a golden arm around his warlord husband, and watches as poor Nico tries not to die under the combined scrutiny of a sun god and a Spartan king.
---
Yes, everyone fears Hyacinthus.
But not his kids.
They know the truth: he’s soft for them. Lethal for others. And hopelessly, endlessly in love with Polly.
And if you ever hurt one of his children?
May every pantheon help you. Because nothing will save you from the wrath of Cinthi.
Title: The Sun’s King and His Golden Court – Part 2: The Wedding from Hell (According to Zeus)
POV: Zeus, extremely tired and extremely bullied
---
Zeus was not having a good day.
First of all, Hyacinthus—who should still be dead, thank you very much—had stomped up the steps of Olympus in god-tier Spartan armor, flanked by divine lions, and declared, “I’m marrying Apollo. You will officiate. Or else.”
He didn’t even ask. Just stated it like a damn prophecy.
Apollo, who should’ve been blushing and stammering, just smiled serenely and said, “Polly’s getting married~!” and summoned a chorus of swans to harmonize with his announcement.
And then—then—Hera smiled. HERA.
That should have been his first sign to run.
---
Preparations began immediately. Not by request, but by divine command.
Zeus tried to argue. “Surely someone else can officiate—”
“No.” came every voice on Olympus.
Even Hades.
Especially Hades.
(“I’ve already seen what Hyacinthus is capable of when mildly irritated,” he muttered. “I’m not crossing him when he’s in love.”)
Zeus grumbled for three weeks straight.
And then the day arrived.
---
The sky literally cracked open with sunlight.
The music was a blend of nymph choirs, celestial harpists, and what he swore was a background beat made by Helios himself.
Apollo wore gold spun from the heart of a dying star. His veil alone had three gravitational fields. He glowed so brightly that four minor gods went temporarily blind.
Hyacinthus wore all white Spartan ceremonial armor, barefoot, and with a sunflower crown. And if Zeus hadn’t already given up hope of Hyacthinus not being his son, this would have crushed him.
Hera cried.
Artemis cried.
Even Ares dabbed his eyes aggressively.
Then came the vows.
Apollo’s: an impossibly long, poetic love confession that made Aphrodite burst into sparkles.
Hyacinthus’s: three lines. Simple. Direct. Full of lethal devotion.
“I love you. I live for you. If you leave me, I will hunt down Time itself.”
Everyone clapped. Apollo swooned.
Zeus wanted to scream.
---
By the end of the ceremony, three Pantheons had joined the party, six Titans asked for selfies, and Oceanus drunkenly declared, “If I weren’t married, I’d marry him too!” while toasting Apollo with saltwater champagne.
The reception lasted three days.
Mortals dreamed about it for centuries.
And Zeus?
Zeus had officiated, toasted, and even danced (against his will), only to realize...
He’d never be able to threaten Apollo again.
Because standing behind him now was the unshakable, terrifying, beautiful force of nature that was King Hyacinthus—Sparta’s divine ruler, the Sun’s chosen consort, the scariest in-law in history.
---
He sighed, watching the two of them slow-dance in a floating garden of golden poppies.
“Damn kids,” he muttered.
And Hera—grinning, champagne in hand—patted his arm. “Just wait until their honeymoon.”
Zeus paled.
Chapter 267: Thunder Beneath the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “Thunder Beneath the Sun”
POV: The Pantheon, gradually realizing Zeus has a favorite
---
Most knew Zeus as many things—King of the Gods, God of Thunder, the ultimate egotistical storm cloud with commitment issues. But what many didn’t quite realize… was that Zeus was a surprisingly decent dad.
To his divine children, at least.
To his demigod children? Not so much. But if your birth involved divine ichor and a throne somewhere on Olympus, chances were high that Papa Zeus did check in now and then.
And if your name was Apollo?
Oh. You were untouchable.
---
“Cassandra? What happened to her?” Hera asked one day, boredly flipping through an old mortal prophecy scroll.
Athena gave a low whistle. “Cursed with foresight no one believes. Tragic, really.”
“Who cursed her again?” Hermes piped up, chewing ambrosia taffy.
Everyone turned to look at Apollo.
He blinked. “That wasn’t me.”
Silence.
Then Hermes squinted. “Wait. Was it—?”
A distant, angry thunderclap boomed across the sky.
“…It was Zeus.”
---
Apparently, once upon a time, Zeus had caught wind that Cassandra kissed Apollo and then called it a mistake. That night, her prophetic gift twisted into a divine irony.
“She hurt your feelings, didn’t she?” Artemis asked her twin flatly.
Apollo shrugged. “I cried under a laurel tree for like three days. It was poetic.”
Ares: “You cried and our father smote her with eternal disbelief?”
Apollo: “Apparently.”
---
Then there was Hyacinthus.
Gods, that poor Spartan prince.
Beloved by Apollo. Killed by a discus. Officially.
Except, after his “death,” storms flooded half of Sparta. Lightning struck a sacred olive tree eighteen times.
And then—the sun itself refused to shine for an entire week.
Poseidon still grumbles about that drought.
“Why did he punish me?” he once complained.
“You allowed the boy to die,” Zeus snapped. “You should’ve intervened.”
“HE WAS HIT BY A DISCUS—”
“An Olympian’s beloved was harmed. You want to play mortal accident or divine warning, brother?”
---
Even Clytie—the nymph who turned herself into a sunflower after Apollo chose someone else—had stories. She tried to poison Apollo’s wine once out of spite.
Zeus turned her lover into a tree.
To “remind her” of loss.
Apollo had only laughed nervously when he found out.
“I didn’t even notice,” he whispered to Artemis. “I thought it was just a bad vintage!”
---
One time Dionysus asked why Zeus went so hard for Apollo.
The answer came straight from the King himself:
“Apollo is my brightest son,” he said with a sigh, gazing into the distance like a tragic opera hero. “He was born and Olympus knew joy. He plays music that makes the heavens sing, brings prophecy, cures plague. He shines.”
He frowned.
“But he is soft. So soft. Too tender for the world. And every time someone bruises that light, it offends the storm in me.”
A pause.
“…Also he makes me killer wine during festivals. Don’t tell Dionysus.”
---
Nowadays, if you hurt Apollo, you’d better have a funeral planned. For yourself.
Even if Apollo didn’t react… Zeus would.
Even if Apollo forgave… Zeus wouldn’t.
Even if Apollo loved you…
Well. You’d better never love him wrongly.
Because even the King of the Gods, fickle and flawed and fury-bound, had one golden rule.
No one harms his sunlight.
Chapter 268: Still the Baby
Chapter Text
Title: “Still the Baby”
POV: Apollo (and occasionally others)
Cast: Baby of the Family™ Apollo, Slightly Older Sister Artemis, the Chaos of the Olympian Siblings, Protective Son Will Solace
---
There were many truths on Olympus.
The sky rumbled when Zeus sneezed. Hera’s glare could shatter glass. Dionysus never followed dress code. Hermes always stole your shoes.
And most importantly:
Apollo was the baby.
He wasn’t the youngest god ever born—not by a long shot—but among Zeus and Hera’s main crew of divine children, Apollo was the last in line.
"You're barely past teething,” Ares once told him.
Apollo, who had successfully delivered three demigod babies that week and healed a gorgon bite on his own leg, just blinked at him.
“I’m literally the god of medicine and prophecy.”
Ares shrugged. “Still a baby.”
---
Artemis, of course, was older by mere minutes.
But gods made it a point.
“Elder sister Artemis,” Athena would smirk, “do control your younger sibling.”
Apollo: “You were born an epoch before me—”
“So don’t act like a newborn sunspot.”
---
He. Had. Children.
Grown ones.
Will Solace—golden-haired, sharp-eyed, sarcastic enough to make Hermes proud, and definitely not a baby—was his son. His boy.
And yet...
“Will,” Apollo grumbled one day, flopping dramatically onto his son’s couch in Cabin 7, “your uncle Poseidon told me I couldn’t attend the war council until I got my ‘big god shoes’ on.”
Will blinked. “You’re barefoot.”
“That’s beside the point!”
---
Will patted his divine dad’s shoulder, only half-mocking.
“You want me to beat them up for you, Dad?”
Apollo brightened instantly. “Would you?”
Will rolled his eyes. “No. They’d deep-fry me. But I’ll threaten them loudly from a distance.”
Apollo beamed.
“That’s my boy.”
---
It wasn’t that he hated being the baby. He didn’t mind when Hestia tousled his hair, or when Demeter snuck him snacks, or when Hephaestus built him a heat-resistant harp for his birthdays.
But it was hard to hold onto dignity when his brothers still ruffled his hair like he hadn’t invented the lyre while in swaddling clothes.
He was literally the sun.
He glowed.
He scorched.
He had mortals writing epic poetry about his thighs.
And Hermes still flicked his ear in meetings.
---
One day, after an especially annoying council session where Zeus told him to “go play with his toy chariot,” Apollo finally snapped.
“I HAVE CHILDREN, FATHER.”
Silence.
Then Dionysus muttered, “So do I, but apparently they don’t count unless they glow.”
Artemis smacked him upside the head with her bow.
---
Later, in the privacy of the woods, Artemis found Apollo sulking against a laurel tree.
“You’re not a baby,” she said gently.
He pouted. “They treat me like one.”
“You whined so loud it made the moon flicker.”
“…Okay maybe a little bit of a baby.”
She grinned. “But my baby brother.”
He sighed. “I have children. Real ones.”
Artemis shrugged. “And I have hunters. Doesn’t mean I don’t get to smother you.”
A pause.
“You’re still the baby, though.”
Apollo groaned and thumped his forehead against the tree.
---
Later, Will found him again, now with Nico reluctantly in tow.
“You good?” Will asked, arms crossed.
“No,” Apollo said from the ground. “Your uncles and aunts are mean.”
Nico muttered, “You’re a god.”
Will nodded. “Exactly. They’re just jealous you’re prettier.”
Apollo sniffed. “I am prettier.”
Will sat down beside him and tossed a flower crown onto his head.
“Still the baby, though.”
Apollo gasped in betrayal.
Chapter 269: The Descent
Chapter Text
Title: “The Descent”
POV: Artemis, Apollo, and occasional Olympian siblings
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Trauma, Sibling Bonding, Found Family Feels, Protective Siblings, Don’t Mess With Apollo
---
They don’t talk about it.
Not in council meetings.
Not in wars.
Not even in private, under the stars, with hands clutching at goblets and silence thick as smoke.
They do not speak of the day Apollo fell into Tartarus.
---
He had only been a few centuries old at the time, golden and bright and still learning the full weight of his power. He ran faster than Hermes, sang sweeter than any Muse, and glowed with youthful confidence.
And one day, on a reckless whim, he chased something—
A sound? A vision? A dare?
He never said what.
He ran too far.
And he fell.
---
The moment Artemis felt it—his warmth vanishing from the weave of Olympus—she didn’t scream.
She moved.
Within minutes, Ares had been yanked by the neck out of his war camp.
Athena had been told, not asked, to gear up.
Hermes was threatened with being grounded into ambrosia if he didn’t get the map.
And Dionysus... well, he was dragged along anyway, sulking the entire way until they stood at the edge of the Pit.
Then even he sobered.
---
None of them had ever stepped into Tartarus willingly.
It wasn’t just the Pit.
It wasn’t just monsters.
It was memory.
It was time, and emptiness, and the echo of being unmade.
And Apollo was in there.
So they went in.
---
They do not talk about what they saw.
About how Apollo’s light, when they finally found him, was dimmed and flickering.
About how his song had twisted into a low, humming mantra that barely sounded like him.
About how he smiled when he saw them.
And said, with a cracked voice: “I knew you’d come.”
---
The escape was a blur of blood and fury.
Ares carried Apollo in his arms.
Athena stood guard, slicing through horrors with a cold rage even she would later deny.
Hermes nearly lost a leg.
Dionysus did lose his mind for a moment—and would never again laugh the same way.
Artemis held her twin’s hand the whole way.
Never once letting go.
---
When they got back to Olympus, they didn’t talk.
Not for days. Not for years.
Zeus offered reward.
Hera demanded explanation.
Demeter cried.
But the siblings—the five who went in and the one they brought back—simply sat together on a mountaintop for a week, eating nothing, saying little, eyes always flicking toward Apollo, who hadn’t yet regained his full light.
When he finally sang again—quietly, just a lullaby—they cried.
---
Centuries later, they still don’t speak of it.
But they look at him longer when he passes.
They answer his calls faster.
They sit closer at dinners.
They send gifts even when it isn’t his birthday.
And Apollo?
He knows.
He knows what they did.
What it cost them.
How they never let him be alone in the dark.
He sings for them sometimes—songs only the six of them know.
---
Hermes keeps a feather from the Pit in a box labeled "never again."
Dionysus claims he was drunk the whole time.
Ares never denies that he cried.
Athena quietly reforged her shield after.
Artemis holds Apollo's hand tighter on some nights.
And Apollo?
He still says, every so often:
“Thank you for coming back for me.”
Chapter 270: The First Light
Chapter Text
Title: “The First Light”
POV: Apollo (with glimpses from other gods and demigods)
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Protective Dad Apollo, Parental Love, Immortal Pain, Healing, Found Family
---
There are many stories about Apollo, god of light, of music, of prophecy.
They talk about his beauty, his brilliance, his love affairs, and his wrath.
They speak of plagues he brings, songs he sings, arrows he fires.
They speak of his many, many children.
What they don’t speak of—
Is the first.
---
It was in an age when the earth still trembled beneath the weight of divine footsteps.
Apollo, still young in divinity, but old enough to believe he understood the world, had fallen in love.
Deeply. Stupidly. Brightly.
And from that love came a child.
A golden heartbeat curled in a divine womb.
A thread of life so delicate it nearly tore him apart.
---
The birth was not kind.
Gods were not meant to strain like that.
They weren’t meant to bleed in ways that made Olympus tremble.
But Apollo did.
And when the baby came—screaming and fragile and too small,
Apollo, for a moment, did not breathe.
Neither did the baby.
---
Hera and Leto were there, called by Artemis.
Hermes ran for ambrosia.
Athena held the skies above the room steady.
Zeus stood outside the door, unable to look inside.
It took hours.
Or years.
Time made no sense in that space.
Until the cry came.
Two cries.
One—Apollo’s, when the child finally wailed.
Two—the child’s, angry and alive.
---
The boy would survive.
But barely.
For weeks, Apollo held him.
Did not let go.
Not even once.
No servants. No nymphs. No wet nurses.
Just Apollo.
He fed him with drops of ichor diluted in nectar.
Sang to him, prophecies written like lullabies.
Sat sleepless beneath stars and wept.
The baby’s skin remained pale for centuries.
And Apollo never stopped watching his chest rise and fall.
---
When he was older—healthy, strong, beautiful like his father—the boy once asked:
“Why do you always look so scared when I sleep?”
Apollo had smiled.
But he had never answered.
---
It was a long time before Apollo dared to have another child.
Too long, said some gods.
What a waste of beauty, said others.
What a waste of power.
But Apollo didn’t care.
He held his firstborn with such reverence that even death itself bowed and backed away.
He loved that child so much it hurt.
---
By the time his other children came into the world—
Will, Kayla, Orpheus, Linus, Evander, Linos, and so many others—
Apollo was a father not just by blood, but by fire-forged choice.
He held each one.
Was there for every birth.
Sang for every step.
Wept for every scar.
Smiled for every smile.
And he never let them go through pain alone.
---
The gods whispered he was too soft.
Too mortal in his parenting.
Too human.
Apollo didn’t care.
Because once upon a time, he almost died bringing a single child into the world.
And in doing so, he learned:
His light did not come from the sun.
It came from the small, warm hands of his children holding his own.
Chapter 271: When the Sun Was Almost Swallowed
Chapter Text
Title: "When the Sun Was Almost Swallowed"
POV: Mixed (Apollo, Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Hestia, Hera, Demeter)
Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Family, Kronos Trauma, Second Titanomachy, PTSD, Apollo Whump, Sibling Bonding, Rare Good Dad Zeus Moment
---
The second Titanomachy was chaos.
Sky split. Earth screamed. Mountains bled.
But the worst moment?
It was when Kronos caught Apollo.
---
The battlefield slowed—just for a moment—as the sun god vanished beneath the titan's clawed hand, Kronos' mouth yawning wide.
"A symbol must be broken," Kronos thundered. "And what better than the god of light?"
He meant to devour him whole.
Just like he'd done to Hestia. To Demeter. To Hera. To Hades. To Poseidon.
And that... that was the moment everything snapped.
---
Zeus’s scream cracked the sky.
Lightning split Kronos’s armor, but it was nothing to the terror in his voice.
"NO!"
Hera’s control shattered. She flew like a stormcloud, eyes burning, hands clawed.
Demeter cried, not with grief—but with wrath, her harvests twisting into vines of war.
Poseidon abandoned all formation, all strategy, every ounce of calm—and charged.
And Hades.
Oh, Hades.
He appeared like the end of the world. Not with a roar. But with silence.
The kind that promised death.
---
They didn’t stop.
For the first time in eons, the original six fought like siblings.
Not politicians. Not immortals.
Family.
Kronos barely managed to toss Apollo aside before being buried in divine fury.
---
When the battle ended and Olympus stood trembling...
Apollo was alive.
Barely.
He lay bruised, his golden skin dim, curls matted with ichor and ash.
His breathing was ragged.
But his heart still beat.
---
Zeus landed before anyone else could reach him.
And for five full minutes, he was a father.
No crown. No thunder. No arrogance.
He knelt beside Apollo, lifted his head gently, brushed the ash from his face.
“Apollo,” he whispered. “Little sun… speak to me.”
Apollo blinked, dazed. “...‘m not little.”
Zeus choked on a laugh. “No. No, you’re not.”
He checked every limb, murmured ancient blessings, his hands trembling.
And when he was sure Apollo would live—he stepped back.
“Let your uncles see you too,” he said softly.
---
Hades knelt beside Apollo, pulling off a scorched glove.
“I’m going to check your bones,” he warned. “You won’t like it.”
“I already don’t,” Apollo muttered.
“Good. That means your brain isn’t bleeding.”
The shadows coiled protectively around them both.
---
Poseidon arrived next. Soaked in blood, sea-spray, and rage—but he smiled.
“You scared us.”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “I was almost eaten.”
“Exactly.”
Poseidon gently pressed a shell-shaped charm into Apollo’s palm.
“Call me next time. I’ll flood the bastard before he even opens his mouth.”
---
Hera didn’t speak. She just hugged him.
Demeter tucked a stalk of barley behind his ear.
Hestia kissed his forehead and lit a fire beside him—so he could warm up before reigniting his own.
---
None of them talked about it after.
None of them ever talked about it again.
But when Apollo next walked into a room, every one of his siblings looked up.
Every one of them watched his step, his glow, his breath.
They remembered what it felt like—to almost lose their sun.
And Zeus?
Zeus remembered what it felt like to be a father.
Even if only for five minutes.
Chapter 272: God-Touched: The Children of Light
Chapter Text
Title: "God-Touched: The Children of Light"
POV: Third person, ensemble demigod cast
Tags: Demigods, Greek Mythology Lore, Apollo's Children, Divine Heritage, Demigod Identity, Power vs. Divinity
---
In the quiet hours of dusk, when the sun brushed Camp Half-Blood in golden light, whispers often passed between cabins—half-spoken theories, campfire debates, myths wrapped in mortal minds.
One such theory?
Divinity leaves marks.
Not power.
Presence.
---
Some demigods were born with almost no divine trace. A flicker of power, a mortal face.
Others? They carried the very essence of their godly parent, as if the divine refused to stay tucked away in Olympus.
The most famous example?
Helen of Troy.
A daughter of Zeus, yet mortal by nature—proof that not all demigods were created equally divine.
---
But in the modern era… no demigod stirred that divine whisper like the children of Apollo.
---
There was a reason people stared.
Golden hair that shimmered like sunbeams even at night.
Eyes like molten amber or sky-washed gold.
Voices that could still a battlefield or summon peace.
Smiles that felt like sunrise after storm.
And it wasn’t just appearance.
They glowed.
Some more literally than others.
---
Will Solace walked through camp and flowers leaned.
His laugh calmed monsters.
He bled light when he pushed too hard.
Even Chiron admitted it once: “They shine more often than they realize. It’s not power—it’s proximity to divinity.”
---
Compared to them, the children of Poseidon and Zeus felt more like forces of nature—storm and sea, rage and reckoning.
But the Apollo kids?
They felt like gods.
Not in strength.
In presence.
---
Lou Ellen once theorized it out loud during a capture the flag debrief:
"It’s not about who your parent is. It’s about how much of them lingers in you. The gods don’t have DNA—they choose how much of themselves they give. And Apollo? He gives. All heart, no restraint. So they’re walking temples.”
Everyone went quiet.
Even the Athena kids couldn’t argue with the logic.
---
Hermes kids joked that Apollo was just too vain to let any child look unlike him.
But beneath the teasing? Was awe.
Because when you looked at an Apollo child, you felt it.
That pull. That warmth.
The divine.
---
And perhaps that was Apollo’s secret.
He didn’t hoard his power.
He didn’t hold back his love.
He gave it, without pause.
And his children carried that light—burning, bright, undeniable.
Even among gods' children,
they were touched by divinity.
Chapter 273: The Beef Is One-Sided (And Honestly, Embarrassing)
Chapter Text
Title: The Beef Is One-Sided (And Honestly, Embarrassing)
POV: Third person, rotating between Apollo’s mortal exes and his kids
Tags: Found Family, Godly Parenting, Mortal Pity Party, Demigod Loyalty, One-Sided Drama, Dysfunctional Families
---
Apollo never meant to win. He really didn’t.
He was sunshine and music, not competition and petty rivalries—unless you counted poetry contests or archery tournaments. But apparently, being the most doting, present, and emotionally available parent his demigod children had ever known… came with side effects.
Mainly, resentful mortal exes.
---
Naomi Solace watched from the sidelines of Will’s graduation, painfully aware that her son hadn’t reserved a seat for her. He’d invited her, sure—Will was never rude—but the front row was for Apollo.
Will stood on stage, smiling at the god in golden sunglasses and absolutely glowing with pride. Naomi pursed her lips.
She had tried. She still had a career, her voice was her everything, but she tried.
Will never held it against her. He was just… closer to Apollo. Worshipfully so. “Sorry, I promised to help Mom—I mean, Dad—I mean, Apollo, with the clinic this weekend,” he’d said when she asked to visit during spring break.
The worst part? Apollo didn’t even seem smug about it. He just smiled, like being a good parent was the bare minimum.
---
Darren Shale, Olympic archery coach, almost snapped his bow when he saw Kayla beam at Apollo after a competition.
She didn’t even look at Darren.
Apollo was clapping in the stands like he wasn’t the god of archery, like Kayla was the most incredible thing in the world. And Kayla? She ran to hug him.
Darren crossed his arms and muttered to himself. “I taught her how to shoot.”
Apollo waved politely. It stung. So much.
---
Gracie’s mom didn’t even show up at the last solstice meet. Gracie didn’t seem to care. She was too busy building a new music piece with Will and Austin, joking with them like they’d grown up together.
Gracie used to wait by the phone for her mom. Now she left it on silent during Apollo’s jam sessions.
---
Austin’s mom had sent him Christmas gifts once. Once.
Now, he composed holiday tracks with Apollo, because “Polly always makes it warm and festive.”
He didn’t even open his mom’s package this year. Said he’d “get to it later.”
That was later. It was June.
---
And Will. Oh, Will.
When Naomi remarried, she’d tried to invite him into her new life. Her husband made effort. The step-kids tried to bond.
Will smiled, but it never reached his eyes. “Thanks,” he said when given a room.
Then he left to help Austin study for an exam.
Or to watch a meteor shower with Polly.
Or to go camping with Kayla and Gracie and the others.
His texts were cordial. Cold.
When his step-siblings introduced him as “our big brother,” Will would politely correct them.
But when Kayla called, “Will!” from across the camp, he lit up.
Those were his siblings.
---
The mortal parents whispered to each other, sometimes at bar tables, sometimes at mortal support groups.
“I just don’t get it,” Naomi muttered.
“He’s a god,” Darren added bitterly.
“A god who shows up,” Austin’s mom sighed.
“With cupcakes,” Naomi whispered.
“And emotional availability,” Gracie’s mom growled.
They toasted to their shared downfall:
Apollo.
Effortless, affectionate, annoyingly present Apollo.
---
Meanwhile, at Camp Half-Blood…
Will was laughing as Polly carried snacks into the Apollo cabin. Gracie was tuning her guitar. Austin was tossing sunflower seeds at Kayla.
No resentment. No questions. Just family.
And Apollo? He blinked, watching his kids with open, stupid love.
He hadn’t done anything special. He just… loved them. Was there.
That shouldn’t be revolutionary.
But somehow, it was.
Chapter 274: Terms and Conditions (of Loving This Family)
Chapter Text
Title: Terms and Conditions (of Loving This Family)
Pairing: Apollo x Hyacinthus
POV: Third person, with glimpses into the kids' thoughts
Tags: Soft codependency, Healthy(ish) clinginess, Found family, Protective dads, Mortal families are confused
---
Gracie’s cousin was getting married.
A huge fancy affair in New York with chandeliers, champagne towers, and expectations.
Gracie, begrudgingly, RSVP’d.
But with a caveat.
“Yeah, I’ll come. But only if Dad and Cinthi come too.”
Her mortal aunt blinked.
“Cinthi?”
“Hyacinthus,” she said, like it should be obvious. “My other dad.”
“Isn’t your real dad a—?”
“I said what I said.”
---
It wasn’t just Gracie.
Kayla’s dad invited her to a stepbrother’s birthday. Will’s stepdad tried to reconnect. Austin’s extended family was trying to be “more present.”
And every single one of them got the same message in return:
“Only if Dad and Cinthi are invited too.”
---
At first, the mortals thought it was some overprotective phase.
Until they met Apollo and Hyacinthus.
Sunshine and sharp elegance. Warmth and watchfulness.
Holding hands like they’d invented touch.
Standing behind their kids like living, breathing shields.
Kayla’s aunt tried to get her alone for “a quick moment.”
Cinthi materialized beside her in under five seconds.
Gracie’s uncle asked if she could “talk to her mother privately.”
Apollo gently said, “Not without her permission.” His voice smiled. His eyes didn’t.
---
The mortal families whispered about it after every gathering.
“They cling. All of them.”
“Did you see how Austin looked back at Apollo every ten minutes?”
“Will literally said ‘I need to consult my parents’ and meant both of them.”
Naomi tried inviting Will for Christmas.
He asked if Polly and Cinthi could come.
She said no.
He said no too.
---
It wasn’t unhealthy, really.
It was just… tight.
A knitted, glowing ball of emotional security where no one was ever left behind.
Apollo would blink if one of the kids was missing.
Cinthi would check three times that everyone ate.
Gracie and Austin used their parents as excuses not to go anywhere alone.
And Will—
Will called Polly just to sit in silence over the phone.
Sometimes Cinthi joined with tea.
Sometimes the others joined too.
It was soft. Loud. A little over-the-top.
But never once cold.
---
The mortal families didn’t get it.
But then again, they weren’t the ones who’d been raised in sunlight and songs.
They weren’t the ones who were finally, finally safe.
Because if Apollo and Hyacinthus were going…
Then so were the kids.
No exceptions.
Chapter 275: No One Touches My Sister
Chapter Text
Title: No One Touches My Sister
Characters: Artemis (male), Apollo (female), Apollo’s demigod kids
POV: Third person, focused on Artemis
Tags: Genderbent, Overprotective Brother, Soft Damsel Apollo, Protective Family, Mild Violence, Canon Myth Flip
---
Artemis hated men.
That was known.
But somehow, he hated them even more when they looked at his sister.
His sister, the goddess of warmth and music and softness and sunlight, who wore dresses made of embroidered starlight and called flowers by name, who giggled when she twirled and gasped at butterflies.
Apollo.
His baby sister.
His naive, sunshine-eyed baby sister.
And some mortal had dared—dared—to look at her while she was bathing.
Not just look.
Stare.
Drool.
Try to approach.
By the time Artemis arrived, Apollo was already hiding behind a rock, teary-eyed, clutching her translucent cloth to her chest.
The mortal was still standing there, stunned, struck dumb not by her divinity but by the sheer stupidity of mortal lust.
Artemis saw red.
The kind of red that made blood boil and stars hiss.
---
The next morning, the gods whispered about the newly-created deer that wouldn’t stop running and crying like a man.
Artemis didn’t deny it.
Apollo didn’t ask.
She just curled up against her brother and said softly, “I was really scared, Arty.”
He carried her home.
He didn’t let go for three days.
---
The Olympians thought it was odd.
A male god who hated mortals, worshipped virginity, and snarled at anyone who dared approach his soft, sweet sister.
He punched Hermes once for calling Apollo “pretty.”
He threatened Dionysus with an arrow to the throat for asking her to dance.
He only let Hephaestus near her because he never looked at her with intent.
(He only looked with pity. “Poor girl,” he muttered once. “Having Leto as a mother.” Artemis hadn’t disagreed.)
---
The only mortals Artemis tolerated were his sister’s children.
The demigods she raised with her soft hands and bright eyes.
Gracie, with her harp.
Will, who glowed when he healed.
Austin, who read poetry to flowers.
Kayla, who shot arrows like sunfire.
Artemis liked them.
He let them sit beside him.
He let them talk.
He even smiled. Once.
The Hunters were confused.
“They’re boys,” one said.
“They’re hers,” Artemis replied coldly.
And that was that.
---
Apollo’s children loved Artemis too.
Because they saw how he protected their mother.
How he always made sure she ate.
How he draped a golden shawl around her when she got distracted watching the sky.
“Isn’t he scary?” Will asked once.
“No,” Apollo said, brushing his curls. “He’s my big brother.”
And then, with all her gentle honesty, she added:
“He’s just scared someone will take me away.”
---
Leto tried visiting once.
Apollo hid behind Artemis.
He didn’t let her get closer than twenty feet.
“Leave,” he said. “She doesn’t need you anymore.”
“She’s my daughter—”
“She was.”
Leto didn’t try again.
---
And so Apollo thrived.
In her sunlit gardens.
Surrounded by her children.
Safe behind her brother’s arrows.
Because Artemis had one rule:
No one touches his sister.
Not even the gods.
Chapter 276: Sunlight is Meant to Be Guarded
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight is Meant to Be Guarded
Characters: Artemis (male), Apollo (female), Leto (male), Apollo’s children
POV: Third person, focused on Leto and Artemis
Tags: Genderbent, Protective Dad, Protective Brother, Innocent Apollo, Disapproving Leto, Hunter Slander (sorry girls), Family Drama
---
Leto was the calm one.
Before Apollo was born.
Afterwards?
He became unhinged.
---
No one expected a Titan god of gentleness and motherhood—now fatherhood—to snarl at an Olympian.
To stalk into Olympus with robes aflame and lightning in his eyes because some minor river god had dared to flirt with his daughter.
“She’s sunshine,” he growled. “Sunshine doesn’t need lovers. Sunshine needs protection.”
And Artemis—his older son, his divine hunter—stood beside him, arms crossed, expression murderous.
“She cried,” Artemis had muttered, and that had been enough.
That poor river god was still trying to fish his soul out of the underworld.
---
Apollo, for her part, was unaware.
She twirled through her days, barefoot and glowing, writing poems on the petals of lilies and offering sun-warmed kisses to her children’s foreheads.
She’d hum lullabies to horses, laugh when her dress caught on branches, and blink up at strangers with eyes like dawn.
No one had ever deserved her.
And no one ever would.
---
Leto and Artemis made sure of it.
Artemis scared off gods.
Leto destroyed mortals.
---
And the Hunters?
Oh, the Hunters.
Artemis had always tried to keep them close, to train them, to guide them.
But even he had noticed they... distracted him.
From her.
From Apollo.
From keeping her safe.
He missed two of her birthdays because of them.
Two.
Leto didn’t forgive that.
“They take your attention,” Leto hissed once, “while my daughter walks alone.”
“I have Hunters,” Artemis said, defensive.
“You had me,” Leto snapped. “And her. You had a family.”
Artemis had never looked at the Hunters the same again.
---
Apollo never knew why the Hunters were quietly retired.
She just assumed they had gotten bored and left.
She waved them goodbye with a smile and a gift of rose tea.
---
But the demigods?
Her demigods?
They were family.
Leto braided Kayla’s hair.
Artemis taught Will how to aim in total silence.
Gracie got a sunstone necklace “just because.”
Austin was personally escorted to school by Artemis in full silver armor.
And if a mortal parent ever asked too many questions?
Leto smiled with all his teeth and said, “They belong to her. That is all you need to know.”
---
Apollo’s godly children were spoiled.
The sun chariot was on call for their birthdays.
They were never left out of Olympus meetings.
When Dionysus tried to mock one for being “a little too soft,” Artemis slammed a wine goblet into his face.
Leto didn’t even blink.
---
Once, Zeus asked—too casually—why Apollo’s children were allowed on divine councils.
“Because I am their grandfather,” Leto said, voice low. “And she is my daughter.”
The room went very quiet.
---
Apollo?
She kept painting rainbows in her free time.
She still didn’t understand why people flinched when her brother stepped into the room.
She only knew that she always felt safe.
When she tripped, Artemis caught her.
When she cried, Leto held her.
When she smiled, the world brightened.
---
No one was ever good enough for Apollo.
Not in Artemis’ eyes.
Not in Leto’s.
But that was fine.
She already had all the love she needed.
Chapter 277: Heaven Beneath the Earth
Chapter Text
Title: Heaven Beneath the Earth
Pairing: Tartarus x Apollo (male)
POV: Third person (Tartarus-focused with Apollo moments)
Tags: Possessive Tartarus, Sweet Naive Apollo, Overprotective Madness, Obsessive Love, Found Family, Slight Horror if You Squint
---
No one understood how Apollo—sunlight incarnate, laughter woven into form—ended up with Tartarus.
The Primordial Pit.
The abyss from which nightmares were born.
The place gods feared to name.
But Apollo?
Apollo called him “Tarry.”
With a soft smile and golden eyes that shimmered like warmth.
---
Tartarus didn’t breathe.
Didn’t need to.
But when Apollo touched him for the first time—hands gentle, as if the pit could be bruised—Tartarus inhaled.
And never exhaled again.
---
He adored him.
No—worshipped him.
Feared losing him like stars fear the end of light.
So he kept him.
Not in a cruel way—never.
Apollo was given a palace of obsidian gold, surrounded by fields of starlit moss and singing stones that only grew in Tartarus's deepest reaches.
He wasn’t imprisoned.
Just… kept.
Wrapped in silk and shadow and the Pit's embrace.
Never touching the Earth above again.
Tartarus hated it.
Hated how the ground up there felt.
It was crawling with mortals and immortals and dirt that didn’t deserve Apollo’s feet.
So he lifted him always.
Held him.
Carried him.
Apollo would giggle and say, “You know I can walk, right?”
And Tartarus would growl, “Not on that filth.”
Only when they returned to the Pit would he let Apollo’s toes brush the living obsidian below.
That was his.
Safe.
Untouched by time.
---
He tried to do the same with the children.
Apollo’s children.
Their children.
Each glowing with parts of Apollo’s warmth, and shards of Tartarus’s endlessness.
Will, Kayla, Austin, Gracie, Aaron—each one born of light, raised in shadow.
Tartarus had tried—he had—to carry them too.
But they wriggled.
They fought.
They cried about “friends” and “the sky” and “camp.”
Tartarus compromised.
Barely.
If they must leave, then everything they touched had to be from him.
From his realm.
Shoes made of shadow-glass.
Capes of starlight thread.
Weapons forged from screaming metals cooled in dreamless fog.
Even the charms in their pockets were made of Pit-grown crystals.
He watched Will hand out “deathshine” amulets to Camp Half-Blood kids like candy.
“Where’d you get this?” someone asked.
Will smiled. “My other dad. He made it out of a weeping moon.”
“Oh, cool.”
“No, literally. It sobbed the whole time.”
---
Apollo never complained.
Not once.
He just smiled.
He hugged Tartarus like he wasn’t made of nightmare.
He pressed kisses to the void and whispered, “Thank you for protecting me.”
It drove Tartarus mad.
Mad enough to build a throne for Apollo beside his own.
Mad enough to threaten Zeus for asking where his son had gone.
Mad enough to love.
Truly.
Madly.
Irrevocably.
---
The other gods whispered.
They said Apollo had been taken.
They said Tartarus had tainted him.
But Apollo only ever looked up at his beloved Pit and said:
“You're the only one who ever made me feel safe.”
And Tartarus, ever silent, would press Apollo’s hand to his chest and let the endless depth hum with warmth.
---
They weren’t made for each other.
They weren’t meant to be.
But stars fall.
And pits rise.
And somehow, in that balance—
They found home.
Chapter 278: Chasing Sunlight
Chapter Text
Title: Chasing Sunlight
Characters: Genderbent Artemis (brother), Genderbent Apollo (sister), Genderbent Leto (father)
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst to Healing, Sibling Bond, Found Family, Protective Themes
---
There was a time when where one walked, the other followed.
Golden-haired Apollo, all sunshine and songs, never far from his shadow — Artemis, the sharp-eyed hunt, her bow always ready to strike. They were twins in divinity, mirrors in mischief, a chorus of laughter in Olympus's cold marble halls.
And Artemis… Artemis was everything to Apollo.
He protected her.
He glared down gods who dared speak ill.
He carried her through storms, sang lullabies in silence, and swore he would always—always—be there.
---
But then came the Hunters.
Her brother's eyes lit with vision, with promise.
A group that needed her.
A purpose that was "bigger than them."
And slowly, inch by inch, Apollo felt the distance grow.
She wasn’t invited to meetings anymore.
Her voice didn’t matter in planning.
Her presence was tolerated, not treasured.
The Hunters sneered, muttering “Too soft. Too golden. Too fragile.”
They’d nudge Artemis aside and speak as though Apollo wasn’t even there.
And her brother—her Artemis—wouldn't correct them.
---
Apollo cried to Leto at first.
The once-gentle father who used to hold her through storms and say, “He loves you, sweet light, he’s just busy.”
But over time… Leto too changed.
He grew tired.
Dismissive.
Annoyed.
“Why must you always bring this up?”
“They’re just Hunters, Apollo. Stop being dramatic.”
“Grow up.”
Until one day, Apollo simply… stopped trying.
She smiled through it.
Giggled like always.
Lit rooms with the practiced grace of a sunbeam.
But inside?
The light had dimmed.
She hid it even from her children—sweet Kayla, clever Will, giggling Austin.
She gave them her everything.
Everything.
Because she knew what it felt like to be chosen second.
And she would never let her children feel that way.
---
And it was Will who Artemis overheard, one fateful night.
His voice, soft and unknowing, drifting through campfire smoke.
“My mom’s always smiling,” he said, poking at embers.
“But you can tell she only learned how after we were born.”
The words struck Artemis like an arrow to the gut.
Later, he saw it himself.
The way his twin flinched ever-so-slightly when the Hunters joked at her expense.
The way Apollo never walked too close to Artemis anymore.
And then, one day, Artemis saw one of her Hunters shove Apollo aside.
Told her to “go braid flowers or something useful.”
Laughed.
And Artemis didn’t laugh.
He didn’t breathe.
He snapped the girl's bow in two.
Banned her from the Hunt.
Froze the camp in wrath.
It was the first time in centuries he called Apollo “sister” with any real warmth.
And Apollo—blinking, confused, radiant—didn’t know what to say.
Not when Leto appeared not long after, furious, only to see Apollo… flinch when he raised his voice.
When he realized the distance he’d placed between them.
When he realized he was the reason the golden child never shone the same near him.
---
The apologies were slow.
Painful.
Messy.
Artemis dropped his pride to listen.
Leto shattered his silence to weep.
And Apollo?
She looked at them, head tilted, still that sweet sunbeam of a soul—
And whispered:
“I missed you.”
---
The Hunters would never speak down to her again.
Her place beside Artemis was made permanent.
She wasn’t “allowed” in meetings—she led them now.
And though the wounds weren’t gone…
When Apollo laughed again, truly laughed—
All of Olympus felt it.
Chapter 279: Sunlight's Guardians
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight's Guardians
Characters:
- Apollo (sweet, genderbent goddess of light and love)
- Artemis (her terrifying, overprotective older brother)
- Leto (equally terrifying, fiercely possessive father)
- Khaos (primordial being, in love with Apollo and scared for his entire existence)
---
To love Apollo was to understand softness.
She was all warm laughter, gold-dusted cheeks, and wide eyes that made even monsters hesitate.
She was the sunrise after war, the first gentle breath after a storm.
She was perfect.
And that was a problem.
Because Artemis and Leto knew it.
And they would let the universe burn before they let anyone forget it.
---
“Step closer, Chaos Mutt,” Artemis warned, arrow notched and pointed at the literal embodiment of the void.
“I dare you.”
“I— I only wanted to bring her starlight flowers,” Khaos said with a trembling voice that could shatter galaxies.
Leto growled from behind him, sharp-suited and serene in the way serial killers are.
“That’s Lord Leto to you, void beast.”
“She doesn’t need your flowers. Her garden blooms when she smiles.”
Apollo, meanwhile, blinked with wide eyes from behind them.
Her hair shimmered like it had been kissed by every dawn in existence.
“Um… I think the flowers are pretty.”
Khaos visibly melted.
He held them out with trembling hands.
And Artemis shot them out of his grip with one flick of his wrist.
“Too slow.”
---
The other gods knew.
They knew.
You do not look too long at Apollo.
You do not breathe too close.
You do not ask her favors unless Artemis is in another realm and Leto is asleep (which he never is).
Ares once winked at her.
Leto dropped a meteor on his temple.
Hermes tried to flirt.
Artemis arrowed his shadow to the sun.
Even Athena—Athena—refused to sit at the same table during Olympian councils if Apollo was present with her entourage.
Because what’s worse than a possessive father?
A possessive father and a feral twin brother with god-tier tracking skills and no chill.
---
And yet, somehow, Khaos persisted.
He came bearing gifts Apollo loved: fragments of nebulae, baby phoenixes, soft scarves woven from aurora strands.
He never touched her.
He never stepped too close.
He never dared.
But Apollo always smiled at him.
Always waved gently.
Always said, “Thank you, Khaos. That’s so sweet of you.”
And that… that made Tartarus side-eye him.
Nyx judged silently.
Even Erebus offered him a drink once with the quiet prayer of “You’re gonna need this.”
---
Because loving Apollo was the easy part.
Surviving her family?
That took divine skill.
Khaos had brought creation into being.
He had unraveled eternity and reformed it with a thought.
But every time Apollo giggled behind her brother and father—those living sunburns of protective violence—he found himself whispering:
“I fear no god… but them?”
He gulped.
“Them, I fear more than the end of time.”
Chapter 280: The Sun Never Sets Alone
Chapter Text
Title: The Sun Never Sets Alone
---
Apollo was rarely ever seen without flowers.
Hyacinths, to be precise.
Not because she liked them—though she did.
Not because they matched her hair or the ribbons she wore—though they did.
But because her husband, Hyacinthus, never let her go a single moment without a reminder that she was loved.
And the world noticed.
How could they not?
---
They called him Cinthi now.
A soft nickname whispered only by Apollo—but no one else dared use it.
To everyone else, he was the husband of the century.
He carried Apollo’s sun-chariot schedule like it was divine scripture.
Knew which shades of pink made her cheeks glow.
Once threw Poseidon into a crater for “raising his voice too much” around her.
He had no divine title, no godhood—but gods feared him.
Why?
Because Cinthi smiled like a lover and protected like a monster.
---
Zeus once suggested Apollo take a break from her duties.
Cinthi appeared from nowhere and politely asked if he was suggesting his wife was incapable.
Zeus still can't sit straight.
---
Only one being ever saw Cinthi and didn’t flinch.
Artemis.
A storm-eyed twin brother who was possessive of his little sister to the point of legend.
And for some reason, Artemis and Cinthi… got along.
No one understood it.
Two terrifying brunettes who could end nations with a glare.
Two beings who saw Apollo as everything.
They would nod in quiet understanding at council meetings.
Artemis would silently hand Cinthi Apollo’s favorite tea blend before she even asked.
Cinthi would string Artemis’s bow without words when it snapped.
Everyone in Olympus silently agreed:
Those two were the real pantheon.
---
The demigod children of Apollo?
Oh, they were terrifying too.
They adored their mother.
But when it came to favoritism?
Immortal siblings?
Ride-or-die. They shared powers, secrets, clothes.
Cinthi?
He was Dad. Full stop.
Mortals?
“Oh. That’s my… other parent.”
Said with the same energy as “That guy I passed on the street once.”
They refused to visit mortal family events unless Apollo and Cinthi came.
Once, a stepfather tried to ground one of them.
The skies rained flaming arrows for two hours.
Cinthi just stood behind Apollo, smiling gently.
---
And the world understood something very, very important:
You can touch the sun.
But only if you're Hyacinthus.
And even then… you’d better bring hyacinths.
Chapter 281: The Sun That Shines on the Old World
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun That Shines on the Old World”
---
Artemis was brooding again.
He stood atop Mount Olympus, arms crossed, silver eyes narrowed at the horizon.
“She's late.”
“She’s with Helios,” Hermes offered, half amused and entirely unhelpful.
Artemis bristled.
Again?
---
Down in the deepest folds of Othrys, Apollo laughed—golden hair gleaming like wildfire, eyes like the rising dawn.
Surrounded.
By Titans.
And she was glowing with joy.
Oceanus had brought fresh sea coral for her hair.
Themis was gently explaining old prophecies to her while stroking her hair like a grandmother.
Rhea had pulled her into a tight hug, saying she looked just like a real sun-child.
Even Krios, the most grumpy of the lot, was smiling faintly as he offered her Titan-made sunsteel for her chariot.
And at the center of them all—
Helios, resting on a throne of fire and gold, one hand proudly placed on Apollo’s shoulder.
“My daughter,” he said, glaring across time and cosmos as if Zeus could feel it.
“My chosen. Not like that lightning brat you all coddle on Olympus.”
Apollo giggled, radiant and sweet.
She wasn’t technically Helios’s daughter, but everyone here just kind of accepted it.
Honestly?
So did she.
---
Meanwhile, back at Olympus—
Artemis paced.
“You don’t understand,” he snapped when Hermes offered him some nectar. “They have reunions, Hermes. They bake together. They knit her scarves. Do you know how weird it is to see Titans knitting? For her?”
“Sounds like family.”
“I am her family!”
“Oh, you’re jealous.”
“I WILL KILL A TITAN.”
---
Apollo eventually returned.
With a dozen jars of Titan-made honey, a cloak from Iapetus, and Kronos’s reluctant approval to “come back whenever, sunshine.”
She twirled into Artemis’s arms and beamed, not noticing his icy stare.
“You missed dinner,” he muttered.
“I brought you a Titan-forged dagger!”
“...fine. You’re forgiven. But next time—I’m coming.”
“Ohhh,” she cooed, leaning on his shoulder. “You’d hate it. They keep pinching cheeks and telling me I’m their favorite.”
“…I hate them already.”
---
But when Helios showed up uninvited for Apollo’s birthday—arm-in-arm with Rhea, Themis, and even Eos—Zeus nearly burst a vein.
And Apollo?
She just laughed and took her seat between Helios and Artemis, crowned in golden laurels and Titan affection.
---
Even Chaos kept their distance.
Because everyone knew:
If you mess with the sun, the Titans rise again.
And Artemis?
He’d set the world ablaze before letting anyone dim her light.
Chapter 282: The Golden Cage
Chapter Text
Title: “The Golden Cage”
---
Apollo smiled as sunlight poured through the palace windows.
Helios was late to breakfast again, but that was fine. He was probably busy—carving the sun across the sky, overseeing ancient magics, or helping mortals who still whispered to the Old Sun.
Apollo hummed and set out fresh fruits and honey.
Their children—radiant-eyed demigods and lesser gods alike—laughed and sprawled across golden cushions, teasing each other, safe and adored in the warmth of their home.
None of them knew.
None of them had any idea.
---
Far below the surface of their paradise, in places not even light dared reach, Helios stood in silence, his hands stained red beneath layers of molten gold.
Before him were remnants.
Old threats.
Old gods.
Old lovers.
Old obstacles.
“I warned you,” Helios whispered, voice like wildfire under silk. “I told you. No one touches my sunshine.”
They hadn’t listened.
They never did.
Now, they were dust scattered into the Pit, and the Pit itself dared not whisper what it had seen.
---
Zeus once accused Helios in secret.
“Apollo should know what you are.”
Helios had smiled. “Then tell her.”
Zeus hadn’t.
He wouldn’t.
Because the last time someone tried to come between Helios and Apollo, the sun had burned for seven days straight—turning temples to ash and mountains to glass.
Everyone remembered.
Everyone knew.
Except Apollo.
---
At home, Apollo danced barefoot through the halls, flowers blooming in his steps.
When Helios returned, scarred hands cleaned and hidden, Apollo flung himself into his arms with a delighted laugh.
“You smell like smoke,” Apollo teased.
“Old magic,” Helios murmured, kissing his forehead. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more.”
The children beamed at the sight, believing, like their mother, that love like this could only come from purity.
And Helios smiled too, pulling Apollo closer.
Because no matter what he had done—no matter how monstrous he truly was—
He would always burn the world clean to protect their illusion.
To keep Apollo innocent.
To keep him smiling.
To keep him his.
Chapter 283: Golden Daughter of the Light
Chapter Text
Title: “Golden Daughter of the Light”
---
Everyone in Olympus knew one thing:
Apollo was Light’s beloved.
Not just the sun. Not just music. Not just prophecy.
She was theirs—the darling daughter of the cosmos, born golden, soft-spoken, and radiant enough to make even Khaos blink.
And the Light Gang—Hyperion, Helios, and Aether—were absolutely feral about her.
---
“Apollo sneezed,” Helios once growled, descending from the sky mid-day.
“Who hurt her,” Hyperion asked, voice like cracking marble.
“She tripped over a root,” Aether whispered, already vaporizing every tree within a ten-mile radius just in case one had intentions.
They loved her.
Not like love.
They worshiped her.
Because where Zeus ruled with thunder and suspicion, Apollo gave warmth. She sang lullabies to dying stars. She healed minor gods without asking for tribute. She shared her light, even when Olympus tried to cast her into shadow.
And Zeus?
Zeus couldn’t stand it.
Couldn’t stand how they shielded her. Couldn’t stand how she glowed brighter when they were near. Couldn’t stand how she had the love of the sun itself when his own sons flinched from his touch.
So he banned Hyperion from Olympus. Helios was “watched closely.” Aether was called “irrelevant.”
None of it mattered.
They found their way to her anyway.
---
Apollo’s children were born golden and adored, each treated like princes and princesses of a light kingdom unseen by mortals.
If any god raised their voice at one?
They’d find their temples strangely...evaporated.
Demigods not of her line? Well… the Light Gang didn’t hate them.
They just... glared. Constantly.
You weren't her child?
Stay ten feet back.
---
Now the Hunters? That was… weird.
Even Artemis didn’t know why every time her girls passed Apollo, the air got warmer. Or how her arrows melted mid-flight if Apollo looked sad.
“I don’t understand,” she grumbled once.
Aether materialized behind her.
“She cries because of them,” he said plainly.
“I’ve literally never seen her cry around them—”
“She almost did.”
“…Once?”
“It was enough.”
---
One day, Hermes made the mistake of joking that Apollo should “grow up and stop being coddled.”
He woke up glowing for a week. His mail burned to ash.
No one touched her again.
---
Apollo, sweet and oblivious, simply smiled through it all.
She brought her brothers honeyed bread. She kissed their cheeks. She thanked them for “checking in.” She laughed when they got tense.
And they’d go still—because that sound?
That was the only thing that mattered in the universe.
And they'd burn it all down to keep it.
Chapter 284: Tea by the Sea
Chapter Text
Title: “Tea by the Sea”
---
Apollo—the Apollo, radiant and beautiful, daughter of light, and beloved by all the cosmos—was a presence no one dared to ignore. Except, perhaps, for one deity.
Oceanus.
The primordial titan of the seas, the one who ruled the very waters of the Earth, hated everyone.
And yet, for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of Olympus, Apollo was the one exception.
Apollo, in turn, was untouchable. Her connection to the sea was not one of necessity but of choice. Oceanus made it so. No god, no titan, no force of nature would ever dare harm her. She was his, in the same way his waters were eternal, untamable, and endless.
Every weekend, Apollo would make her way to the depths of Oceanus’s oceanic realm. The water glowed like molten silver beneath her feet, the tides parting just to let her through. The sea welcomed her like the sky welcomed sunlight.
“Tea?” Oceanus’s voice was booming, his tone soft but sharp like the pull of a whirlpool.
“Yes, please,” Apollo would reply, as sweet as morning light, her smile bright enough to make the waves shimmer.
Oceanus, the titan who had witnessed wars and seen the rise and fall of empires, would set aside his ancient bitterness, offering Apollo tea brewed from sea herbs only he knew of. They would sit across from each other, in the grand hall carved from coral and seashells, sipping their warm cups. In those rare moments, Oceanus would laugh—an unsettling sound that had the power to make even the bravest god flinch—and Apollo would giggle, her laugh like the bell-like chime of distant waves.
And every month, Oceanus would host parties. But these weren’t just any parties. These were grand, underwater galas, where only Apollo’s children were invited. The Oceanus kids—his sons and daughters of the deep—would smile wide and play with Apollo’s demigods like they were long-lost siblings. The children of the sea treated Apollo’s kids like their very own, and Apollo’s kids treated Oceanus’s like they were their best uncles and aunts.
The way they all played in the sea, swam beneath waves, and felt the tides rolling around them felt different. Apollo’s kids were far more comfortable than even Percy Jackson, who, despite being a child of Poseidon, never fully fit into the sea’s embrace the way Apollo’s offspring did.
They were more attuned to the flow of the ocean, the rhythm of the tides. It was as if they were born from the same waters that Oceanus himself had once birthed, nurtured by him as much as Apollo had nurtured them. And Oceanus was proud—proud of Apollo’s children, proud of Apollo herself, who had managed to find the only corner of the cosmos where he was willing to let go of his hatred and open his ancient heart.
One evening, as Apollo’s laughter echoed through the coral halls, Oceanus looked at her, a soft warmth in his eyes, and said, “You know, Apollo, I do like tea more when you’re here.”
Apollo smiled, her golden hair shining against the deep blue. “I’m glad. I like it too. It’s the only tea that feels like home.”
And that, more than anything, would always be the truth.
Oceanus hated everyone else. But Apollo?
She was his exception.
Chapter 285: A Brother’s Watch
Chapter Text
Title: "A Brother’s Watch"
---
Asclepius, the god of healing, was an imposing figure. Tall—way taller than Apollo—his long limbs and statuesque form seemed almost otherworldly. His height, combined with the calm yet intense expression he wore, had a way of making the most intimidating deities pause and reassess their intentions. Apollo, for once, had to crane his neck to look up at his son, a feat that was incredibly rare for the radiant sun god.
Despite his towering presence, Asclepius was the embodiment of gentleness—especially when it came to his family. But make no mistake, that gentleness came with an iron-clad edge, one that could crush anyone who dared harm his father or siblings. Apollo was, of course, no exception.
There was a deep and unwavering protectiveness that radiated from Asclepius, a fierce devotion to his family that left no room for doubt. The other gods had learned long ago that when Asclepius stood between them and Apollo, it was best to back off. No one, not even Zeus, could ever truly threaten Apollo in Asclepius’s presence.
One fateful afternoon, Apollo found himself at the summit of Olympus, basking in the light of the sun. He was taking a brief respite from the usual chaos, his golden skin gleaming as the sunlight danced off of him. But then, without warning, Asclepius appeared, his dark eyes scanning the area, seeking out anything—anything—that could cause harm to his father.
"Are you okay?" Asclepius asked, his voice low but laced with concern, his towering frame casting a shadow over Apollo.
Apollo, ever the shining beacon of light and warmth, smiled up at his son, feeling a slight pang of amusement. He was the god of the sun, after all, but here was his son, who stood so much taller and radiated so much power in his own right.
"I’m fine, Asclepius," Apollo said, stretching lazily in the sun. "You worry too much."
Asclepius, however, was not convinced. His protective instincts kicked in, and he knelt beside his father, eyeing him with a sharp intensity that made Apollo chuckle.
"I worry because I love you," Asclepius responded, his hand hovering near Apollo's shoulder, as if to shield him from an unseen danger. "People forget you're vulnerable, Father. You don't always see it, but I do. I won’t let anything hurt you."
Apollo rolled his eyes affectionately, though there was a fondness in his gaze. "Asclepius, I’ve been through worse than you can imagine. I think I can handle myself."
But it was clear from the way Asclepius's jaw tightened that he wasn’t buying it. "You shouldn’t have to handle it alone. Not when I’m here." His voice, although calm, held a quiet threat. It was the kind of tone that sent shivers down the spines of lesser gods.
And it wasn’t just Apollo who knew that tone.
Zeus, who was not known for his overwhelming kindness, had been on the receiving end of that tone once—once. When he had dared to suggest that Apollo’s presence in a certain conflict might cause more harm than good. Asclepius had stepped between them, glaring with such ferocity that Zeus, the King of the Gods, had actually stepped back, his face pale as if he were the mortal one.
It was a rare sight for the gods to see the mighty Zeus falter, but when it came to his son Asclepius, even the most powerful deity on Olympus understood that this was one god you didn’t push around.
And Hera? She’d had her own experience with Asclepius, and she had absolutely no qualms about showing her approval. She was the queen of the gods, yes, but even she could see the strength in the bond Asclepius had with his family—and when she saw him fiercely guarding Apollo, her brother Artemis gave an approving nod.
Artemis had always been protective of Apollo, but seeing Asclepius stand guard, like a towering wall of protection around his father, was something else entirely. Artemis, the older brother, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. It wasn’t just family loyalty—it was love, pure and simple, from one sibling to another. Artemis knew exactly what it was like to want to shield Apollo from the world, but Asclepius had a unique intensity about him.
"Look at you two," Artemis teased one afternoon, watching the scene from a distance. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the older sibling, Asclepius."
Asclepius barely acknowledged the comment, his attention always on Apollo, scanning the horizon for any threats.
Apollo chuckled, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. "It’s fine, Asclepius. You’re making Artemis jealous."
Artemis rolled his eyes. "Not jealous, just… concerned that the entire world will be afraid of you."
Asclepius shot a glance at Artemis. "They should be," he said, his tone flat. "If they threaten my family, they’ll have to answer to me."
Apollo smiled up at him, his heart swelling with pride. "And I wouldn’t want it any other way."
No, Apollo wouldn’t want it any other way. His son was a fierce protector, and even though Apollo sometimes teased him, deep down he was infinitely grateful. Asclepius had never once doubted Apollo's strength, but he would always make sure that Apollo—his father, his light—was never alone when the darkness came knocking.
It was family, and nothing, not even Zeus himself, could ever tear that bond apart.
Chapter 286: The Wrath of Apollo
Notes:
Let's ignore the fact author hasn't posted in 2-3 days
Chapter Text
Title: "The Wrath of Apollo"
---
The gods of Olympus were, as always, caught up in their endless games, each one seeking to outwit, outmaneuver, or dominate the others. But Apollo, the radiant god of the sun, music, and prophecy, had long since become a figure that many underestimated. They saw him as soft, too caught up in his artistic pursuits, his music, his beauty, and his charm. A god who spread light and warmth, but whose temper, they believed, was a gentle breeze.
That was until they remembered Troilus.
The name itself brought a cold shiver through the hearts of the immortals who had once been involved in the Trojan War. They remembered his bright eyes, his promise, his youth—a boy no older than a tender spring bloom. Troilus, the son of Apollo and Hecuba, the prince of Troy, had been cursed by the gods in a prophecy. If he lived to see the age of twenty, Troy would never fall. But fate had other plans.
Achilles, a hero of the Greek army, had slain the boy in cold blood. The moment Troilus's life had ended, the heavens trembled—though no one noticed. After all, it was just a single life, a casualty in the bloody war.
What the mortals—and even the gods—did not know was that Apollo had a far darker nature than they ever imagined. For Apollo, his son’s death had been a wound so deep it shattered his very core.
It was said that Apollo was distant in those years, retreating into himself, focusing on his duties as the sun god. But in truth, Apollo had been working in silence. The world, blissfully ignorant, had no idea what they had unleashed with the death of his son.
Years passed, and the war between the Greeks and Trojans continued, as it was meant to. But on the battlefield, something was shifting, something subtle yet insidious. One by one, the Greek heroes found themselves suffering from strange misfortunes. Achilles, the greatest of them all, began to feel the weight of something much darker than mere fate. His triumphs, once endless, turned into tragedies.
It started small: his best warriors fell ill at the worst possible times, his chariot horses were struck down by unexpected diseases, and his enemies found opportunities to strike when Achilles least expected. Each victory that once came with ease now cost him dearly. His pride was crumbling. His spirit was faltering.
And then there was the moment that shattered Achilles’s resolve. He found himself faced with an enemy he could not defeat, his own shield cracked, his armor rusted with the marks of his endless battles. His arrows, once precise, no longer struck with their former might.
Achilles, despite his arrogance, knew something was wrong. He had earned the wrath of the gods, but not like this. This wasn't the fickle vengeance of Hera, or the unpredictable rage of Ares. No, this was something far more methodical, far more calculating.
Years passed, and Achilles’s fame as a warrior slowly began to unravel. Those who had once sung his praises now whispered that something was off about him. That even his anger seemed hollow. That he was no longer the same man who had crushed his enemies underfoot.
And then it happened. It was a small, nearly inconsequential moment—an ambush during a skirmish with the Trojans. Achilles, leader of the Greek forces, was struck down. Not by a sword, not by an arrow, but by his own misfortune. It was a lowly Trojan soldier—barely a name in history—who struck the killing blow. But it wasn’t the soldier’s blade that took Achilles’s life. No, it was the culmination of years of bad luck, bad timing, and the curses of Apollo that had followed Achilles from the moment he had taken Troilus’s life.
The Greeks were horrified. The fall of their greatest hero was a blow from which they could never recover. Achilles’s death turned the tide of the war, and the Greek forces began to crumble.
Only then did the gods begin to whisper amongst themselves. They had not been blind to the series of unfortunate events that had befallen Achilles. They had seen his rising desperation, his endless struggle to remain on top. But they did not understand. Not yet.
Years later, the truth was revealed.
It came through the mouth of a mortal prophet, a lone seer who had survived the war and lived to an old age. The prophet spoke of a curse—a curse cast by the god of the sun. A curse that had followed Achilles, a curse that had been woven through every victory, every defeat. And that curse, the seer revealed, had one source: Apollo.
Apollo had never forgiven the death of his son Troilus. He had never forgiven the prophecy that had cost his boy his life. And so, he had made sure that those who had been involved in the killing of Troilus would never see victory again. He had poisoned their lives with misfortune, turning every triumph into a hollow victory, every battle into a painful reminder of what had been taken from him.
And Achilles had paid the price. Not just for killing Troilus, but for thinking he could escape the wrath of a god.
When the gods finally learned the truth, they were left in stunned silence. They had underestimated Apollo for so long, thinking of him as little more than a pretty face, a charming god who spread warmth and light. But Apollo had never been just that. He was a god of prophecy, a god of the sun, and when he had chosen to act, his vengeance was slow, subtle, and inevitable.
It wasn’t until years later, when the Greek heroes fell one by one, that the gods realized what Apollo had done. They understood the depth of his pain, the rage he had kept buried for so long, and the quiet, almost invisible wrath that had turned the tide of the war.
For the first time in millennia, the gods saw Apollo for what he truly was.
Not just a god of light, but a god who could destroy the very light of his enemies.
And they all realized too late: the prophecy of Troilus had not only been a curse for Troy. It had been a curse for all of Greece as well.
Chapter 287: Sisters of the Sun and Sky
Chapter Text
Title: "Sisters of the Sun and Sky"
---
They called her the Sun's Song—Apollo, goddess of light, prophecy, and healing. Golden-haired and golden-hearted, she walked with grace and fire, her laughter as bright as her rays. But there was only one being who could make Apollo melt into soft giggles, who could pull her into chaotic adventures without a moment's warning.
Hermes.
The youngest of the Olympians, Hermes had always been a wild little whirlwind of wit and charm, all silver eyes and too-fast feet. But what no one knew—what no mortal tale ever told—was that Apollo had practically raised her.
When Hermes had first been born, swaddled in cloudstuff and starlight, Zeus had handed her off like an afterthought. Hera had scoffed, and even Artemis had been too focused on her sacred vows to take in the tiny baby with the wicked grin.
But Apollo?
Apollo had taken one look at her baby sister and whispered, "You’re mine now."
From the very beginning, Hermes had adored her. She’d followed Apollo everywhere—tripping over her own winged sandals, tugging at her older sister’s golden robes, demanding lullabies and riding on her back as she sang to the stars.
Apollo never once pushed her away.
“You’re my favorite,” she would hum into Hermes’s curls. “My little sister, my pride. No one gets to hurt you. Ever.”
It became common knowledge across Olympus that Apollo’s softest smiles were reserved for Hermes. When Hermes stole sacred cows, Apollo covered for her. When Hermes accidentally turned Dionysus’s wine to pickle juice (it was one time!), Apollo blamed the Fates. When Hermes played pranks on Hera, it was Apollo who deflected the queen’s wrath with a sunny grin and a veiled threat.
And it didn’t stop with childhood.
Even when Hermes became the Messenger of the Gods, clever and fast and everywhere at once, she still returned every night to rest her head in Apollo’s lap, recounting her day while Apollo braided her hair with sunlight.
Artemis (in this world a tall, no-nonsense brother who pretended to be above it all) often muttered, “You spoil her,” as he polished his arrows.
Apollo would just smile. “She deserves it.”
The closeness extended to their children, too.
Apollo’s daughters were radiant—golden-voiced, silver-eyed, sharp as sunsteel. Hermes’s kids were quick-witted, bright-smiled mischief-makers who could vanish with a wink and a giggle.
And while most of Olympus held grudges or rules against “unapproved” demigods...
Apollo and Hermes’s kids got free passes with each other.
One of Hermes’s sons once tricked a minor god into giving up a temple. When the council roared for punishment, Apollo stood, wrapped her arm around her nephew, and said, “He’s family. Sit down.”
When one of Apollo’s daughters accidentally triggered a volcanic eruption with a sunburst spell, Hermes was the first to appear beside her, shielding her from divine scorn with her staff and a snarky smile. “Oops. My bad. I distracted her.”
No one dared question them.
Because where Hermes went, Apollo followed. And where Apollo stood, Hermes danced in her shadow and light, proud and fierce and loyal.
They weren’t just sisters.
They were a sun and a star streaking across the sky, always together—radiant, wild, unstoppable.
And if Zeus ever looked at Hermes wrong?
Well. Let’s just say the last time he did, he spent a week glowing like a lantern fish. Courtesy of Apollo.
Chapter 288: Falling Stars
Chapter Text
Title: “Falling Stars”
---
There was a time when the moon never rose without the sun chasing close behind.
Apollo remembered it vividly—golden days when Artemis, her older brother, would shadow her every step like a great silver wolf, eyes sharp and fierce, arms ready to catch her if she stumbled, voice warm with praise or sharp with worry. She had been the center of his universe. And he had been hers.
Apollo had once whispered her dreams into his ear while he brushed starlight through her hair. He’d cradled her through nightmares, protected her from Zeus’s scorn, wiped her tears when Leto (ever distant, ever cold) turned away. Artemis had been her everything. Her constant. Her protector.
But time… time was cruel.
Apollo didn’t know when it started.
Maybe it was when Artemis began forming the Hunters. When he turned his attention away to girls sworn to never love, never trust, never need.
She had supported him at first. Of course, she thought, he’s Artemis. He could love others too. That didn’t mean he loved her less.
But the birthdays stopped being celebrations.
At first it was a simple, “Sorry, little sun, I’ve been busy,” and then one year it was, “I forgot.” No apology. No remorse.
When Apollo got hurt during a mission—struck by a cursed blade that left her shoulder trembling with heat—she ran to him, expecting the usual panic, the scolding, the soft lullabies he always hummed when he healed her.
Instead, Artemis looked her over and scoffed.
"You're crying over that? Gods, you’re still so dramatic."
He had turned away before she could answer, already calling for one of his Hunters.
Apollo never cried in front of him again.
---
Leto, ever proud and distracted, dismissed her worries when she finally cracked, her voice shaking as she whispered, “I don’t think Artemis cares about me anymore.”
Leto frowned and muttered, “He has responsibilities now, Apollo. So should you. Stop whining over things that don't matter.”
But it mattered.
It mattered when Artemis didn’t look at her with warmth anymore. When her laughter no longer pulled a smile from him. When the little nicknames he used to give her—“my sunbeam,” “little light,”—were replaced with, “Stop acting like a child.”
It mattered that she was still trying and he wasn’t.
So Apollo smiled. She smiled every day. She laughed when she was supposed to. She made art from sorrow and sang until her voice cracked. Because maybe if she shone bright enough, he’d remember how much he loved the light.
---
Years passed.
One day, Artemis found himself returning to his chambers, weary from a hunt, and caught the sound of a song—soft, radiant, and aching. It was Apollo, alone at her harp, playing a melody so filled with yearning it made his heart twist.
He stood in the doorway and saw her glowing faintly in the dusk, tears silent on her cheeks.
And he remembered.
He remembered her tiny hand in his. The way she would light up when he called her name. The way she used to braid moonflowers into his hair and call him her “whole sky.”
She never noticed him standing there, and he didn’t speak.
But he came to her the next day.
He brought mooncakes. Her favorite. The kind only he could make, because only he remembered how much she hated the taste of honey and loved orange blossom.
Apollo blinked up at him, stunned.
“…You remembered.”
“I forgot for too long,” Artemis said hoarsely, kneeling before her. “But I never stopped loving you, little sister.”
She said nothing at first. Just watched him. Quiet.
Then she whispered, “You stopped showing it.”
“I know,” he breathed. “And I don’t know how to fix it yet. But I want to. If you let me.”
A beat of silence. Then a soft, teary smile.
“Only if I can braid your hair again.”
He chuckled, voice cracking, and nodded.
---
The healing was slow. But it began.
The moon no longer ignored the sun’s light.
And Apollo, little by little, let herself shine again.
Chapter 289: Golden Sister, Unhinged Brothers
Chapter Text
Title: “Golden Sister, Unhinged Brothers”
---
Apollo was sunshine incarnate.
A golden girl with hair like woven daylight and laughter that softened the skies. But more than anything, she was warm. And that warmth had saved lives.
It was Apollo who picked up Hermes—barely a toddler then, sticky with mischief and too clever for his own good—when he was abandoned to fend for himself. She taught him to talk, to fly, to lie with finesse and love with all the honesty he didn’t think he had.
And it was Apollo who pulled Dionysus from the broken shell of godhood after his mortal mother burned, cradling him as he screamed for someone—anyone—to stop the pain. She was the one who kissed his brow and whispered stories until he forgot to grieve for a little while.
She was their sister. Their mother. Their everything.
And gods help anyone who dared to treat her with anything less than divinity.
---
Now, Apollo was grown, radiant and kind, her laughter still sunlight and her voice a songbirds’ balm. She had children now—dozens, demigods of healing, music, truth—and the world was better for them.
But Hermes and Dionysus?
They hadn’t changed.
They were still feral.
---
When Artemis—tall, silver-eyed and brooding—came to visit his twin, he found himself blocked at the door by Hermes, grinning with absolutely no humor.
“What do you want, moonboy?”
Artemis exhaled through his nose. “I came to see my sister.”
“Oh, did you?” Dionysus asked sweetly from behind him, holding a wine goblet in one hand and an axe in the other. “Because the last time you made her cry, she didn’t sleep for two weeks. Remember that? Or has brooding replaced memory too?”
“That was over a century ago!”
“Mm. And the wound is still fresh.”
“I’m her twin.”
“And we’re her sons,” Hermes said with a wink, “and her babies still outrank you.”
---
Apollo, for her part, thought it was sweet. A little much sometimes—especially when they burst into her temple mid-conversation because Artemis had looked at her weird—but she loved them dearly.
“Boys,” she warned with a tired smile one afternoon, when they tackled Artemis for hugging her a little too long. “He’s my brother. You two can’t keep picking fights with the moon.”
“We’re not fighting,” Dionysus muttered. “We’re posturing.”
“I have arrows,” Artemis growled. “I will end both of you.”
Hermes flipped him off with a grin. “Get in line.”
---
The world watched with cautious awe.
Because Hermes, the trickster, and Dionysus, the mad god, might be chaos incarnate—but when Apollo called their names, they became lambs.
And when someone hurt her?
They became fire.
---
Some say the time Hera insulted Apollo’s parenting, the earth shook. No one could prove Hermes had hexed her throne. No one could see Dionysus’s madness in the wine she drank that night.
But after that, no one dared speak against the Sun.
Because Apollo had raised monsters who would burn the world before letting it dim her light.
And the world remembered: never, ever mess with the golden girl loved by chaos.
Chapter 290: Sunlight in the Pi
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight in the Pit”
---
Tartarus, for all his unfathomable age and impossible strength, was a jealous god.
Not in the way mortals were jealous.
No, his jealousy ran older than stars, more primal than the first scream ever uttered by a soul damned to the pit.
And his obsession?
Apollo.
Specifically, her. Golden-haired, gentle-voiced, laugh-like-riverlight Apollo.
The moment her bare feet had grazed the edge of his domain—sunlight trailing behind her like a cloak—he knew peace for the first time.
And promptly decided he would never know her absence again.
---
“Where are you going?” his voice boomed one day as Apollo neared the edge of the pit.
She blinked up at him, brows furrowed. “I was just going to visit my kids—”
“They are here.”
“Tartarus.”
“They can visit you. You are not leaving.”
“I have duties—”
“No. You have me.”
---
He didn’t let her walk on stone.
Not his stone, no. He shaped silken shadows into cushions wherever she stepped, gliding beneath her feet so that she never touched the earth.
“The ground is filthy,” he muttered once when she rolled her eyes. “It was Gaia’s before. You are mine. Only my domain shall bear your weight.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” she said lightly.
But he had already started constructing a literal throne for her.
---
As for her children?
They were not allowed to leave either.
Not without screaming, arguing, and a full military campaign.
They had gardens—dark but rich with bioluminescent flora. They had temples—built with obsidian and her favorite gold. They had books, stars, training arenas...
They just didn’t have an exit.
Poor Nico, who had been visiting Will, tried once to shadow-travel them out.
The pit snarled.
And Tartarus rose.
One shriek from Nico had Apollo coming like a comet of fury—hair flaming, eyes burning—and only her gentle hands pressing to Tartarus’s chest prevented the boy’s disintegration.
Tartarus did not apologize.
But Nico got a new bedroom made of starlight and a very awkward apology fruit basket the next day.
---
The Underworld stayed far, far away.
Hades didn’t want beef with the thing that imprisoned Kronos.
Zeus—who had always been possessive of Apollo—tried once to summon her back.
The lightning bolt didn’t even reach the pit before vanishing into ash.
Tartarus stared up through the void and grinned.
“I dare you.”
---
And Apollo?
She rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Sometimes argued. Threatened divine divorce more than once.
But at night, curled in his embrace, warm and worshiped in the only place the sky couldn’t reach—she sighed.
“This isn’t how love usually works, you know.”
Tartarus curled tighter around her, voice rumbling like stone crushed beneath eternity.
“Then the world’s love has been wrong.”
Chapter 291: Blinding Devotion
Chapter Text
Title: “Blinding Devotion”
---
Before there was day,
before there was sun,
before even time could stretch its fingers across the void—
there was Aether.
And when Apollo was born, golden and radiant and laughing with the light of dawn in her curls,
Aether knew what he had waited eternity for.
He had created the concept of light.
She was the perfection of it.
And he would not let her go.
---
“You are mine,” he whispered once, voice like velvet sunlight, brushing strands of gold from her face.
Apollo laughed. “I’m also a free goddess with work to do, Aether.”
He blinked once. The world… dimmed slightly.
“No.”
“…no?”
“No.”
---
From that moment on, Aether was everywhere Apollo went.
She turned her head to greet Artemis—he was already standing behind her.
She flew to see her children—he arrived before her and kissed their brows.
She entered Olympus once without him… and Olympus froze.
Literally. Time stopped.
Zeus blinked. Hera blinked.
Apollo: “Aether, what the Hades—”
“You forgot me.”
“I needed two minutes—!”
“There is no moment I do not belong beside you.”
---
Her kids?
Oh, her kids glowed.
Not metaphorically.
Not spiritually.
They literally glowed.
Some of them had halos.
Some of them left sunbursts in their footsteps.
The Hunters were terrified of one child who sneezed light rays.
Artemis didn’t comment—just wore sunglasses around them.
And Aether?
He was so proud.
“These are my grand children,” he declared once, draping himself over Apollo as she nursed one. “Perfect. Made of pure light.”
“You didn’t birth them,” Apollo grumbled, blushing.
He grinned. “But they shine like me. Therefore, mine.”
---
Aether hated night.
Not in a poetic way. Not even in a petty way.
He obliterated stars that twinkled too close to her.
He redesigned dusk once because Apollo sighed that it made her sad.
He threatened the moon until Artemis physically fought him and Apollo had to pull her brother off her overbearing husband.
(Aether still sulks about that fight.)
---
She’s never alone.
Not once.
Even in her dreams, he’s there.
Golden and blinding and achingly devoted.
“Aether,” she muttered once, forehead pressed to his. “You’re too much sometimes.”
He kissed her gently, glowing fingertips over her heart.
“You are light incarnate. I am light eternal. It is not ‘too much’—it is our nature.”
Chapter 292: The Flower’s Shadow
Chapter Text
Title: “The Flower’s Shadow”
Hyacinthus x Apollo (female), Eldritch Cinthi AU
---
When people thought of Hyacinthus, they remembered the boy who died, beautiful and tragic, bled into the earth and bloomed anew.
What they forgot—what they wanted to forget—was what came after.
Because when Apollo, goddess of sunlight and song, held his body and screamed for the first time in eons—
Something answered.
Something older than death.
Older than the gods.
Older than time.
And it was him.
---
Hyacinthus came back.
Not as he was.
No longer mortal.
No longer bound.
He stood behind Apollo in the years that followed.
Silent.
Ever-smiling.
His eyes… didn’t blink.
His shadow never moved quite the way it should.
And he loved her.
He loved Apollo with the kind of devotion that burned straight through the divine and into madness. Not loud. Never loud.
He just watched.
And smiled.
---
Poseidon once tried to flirt with her.
Just a joke. Just a passing compliment.
The next day the ocean would not move.
Not the tides, not the winds, not the currents. Ships sank in stillness.
Apollo had to ask.
She had to beg.
Hyacinthus tilted his head—too slowly—too wrong.
“Of course, my sunshine,” he said.
And the seas breathed again.
---
Cinthi didn’t rage.
Didn’t raise his voice.
Didn’t threaten.
He would tilt his head.
Smile too wide.
Whisper your true name into your dreams.
And the bravest gods would shudder.
Ares?
Won’t speak in his presence.
Loki?
Tried to lie. Now can’t stop screaming in reflections.
Anubis?
Avoids eye contact. Dead silent.
Artemis is the only one who tolerates him. Barely.
“She’s my sister,” he once told Cinthi flatly.
“And she is my universe,” Hyacinthus replied, voice as soft as silk around a blade.
They leave it at that.
---
And Apollo?
Apollo laughs and dances, sings and shines.
She holds his hand and kisses his brow and calls him Cinthi.
She never sees the dark dripping behind him.
Never sees how the flowers whisper in the corners of her garden.
Never notices that his shadow has too many eyes.
Because he is hers.
And she is his.
And no one—
no god,
no titan,
no mortal,
no fate—
dares to come between them.
Chapter 293: Where the Light Sleeps
Chapter Text
Title: “Where the Light Sleeps”
Erebus x Female Apollo – Madness in the Dark
---
They say that light cannot exist without darkness.
But no one expected darkness to fall in love with it.
And yet—there she was.
Apollo.
Golden-haired. Soft-laughed. Naïve. Radiant.
And there he was.
Erebus.
The primordial void. The first and last shadow. Older than gods. Older than thought.
He called her “my dawn.”
She called him “Eri.”
---
She didn’t remember how it started. One day, her sunlight flickered—and then suddenly, she was never alone again.
The darkness curled around her legs like a cat, coated her throne like velvet. When she slept, shadows cocooned her with the warmth of womb-space. When she blinked, she saw nothing but stars in his abyss.
“Do you like it?” he would whisper, voice like distant thunder.
“It’s beautiful,” she would smile, unaware of the blood dripping off his fingers.
---
She once told him how loud Zeus was.
How he mocked her softness.
How he made her light feel like less.
The next day, Zeus found himself mute.
His mouth opened—
but only darkness spilled out.
Thick, choking, silent shadow.
Apollo didn’t understand. “How odd,” she said, lounging in her shadow-drenched temple. “He hasn’t bothered me lately.”
Erebus merely curled around her tighter, tendrils stroking her cheeks like worship.
---
Artemis tried to visit once.
She didn’t make it past the gates.
The Hunters panicked when she didn’t return for three days.
When Artemis finally emerged, she was trembling.
No one asked what she saw.
She would never again step into Apollo’s temple without lighting ten torches first.
---
Apollo laughed, kissed Erebus on the cheek, and whispered:
“You always take care of me, don’t you?”
He smiled, and his teeth were too many.
“I will consume the universe before I let it hurt you.”
She giggled. “You’re so dramatic, Eri!”
He didn’t answer.
Just wrapped the darkness tighter.
Letting her light rest
in the one place it would never be dimmed—
his eternal, smothering, adoring night.
Chapter 294: The Golden Favorite
Notes:
Almost 300!
(Imagine if this gets to 1000 chapters lol!)
Chapter Text
Title: “The Golden Favorite”
Featuring: Female Apollo, Hyacinthus, and every godly being ever losing their minds over her
---
Godly family reunions were notoriously disasters.
Poseidon and Athena always fought over some mortal.
Demeter refused to sit next to Hades (“He smells like corpse dust”).
Hera insulted everyone’s children and then smiled like she was being helpful.
It was chaos. Every time.
Except—
“Is Apollo coming?”
“Of course she is.”
“Oh thank the Fates, I’ll behave then.”
---
The skies parted when she arrived. Literally.
Golden chariots weren’t needed—the wind itself bent to her presence.
She shimmered like sunlit honey, and the second her delicate sandals touched the marble…
The room froze.
Even Zeus straightened up in his throne like a scolded schoolboy.
“Sorry I’m late!” she said, smiling with enough warmth to melt Tartarus itself.
---
She waved at everyone. Hugged Dionysus. Kissed Hermes on the forehead. Ruffled Artemis’s (grumpy) hair.
Even Eris giggled when Apollo complimented her eyeliner.
People they hadn’t seen in eons just… showed up. Nyx arrived with gifts. Chronos shook her hand. Khaos herself lurked in a corner like a shadowy grandmother, glaring at anyone who stood too close.
Why?
Because Apollo—sweet, sun-spun Apollo—was everyone's favorite.
---
Enter: the mortal diplomat.
A fool.
He stumbled through the crowd, wine-drunk, and had the absolute audacity to say:
“She’s not even that impressive.”
The silence was deafening.
Aether blinked once. Erebus snapped his fingers and removed the man’s voice.
Artemis was already drawing her bow, but Hyacinthus—Apollo’s dark-haired, disturbingly beautiful husband—got there first.
The mortal vanished.
No one asked where he went.
Demeter casually sipped her wine. “That’s what happens when you disrespect the sun.”
Hades chuckled. “At least Tartarus won’t be lonely tonight.”
Even Hestia muttered, “Rot in peace.”
---
Hyacinthus returned to Apollo’s side like nothing happened. He tucked a curl behind her ear.
“You good?” he murmured.
She blinked, confused. “Was something wrong?”
“Nothing worth your light, sunshine.”
---
Later, in the garden, Eros, Hypnos, Thanatos, and even Typhon were caught feeding her cakes and braiding her hair.
Ares tried to get in on the fun.
Hyacinthus growled.
Ares backed off.
---
If there was one rule the gods and monsters universally agreed on:
Touch the sun, and you’ll burn.
Hurt Apollo—and you’ll beg for death.*
Because the world may not deserve her…
But they’d burn it down before letting it take her.
Chapter 295: Where in the Realms is Apollo?
Chapter Text
Title: “Where in the Realms is Apollo?”
(A short fic featuring a very elusive sunshine god and a pantheon in disarray.)
---
It always started the same.
One moment Apollo was at the family meeting, tossing grapes into Dionysus’ mouth and calling Artemis “brother dearest” in the most annoying voice imaginable.
The next moment?
Gone.
No flash of light. No explanation. Just… gone.
---
Hermes was the first to notice. “He left his bow,” he muttered, poking the golden weapon. “He never leaves his bow.”
Zeus grumbled from his throne. “He does this every decade or so. Let him be.”
“He missed the sun shift,” Helios snapped. “I had to do it. Do you know how exhausting it is being the sun and the chariot driver again?”
“I’m sure mortals survived a double sunrise,” Hera said dryly.
“They did not,” Demeter chimed in. “My crops had a panic attack.”
---
Artemis tried not to worry. Truly, she did.
But then the texts started coming in from their siblings.
Ares: yo is apollo in war-torn syria rn or did i imagine the golden sniper thing
Persephone: your brother just flirted with a dryad in the underworld and vanished again
Athena: tell him stop inspiring philosophers in my temples, I hate when they get existential
Poseidon: ...he just took a nap on my back like I was a dolphin?
---
They searched.
Hades used the dead. Hermes tracked the stars. Artemis summoned every owl.
Even Khaos tilted space a bit to shake him loose.
Nothing.
And then—
“Did you check the moon of Io?” Dionysus suggested with a yawn. “He said he liked the vibes there.”
“Why would he be on a Jupiter moon?!” Artemis snapped.
“He said it reminded him of a shepherd he dated in 1200 BC.”
---
They eventually found him.
Lying half-naked in a meadow of starlight flowers on a distant asteroid with a trail of poems written in comet dust.
He looked up, all golden curls and lazy smiles.
“Oh, hey! You guys missed the cosmic whale migration. So magical.”
Artemis punched him in the shoulder.
“OW.”
“The world is on fire, the sun was late, and Hera almost smote a farmer.”
“But I brought space cheese!” he offered brightly. “Want some?”
---
They dragged him home like a glowing, poetic cat.
Apollo promised to stay put for at least three weeks.
He vanished again two days later.
Chapter 296: We Don’t Ask About the Glowing Ones
Chapter Text
Title: “We Don’t Ask About the Glowing Ones”
(A short fic where the pantheon discovers Apollo's secret is bigger than his ego.)
---
It began with a knock.
A polite one. Soft. Rhythmic.
Artemis opened the door of Apollo’s temple and immediately froze.
There, standing barefoot on a floating disk of light, was a boy with constellation freckles and eyes like eclipses. He blinked. “Hello. I think Apollo’s my dad.”
---
That made… eight.
Eight secret children. All unnervingly powerful. All inexplicably beautiful. All weird.
---
“Who’s the mother?” Hera demanded during the emergency meeting.
Apollo, lounging across three chairs, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes. That’s why I asked.”
“I’ll never tell,” he sang, spinning a sunbeam between his fingers.
---
The children popped up like mushrooms after rain.
One emerged from the ocean, glowing like bioluminescent coral.
Another descended from the stars, carrying a wolf made of moonlight.
One floated in, upside-down, and giggled for ten straight minutes before declaring she could “hear time.”
“Why are they all so—strange?” Athena muttered.
Apollo only smiled. “They get it from their parents.”
“Plural?”
He winked.
---
Rumors spread.
Some said he had a child with a forgotten star.
Others whispered about a union with a primordial concept of Joy.
One especially unhinged theory involved a phoenix, a harp, and Dionysus' wine fountain.
Apollo refused to confirm or deny.
---
Zeus tried to pry answers from him once.
Apollo simply said, “You’ve met my kids. Now ask yourself—do you really want to meet the other parent?”
Zeus had nightmares for a week.
---
The worst part?
The kids kept appearing.
One every few months. Each more bizarre than the last.
They all called Apollo “mom” or “dad” with a kind of reverent glee.
They all radiated power.
And they all, without fail, hugged him like they hadn’t seen him in eons.
---
No one knew how many more were out there.
Not even Artemis.
Not even Leto.
Not even Fate.
When asked again during a council meeting, Apollo just grinned, eyes glowing like twin suns.
“I am the god of mysteries, too, you know.”
Chapter 297: God of (Questionable) Love
Chapter Text
Title: "God of (Questionable) Love"
(In which Apollo is full of confidence and absolutely no substance.)
---
When Will Solace asked his dad for dating advice, he expected… maybe not wisdom, but something. This was the god of poetry, music, knowledge—
“You like him?” Apollo asked, beaming as he appeared upside down in the infirmary, lounging in midair. “Great! Just smile at him!”
Will blinked. “That’s it?”
“Absolutely.” Apollo flipped upright. “Smile, maybe tilt your head a little, shine your inner glow—bam. He’ll fall in love instantly.”
“Dad, he’s a son of Hades. I don’t think he’s into—inner glow.”
Apollo grinned, entirely undeterred. “Then outer glow. Problem solved!”
---
It became a pattern.
“Just show up wherever he is and look pretty,” Apollo told Annabeth once, entirely seriously.
“That's stalking,” she deadpanned.
“Romantic proximity!” he countered, with jazz hands.
---
When Jason asked for advice on writing a love poem, Apollo said, “Don’t bother with the words. Just play the lyre and make intense eye contact.”
“Jason doesn’t own a lyre!” Piper shouted from across the camp.
Apollo shrugged. “Then he’s already starting from behind.”
---
Eventually, they all stopped asking.
But Apollo never stopped offering.
“Tell her her eyes are like a sunrise made of song.”
“Tell him you dreamed of his voice and now you can’t sleep without it.”
“Or better yet—don’t say anything at all. Just dramatically fall into their arms and sigh. Works every time.”
“Dad,” Will groaned, “that’s because people literally throw themselves at you.”
“Exactly!” Apollo beamed. “It’s a universal method!”
---
The worst part?
It always worked for him.
He once smiled at a primordial goddess of shadows and got a bouquet of cosmic roses.
He winked at a Muse and got serenaded for three days straight.
He blinked at a war god and accidentally got married for six months.
---
Still, Will sighed as Nico pressed a kiss to his cheek after a quiet night under the stars.
Maybe—just maybe—“smile at him” wasn’t entirely useless.
He’d never tell Apollo that, though.
Gods didn’t need more ego.
Chapter 298: Mistaken Identity, Divine Edition
Chapter Text
Title: “Mistaken Identity, Divine Edition”
(In which beauty is confusing, and Apollo finds it hilarious.)
---
It happened again.
A mortal walked up to Aphrodite, wide-eyed, stammering, “L-Lord Apollo?”
Aphrodite, radiant in golden silks and heels that could kill, turned slowly, deadpan.
“I’m literally covered in roses and hearts.”
“I just thought you were... going for a theme?” the mortal tried.
Aphrodite rubbed her temples. “Do I look like I play the lyre?”
“…Yes?”
From across the courtyard, Apollo snorted so hard he fell off his sun chariot.
---
It got worse.
Once, a demigod ran up to Apollo mid-performance, clutching a bouquet. “Lady Aphrodite! Please, bless me with love!”
Apollo paused mid-verse, golden curls catching the sunlight. “You know what? Sure.”
He blew a kiss.
The demigod passed out.
---
Aphrodite dragged him aside after. “You’re not helping.”
“I am helping,” Apollo grinned. “I’m helping morale.”
“You’re confusing people.”
“They should be honored to be confused.”
She glared. “You once gave relationship advice as me!”
“And I stand by that!” Apollo said proudly. “I told her to follow her heart and get revenge. I was right.”
---
The gods eventually made a chart.
“WHO IS IT?” A GUIDELINE:
- Playing music with stars in his eyes? → Apollo.
- Covered in hearts, perfume, and dangerous allure? → Aphrodite.
- Smirking in a way that means danger or poetry? → Could be either. Flip a coin.
---
Aphrodite groaned. “You’re like a beautiful plague.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You always do.”
---
The one time they stood side by side in identical glowing gowns “for fun,” Zeus tripped over his throne.
“Worth it,” Apollo whispered.
Aphrodite only sighed. “Fine. But next time someone worships your feet in my name, I’m redirecting your offerings to a pigeon.”
---
And she did.
Apollo just laughed.
Because honestly?
He liked being mistaken for a goddess.
And he definitely liked being beautiful enough to confuse Aphrodite’s own worshippers.
Chapter 299: The Sun Child
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun Child”
(In which Apollo becomes a child again, and truth shines through the cracks.)
---
When Apollo woke up in a bed far too big and too soft, blinking sleep from golden eyes and clutching a sun-printed blanket, Chiron immediately knew something was wrong.
“What happened to you?” Will asked, crouching down beside the now five-year-old god, whose curls tumbled wildly over his forehead.
Apollo blinked. “I dunno. I was singing and then... poof! I’m tiny again!”
“Tiny” was an understatement. The god was barely tall enough to reach Will’s waist, and had a lisp when he spoke.
“I want pancakes,” he added.
---
While the campers and Chiron scrambled for answers—scrolls, potions, Iris messages—Apollo remained joyfully unaware. He played tag with the satyrs, sang loudly and off-key, and introduced himself to everyone with, “I’m the sun, but smol!”
And then, at random, came the truth bombs.
“Uncle Poseidon once locked me in a seashell. I was stuck for days.”
Chiron’s hands froze on a scroll. “What?”
“Daddy said I deserved it ‘cause I made too much light.”
Another time:
“Zeus used to throw me off Olympus if I talked too much. Once I landed in Ethiopia!”
Or:
“Artemis used to cry a lot when Daddy yelled. She thought if she hunted enough he’d like her more.”
Will almost dropped a tray of nectar.
---
They kept thinking he was joking. That his childlike imagination had gotten the better of him.
Until Dionysus quietly appeared one evening at the Big House and listened. Just listened.
And then sighed.
“He’s not lying,” the wine god said softly, looking older than usual. “He just forgot he wasn’t supposed to remember.”
---
It unraveled fast after that.
Memories that Apollo’s adult self would’ve locked behind a golden smile came tumbling out from his tiny lips with no filter.
The time Leto tried to shield them from Zeus’s temper and ended up nearly fading.
How little Apollo would crawl into Artemis’s bed when thunder cracked too loudly and whisper songs to stop her shaking.
How their laughter annoyed Olympus.
How Zeus reminded them they were useful, not loved.
---
The campers tried to comfort him. Will held his tiny hands and told him none of that was okay. That it wasn’t his fault.
Apollo just tilted his head. “But I’m shiny now! So I made Daddy proud!”
Will choked on air.
---
When Apollo was finally restored, the golden light swelling back into his adult form, he blinked at the silence around him.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Chiron’s eyes were wet.
“Do you remember... what you told us?”
Apollo hesitated. “No. Why? What did I say?”
Will stepped forward. “You told us the truth.”
Apollo smiled faintly. Bitterly. “Then I must’ve really been a child again.”
---
No one ever saw Zeus at Camp Half-Blood again.
But they did see more of Apollo.
Teaching.
Loving.
Breaking curses he didn’t speak of.
And when the thunder rumbled, not even Artemis stopped Will, Nico, or any of Apollo’s kids from glaring skyward.
Because now?
They knew the storm had once tried to silence the sun.
And the sun had survived.
Chapter 300: The Shovel Never Sets
Chapter Text
Title: “The Shovel Never Sets”
(in which Percy Jackson dates Apollo, and his children do not approve.)
---
Percy didn’t sign up for this.
He signed up for sunlit picnics, lazy mornings tangled in golden sheets, and Apollo serenading him with tragically off-tune love songs that somehow still made his heart race.
He did not sign up for the children of the sun god collectively treating him like an enemy spy.
---
“You hurt him,” Will had said the first time, eyes aglow like twin suns, “and we’ll make sure not even the sea will hide you.”
Kayla had chimed in sweetly, stringing her bow, “We know where you live, Perseus.”
“You live with us now,” Austin added. “It’s even more convenient.”
Percy had nodded, swallowed hard, and said, “Right. Got it. Just love your dad. Totally normal.”
---
He tried telling Apollo.
“Babe,” he said one evening as Apollo tried (and failed) to make blue cookies, “your kids are terrifying.”
Apollo laughed, radiant and golden. “My kids? They adore you.”
“They threatened to launch me into the sun.”
“Jokes!” Apollo winked. “That’s how they bond. You should feel honored.”
Percy tried to speak. But Apollo fed him a cookie and kissed his cheek, so he forgot how to form words.
---
It didn’t stop.
Every time Percy walked into a sun cabin event:
Silence.
Eyes.
Sunlight sharp like daggers.
Will standing ominously in the corner holding a healing scalpel like it doubled as a weapon.
Once, Nico asked, “Why are you so twitchy?”
Percy muttered, “I’m dating the sun and being roasted alive.”
Nico blinked. “Good luck with that.”
---
The worst part? Artemis knew. Poseidon knew.
And they loved it.
Artemis smirked every time Percy fumbled in front of her niece and nephews.
Poseidon proudly whispered to Apollo, “At least they’re giving him the old-fashioned fear. Builds character.”
Apollo, of course, remained oblivious. Or just thought it was all adorable.
“They’re being so well-behaved!” he said one afternoon, cuddling up to Percy under a sunflower canopy. “They didn’t even throw a dagger this time!”
“…they sharpened it in front of me,” Percy said faintly.
---
Eventually, the kids mellowed. Slightly.
Will admitted Percy was kind. Kayla accepted he was loyal. Austin liked his music taste.
But every six weeks, without fail, Percy got another shovel talk.
Just in case.
And every time Apollo walked in mid-lecture, all smiles, they turned into perfect angels.
“My sunshine kids,” Apollo would beam, wrapping an arm around Percy. “Aren’t they the best?”
Percy would smile through the sweat. “Yup. Best kids. Ever. So. Great.”
Somewhere behind them, Will sharpened his arrows.
Chapter 301: It’s Just Another Tuesday
Chapter Text
Title: “It’s Just Another Tuesday”
It started with Apollo bringing a dead star back to life.
Not metaphorically. Not in a poetic, "light returns" way. A literal, collapsed neutron star in the middle of a dying galaxy suddenly flaring to life like it was woken up from a nap.
That shouldn't have been possible. But there it was, pulsating rhythmically like a heartbeat—and every cosmic being from Nyx to the Moirai to Chronos himself felt it.
“Did you do that?” Hermes had asked, pointing at the sky where the laws of astrophysics were now crying.
Apollo blinked innocently, sipping iced nectar. “It was cold and sad. I thought it needed cheering up.”
Everyone stared.
---
Another time, Apollo painted light onto a void.
Not metaphorical light. Actual, tangible golden beams that danced across the raw nothingness at the edge of the universe. Light had no business existing there—Khaos herself had drawn that space as a constant of unbeing.
And then Apollo waltzed in with a sunbeam and a paintbrush.
“What is that?” Hecate demanded, staring at the glowing masterpiece that refused to flicker out.
“Art,” Apollo said. “Khaos just needed a little color.”
Everyone stared again.
---
Khaos did show up, eventually.
And the universe shook. The stars held their breath. Tartarus snarled at the edge of reality. Gaea folded a mountain just in case.
And Apollo?
He offered Khaos a glass of starlight-infused lemonade, sat her down, and started showing her finger paintings of baby galaxies.
They talked for two hours.
Afterward, Khaos patted Apollo’s head, turned to the gathering pantheon, and said, “He may continue.”
“Continue what?!” Athena shrieked. “He broke three metaphysical laws today!”
Khaos shrugged. “They were annoying anyway.”
---
Since then?
Time occasionally moves sideways for fun. Apollo once convinced Death to take a coffee break, and nobody died for six minutes. One of his children once got so sad their tears watered the moon. And once, Apollo rewound a heartbeat just to hear it again because it sounded beautiful.
Every time, the gods would panic.
Every time, Apollo would smile and say, “It’s just another Tuesday.”
Chapter 302: The Sun’s Hand
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun’s Hand”
One day, Apollo woke up, stretched, and declared to the heavens:
“I think I want to get married.”
The world paused.
Birds fell silent. Stars flickered. Zeus dropped his goblet. Artemis choked on moonlight.
“You what?” she asked flatly.
“I want to get married,” Apollo said with a radiant smile, golden hair glowing in the sunrise. “Properly. Like a mortal fairy tale. With a competition.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I’m deadly serious.” He conjured a scroll with sparkles and a floral header: ‘THE SUN’S HAND’ - Divine Matrimonial Tournament.
---
The moment it was announced, the chaos began.
From gods to monsters, spirits to nymphs, immortals to one very determined dolphin, the applicants poured in. Tartarus sent a love poem. A primordial storm tried to court him with thundercloud bouquets. Eros offered himself and was tackled by a mob of Apollo’s kids screaming “NO.”
Hermes applied under three fake names. Artemis entered disguised as a woman “just to test the defenses.” Dionysus brought wine and vibes and was eliminated immediately for “not answering a single question seriously.”
One titan candidate offered eternal starlight.
Another baked him a sun-shaped cake.
And one contestant attempted a grand speech and was vaporized mid-sentence when they insulted Helios in front of Apollo.
---
The challenges were outrageous.
Round 1: Compliment Duel – Whoever made Apollo blush harder advanced.
Round 2: Gift Giving – The bar was set very high when someone gave him a literal pocket constellation.
Round 3: Survive Apollo’s Family – The true test. Hermes, Dionysus, Artemis, and Hyacinthus (invited as a guest judge) were merciless.
Contestants dropped like flies.
One ran screaming after Hermes’ fake stories.
Another cried when Dionysus asked, “So what’s your five-year plan with the Sun God?”
And one was politely escorted away after Artemis stared at them for five seconds straight without blinking.
---
In the end, Apollo didn’t pick a winner.
He beamed like it was the greatest comedy show in eons.
“That was so fun!” he said, lounging with iced ambrosia. “We should do this again next decade.”
“But—” Artemis began.
“I’m not ready to settle. I just wanted to feel wanted.” He winked.
Artemis sighed.
Hermes laughed.
Dionysus clapped.
And somewhere, Hyacinthus muttered darkly, “Next time, I’m joining just to sabotage everyone.”
Chapter 303: The God Who Offered the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “The God Who Offered the Sun”
Zeus, in all his thunderous arrogance, decided that diplomacy was too tedious and threats were too risky. There was a new power rising in the far edges of creation — a court of beings older than time, draped in entropy and starlight. They had no interest in Olympus… until Zeus tried to dominate them.
When domination failed, he tried compromise.
“Marriage,” he said, pacing the throne room. “An alliance through marriage. One of my children will do.”
No one volunteered. Of course not.
Athena nearly stabbed him with her spear.
Artemis growled, “Try me and I’ll show you just how sharp moonlight can get.”
Dionysus feigned death. Demeter threw a pomegranate at his head.
So, Zeus — in all his brainless grandeur — chose Apollo.
Beautiful, golden, radiant Apollo.
Because of course, who else would be desirable enough to charm beings of chaos and starlight?
---
When Apollo heard, he just blinked. “No,” he said, and returned to strumming his lyre.
But Zeus had already sent the proposal.
Word spread like divine wildfire.
First came the outrage from Apollo’s kids. Camp Half-Blood looked like it was preparing for war. Will Solace cursed in languages no mortal should know.
Then Artemis stormed Olympus, bow in hand, radiating murder. “I told you,” she said. “Try it, and you will see how fast the sun and moon become your enemies.”
Hermes? He spread the news faster than any lightning bolt. Not for strategy — just for maximum chaos.
Even Hades showed up, sipping wine ominously. “Touch my nephew, and you’ll find out how eternal Tartarus really feels.”
Ares, bored but entertained, offered weapons to both sides.
Poseidon just laughed for two hours straight.
And Dionysus? “This is better than all my theatre productions combined.”
---
The beings Zeus tried to impress? They politely declined the offer — not because Apollo wasn’t desirable, but because they didn’t want to die.
“Even we know not to touch the Sun,” they said. “We like existing.”
---
Zeus stood in the ruins of his throne room a week later, lightning scars on the marble, arrows embedded in the walls, and a very smug Apollo humming nearby.
“I told you it was a stupid idea,” Apollo said sweetly, basking in the praise and protection of literally everyone.
Zeus grumbled something about “ungrateful children.”
Apollo just smiled. “Next time you want to sell me off, maybe ask me first.”
Zeus never tried again.
He liked having his temples unburnt.
Chapter 304: Apollo's Babysitting Nightmare
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo's Babysitting Nightmare"
It was supposed to be a simple task. The gods of Olympus had decided, after much deliberation and loud arguments, that someone needed to babysit Apollo. Of course, Apollo, being Apollo, had no idea why everyone thought this was necessary. He was the god of the sun, beauty, and prophecy — he had everything under control. Or so he thought.
But Zeus, in his infinite wisdom, had a different opinion.
"We need to keep an eye on him," Zeus grumbled, pacing in front of the other gods. "Apollo's been getting… too creative lately. I can’t have him turning the world upside down again. Not after last time."
“Last time?” Athena raised an eyebrow. “Zeus, you do realize we still can’t get the coffee to taste right in the mortal world after Apollo decided it should be ‘extra spicy’ for everyone?”
“Well, it’s his fault,” Zeus muttered. “But that’s not the point. We need a rotation of babysitters.”
And that’s how it began. The first shift? Artemis.
---
The forest had never been so quiet. Artemis sat on a log, bow and quiver at the ready, glaring at Apollo, who was skipping around her like a five-year-old with too much energy.
"Why am I here, again?" Apollo asked, with an innocent grin plastered across his face.
"Because someone needs to keep an eye on you," Artemis said, her voice dripping with frustration. “Like when you decided to turn that forest into a giant sunflower patch that started attracting... bees.”
“I thought it was charming!” Apollo protested, practically dancing on the forest floor. "Besides, I love flowers!"
"You love chaos," Artemis corrected.
Apollo pouted. "Chaos is fun! But I promise, I won’t do anything crazy. Look, I’ll just sit here and—"
Before Artemis could stop him, Apollo flicked his hand, and suddenly the sun blazed brighter than usual, sending rays of light directly into the forest. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was extremely annoying to anyone in its path.
“APOLLO!” Artemis screamed, standing up. “You can’t just make the sun go berserk! What do you think you’re doing?”
"Just… enjoying the sun, you know? I thought everyone would appreciate a little extra warmth.” Apollo gave her an exaggerated wink. “Besides, it is my domain.”
With an exasperated sigh, Artemis gave him a hard glare. “You’ve got a very peculiar way of showing appreciation.”
---
Next on the rotation was Hermes, who had reluctantly volunteered after being asked by Apollo, who promised him free snacks.
“I’m just here for the snacks, you know,” Hermes said, leaning against a rock as Apollo twirled around the courtyard. "And to make sure you don't accidentally create another black hole or something."
Apollo chuckled and flicked his fingers in the air, a tiny star popping out and floating harmlessly over their heads. “I can’t help it if the universe loves me,” he said with an exaggerated shrug.
Hermes rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, but the rest of us don't need to be involved in your ‘adoring fans.’"
Suddenly, Apollo’s fingers snapped. A small, unintentionally adorable wave of sunlight began to roll out across the field, causing tiny, shimmering golden flowers to bloom. “Just a little something to make the day brighter!”
“Wait!” Hermes shouted. “That’s what you were trying to do last time when you—”
Too late. The tiny, innocent flowers rapidly grew into massive blooming plants that towered over them like a forest. The flowers grew even larger, and now Hermes was stuck, knee-deep in flower petals.
“Apoll—” Hermes began, but Apollo was already grinning as he attempted to take a full nap on top of the flowers.
“No one said I couldn’t make the world beautiful,” Apollo said, stretching his arms wide as the flowers bloomed brighter. “Besides, they’re so peaceful, aren’t they?”
---
The third shift? Dionysus.
“Alright, Apollo, I’m here. Just don’t go and—”
But Apollo had already teleported behind him. “Surprise!”
Dionysus turned, only to find Apollo holding a glass of wine in each hand, as if it had appeared out of nowhere.
“No more chaotic sunflowers,” Dionysus said quickly. “I don’t need that mess in my life, Apollo.”
Apollo smiled brightly. “How about a little festival instead? A few drinks, some music, maybe a little dance?”
Dionysus sighed, wiping his forehead. “I should have known better.”
Within moments, a full-fledged party was going on, complete with a band of nymphs, satyrs, and an open bar. The entire place was alive with music and joy, and Apollo was dancing in the center, radiating his usual charm.
At least no one was getting hurt this time… but Dionysus wasn’t so sure about the wild dancing that had begun, or how the sun was getting freakishly close to the horizon.
By the end of the shift, Apollo had somehow convinced the forest to host a late-night moonlit feast, complete with sparkling lights, stars that swirled in the sky, and everyone else casually rolling their eyes.
---
And so, the cycle continued. The gods had no idea how to deal with Apollo’s brand of chaos. They could babysit him for an hour, but the moment they took their eyes off him, the world would change.
The problem was that no one really wanted to take Apollo’s fun away.
And so, every rotation, they tried.
They really tried.
But with Apollo, it was impossible to keep him under control. If anything, his chaos made the other gods more entertained than ever.
“Well,” said Artemis, finally giving up and sipping a drink from the party Dionysus started, “I guess he’s just… Apollo.”
And maybe that was the real problem: Apollo was simply too much himself to ever be kept under control.
Chapter 305: Apollo, the Accidental Savior
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo, the Accidental Savior"
Apollo was in the middle of one of his favorite activities—drifting. His golden curls were catching the breeze as he wandered the bustling marketplace of Olympus. He wasn’t really looking for anything, but he found himself intrigued by the crowds. People always needed his help, whether they realized it or not, and honestly, he liked to stay involved in everything. The sun never stopped, so why should Apollo?
As he passed a stall filled with glittering trinkets, something caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was, but there was a faint tinge of unease in the air—a subtle whisper that caught the corner of his sharp senses. He paused for just a moment, then casually walked to the back of the stall, where a pair of ancient scrolls lay hidden beneath some shimmering jewels.
What’s this? Apollo thought, pulling one out and unfurling it.
It was an official treaty agreement—well, it used to be. Now it was nothing but a crumbling paper with fading ink. He read over it briefly, frowning. It was something about an alliance between Olympus and a foreign pantheon. Not exactly the most exciting of documents, but his sharp eyes noticed something odd.
This is wrong.
Apollo sighed. It was too late in the day for politics, but here he was, once again stepping in. He didn’t know how, but Apollo always ended up finding himself tangled in things that seemed like they would go nowhere—only for him to pull through by sheer force of wanting to help.
Without another word, Apollo strolled down the street, the document tucked beneath his arm. In the distance, he saw Hermes chatting with a few minor gods, laughing at something no one could understand.
“Hey, Hermes!” Apollo called, waving. “Do you remember the Flaros Treaty?”
Hermes turned, blinking in confusion. “You’re... not serious.”
“I am,” Apollo said cheerfully. “I found a copy of it. Turns out, there's a clause in there about a certain third party—one that Olympus conveniently forgot to deal with—and it’s pretty much set to ruin our diplomatic standing with the Rigorean Pantheon.”
Hermes stared at him, mouth agape. “Wait... what? How the Hades did you—?”
“I just found it.” Apollo shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “Oh, and I’ve already reached out to the Rigoreans’ diplomats. I was feeling helpful.”
Hermes stared at him, wide-eyed. "You did what?! Apollo, you can’t just..."
“Relax, I’ve got it under control,” Apollo interrupted. “I thought I’d just throw in an offer to help with their summer solstice celebration. You know, give them a little sunshine, free of charge.”
"You did what?" Hermes spluttered. "How do you even—"
"Well, that’s why I love getting involved with things," Apollo said, smiling. “And don’t worry. I also made sure the Rigorean goddess of justice signed off on it. We’re good to go. I’ll swing by for the event, make it spectacular, and—voila. No issues. Easy as sunlight.”
Hermes rubbed his forehead, groaning. "I’m still trying to figure out how you always end up saving the day without meaning to."
“Well, that’s what I do best!” Apollo grinned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few other diplomatic matters to attend to. I think I promised Hephaestus I’d ‘lighten his mood’—whatever that means. See you later!"
Before Hermes could protest further, Apollo was already walking off, a happy whistle on his lips.
---
Hours later, the gods of Olympus gathered in their council chamber, discussing various matters of importance. Everyone was mildly surprised when Apollo strolled in, holding yet another stack of documents, looking completely unfazed.
“Do we need these today?” Zeus asked, glancing at the pile with disinterest. "You know, we don’t exactly need more paperwork, Apollo."
“Oh, you’ll need these,” Apollo replied casually, flipping the documents open and holding up the Flaros Treaty. “In fact, I suggest we start organizing a meeting with the Rigorean Pantheon soon. They’re happy with our new offer.”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
“You... did this?” Artemis asked, unable to hide her surprise. “Apollo, you didn’t even—"
“I’m just very chill about these things,” Apollo shrugged nonchalantly. “I took care of it while I was out and about. No need to thank me. I’m basically always on top of things.”
A few gods exchanged glances. The truth was, nobody ever quite understood how Apollo did what he did. He wasn’t always the most responsible, but somehow, his ability to drift into the right situations made him an irreplaceable asset.
“Honestly, I still don’t understand how you do it,” Hermes muttered, his arms crossed. “But I can’t argue with results.”
“I like to think it’s my gift,” Apollo said, beaming. “You know, the whole ‘turning the impossible possible’ thing.”
Zeus shook his head, mumbling under his breath. “I swear, this family is full of unpredictable chaos.”
But despite the grumbling, no one could argue that Apollo, whether by sheer accident or divine intervention, always managed to pull them out of sticky situations. Even when he wasn’t trying.
“Look, all I’m saying is,” Apollo continued, flipping through a few more documents, “I’m just here to make sure everyone’s day gets a little brighter. You’re welcome, by the way.”
With that, he sauntered out of the room, leaving everyone to wonder how many other random problems he had solved today.
One thing was for certain: No one would ever complain about Apollo’s interference—because it always worked out.
Chapter 306: Apollo and His Embarrassing Tales
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo and His Embarrassing Tales"
Apollo was, without a doubt, the most present and loving father anyone could ask for. His kids, the Apollo kids, were his pride and joy, and there was never a moment when they doubted how much he adored them. But that also meant everyone knew how much Apollo adored them.
It didn’t take long for their friends to get used to Apollo's constant appearances. He would show up at Camp Half-Blood, at school events, or just swing by the local diner, looking for a quick bite and a chance to connect with his kids. No matter where they were or who they were with, Apollo always found a way to make sure his presence was known.
But what made Apollo’s relationship with his children truly unique, and what often caused a few groans and a lot of eye rolls, were his stories. The stories he told about his children when they were babies, toddlers, and, in some cases, just incredibly awkward teenagers.
Take the latest example:
It was a quiet evening at Camp Half-Blood, and the Apollo cabin was hosting a bonfire. The crackling flames illuminated the faces of the campers, casting a warm glow on their relaxed features. Apollo had just finished roasting marshmallows with his kids, and he was in his usual, completely unwarranted, cheerful mood.
"Alright, everyone," Apollo began, his voice carrying over the campfire. "You all want to hear a real treat?"
A few groans came from the Apollo kids—they knew what was coming. Their friends, however, were more intrigued. This was the part where they’d get to hear embarrassing stories about their Apollo kids. And, honestly, they were curious.
"Okay, okay," Apollo continued, completely oblivious to the mild discomfort of his children. "So, when Blake was a baby—"
"No!" Blake interrupted, raising a hand in defense. "Please, don’t!"
Apollo grinned widely. "Oh, I have to tell this one! So, Blake," Apollo paused dramatically, "was a wild little thing. He had this thing where he’d throw tantrums if you didn’t give him his favorite stuffed lion. And not just any tantrum. Oh no. He’d scream so loudly that the neighbors thought there was a small storm happening in the house! You should’ve seen it, Aaron, his face was all red, tears streaming down, and—"
"Okay, that’s enough," Blake snapped, his face as red as the embers in the fire.
But it was too late. The damage had been done. Everyone was snickering, and Blake could only scowl as his friends laughed at his expense.
"Alright, alright," Apollo said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But I’ll never forget that time when Aaron tried to climb the tree at the old house to impress his brothers, and ended up getting stuck halfway up. You should’ve seen the way he looked, hanging there with his tiny little hands clutching the branches, yelling for help—"
"Noooooo!" Aaron buried his face in his hands. He was so done with his dad’s stories.
The other campers, who had never seen this side of Apollo, were dying. They couldn’t help it. It was honestly cute how Apollo loved to embarrass his kids, but at the same time, they felt so bad for the poor Apollo kids. Their own parents were rarely present enough to even have these stories, much less share them so freely.
"It wasn’t even that bad," Aaron muttered under his breath, though the hint of a smile tugged at his lips.
But Apollo was still on a roll. "And who could forget the time Annabelle—"
"No!" Annabelle shouted, cutting him off. "I swear, if you tell that story, I will never talk to you again."
Apollo laughed, his golden eyes shining with mischief. "I’m sure you’re exaggerating. Come on, Annabeth, it’s a classic! Who wouldn’t want to hear about the time you tried to give a speech at your fifth birthday party and instead ended up giving a rambling dissertation on Greek architecture? Classic!"
Annabeth groaned, slumping down in her seat as the entire camp burst into laughter.
And then, as if on cue, the other campers, the friends of the Apollo kids, exchanged looks of jealousy. Sure, they had their own parents, but no one—no one—was as involved as Apollo.
“Ugh, I wish my dad did this,” one of them muttered, crossing their arms. “I’d love to hear him talk about my embarrassing childhood moments.”
"I can’t even get him to show up for my birthday," another one sighed.
Apollo’s kids, however, weren’t sure if they felt bad for their friends or relieved that their parents weren’t as involved in their lives as Apollo was in theirs. They were used to this. It was second nature. They loved their dad with all their hearts, but sometimes… just a little privacy would’ve been nice.
But at the end of the day, Apollo’s stories had a certain charm. They spoke volumes about how deeply he cared for them. Every embarrassing story, every awkward moment he brought up, it was all done with the kind of love only Apollo could show.
"Alright, alright," Apollo finally said, wiping a tear from his eye from all the laughter. "That’s enough for tonight. I’ll save the rest of the golden memories for later."
The Apollo kids let out a collective sigh of relief, even as they exchanged knowing looks. Their friends? They were so jealous. But at least they understood now why the Apollo kids never truly minded the embarrassing stories. Apollo was just... too much sometimes, but that’s exactly how they liked him.
They’d gladly take the embarrassment any day if it meant always having Apollo in their lives.
Chapter 307: Wrong God, Right Help
Chapter Text
Title: "Wrong God, Right Help"
Odysseus knelt on the rocky shore, staring up at the sky with gratitude heavy in his chest.
“Thank you, Athena,” he murmured, hand over heart. “You guided me home again. You always do.”
Somewhere above the clouds, a golden-haired goddess-in-disguise snorted so hard her sunray chariot hiccupped.
“Athena?” Apollo—currently appearing in the form of a radiant woman in a golden chiton—huffed, perched cross-legged on the nearest sunbeam. “Oh please. She didn’t do a single thing this time!”
Apollo had been the one who whispered the path past Scylla and Charybdis. Apollo had warned him about the cattle of Helios in a dream that Athena got credit for. Apollo had even disguised herself to slip Odysseus some extra rations when his crew kept losing everything to storms and stupidity.
And now—after everything—he thanked Athena?
Apollo flopped dramatically onto her back on the sunbeam, pouting like only a wronged deity could.
“She doesn’t even like poetry!” she whined to no one. “I gave him a metaphor so beautiful it made a cyclops cry, and he still thought it was her.”
Down below, Odysseus was solemnly tying a small statue of Athena to the mast of his ship, murmuring prayers.
Apollo groaned.
Later, when Odysseus sat by his campfire, he’d feel a sudden warmth beside him and a strangely radiant woman offering him honeycakes and a smile too bright for midnight.
“You should thank the right gods next time, hero,” she said casually.
Odysseus blinked. “Pardon?”
Apollo leaned in, golden eyes twinkling. “You’re lucky I’m fond of mortals who are clever. Just… not clever enough to know when the sun is helping them.”
She vanished in a shimmer of gold, leaving Odysseus with a half-eaten honeycake, a dazed expression, and the overwhelming feeling that maybe, just maybe, he owed an apology to someone else.
And far above, Apollo giggled in triumph.
“Finally.”
Chapter 308: Beneath the Silence
Chapter Text
Title: “Beneath the Silence”
Pairing: Tartarus x Apollo
Tone: Angst with a Happy Ending
---
There was a time Apollo burned brighter than ever for Tartarus.
It was strange, poetic even — light loving darkness, warmth choosing the cold void. Tartarus hadn’t expected it, hadn’t known what to do with a god who sang to monsters, who wove constellations into the sky just to draw the Pit’s gaze upward.
And so, Tartarus did nothing.
Not out of cruelty, not entirely. Just… apathy. Confusion. Fear of feeling.
Apollo kept coming anyway. With sunlight in his laugh, warmth in his hands, songs in his throat. He brought wine, stories, music. He brought love.
And Tartarus—
He ignored it. Ignored him.
Apollo waited. Days. Weeks. Centuries, maybe. Time didn’t quite matter in the Pit. What mattered was that the silence was no longer peaceful. It was pointed.
“I'm tired,” Apollo had said, standing near the edge of the void, voice gentle and trembling. “Of feeling like I’m screaming into the dark.”
Tartarus said nothing.
So Apollo left.
---
The Pit was colder without the sun.
The monsters quieted. Even Nyx whispered less.
Tartarus tried not to notice. Until one day, something cracked — deep and ancient.
And Tartarus finally noticed that it hurt.
---
He found Apollo centuries later — barefoot on a mountainside, laughter returned, eyes brighter. The sun god still smiled, still shined. But not for him.
Not anymore.
Tartarus dropped to his knees. The world trembled.
“I was afraid,” he rasped, voice like the shifting of mountains. “Of what your light would show in me.”
Apollo turned slowly, golden eyes calm.
“You didn’t need to be perfect,” he replied. “You just needed to try.”
Tartarus reached out, barely touching the hem of Apollo’s robes.
“I’ll try now. I’ll fall. I’ll rise. I’ll burn if you want me to.”
For a long moment, Apollo said nothing.
Then, finally — soft as dusk — he took Tartarus’s hand.
“I don’t want you to burn,” he said. “I want you to heal.”
And just like that, for the first time since the first sun rose, light touched the Pit without fear.
---
They built a place between — not sky, not void — where warmth and shadow could meet. And this time, when Apollo sang, Tartarus listened.
Chapter 309: Sunlight Claimed
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight Claimed”
Pairing: None (Family Dynamics – Aether & Apollo)
Tags: Fem!Apollo, Found Family, Possessive Dad Aether, Protective Siblings, Humor, Wholesome Insanity
---
No one knew when it happened exactly. One moment, Apollo was just Apollo — goddess of the sun, music, and beauty — flitting across Olympus, dazzling and unclaimed. The next, she was Aether’s daughter.
He didn’t even ask. He just appeared in a blaze of divine radiance, scooped her up mid-sunrise, and declared, “Mine.”
Zeus blinked. Hera choked on nectar. Aphrodite nearly dropped her mirror. No one dared object. Aether, primordial of upper air and divine light, was not someone you argued with. Especially not when his eyes were literally burning holes into Mount Olympus’ marble floor.
Apollo, for her part, just blinked and went, “Okay,” as if being adopted by a blinding force of cosmic energy was just another Tuesday.
Since then, any unfortunate soul who dared insult Apollo found themselves… temporarily (and sometimes permanently) blind. Didn’t matter if it was a snide remark or a passive-aggressive tone — Aether would appear in a blaze of righteous fury and casually vaporize their retinas.
The worst part? He’d do it smiling.
“Oh, no no no, please do repeat that thing you said about my daughter not being a 'real artist'. I want to savor it.”
---
Her new siblings (yes, the actual Primordial manifestations of Light in various forms) treated Apollo like a baby chick who accidentally wandered into the sun. They followed her around. Gave her shiny gifts. Made sure the stars didn’t shine too brightly on nights she wanted to stargaze. One of them even tried to slap Helios once.
“I’m the sun now,” Apollo deadpanned.
“We know,” they whispered reverently.
---
Apollo, despite being used to chaos, was… touched.
She hadn’t known she needed a family like this. But being held in arms that shimmered like the dawn, being told “I’m proud of you” by the original light — it filled something in her heart she didn’t know was missing.
And when Aether boomed “She is my light now, and if any of you try to dim her, you’ll join Gaia in early retirement,” she just sipped her tea, smiled sweetly, and blew a kiss.
“Thanks, Dad.”
The clouds glowed pink for a week.
Chapter 310: Golden Thread
Chapter Text
Title: “Golden Thread”
Pairing: Fem!Apollo x Male Fates (Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos – reimagined as brothers)
Tags: Protective Fates, Fem!Apollo, Wholesome for Her/Vengeful for Others, Happy Endings (or else), Fated Wrath, Mythology AU
---
It began with a thread.
Not just any thread — a golden one, radiant and warm, singing softly with laughter, sunlight, and music. The moment Clotho touched it, his fingers burned in a way that didn’t hurt but claimed. Lachesis stared at it in awe. Atropos…smiled.
Apollo, goddess of light, prophecy, and music — the sun herself — had been born.
And they knew then: she was theirs.
Not in the way of ownership, no. But in the way a star belongs to the sky, or a song belongs to the one who first heard it and cried. They wove her life with the utmost care, polished her fate like gold, and carved into destiny a rule all others would fear:
"Do not touch the sun unless you wish to burn."
---
She didn’t know, of course. Apollo ran through the cosmos like a comet, her laughter trailing behind her like sunlight, blissfully unaware of the possessive eyes watching every step of her life’s thread. But she did notice strange things.
No tragedy touched her children. No prophecy doomed them. Even when they should have, fates shifted like silk to protect them. Accidents reversed. Curses unraveled. Enemies… vanished.
And those who hurt her?
They disappeared from the threads.
No one ever heard from them again.
---
When she finally met the Fates — in this form, this strange, beautiful, masculine trio — she tilted her head, curious. “You feel familiar.”
Clotho took her hand and kissed her knuckles like she was divine music personified. “We know every note you’ve ever sung.”
Lachesis smiled gently. “You are the only thing we have ever woven with hope.”
Atropos stepped forward, eyes glowing like coals. “We end what would end you.”
She blinked.
Then grinned.
“Neat.”
---
The gods soon learned: Apollo’s children never fall. Their heartbreaks always lead to something better. Their battles always end in triumph. Their stories always conclude with joy.
And should anyone ever try to rob them of that?
Well…
Let’s just say some threads are cut with a blade of stars, and those never come back.
Chapter 311: The Golden Paradox
Chapter Text
Title: “The Golden Paradox”
Featuring: Fem!Apollo, Hyperion, Iapetus
Tags: Overpowered Apollo, Protective Titans, Terrifying Consequences, Sweet Apollo, Violent Revenge
---
Nobody knows how it happened.
No one knows why it happened.
But somehow… Apollo became the favorite of both Hyperion and Iapetus.
Yes, Hyperion, Titan of light, of heavenly bodies and radiance — so cold and distant he barely blinked at Olympus.
And Iapetus, Titan of mortality, death, and silent judgment — the shadow lurking behind every tragedy.
And yet, when Apollo entered a room — bright, golden, smiling as if she didn’t carry the weight of centuries — those two ancient beings would move. Not with command or obligation.
But with adoration.
---
Hyperion built her a palace in the skies where no god could step but her.
Iapetus carved a sanctuary in the deepest corners of the Underworld where even Hades wouldn’t tread.
“Just in case,” they said. "She deserves options."
---
The first time a lesser god tried to belittle her, just a throwaway comment about her songs being “frivolous,” Hyperion blinked and that god was gone. Literally. No one remembers their name.
The second time, when a Titanspawn tried to curse her children, Iapetus’s shadow came to life and dragged it screaming through ten layers of Tartarus.
No one tried a third time.
---
“She is the warmth between dusk and dawn,” Hyperion once said.
“She is the only joy I’ve ever seen in this cursed cosmos,” Iapetus added.
They never explained their reasons.
Apollo, of course, just laughed. “They’re sweet, aren’t they?”
---
Olympus learned. The pantheons whispered. The realms beyond took note.
If you touch Apollo — if you so much as look at her wrong — light will scorch you. Shadow will swallow you. Heaven and the pit will tear you apart.
Because between day and death, she is everything.
And they will allow no harm to come to her. Ever.
Chapter 312: Two Hearts, One Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “Two Hearts, One Sun”
Pairing: Apollo (male) x Hyacinthus
Tags: Star-crossed lovers, co-parenting chaos, soulmates, demigod confusion, romantic fluff
---
They were lovers not even the Fates could separate.
Even death, when it came for Hyacinthus, had not succeeded — Apollo had torn the boundaries of life apart and rewrote the threads until they were stitched together again.
Ever since, they had been inseparable — the god of the sun and the mortal-turned-divine prince of Sparta, who now walked with Apollo like he belonged beside him. (He did.)
They ruled nothing.
They claimed no domain.
And yet, when their hands brushed, the world paused for a heartbeat.
---
The demigods were where things got… confusing.
One day, a child would be claimed — a swirling glow of sunlight and flowers, petals and arrows, music and strength — and everyone would stare up at the sky waiting for clarification.
Was it Apollo?
Or… was it Hyacinthus?
No one ever really knew.
---
“They have your smile,” Apollo would say.
“But your eyes,” Hyacinthus would respond, leaning into him.
Camp Half-Blood learned to guess based on vibes.
Does the kid glow a little too much in the morning? Apollo.
Do flowers bloom where they step? Hyacinthus.
Do they speak five languages, charm monsters with poetry, and shoot targets blindfolded? Could be either.
---
Eventually, the camp just put “Claimed by Apollo and Hyacinthus (Joint Custody?)” on the cabin roster.
The two gods didn’t correct them.
They just showed up together — to meet their kids, spoil them rotten, brag to Chiron, and make out in the strawberries.
“Star-crossed lovers,” Chiron would mutter, shaking his head.
And yet the stars themselves — above, eternal — only shimmered in approval.
Chapter 313: The Ocean's Claim
Chapter Text
Title: "The Ocean's Claim"
---
Zeus had always been a god of thunder, of storms, of might. But even a king of gods could be shaken to his core. Apollo, born of Leto’s labor and the curse of rejection, lay helpless in his mother’s arms. The gods had gathered, their eyes sharp, their whispers loud. The child was beautiful—too beautiful, with golden hair like rays of sunlight and eyes like the endless sky—but he was a threat. A rival in the making.
Zeus, ever the ruler, declared the child to be no god. He would not be part of Olympus. His arrogance bled into his voice as he dismissed Apollo, like an unwanted object. “He will be nothing. Cast him away.”
Leto's heart shattered in that moment, the weight of the king’s words piercing her as much as they did Apollo, though he could not yet understand. Artemis stood protectively at her side, her young gaze a mixture of anger and confusion.
But Poseidon, standing at the edge of the crowd, had a different reaction.
As Zeus’ thunderous voice rumbled through the heavens, Poseidon’s sharp gaze locked onto Apollo’s small, crying form. He watched, unblinking, his brow furrowing not in anger, but something darker—something deeper.
A desire stirred in him.
“Do you see it?” Poseidon murmured to no one in particular, his voice low like the waves before a storm. “He’s mine.”
The other gods, too caught up in their own debate, failed to notice his quiet claim. Leto, broken and stunned by Zeus' rejection, cradled Apollo closer to her chest. She whispered promises of love, of safety—of protection. But even she couldn’t argue against Zeus. Not now. Not ever.
Apollo’s cry rose, louder now, more frantic. Leto rocked him gently in her arms, trying to soothe him, but it wasn’t enough. He was a baby, rejected by his father, with no place in the world.
Poseidon’s eyes never left him.
Without a word, Poseidon stepped forward, his presence massive, like the tide before a tsunami. The sea god's movements were measured, deliberate. As if the ocean itself called to the child.
“Leto,” he said softly, his voice wrapping around her like a warm breeze over the water. She looked up, startled, but saw something in his eyes that no one else had seen—compassion.
“I can’t take him from you,” Poseidon continued, kneeling before Leto. His gaze flickered from her to the child. “But I will raise him. I will protect him from the storm.”
Leto’s heart raced. She was afraid, but the words from Poseidon were the only lifeline she had in the sea of rejection. “What… What do you mean?”
Poseidon gently reached out, his hand hovering just above Apollo’s head. The baby, still crying, gazed up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. A strange connection seemed to pass between them. Poseidon’s heart clenched.
“I’ve seen his future,” Poseidon whispered. “And it’s mine to guide.”
The words were quiet, but in that moment, Leto understood. Poseidon would take Apollo. Would make him his own. The ocean would claim him. The god of the sea, so often misunderstood, would offer the safety the child needed.
Leto didn’t protest. What could she say? What could any of them say? She had no power over Zeus’ decree, but Poseidon, in his strange, quiet way, had given Apollo what Zeus could not: a future.
And so, Poseidon lifted the baby from Leto’s arms. Apollo’s cries softened as he nestled into the god’s chest, calmed by something he couldn’t yet understand.
“Come with me,” Poseidon murmured to Leto. “You, too. I will shelter you both in the depths.”
Leto nodded, unable to speak, her heart heavy but grateful. Artemis stood tall beside her, gazing at Poseidon with wide eyes.
“Apollo will grow in the sea,” Poseidon said, holding the baby close. “And when he rises, the world will know his name. But he will always have me to guide him. As the waves are endless, so too will be his strength.”
As Poseidon turned, Leto and Artemis followed. And Apollo—Apollo, rejected by one father but claimed by another—rested in Poseidon’s arms, his cries fading into the soft rush of the ocean.
Title: "The Ocean's Claim - Part 2"
---
Years passed, and Apollo grew into the magnificent god he was always meant to be. The golden rays of the sun, once an inheritance he could not claim, now burned brightly from within him. The prophecy had been correct: Apollo would become a god of immense power, revered by mortals and gods alike. He was the god of the sun, truth, prophecy, medicine, music, and the arts, an embodiment of everything brilliant and beautiful in the world.
But alongside those grand titles came a new one—one that no one had ever expected.
Second Prince of the Sea.
Poseidon’s claim on Apollo had not been temporary, nor had it been out of mere kindness. It was a bond forged in the depths of the oceans, a bond that would shape the future of Olympus and the world beyond. Poseidon had not just adopted Apollo; he had woven his essence into the very fabric of the child. Apollo was as much a part of the sea as the tides, the waves, and the storm. His golden light and Poseidon's powerful ocean were two sides of the same coin.
The gods of Olympus began to recognize it, too. Apollo’s power was undeniable, but it was not simply because of his brilliance with the sun or his beauty in the arts. His connection to the sea—Poseidon's blood in his veins—became known, and soon enough, the title of “Second Prince of the Sea” was added to Apollo’s already impressive resume.
But this… this was not what Zeus had planned.
Where once Apollo’s glory could have been Zeus’s own, now all the honor and glory Apollo garnered was funneled to Poseidon. Mortals worshipped Apollo, but they also respected the sea, knowing the tide that moved in tandem with his light. In every temple, in every prayer, in every festival, the sea was honored just as much as the sun.
Zeus could hardly stand it.
"You have taken everything from me, Poseidon," Zeus thundered one evening, his voice echoing across the heavens, causing lightning to flash in every corner of the sky. "Apollo was mine. His power was meant to be mine, not yours!"
But Poseidon only smiled, a calm, collected grin that hinted at the storm beneath. "Not everything, Zeus," he replied, his voice smooth like the pull of a tide. "You never earned Apollo’s love, his respect. You could not see him for who he was—an eternal child of the sun and sea."
Poseidon was unbothered by Zeus’s anger. After all, it was Zeus who had once rejected Apollo. It was Zeus who had cast aside a child, the son of a goddess, just because he feared the power that child would one day wield. And now Apollo, with the favor of the oceans, was one of the most revered gods on Olympus. And in every prayer, every tribute, every praise, it was Poseidon’s name that was spoken with as much reverence as Apollo’s.
Apollo, however, remained by Poseidon's side—though his connection to the sun was still his pride, his place in the sea, in Poseidon's world, was unbreakable. And as Apollo's power grew, so did Poseidon's influence. The two of them were inseparable, their shared presence as immense as the tides themselves.
Zeus could not bear it. He had thought that by rejecting Apollo, he could punish him, but instead, it had only made Apollo stronger—stronger than he ever would have been under Zeus's rule.
Poseidon, no longer content with simply watching Zeus rage, began to make his displeasure known. The sea, once a force of calming waves, became a constant reminder to Zeus. Every thunderstorm that Zeus tried to summon was met with an even greater surge from the oceans. Poseidon's waters rose against Zeus's storms, pulling the heavens into a turbulent clash. Even in the halls of Olympus, Poseidon would make his presence known.
"You could have had him, Zeus," Poseidon would say with a mockingly soft chuckle. "But now… he is mine. His heart, his loyalty, his power—they all belong to the sea now."
And when Zeus, in his fury, attempted to take credit for Apollo’s accomplishments, Poseidon would stop him with a mere glance. Apollo had claimed his place beside the oceans, his every victory shared with Poseidon, and even the sun itself began to reflect the cool blues of the deep sea. The sea became Apollo's domain, too.
The gods saw it, too. The worshippers of Apollo began to revere Poseidon as well, and even the mortal world started to see the connection between Apollo and the oceans. The sun's rise could not be separated from the tide that followed, and those who sought Apollo’s blessings also offered their reverence to the sea god.
In the end, it was Poseidon who had the final say. He had raised Apollo, given him power, and shared his throne. Apollo was both a child of the sun and the sea, and neither side could deny him. Zeus's rejection had become his downfall. The gods, the mortals, the world—they all knew it.
Poseidon looked upon Apollo, his second son, and he saw not just a god of immense power, but the child he had claimed so long ago. The tides, the sun, and the very foundation of Olympus were intertwined with Apollo’s light, and Poseidon could feel the endless ocean surge inside him whenever Apollo smiled.
Zeus’s rage had never ceased, but Poseidon was unbothered, smiling at the sight of Apollo, and every time Zeus complained, Poseidon’s words echoed: “You never deserved him.”
And as the sun set on another day, Apollo and Poseidon stood together, the sea at their feet, the sun above them, both gods united by the bond that Zeus had broken all those years ago. The ocean would never let him forget.
Chapter 314: The Price of Beauty
Chapter Text
Title: "The Price of Beauty"
---
The tension on Mount Olympus had reached a boiling point. For weeks, Ares, Athena, and Artemis had been locked in a fierce rivalry about who was the greatest fighter in the divine realm. As usual, their competition took a very physical turn, with sparring matches that grew more intense with each passing day. But it wasn’t just about fighting anymore. It had become a matter of pride—each of them convinced they were the best in the art of combat.
“Come on, Artemis,” Ares taunted, a sly grin curling on his lips as he held up his sword, “let's see if you can actually land a hit. I doubt the goddess of the hunt can even hold her own against a real warrior.”
Artemis narrowed her eyes, her silver bow gleaming at her side. “You may be the god of war, Ares, but your arrogance makes you weak.”
Athena, standing in the background with her spear in hand, clicked her tongue in disdain. “You both have no idea what it means to be truly skilled in combat. It’s not just about brute strength—it’s about precision. Strategy.”
As the three gods began their bickering, Apollo, who had been meditating by the sun’s rays, sighed. He’d been through many of these arguments before, but he knew they could get out of hand quickly. “Maybe you all should just… chill out,” he suggested, attempting to quell the growing tension. But his calm voice went unheard in the noise of their heated exchange.
It wasn’t long before Athena, swinging her spear in a particularly aggressive move toward Ares, misjudged her angle and—whoosh!—the blade of the spear sliced clean through Apollo's golden locks, cutting a chunk of his hair right off.
Apollo’s scream rang out, a shrill, desperate wail that echoed through the very heavens, louder than any thunderclap, louder than any mortal could comprehend. It was a sound so filled with shock and distress that it rattled the foundations of Olympus. His cry wasn’t just one of pain—it was a raw, hysterical protest to the very thought of losing something so precious. Something that had always been part of him: his beautiful golden hair.
The gods froze in an instant, the air thick with the aftermath of his cry. The mountain itself seemed to tremble with Apollo's grief.
“No—NO! NOT MY HAIR! MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR!” Apollo wailed, his hands flailing to cover the damage, as if doing so could undo the crime committed against him. “How could you—how could you?!”
The scene that followed could only be described as utter chaos.
Ares and Artemis froze, their faces drained of color. Athena was wide-eyed, horrified by what she had done.
“Oh my god,” Ares whispered, his voice barely audible. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“This is bad,” Artemis said, her voice strained with panic. “I didn’t mean it either! It was an accident!”
But the damage was already done. Apollo, normally the picture of grace and radiance, was now a sobbing mess, his usually perfect golden hair now uneven and chopped. He continued to cry, his emotions spiraling as he ran his hands through the uneven strands, his face twisted in agony.
On Olympus, no one ever dared to harm Apollo’s beauty. His radiance was his identity. His hair was sacred.
“Aphrodite,” Artemis said, looking desperately to the goddess of love. “Please, help him. We didn’t mean it—”
Before anyone could react, Aphrodite, who had been watching the whole spectacle from the shadows, sauntered forward with an expression of complete calm, despite the chaos around her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked down at Apollo, who was still sobbing on the ground, his hair an utter mess.
“Aphrodite,” Athena called out, “can you fix this? Please, for the sake of Olympus—”
Aphrodite, with a knowing smile, knelt beside Apollo, her hands hovering over his disheveled golden locks. “You poor thing,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy. “How dreadful that your beautiful hair should be destroyed in such a tragic way.”
Without another word, she raised her hands, and a soft glow surrounded Apollo’s head. The strands of hair that had been cut began to shimmer and reform, growing back into their perfect golden glory. In a matter of seconds, his hair was restored, even more radiant than before—flowing like liquid gold, shining brighter than the sun itself.
Apollo’s sobs quieted as he felt the familiar weight of his restored hair cascading down his back. He looked up, eyes wide, blinking in awe at Aphrodite. “You—thank you. I… I don’t even know how to begin to—”
Aphrodite waved her hand dismissively. “No need to thank me, darling. You’re simply too beautiful to be left in such a state.”
She turned her gaze to the three offenders, her smile fading into a stern look. “Now, as for you three…” She paused, letting the silence hang in the air like an impending storm. “You’ve hurt my dear Apollo. You’ve ruined his perfection—his aesthetic.”
The gods flinched under her gaze, but no one dared to speak. Even Ares, usually brimming with confidence, shrank back in the face of Aphrodite’s fury.
“I’m sorry,” Athena said meekly, her head bowed. “It was a mistake. We didn’t mean to—”
“Shut up,” Aphrodite snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “No more excuses. You know the rules. You never touch Apollo’s beauty. Never. Ever.”
Ares, Artemis, and Athena exchanged terrified glances. There was no denying it. Aphrodite was the goddess of beauty, and no one—not even gods—dared to cross her in matters of aesthetics.
Aphrodite stood up and flicked her fingers, causing a faint glow to surround the three gods. “For your punishment,” she said, “I will make sure none of you can ever defeat Apollo in combat—ever again. From this day forward, you will always be bested by him. Whether in a sparring match or any other contest of strength, you will lose. Always.”
Ares, Athena, and Artemis looked horrified, but they knew there was no escaping Aphrodite’s punishment. She didn’t even need to raise her voice; her beauty and grace were enough to command their respect.
“Now, go,” she said, with a flick of her wrist. “And leave my darling Apollo alone. Let him bask in his beauty… because the next time you hurt him, I’ll ensure it’s much worse.”
With that, Aphrodite turned on her heel, leaving the three gods in stunned silence. They all knew one thing: they would never again risk crossing Apollo, especially when Aphrodite had taken it upon herself to protect him.
And as for Apollo? He sat there, surrounded by his radiant hair, feeling an odd mix of relief and embarrassment. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry at his fellow gods or to thank Aphrodite for her intervention.
But in the end, all that mattered was that Apollo’s golden hair had been saved, and that no one would dare to touch it again.
“I’m… okay now,” Apollo said softly, his voice a little shaky as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at his fellow gods with a small, wry smile. “But I swear, if anyone touches my hair again, there will be consequences.”
And with that, he walked off, his golden locks trailing behind him, more magnificent than ever, while the other gods, particularly Ares, Athena, and Artemis, shared a quiet, nervous glance, knowing they had learned a very valuable lesson that day.
Chapter 315: The Clumsy God
Chapter Text
Title: "The Clumsy God"
---
Mount Olympus had always been a place of perfection. The gods and goddesses were mighty, their skills honed over eons. There were warriors like Ares, brilliant strategists like Athena, and even the god of wisdom and knowledge, Hermes. But no one was quite as uncoordinated as Apollo.
The god of the arts—dancing, music, poetry—was incredibly dexterous when he was creating. His movements were fluid, his grace unparalleled when he played his lyre or performed his intricate dances during the festivals of Olympus. Yet, when it came to walking? Well, Apollo was an absolute disaster.
The gods had long since gotten used to his clumsy nature, but that didn’t stop the chaos it caused on a daily basis. The moment Apollo stood up from wherever he had been lounging—be it the soft golden pillows of the throne room or the lush fields of flowers in the garden—it was only a matter of time before he tripped on his own feet.
“Oh, here we go again,” Artemis sighed one day, shaking her head as she watched her brother sway, trying to keep his balance while walking towards the grand hall. Her face was one of fond exasperation, but it was clear that she had seen this spectacle far too many times before.
“Oh no, oh no, no, no,” Apollo muttered to himself, his arms flailing wildly as his feet betrayed him yet again. His once-pristine golden sandals became tangled in a stray vine, and Apollo’s face went pale as he felt himself pitch forward.
Just as expected, he was about to meet the floor—his face ready to greet it with all the elegance of a falling star—when a large, strong hand gripped the collar of his tunic.
“Whoa, there, little sunbeam,” a voice chuckled. It was Poseidon, the god of the seas, his deep voice rich with amusement.
“Poseidon!” Apollo squeaked in surprise, feeling the sudden lurch in his chest as Poseidon yanked him upright. His face flushed with embarrassment as he straightened himself, trying to brush off the incident.
“Careful now, I’m not the one who’s supposed to be saving the day,” Poseidon teased, his voice dripping with fondness. His grip remained on Apollo’s collar, the same way one might hold a misbehaving kitten who was trying to scamper off the furniture.
Apollo blinked at him, a mix of frustration and affection crossing his face. “I swear I can walk, Poseidon. I just… keep tripping over my own feet. It’s like they have a mind of their own.” He attempted to regain some dignity, but his posture remained slightly slouched as he stood, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Poseidon smirked. “Sure, sure, you’re the god of the arts, the master of dance, and yet you trip over nothing but air. I’ve never met a more graceful disaster in my life.” He ruffled Apollo’s golden hair—messed up from his near tumble—and then released the collar of his tunic, giving him a gentle push in the direction of his original goal. “Go on, little one. I’ll make sure you don’t end up on your face again.”
Apollo glared at Poseidon, his cheeks burning. “I’m not a baby,” he muttered. “I can take care of myself.” But despite the pout on his lips, there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes. Poseidon was the only one who was so blatantly affectionate in his teasing, and it did have a way of making Apollo feel... protected.
As Apollo moved forward, he took a deep breath, determined to walk without stumbling. He could do this. He could manage. After all, he wasn’t just the god of the arts—he was a son of Zeus, the god of thunder! He should be able to move like the wind itself.
But just as he thought he might have it under control, his sandal caught on another vine. He felt his foot twist, and before he could stop himself, he lurched forward—straight into Poseidon’s arms again.
“Oh, for the love of the tides!” Poseidon groaned, effortlessly catching Apollo as if it were nothing. “You really need to stop this. You’re making it too easy for me.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Apollo protested, but there was a small laugh in his voice. He really couldn’t get angry at Poseidon, not when the god was so kind about it all.
Poseidon smirked, adjusting Apollo in his arms as if he were nothing more than a delicate kitten. “I’ll have to start bringing a leash for you, at this rate.” He gave a wink, his deep blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Maybe a little collar, just to make sure you don’t wander off and get yourself into trouble.”
“Stop!” Apollo grumbled, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. “You’re worse than Artemis. At least she doesn’t tease me about it.”
“Well, someone has to keep you from falling flat on your face,” Poseidon said, his voice a mix of amusement and care. “And I don’t mind being the one to do it. Besides, you’re a very cute disaster, Apollo.”
“Cute?” Apollo repeated, arching an eyebrow, half-surprised, half-exasperated. “I’m supposed to be majestic and perfect, not… cute.” He tried to stand on his own again, but Poseidon’s hands remained gently but firmly around his waist, making sure he wouldn’t slip.
“You’re cute whether you like it or not,” Poseidon teased, his smile softening into something more affectionate as he gazed at the sun god. “Now, come on. You’ve got a whole mountain of gods here, and none of them would let you fall. Not if I can help it.”
Despite his embarrassment, Apollo couldn’t help but smile as Poseidon helped him regain his footing once again. There was something about the older god's presence that made him feel safe—like, no matter how many times he tripped, Poseidon would always be there, like a rock in a sea of clumsy chaos.
“I hate to admit it, but…” Apollo murmured, his voice slightly sheepish, “I think I’m glad you’re here.”
Poseidon’s grin only widened. “I’m always here, little one. Now, let’s get you to where you were going before you trip again.”
---
And so, with Poseidon by his side, Apollo managed to navigate the halls of Olympus, one clumsy step at a time. Perhaps it was a god’s curse to be so graceless on their feet, but at least Apollo had Poseidon, who was always ready to catch him when he fell.
Chapter 316: Apollo, the Mediator
Notes:
So tomorrow I have a dance at my school— and I need you all to rate how I look. FYI I am also gonna have a different hairstyle—
https://photos.app.goo.gl/D6vhRxUxuT5ChxxR8
Chapter Text
Title: "Apollo, the Mediator"
---
Apollo had been in Olympus long enough to know that when the clouds darkened, and the air thickened with tension, there was one thing that was certain: a fight between Poseidon and Athena was imminent. And, much to his exasperation, he was always the one dragged into the center of it.
Today was no exception. He had barely set foot in the grand hall when the shouting started.
"Your waterlogged nonsense is ruining the seas! Everything's muddy!" Athena's voice rang out, sharp as a spear.
"You've no respect for the natural world!" Poseidon's booming voice followed, filled with an unrestrained anger only a god of the sea could possess. "The tides ebb and flow with me, not with your whimsy!"
"Both of you are the worst!" Apollo muttered under his breath as he tried to slip into a quiet corner, hoping to escape the familiar chaos. But, of course, it was not meant to be.
Suddenly, Poseidon's trident flew across the room, striking the floor with a deafening crash, and Athena's spear shot forward, narrowly missing the tip of Apollo's golden hair.
"Not again," he groaned.
In a split second, Apollo was yanked out of his peaceful corner and found himself in between the two titans of Olympus. His hands instinctively raised in surrender, a helpless smile spreading across his face as he tried to make eye contact with both of them.
"Enough! Please, just stop," Apollo begged, his golden hair shining under the dim light. "You’re both being ridiculous!"
Poseidon, his eyes filled with stormy wrath, shot Apollo a look. “You’re always the one trying to stop this, Apollo. What do you know of the seas, of the storms I control?”
Athena sneered. “Or of the wisdom I give to the world? You, who spends all your time with the muses, playing lyres and writing songs, trying to please mortals?”
Apollo blinked at them, face a mask of forced patience. “I know a lot about bringing peace, which is something neither of you seem to know how to do right now.”
"You're always the one they send to calm us," Athena said, her tone icy but tinged with something else—something soft, like the trace of a smile she was trying to hide.
"Because someone has to be the grown-up here," Apollo quipped, earning a snort from Athena and a chuckle from Poseidon. "But seriously, must we go through this again?"
"I'll be damned if I ever listen to Athena's ridiculous proposals on how to change the seas," Poseidon muttered.
Athena rolled her eyes. "You act like the world revolves around you and your oceans, Poseidon. But the world needs my wisdom more than your waves!"
"You’re both being impossible," Apollo sighed. His golden eyes flickered with a brief flash of annoyance, but his voice remained soothing. "Look, you both have valid points. The world does need the seas and the wisdom, but it also needs balance. I don't know why you can't just agree on that!"
Poseidon and Athena looked at each other for a long moment before Poseidon muttered under his breath, “Well, maybe she has a point about the tides.”
Athena lifted an eyebrow. "What? You’re agreeing with me?"
"Just this once," Poseidon grumbled.
Apollo’s lips twitched into a grin. "See? Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?"
Poseidon huffed. "Fine. But she still talks too much."
“And you’re still too loud,” Athena countered.
"Thank you, thank you," Apollo said, raising his hands as if he were an ambassador who had just brokered world peace. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go write a song about this. I’ll call it ‘The Great and Terrible Truce Between Poseidon and Athena.’"
The two gods watched as Apollo swaggered out of the hall, still smiling to himself. And for once, there was no immediate retaliation.
"You know," Athena began after a few moments, "I hate to admit it, but he does have a way of making us stop fighting."
Poseidon looked at her, his stormy demeanor softening just a little. "Yeah, that damn sun god."
"Only when he wants to be," Athena muttered, watching him disappear into the halls of Olympus.
Poseidon sighed, his trident returning to his side. "Maybe we should try not to pick on each other next time."
Athena chuckled softly, looking at the place where Apollo had vanished. "Only because Apollo said so."
And in that moment, for the briefest of seconds, the gods of the sea and wisdom shared something close to harmony.
But only until the next fight.
Chapter 317: Divine Diagnosis: Apollo’s Wrath in Scrubs
Chapter Text
Title: “Divine Diagnosis: Apollo’s Wrath in Scrubs”
Tags: Humor, Scared Olympians, Healer Apollo, Divine Nagging, Soft!Apollo Terror
---
You’d think being an Olympian god — immortal, all-powerful, terrifying in your own right — would mean never having to suffer humiliation.
You’d be wrong.
Because if you got injured, there was one god you had to face.
Apollo.
The healer of Olympus. The sun god. The golden boy of Olympus with enough power to level continents… and a tongue sharp enough to scar your soul.
---
“Ares,” Apollo said sweetly one day, stitching up a gash from a very avoidable spear mishap, “do you enjoy running into your enemies’ weapons chest-first?”
Ares grunted.
Apollo's smile widened, teeth gleaming like divine daggers. “Because I could’ve sworn you had a shield. You remember shields? Round? Protect-y?”
“I was—!”
“‘In the moment?’” Apollo’s voice dropped an octave, terrifyingly calm. “You’re lucky I love your idiotic self or I’d let that infected shoulder rot for a week.”
---
Even Zeus, king of Olympus, once limped into the infirmary with a lightning burn and came out quiet, meek, and ashamed.
“He lectured me about basic storm safety,” Zeus whispered to Hera. “He brought out a PowerPoint.”
“You’re immortal!” Hera snapped.
“He added transitions!”
---
Athena once broke her arm in a realm-bending battle and was subjected to a thirty-minute presentation titled “You’re Smart, So Be Smart: Don’t Use Your Elbow As a Weapon.” The trauma lingered.
“Why don’t you just heal us silently?” she asked once.
Apollo only smiled and said, “Because I care.”
That smile haunts her dreams.
---
Now, every time a god gets hurt, Olympus goes quiet.
Not out of sympathy.
But because someone will have to face The Apollo Lecture.
And no one wants to be the next case study in his binder titled: “Why You’re Dumb and I’m the Only Reason You’re Still Alive.”
Chapter 318: Revolution by Accident
Chapter Text
Title: “Revolution by Accident”
Ship: Perpollo (Percy Jackson x Apollo)
Characters: Apollo, Percy, Zeus, the Olympians, Apollo’s children
Genre: Humor, Chaos, Romance, Mild Crack
---
It started with a joke. A very bad one.
Zeus had chuckled — lightning crackling faintly around him — and said, “If you want to have Apollo, boy, you’ll have to overthrow Olympus itself.”
He laughed like it was a joke. Percy didn’t.
Apollo, who had been sipping nectar and dangling his legs off the edge of a floating cloud, just beamed.
“Sounds romantic,” Apollo said dreamily, hand pressed to his abdomen. “You hear that, baby? Papa’s about to start a war for us.”
The silence after that was deafening.
---
Three days later, Olympus was in flames. Hera had barricaded herself in the spa. Hermes switched sides three times. Hades sent popcorn. Poseidon just leaned back with a martini muttering, “That’s my boy.”
Zeus had the gall to look surprised.
“You didn’t mean it literally?” Percy asked innocently, standing on top of the throne with a trident over his shoulder and Apollo perched beside him like a proud cat.
“I SAID IT TO SCARE YOU OFF!”
“Yeah, well,” Percy said, grinning, “it didn’t.”
---
The real surprise came when Apollo’s kids burst in, haggard and panicked.
“WE JUST FOUND OUT HE’S PREGNANT!” Will shouted.
“With Percy’s kid,” Kayla added, flailing.
“And he’s leading a revolution??”
They were halfway through trying to drag their glowing, golden, blissfully smug dad off the throne when Zeus wailed, “For the love of Chaos, at least stop the war now!”
Percy’s answer?
“Oh no. We’re going beyond Olympus. This is fun!”
---
As the stars shifted overhead and screams echoed from the underworld to the overworld, the gods realized something horrifying:
They weren’t scared of Percy Jackson.
They were scared of Apollo egging him on with love in his eyes and a baby in his belly.
And somewhere deep in Tartarus, even Kronos whispered, “That’s messed up.”
Chapter 319: Best Godly Parent”
Chapter Text
Title: “Best Godly Parent”
The idea had started as a joke.
A “Best Godly Parent Award” competition, hosted at Camp Half-Blood, with every god and goddess suddenly determined to prove they were the ultimate divine mom or dad.
Athena prepared a multi-page thesis and handed out IQ tests.
Ares flexed. Constantly.
Demeter showed up with a thousand different kinds of grain.
Even Zeus arrived, declaring that his very existence was a gift.
The only one who didn’t seem remotely interested was Apollo.
When asked if he’d vote for himself, he blinked and said, “There’s a competition?” while offering nectar popsicles to a group of six-year-olds he was babysitting. He had a flower crown in his hair. And glitter. Lots of glitter.
---
Voting Day arrived.
The gods stood tall. Gleaming. Proud. Poseidon even bribed the Stolls. (It didn’t work.)
Then Chiron opened the votes. One by one. Every single demigod child had written the same name:
Apollo.
Some added hearts. Others added glitter stickers. One vote had “Dad <3” scrawled in crayon.
The gods stared, stunned.
Hades whispered, “What the actual Underworld?”
Zeus looked five seconds from vaporizing someone.
Meanwhile, Apollo walked onto the stage… barefoot, with a toddler clinging to his leg, crayon smudges on his arms, and a tray of homemade ambrosia brownies in one hand.
“Did I win something?” he asked cheerfully, accepting the golden medal with one hand while handing a cookie to Clarisse with the other.
A little kid tugged on his toga. “Can you draw with me after?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” he said, kneeling down and reaching for the crayons.
---
The gods stood behind him, utterly crushed. Ego? Destroyed.
The demigods just shrugged. “He’s… actually there for us.”
Apollo, meanwhile, didn’t even notice.
He was busy drawing a rainbow unicorn with a kid named Lily. The medal around his neck caught the sun, but all he said was, “Don’t tell anyone, but mine’s the sparkliest unicorn.”
Chapter 320: Apollo, Bringer of Chaos (and Sunshine)
Chapter Text
Title: “Apollo, Bringer of Chaos (and Sunshine)”
Apollo was many things.
God of music. God of healing. God of prophecy. But above all else?
God of Being Annoyingly Endearing.
It was a quiet day in the Underworld. Hades was knee-deep in paperwork, signing soul transfers and looking particularly dead inside (even for a god of the dead), when—
“HADES!”
A golden explosion of sunlight burst through the ceiling. Screaming souls ducked. Cerberus yelped.
And there, floating upside down in a beam of sunlight with a daisy chain around his head, was Apollo.
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why.”
“You looked sad, so I brought FLOWERS!” Apollo announced proudly, holding out a basket. “Let’s make flower crowns and talk about our feelings!”
“I have seven thousand shades of regret and ten thousand soul appeals.”
“Perfect! I’ll sing you a song about daisies while we ignore them together!”
---
Elsewhere, Hermes was zooming across the mortal realm, delivering messages like a professional.
Until the Sun Chariot screeched into existence beside him and Apollo leaned out with a grin. “Hermes! HermesHermesHermes—come ride the sun with me!”
“I’m working.”
“No you’re not, you’re boring. Come on, we can do donuts around the moon!”
“I—”
“You’re already in the sky! Just pivot! It's called multitasking!”
Minutes later, Hermes was white-knuckled and screaming as the chariot hurtled through the clouds at lightspeed. Apollo cackled beside him, hair on fire (metaphorically) and joy in his eyes.
“THIS ISN’T HOW CHARIOTS WORK!” Hermes yelled.
“WE’RE MAKING IT WORK!”
---
Back in Olympus, a meeting of gods was interrupted by a notification scroll:
“Apollo has been banned from the Underworld for unauthorized flower therapy and is now grounded from the sun chariot for 2 weeks.”
Zeus sighed.
“Apollo?” he asked as the god strolled in with a mango smoothie.
“Yes, Father?”
“Stop bothering everyone while they work.”
Apollo blinked, looking genuinely confused. “But I am working. I'm spreading joy.”
There was a pause.
Then Dionysus nodded slowly. “He’s not wrong.”
They never got their meeting back on track. Not with Apollo braiding Athena’s hair and trying to convince Ares to join his new musical “Underworld! The Musical.”
(Ares eventually agreed. Hades did not.)
Chapter 321: When the Sun Weeps
Chapter Text
Title: "When the Sun Weeps"
The sun didn’t rise that morning.
Camp Half-Blood stirred uneasily beneath gray skies. A chill hung in the air, unnatural and suffocating. No songs echoed from Cabin 7. No laughter, no warmth, no light.
Apollo was crying.
Not the delicate kind of tears, not the poetic kind he often wrote about in his songs. These were deep, wrenching sobs — the kind that shook the earth if he didn’t try so hard to hold them back. The kind that made flowers wilt and birds fall silent.
He hadn’t said a word since he woke up. One second, he was asleep on a couch in the Big House, and the next he had bolted upright, face twisted with raw horror — and he’d broken.
They found him curled into himself, hands clutching his head, tears soaking the sheets as he shook silently. Whenever someone tried to touch him, he flinched.
Artemis arrived first.
She dismissed the others with a sharp glare, knelt beside him, and reached out—but even she was pushed away by a gust of divine light as Apollo curled tighter, whispering fragments.
“Gone. All of them… I couldn’t stop it—I couldn’t—”
“Brother,” she whispered. “You’re here. You’re safe. We’re safe.”
But he didn’t respond.
Hermes tried next, rambling stories and jokes to fill the silence. He couldn’t stand seeing Apollo like this. The sun god was always light. The fun, flirty one. The one who made everything just a little less unbearable.
But this wasn’t Apollo.
This was a child—eternally ancient and somehow still so young—lost in a nightmare he refused to share.
Dionysus offered wine to knock him out again. Hades threatened to drag the dream itself into the Underworld and torture it. Even Athena showed up with logical explanations and magical solutions.
Nothing worked.
Eventually, it was Hyacinthus who got through.
He didn’t touch him. Didn’t speak at first. Just sat beside Apollo in silence. Let the sobs come. Let the world tremble with them.
Then, gently, he said, “Was it me?”
Apollo’s breath hitched.
“Was it me who died again this time?”
More silence. Then a hoarse whisper:
“You all did.”
Hyacinthus’s eyes softened.
“I’ve died before, love. We always find our way back.”
“No,” Apollo whispered, voice small and broken, “this time… there was no return. No Elysium. No stars. Nothing. Just darkness. I was alone.”
He clutched at his chest, sobbing anew. “And I let it happen. I watched.”
Hyacinthus pulled him close, wrapping strong arms around his trembling form.
“We’re still here,” he whispered into Apollo’s hair. “You’re not alone. You never were.”
Slowly, Apollo’s sobs began to quiet. His hands shook, but he leaned into the touch.
The clouds above began to part.
Just a little.
Enough for a single beam of golden light to break through and kiss the earth.
Apollo would never forget that dream.
But he wasn’t alone in waking from it.
Chapter 322: The Bloom Before the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “The Bloom Before the Sun”
At Camp Half-Blood, everyone knew the tale of Hyacinthus — the beautiful Spartan prince turned tragic lover of Apollo, a mortal boy whose death gave birth to the flower and sorrow of the sun god.
They thought it a love story. A mortal turned eternal in Apollo’s grief.
They were wrong.
Very, very wrong.
It started subtly. Whispers of something ancient stirring, a strange energy that made even the monsters pause near the borders. Then came the first clue: Kronos, mid-rising in the Second Titan War, froze. Not in fear of the gods, not of Poseidon or Zeus—
But of a single name uttered in warning.
“Step further, Titan,” a voice had echoed, “and I will undo you as I did before your father awoke from the void.”
Everyone thought it was Apollo—until they turned and saw someone else standing beside him.
Tall. Pale as moonlit marble. Hair like night-drenched hyacinths. Eyes endless as the space before creation.
And the look he gave Kronos made the Titan whimper.
In the aftermath, the gods didn't explain. They looked... uncomfortable. Athena refused to speak. Even Ares left the room with a muttered excuse.
Only Apollo smiled like everything was perfectly fine.
When Gaia began to rise, it happened again.
Hyacinthus appeared—not summoned, not begged—and stood before her groaning, rising form. He whispered something in a language no one remembered, and Gaia screamed. The earth cracked. The sky bled gold.
She never rose again.
After that, Camp Half-Blood demanded answers.
Apollo, playing innocent, simply hummed. “Oh? You mean Hyacinthus? He’s always been like that.”
“He was mortal!” Clarisse snapped. “He died! There’s a flower!”
“Darling, do you really think a flower could hold his soul?” Apollo chuckled. “He let you think he was mortal. He wanted peace. Rest. He had already reigned long before any of us sang our first hymns.”
Hyacinthus didn’t care to explain. He never did. He hated attention—unless it was from Apollo. For him, he would light up like dawn, touch gentle and eyes impossibly soft. For the rest of the world, he barely tolerated their existence.
Unless they messed with Apollo's children.
Let’s just say no one tried bullying the Apollo cabin after Hyacinthus stared down a literal Fury and made it apologize.
He doted on them. Brought them divine gifts, taught them old magics that didn’t exist in any book. Sometimes they’d catch him just watching them with an unreadable look—as if judging whether this world deserved them.
And when someone asked why he was so protective of Apollo’s kids?
He had simply said, “Because they carry his light. They are mine as they are his. Touch them and you will learn what death felt before time began.”
After that, even the gods tread lightly.
Possessive didn’t begin to describe it. He hovered close to Apollo like a shadow and starlight. They didn’t touch often in public—but when they did, the air bent around them.
Apollo? He seemed utterly at peace, laughing in Hyacinthus’ arms like he always knew who he truly was.
As for Camp?
They stopped telling the Apollo kids they were annoying. No one wanted to become pre-time ash.
Because now they knew.
Hyacinthus was no tragic boy.
He was the bloom before the gods.
And Apollo was the only thing in the universe he would never let go.
Chapter 323: Parental Protocol: Apollo Edition
Chapter Text
Title: “Parental Protocol: Apollo Edition”
Being loved by both Apollo and Hyacinthus was like being wrapped in eternal sunshine… and being watched by a pre-cosmic void that would smite you with a smile.
Just ask Will Solace. Or better yet—ask Nico di Angelo, who had to endure the first meeting.
Will had warned him. Gently. Desperately.
“They love me, Nico. Like—really love me. I’m their favorite.”
Nico, being Nico, shrugged. “I’ve met Apollo. He’s annoying but harmless.”
Will stared. “It’s not just Apollo.”
Then they arrived.
Apollo, radiant and giddy, practically teleported to hug Will and Nico both. “My sunbeam! And the shadow-snuggler! Look at you—dating!”
Hyacinthus followed, silent, graceful, terrifying. He looked at Nico once. Just once. And Nico swore the shadows around him recoiled.
“You,” Hyacinthus said flatly, “bring your scythe to your next date. I want to spar.”
“Hyacinthus,” Apollo chided gently, “we talked about not threatening the children’s soulmates.”
“I’m not threatening,” he said smoothly. “I’m evaluating.”
Nico had to survive a seven-hour lunch of Apollo showing baby pictures and Hyacinthus occasionally flexing godly power by making plants bloom into Will’s favorite herbs when the conversation lulled. Also: intense, unblinking eye contact.
---
Asclepius, meanwhile, had it worse.
As a literal god of medicine, he was already under constant Apollo-hyacinthian surveillance, whether he liked it or not.
So when he finally introduced his lover—an unassuming, mortal healer named Eiran—to his parents, he almost considered eloping.
It went about how he expected.
Apollo, wearing a sunflower crown and holding a basket of healing herbs, greeted Eiran with a bright, sharp smile. “You touch my son with anything less than absolute reverence, and I’ll replace your blood with liquid sunshine. Understand?”
Eiran blinked. “...Yes, Lord Apollo.”
“And I,” Hyacinthus added, stepping in behind him, “will flay your name from every record of time.”
Asclepius sighed. “Dads. Please.”
Apollo immediately softened. “We’re just worried about you, lovebug. Our precious miracle. You deserve the galaxies.”
“Stars,” Hyacinthus corrected. “Galaxies are inferior.”
“I meant the metaphorical kind—”
“Still inferior.”
Asclepius buried his face in his hands. Eiran stood beside him, pale but determined.
They got through dinner. Barely.
---
Everyone at Camp knows not to mess with Will or Asclepius. Not because they’re powerful—though they are—but because their parents are terrifyingly powerful and insanely possessive.
Will once tripped and scraped his knee.
Apollo wailed, Hyacinthus materialized with bandages from a pre-Olympian era, and three nearby campers fainted from the aura of concern.
Asclepius once mentioned a headache. Apollo tried to rewrite celestial alignment to avoid planetary stress. Hyacinthus threatened to collapse a star out of spite.
Needless to say, dating either of them came with a warning.
If you broke their hearts?
There’d be no place in the universe safe enough to hide.
Chapter 324: The Sun That Was Left Behind
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun That Was Left Behind”
Once, the sun sang across Olympus.
Once, Apollo—she who once laughed with her brother Artemis beneath golden skies, whose music soothed gods and mortals alike—was cherished. Leto had held her hand like it was a flame too precious to dim. Poseidon had taught her how to ride sea storms. Hades had once called her little light in a rare smile.
But time is cruel.
And divinity even crueler.
As centuries passed, she watched their warmth vanish. Artemis became cold, always chasing monsters or glory. Leto withdrew into quiet reverence, pride becoming silence. The others… they brushed past her in councils. Dismissed her brightness as arrogance. Laughed when she cried.
Even Poseidon, once her sea-uncle, grumbled about her “childishness.” Even Hades said, “Your drama weighs heavier than shadow.”
Apollo stopped speaking after that.
At first, she tried harder. Sang louder. Made gifts. Tried to reclaim her place with trembling hands.
But the gods don’t hear when they’ve decided not to listen.
So she stopped.
She dimmed.
Withdrawn from Olympus, she wandered the world—until, in that broken quiet, she held her child. A boy born not in triumph, but in defiance.
Asclepius.
She raised him with shaking hands and a cracking heart, but her smile was warm again when she looked at him.
And he—he grew into a storm cloaked in medicine, with love as sharp as his scalpel.
He noticed everything.
The way Olympus muttered when his mother entered the room.
The way her eyes flickered with hope every time Artemis stepped into a meeting, only to look away.
The way she smiled, always dimmer than before.
And he burned with it.
Even as he stitched wounds and healed the sick, Asclepius made himself a vow: I will protect my mother from gods, fate, and time.
When Hyacinthus returned—no longer mortal, no longer a whisper of myth, but a god whose very presence made time hesitate—Apollo smiled again. Just a little.
They married in the wild fields where she once mourned him, her tears turning to gold under his fingers.
And Asclepius stood beside them, a sentinel in white.
He did not speak to the Olympians unless necessary. He glared.
When Zeus called for Apollo’s “expertise,” Asclepius replied, “She’s not your tool. Try asking like she’s not disposable.”
When Artemis finally asked for a meeting—centuries later, regret twisting his voice—Asclepius stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“You abandoned her,” he said, voice cold. “You don’t get to act like that didn’t happen.”
And when Poseidon, pride cracked at last, offered an apology, Asclepius only raised a brow.
“She cried for you. For all of you. And you treated her like noise. Now you remember the sun?”
Only Hyacinthus was ever allowed close. Only the Apollo children were ever forgiven.
Because in Asclepius’s eyes, everyone else failed.
Everyone else didn’t see that the sun had been bleeding light for millennia.
And now?
Now the sun shone where she was wanted—in a house of healing and stars, wrapped in Hyacinthus’s arms, with her children around her.
It took the gods two thousand years to realize they had lost their light.
But by then, Apollo had built a new sky to shine in.
Chapter 325: For the Sun, a Moon Will Hunt
Chapter Text
Title: “For the Sun, a Moon Will Hunt”
When Artemis first formed the Hunt, Olympus assumed it was out of disdain for men, or love of wildness, or to honor maidenhood. They were wrong.
He never corrected them.
Because the Hunt was never about mortals.
It was about her.
Apollo, radiant and laughing, all golden curls and soft songs—always too bright, too kind for Olympus. She loved too easily, forgave too deeply, and wandered where gods feared to step. And because of that, the world tried again and again to snuff her out.
So Artemis sharpened his arrows.
It was Leto’s idea. “She’s the sun, Arty,” Leto had said, voice low with an edge of desperation. “But even the sun needs a shield.”
And Artemis, cold-eyed and silver-lit, said simply, “Then I will be that shield.”
He gathered girls who had nowhere else to go. Girls who had been broken, hunted, and overlooked. He made them wild, dangerous, free—and loyal. He taught them not just to protect themselves, but her. If anyone wanted to reach Apollo, they’d have to get past him first. And the Hunt. And the wolves.
He never let her know.
Apollo thought he just liked camping in forests and chasing stags.
She’d smile and wave at him when she rode her chariot, and Artemis, perched in his trees, would nod coolly—never saying why he was there, always making sure he was near.
He once killed a king for calling her weak. Another time, he cursed a prince for daring to say her music was “too much.”
He did not forgive threats to Apollo.
And when Apollo wept alone after the gods mocked her, it was Artemis who watched from a distance, fists clenched and jaw tight, carving new sigils of protection into the trees around her temple.
His Hunt knew. They always knew. Their true goddess was the sun.
Artemis was only their commander.
But Apollo? Apollo was everything.
So they guarded her.
Not because she asked.
But because someone had to.
And Artemis—Artemis would burn the world before he let anyone touch his sister again.
Chapter 326: The Sun Belongs to Me
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun Belongs to Me”
The only thing more radiant than Apollo’s smile was Leto’s fury when someone dared look at her the wrong way.
“She smiled at me!” Hermes once protested after being body-slammed by the primordial god. “She asked how my day was!”
“And what exactly were your intentions?” Leto snapped, standing protectively in front of Apollo like a wolf before its pup.
Hermes cried.
**
Leto wasn’t always like this—at least, not openly. But when Apollo was born, golden and warm and fragile in a way only a god of love and light could be, Leto knew.
Knew the world would try to use her. Break her. Twist her.
So he swore—no one would touch his sun.
No one.
Only Artemis was allowed close, because Artemis—Artemis knew how to guard what was precious.
Even Zeus wasn’t spared. When he once tried to say something “fatherly” to Apollo, Leto physically yeeted him into the stratosphere with a glare so furious, mortals mistook it for a meteor storm.
“Mine,” he hissed. “She doesn’t need another god trying to chain her.”
Apollo, for her part, found it… vaguely annoying.
“Dad, please,” she groaned, trying to wave at a friendly nymph.
Leto immediately put her behind him and snapped the nymph’s reed flute in half.
“No.”
**
Artemis had to be the buffer. Whenever Apollo wanted to walk in Olympus, Artemis flanked her, cool and sharp and silently daring anyone to step too close—because if they did, Leto would descend from the heavens in a literal sunbeam of rage.
And gods talked. Whispered.
“She’s his daughter, not his prisoner.”
“Why is he always watching her?”
“I once sneezed near her and he cursed my bloodline.”
But no one did more than whisper. Because one time Ares made a joke about Apollo’s "softness"—
And woke up three weeks later with no memory, trembling, clutching a plush sun-pillow, and begging Leto never to look at him like that again.
**
Still, Apollo never doubted her father’s love. Because in the silence after a nightmare, he was there. In the cheering from the shadows at every song she sang, he was there. And when she asked, trembling, if she was too much, too bright, too her—he only kissed her brow and whispered:
“You are mine. You shine, and I will guard that shine until the stars fall.”
And Apollo, cradled in arms that shook the heavens, smiled.
Because maybe it was overbearing, and intense, and a little scary.
But it was love.
And she’d never trade it.
Chapter 327: Cradled in Light
Chapter Text
Title: "Cradled in Light"
The first time Aether saw her, he was quiet.
Unusual, for a being who gleamed with the full brilliance of the upper sky, louder than thunder and brighter than flame. But when he saw her—Apollo, goddess of sun and warmth and beauty beyond reason—he simply stilled.
Then he said, “You will be my bride.”
Apollo blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve decided.”
That was the beginning of it all.
**
Aether did not court like the others. He did not send flowers or serenade her under the moonlight—because he hated when she was under the moonlight. No, Aether blazed. He cloaked her in his daylight, carried her in beams of golden silk, and cradled her in the upper air where no one else could reach.
He kissed her forehead and whispered, “You are too soft to be touched by the cold.”
He curled her into his chest when twilight approached. “You are too precious to walk in shadow.”
Apollo laughed softly and brushed his cheek with her warm hands. “You’re so dramatic.”
But he didn’t answer—just pressed her closer into his glow. And when she finally asked why he only ever let her wander when the light was strongest, he answered simply:
“Because the dark is greedy. And I don’t share what’s mine.”
**
When their children were born—glimmering, radiant, bright like their parents—Aether only became more possessive.
He wouldn’t let them leave when the sky dimmed, wouldn’t let them stray far without a spark of his power in their blood pulsing to guide them home. Even Nyx once tried to greet them, and Aether sent a spear of pure daylight splitting through her shadow.
“They are hers. They belong to the light,” he snapped, wings of brightness coiling around Apollo and their children like a living shield. “Don’t touch them.”
The other gods whispered behind their hands, called him obsessed, called him suffocating.
Apollo, lounging in a throne of sunlight and velvet, giggled while feeding one of their toddlers pieces of candied fig.
“He’s just overprotective,” she said. “He’s sweet.”
**
She never noticed the way his light shifted at dusk, growing sharper as he pulled her into their golden palace.
She never noticed the way Aether’s breath hitched if she even glanced toward the shadowed corners of Olympus.
All she ever knew was that he always held her gently, called her “my warmth,” “my dawn,” and “my forever.”
And if the world outside dimmed when she left his arms for even a second… well. Apollo never stayed away long.
Not when Aether was always there—radiant, soft, and waiting.
Notes:
Is anyone else's parents the worst? Like they say "we don't have favorites" but then they favor your other siblings? Like they bought my little brother a $70 game and take my older brother to concerts (even though they almost died in the last one to New York) but when me and my sister want something they say "we don't have money right now/we owe your brother money/maybe next time."
Like— it's so unfair! Me and my sister never get shit! And I need a polo for my concerts that is $20 but my mom still hasn't given me the money even though she has it. At this point I'll need to use my $30. Plus my sister and I are fucking straight A students basically (except for the fact I had a B+ in math 2nd quarter and have C in band since I forgot to turn in an assignment) but my little brother has terrible grades and my older brother basically ruined his life dropping out of college even though he had all honors.
Not to mention the fact they keep on planning vacations, me and my sister don't want to go on, school days. We're missing important school shit because of them. We can look after ourselves but they never allow us to!
My mom also is always taking our money and says "she'll pay us back" but never does because of "bills" "I need to pay your brother back first" but then she goes and buys my little brother snacks or buys Victoria Secret shit. Like she owes my sister me $100+ probably
Finally, they let my brother go uptown alone but when my sister and I go uptown with friends it's suddenly to dangerous? "Oh it's because your girls...I don't mean it like that but..." Sexist much? My friend literally has a black belt in karate and my sister always carries a knife around with her outside....
Sorry for the long rant I'm just so fucking angry and suicidal rn
Chapter 328: The Throne of Shadows and Sunlight
Chapter Text
Title: "The Throne of Shadows and Sunlight"
In the deepest chasm of existence, where light dared not linger and reality twisted under the weight of forgotten screams, she arrived.
Golden and glowing, warmth in a place that had never known it. Apollo—radiant goddess of the sun—stepped barefoot into Tartarus, humming softly as if she hadn’t just defied every warning, prophecy, and terrified Olympian plea.
And Tartarus, the primordial abyss, the thing that even Chaos watched warily—froze.
She didn’t flinch at the void around her.
She just smiled, warm as dawn, and climbed onto his lap like she’d done it a hundred times.
“You weren’t going to come visit,” she murmured, tapping his stern chest. “So I came to you.”
He stared. Blank. Cold. Empty-eyed.
Until she ran her fingers through his tangled black hair.
Then something in him cracked.
**
No one touched Tartarus. Not Hades, not Nyx, not even Khaos.
But Apollo? She threaded sun-warmed fingers through his hair, brushed shadows off his face, kissed the corner of his unmoving lips, and made him melt.
“Move,” she said once, when she wanted to lie across his massive chest.
He shifted instantly, lowering his head so she could drape herself over him like he was hers.
Because he was.
**
He was merciless. A walking pit of cruelty, screaming souls and endless torment.
But the moment Willow—his favorite of her children—giggled and asked, “Can I braid your hair, Papa Pit?” he nodded.
Not only did he let her braid his hair with wildflowers, he even leaned down and smiled softly. When the rest of Apollo’s kids clambered up his massive form, painting his claws and lining his void-black eyes with glitter, he simply smiled.
“You look pretty!” one shouted.
He blinked slowly, then said, “Your mother’s beauty is contagious.”
Apollo laughed from her perch on his shoulder, beaming. “Oh? You admitting I’m pretty now?”
“You always were.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Only the pit knew how much it craved the sun.”
**
He was cold, cruel, and silent to the world.
But when Apollo kissed his jaw, he tipped his head for her like a beast tamed.
When her children smiled, he bore the weight of flower crowns and love like a crown of stars.
And when she called him hers—his darkness swore itself to her light forever.
Chapter 329: The Sun’s Design
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun’s Design”
They thought Helios would be furious.
After all, Apollo—a bright, beautiful upstart—was given the mantle of the Sun. The golden chariot, the divine flame, the reverence of mortals. A role once belonging to him. Surely he would rage, demand restitution, maybe even strike down Olympus with fire and fury.
But Helios only smiled.
A slow, knowing, dangerous smile.
“Of course she will need a teacher,” he said softly, voice burning like sunlight on glass. “A guide to handle such sacred power.”
And Zeus, already sweating under that smile, agreed far too quickly.
**
Apollo didn’t know why Zeus looked so pale when he handed her the Sun’s reins, or why Helios was already waiting the moment she stepped toward the golden chariot.
She only knew that Helios looked at her like she was the sun.
“You’ll burn out without my help,” he said simply, reaching to adjust her grip on the reins.
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull away. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to babysit me, old man?”
He chuckled. “If I wanted to watch over you, I’d have crafted a plan centuries in the making.”
She laughed. He smiled wider.
She didn’t know how true that was.
**
Every lesson was another step deeper into his world.
How to guide the horses.
How to carry the warmth without scorching.
How to listen to the heartbeat of the skies.
And every day, Helios watched her more like a man falling in love than a god mentoring a successor.
“I’m not your daughter,” Apollo huffed one afternoon, glowing with heat and irritation after misguiding the horses.
“No,” Helios murmured, brushing gold-dust from her cheek. “You’re something far more dangerous.”
She blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer. Not with words.
**
Zeus once whispered to Hera that Helios had gone mad—that he hadn’t fought for his throne back because he'd traded it for obsession.
He wasn't wrong.
Helios had orchestrated every whisper, every prophecy, every thread of fate that would lead Apollo here. Becoming a Sun goddess was never a threat—it was his design.
Because if she became the sun, she had to be with him.
And when she finally stood beside him, blazing with radiant glory and smiling at the sky—
Helios took her hand and said, “My sun. My bride.”
And this time, Apollo didn’t argue.
Chapter 330: His Sun, His Bride
Chapter Text
Title: “His Sun, His Bride”
In another world, it was not Zeus who struck Kronos down.
It was Hyperion—the Titan of Light, the Watcher from the East, the First Flame. With fire in his eyes and vengeance in his fists, he tore through the Titanomachy like the dawn itself. Olympus burned with new light not forged by thunder, but by radiance.
And when the dust settled, it was he who sat upon the throne.
**
Years later, when Leto bore two divine twins, Hyperion saw her.
Apollo.
Golden-haired, amber-eyed, burning with a warmth even gods could not touch.
From the moment she opened her eyes to the morning sky, Hyperion knew: She was made for him.
And no one—no one—would take her from him.
“She will be raised in my palace,” Hyperion said, voice like a sunstorm, unshakable and final.
Zeus dared to open his mouth. He was silenced with a glance.
**
Apollo grew in Hyperion’s court, bright as a star and soft as moonlight. He never once let her want for anything. Dresses spun from dawn. Gold jewelry crafted from light itself. A personal garden where the sun bloomed all year round.
But most of all—him.
She was his. And he made sure the world knew it.
When she turned of age, he crowned her in fire and kissed her forehead before the Titan Council. “My sun. My consort. My queen.”
Apollo turned pink. She always did when he said things like that.
“Do I really have to sit in your lap during meetings?” she whispered once, fidgeting in his arms as the other Titans watched with careful reverence.
“Yes,” he said simply, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Where else would my bride be?”
She buried her face in his shoulder with a flustered whimper, and he only held her tighter, eyes glowing like twin eclipses at anyone who stared too long.
**
Gods and Titans alike learned quickly: no one touched Apollo. No one looked at her with anything less than awe.
Because Hyperion was light incarnate—and for his sun goddess, he would burn the world twice over.
Chapter 331: The Darkness That Loved the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: “The Darkness That Loved the Sun”
No one knew where Apollo had gone.
One day, the bright goddess of healing, light, and song had simply… vanished.
Olympus searched. The world searched. But she was nowhere to be found.
Because she was beneath the world.
Hidden away in the deepest heart of shadow.
In his palace.
Erebus—the primordial god of darkness, the veil before creation. Silent. Ancient. Unmoving.
Until he saw her.
And then he moved.
**
He hadn’t let her leave in years.
At first, Apollo raged. She burned bright. Screamed and cried and threatened to burn his palace down to cinders.
He simply watched, eyes as endless as the void.
"You’re mine," he whispered, not like a lover, but like an unyielding law of reality. "You belong in the dark."
"You’re insane."
"And you’re beautiful."
**
Eventually, her flame quieted—not extinguished, but dimmed. Not because she broke, but because he was so patient. So soft with her, in his twisted way.
He never hurt her. He gave her everything.
Books. Gardens of glowing flowers. Dresses that shimmered like starlight. A throne beside his, shadow-wrought and sun-kissed.
“Be my wife,” he murmured every day, fingers brushing her hair like it was made of threads of fire. “Say yes, little sun. Say yes.”
Eventually, she did.
And the world above shuddered as darkness and sunlight married in silence.
**
He adored her children.
Every demigod child she bore—beings of light, warmth, laughter—were his treasures. His little flickers of her, each one cradled in his vast hands like fireflies.
Especially the Apollo cabin.
“They look like you,” he’d rumble proudly, while little Willow braided flowers into his hair and Asclepius gave him glow-in-the-dark stickers for being a “good dad.”
**
He was, for the most part.
Unless you tried to date his kids.
Then he was insane.
Percy Jackson got one warning.
Nico got none.
The Underworld literally trembled when Erebus dragged Nico into his throne room and smiled.
“You want to date my daughter?” he asked, shadows crawling like hands across the floor. “Do you know what I am, little godling?”
Needless to say, Nico never forgot that moment.
Neither did Percy.
**
And Apollo?
She just sipped her tea from her throne of light and shadow, ignoring the screams echoing down the obsidian halls.
“…You did threaten to flay Jason alive for looking at Will,” she reminded sweetly.
Erebus smiled serenely. “Yes. But only once.”
Apollo rolled her eyes.
But her cheeks were flushed.
She would never admit it—but some part of her still liked being adored this much.
Chapter 332: Light Knows No Bounds
Chapter Text
Title: “Light Knows No Bounds”
When Helios heard the news, the skies dimmed.
He was lounging on his solar throne, sipping ambrosia, when the whisper reached him like a spark carried on wind.
Apollo, mortal.
He sat still.
Then he stood.
And the sun itself screamed.
"WHO." His voice cracked across dimensions like a thunderclap. "WHO DARED STRIP MY DAUGHTER OF HER DIVINITY?"
**
It didn’t take long for Hyperion to appear, golden eyes blazing, already armed.
"Was it Zeus?" he asked calmly.
Helios didn’t answer. Just nodded.
And Aether? The god of pure upper air and light arrived without a word, radiating like a second sun, his silence heavier than war drums.
Together—Light’s Wrath, Light’s Pride, and Light’s Purity—stood at Olympus’ gate.
**
Zeus tried to be smug. Really, he did.
But when three of the most ancient, pure embodiments of light appeared in front of his throne, staring him down like he was some insect beneath a magnifying glass—his smugness died.
“You dare make Apollo mortal?” Helios snarled, voice burning with suns.
“She needed to learn humility—” Zeus started.
“She needed her family.” Hyperion cut in, eyes glowing like twin infernos.
Aether said nothing. He didn’t have to. The pressure of his presence made the skies shake.
And yet… Zeus didn’t budge.
So the three of them turned around.
“Fine,” Helios said coldly. “Then we’ll join her.”
**
They found Apollo stumbling through her trials, scraped up and mortal and still fighting with that impossible glow in her golden eyes.
She blinked when she saw them—confused, soft, then just a little teary.
“You came?” she whispered.
Helios knelt in front of her. “You’re my daughter. I would burn the gods for you.”
Hyperion just swept her into a hug, petting her hair like she was still a tiny sunbeam in his arms.
Aether, with uncharacteristic gentleness, wrapped her in a veil of protective light. “Let’s finish this together.”
**
And they did.
Gods or not, they tore through the trials with her. Enemies evaporated. Monsters scattered. The land bent to their glow.
The mortals watching from afar whispered of a second dawn that never faded, of divine figures blazing alongside a mortal girl who still smiled like she carried the sun in her chest.
Because she did.
Because she was the sun.
And her family?
They made sure no one ever forgot it.
Chapter 333: Thread of Gold
Chapter Text
Title: "Thread of Gold"
No one knew how it happened.
How Apollo—Sunlight incarnate, laughter spun into godhood, and beauty so radiant it made even Artemis pause—ended up in the grasp of the Fates.
Yes, the Fates. Not one, not two, but all three. Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos. In this universe, all male, all timeless, and somehow, all obsessively in love with her.
And even stranger, she was in love with them too.
Well—kind of. Apollo (goddess of the sun, music, prophecy, and accidentally making people swoon just by blinking) thought they were just…very protective husbands. Very sweet. Maybe a little clingy, but that’s what love is, right?
She didn’t notice how they followed her everywhere.
How Clotho gently but firmly refused to let her go to battle “in such a delicate state” (she was not delicate).
How Lachesis rewrote whole prophecies to keep danger from touching a single hair on her head.
How Atropos, once so cold and indifferent to all, now sat beside her with a hand on her growing belly, whispering to her stomach like it was the most sacred thing he had ever touched.
It never even occurred to Apollo that it might be strange for a goddess to be pregnant nearly all the time.
“It’s probably just my divine fertility!” she’d say cheerfully, swinging her legs as she knitted baby socks with sunlight thread. “I do shine bright, after all!”
The Fates would just smile.
Possessive. Gentle. Obsessive. Worshipful.
Each child of Apollo was treasured like a crown jewel, and gods help anyone who so much as sneezed near one of them. Camp Half-Blood learned quickly never to raise their voice at the little golden-haired babies who giggled and made flowers bloom in their footsteps. Because Clotho appeared behind them, scissors in hand, face calm and terrifying.
“A thread is so easy to cut, isn’t it?”
Apollo remained blissfully unaware of the terror her husbands inspired.
She was too busy painting the nursery walls in gold and starlight, humming lullabies that made the constellations weep, and dancing barefoot across Fate’s Loom as her husbands wrapped her in silken thread like a gift they would never stop adoring.
“Love you,” she’d whisper.
And all three Fates, in perfect unison, would answer:
“You are our thread of gold. And we will never let you fray.”
Chapter 334: The Sun and Her Swift Shadow
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun and Her Swift Shadow"
It started when Hermes was barely more than a toddler, his caduceus too big for his hands and his wings still twitchy and new.
He’d climbed Mt. Olympus without permission—again—only to find himself lost and teary-eyed near the sunlit halls.
Apollo had found him, giggling and warm, scooping him up without a second thought.
"Well, look at this little comet,” she cooed, brushing his curls back. “You lost, baby bird?"
He'd sniffled, wrapped his arms around her neck, and declared—firmly, eternally:
“You’re my mom now.”
From that day forward, Apollo was no longer just the Sun. She was his sun.
---
Now, centuries later, Hermes was taller, faster, sharper—but none of that changed how he would barge into her sunlit temple just to drape himself across her lap like a possessive cat.
“You’re supposed to be delivering a treaty,” Apollo murmured, one hand running lazily through his hair.
“They can wait. You’re more important.”
Apollo laughed, soft and honeyed. “You’re clingy.”
“I’m dedicated.” He huffed, nuzzling against her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to protect you from everyone else.”
“You’re the god of thieves, Hermes.”
“Exactly. I know how sneaky people are. You’re too pretty, too bright. Someone has to watch your back.”
He had a point. Apollo wasn’t exactly unnoticed on Olympus. Gods and monsters alike pined for her warmth—and that made Hermes furious.
When Ares so much as winked at her? Hermes knocked over half his armory.
When Dionysus called her “sunshine lips”? Hermes accidentally rerouted all his wine shipments to the Underworld.
Even Zeus got a polite, venomous warning carved into the clouds: “Touch her again, and I swear on the River Styx.”
Despite it all, Apollo never scolded him. She’d just laugh, kiss his forehead, and say,
“Oh, Hermie. My brave little storm.”
At night, when her light dimmed and the stars sang, Hermes would curl beside her like a shadow to a flame.
And as he drifted off, heart warm and safe, he’d murmur sleepily:
“You’re mine first, right?”
And Apollo, brushing his hair back just like she did when he was small, would whisper back:
“Always, little brother. Always.”
Chapter 335: Two Love-Struck Gods and One Very Doomed Cupid
Chapter Text
Title: "Two Love-Struck Gods and One Very Doomed Cupid"
Eros knew he had messed up the moment both Apollo and Daphne made heart eyes at each other.
It was supposed to be simple—Apollo gets hit with the golden love arrow, Daphne with the lead one, and voilà: poetic unrequited love, the kind mortals would write tragedies about.
But Eros, distracted by a flock of overly dramatic swans (thanks, Aphrodite), mixed up the arrows.
Now the god of the sun and the forest nymph-turned-deity were inseparable. Apollo started writing painfully sweet love ballads, and Daphne—who once threatened to turn him into a laurel bush—was braiding his hair and holding his hand in front of the entire pantheon.
It might’ve been romantic.
If they weren’t both already very, very taken.
Hyacinthus watched with wide, horrified eyes as Apollo lifted Daphne like a bride and twirled her under a double rainbow he created himself.
Daphne’s long-time dryad partner, Cyrilla, was visibly sharpening her thorns.
Even Eros knew better than to mess with Hyacinthus and jealous dryads. He considered fleeing Olympus altogether.
But alas.
When the love spell finally wore off a week later—thanks to some furious intervention from Artemis and a pissed-off Hera—Apollo and Daphne blinked at each other with the weight of horrifying realization.
Apollo looked down at the dozen love poems in his arms.
Daphne looked at the enchanted crown of roses she had placed on his head.
Then, in perfect, eerie unison, they turned and said:
“Where. Is. Eros.”
---
The god of love tried hiding in a cloud.
Apollo burned through it.
He tried diving into the sea.
Daphne parted it.
“You ruined my relationship!” Daphne yelled, stomping after him through the skies.
“You made me give Hyacinthus’s necklace to someone else!” Apollo shouted, eyes blazing like two miniature suns.
“I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME!” Daphne cried.
“I THOUGHT SHE HATED ME!” Apollo sobbed, equally angry and humiliated.
Eros, half-melted, flower-slapped, and now stuck in a cage made of vines and light, looked up weakly.
“To be fair,” he rasped, “you two made a cute couple—OW OKAY I’LL SHUT UP—”
---
After that, Eros refused to carry arrows for a century.
Apollo and Daphne swore never to speak of it again—except to remind Eros of it every time he tried to flirt.
Hyacinthus forgave Apollo eventually.
Cyrilla made Eros her new dartboard.
And Olympus learned one very important lesson:
Never trust a distracted love god.
Chapter 336: The Moon that Burns, the Sun that Watches
Chapter Text
Title: “The Moon that Burns, the Sun that Watches”
(Role-swap AU: Moon God Apollo & Sun Goddess Artemis)
---
When Leto gave birth beneath the swaying branches of the Delian grove, the world shifted subtly, irrevocably. First came Apollo, silver-eyed and quiet as the still sea at night. He held his sister's hand when she arrived moments later, radiant and loud, wailing as if to challenge the very sky.
The stars blinked. The sun trembled. The Fates smirked.
The Sun belonged to Artemis.
The Moon bowed to Apollo.
---
As they grew, the difference between them widened like the divide between day and night.
Artemis, wild-haired and golden, flew recklessly into battles. She'd scorch monsters with a flare of her bow before asking who they were. She burned with a need to prove herself, to protect what was hers with blinding ferocity. She danced across the sky like flame—bold, brilliant, and too much for most to bear.
Apollo, with eyes like a waning moon, watched. Measured. Listened. His arrows were precise, his words sharper still. He wandered through dreams and shadows, finding secrets in silence. When he struck, it was with the inevitability of dusk.
Yet, despite the inversion, destiny held tight.
Apollo still healed with touch like cool moonlight and spoke in riddles only the wise could decipher. He still carried poetry in his voice and prophecy in his blood. He played the lyre beneath starlit skies, and when mortals heard it, they wept without knowing why.
And Artemis—Artemis still led the Hunt.
Only now, her Hunt moved through golden fields, chasing beasts under the scorching sun. Her nymphs followed her not just for freedom, but for the thrill of fire and heat and life. She loved fiercely, burned brightly, and any man foolish enough to catch her gaze and betray it found himself consumed by the wrath of the Sun.
---
Olympus struggled to adjust.
Zeus complained that Apollo’s silence unnerved him more than any tantrum ever could.
Hera flinched at Artemis’ thunderous laughter as she challenged Ares to spar in the middle of his temple.
Even Hades winced when Moon-Apollo visited, silent and pale, yet somehow knowing too much.
Yet despite the chaos, they were whole.
---
In one of the rare moments they shared solitude, sitting atop a cloud at twilight—when neither sun nor moon ruled the sky—Artemis kicked her legs and groaned.
“Why did you get to be the calm one, brother?”
Apollo smiled faintly, silver hair glowing with the reflection of the stars.
“Because if you were the Moon,” he said, “you’d set the ocean on fire.”
Artemis huffed. “And you’d spend your days quietly judging everyone under the Sun.”
He chuckled, just once. “I do that already.”
They sat together in silence as the sky shifted—her world dimming, his rising.
Even inverted, they were balance.
She was the blazing Sun.
He was the watching Moon.
And between them, the world endured.
Chapter 337: The Eternal Expectation
Chapter Text
Title: “The Eternal Expectation”
At Camp Half-Blood, there was a wall—just behind the Apollo cabin—known simply as The Board.
It was not an official board. No one had nailed it up with authority. But it stood tall and proud, a glorious mess of parchment, sticky notes, and glittery markers, and it bore one sacred purpose:
Betting on Apollo’s next pregnancy.
Yes. Apollo. The god. The immortal. The Sun-bringer. The Archer. The Walking Womb.
He had, by divine anomaly and chaotic fertility, become the god with the most self-conceived children in all of Greek history. Without partner, without assistance. Just… vibes, a good song, and apparently, immaculate divine will.
“It’s the light,” Chiron had once muttered, exhausted. “Too much radiant energy. It folds in on itself. Or something.” He refused to elaborate further.
Apollo, for his part, found it hilarious.
He would stroll by The Board, one hand dramatically resting on a very real baby bump (he was glowing, literally, and sometimes humming lullabies to his belly), and grin at the gathered campers.
“Ooooh,” he said one morning. “Looks like Will bet this one’s a girl. Sweetheart, are you trying to manifest a little sister?”
Will Solace, red-faced, refused to answer. “I just said what I felt, okay?”
Clovis from Hypnos had placed odds on twins this round. Annabeth had done a full math chart analyzing Apollo’s previous timelines and estimated a due date within 3.7 days of the Winter Solstice. She had a spreadsheet.
Some of the younger campers had a chant:
> “He’s not just glowing, he’s glowing with reason—
So place your bets, it’s Apollo Season!”
Even Dionysus was mildly entertained. “If the kid’s born with glitter skin again, I’m quitting this pantheon.”
---
The truth was, Apollo adored it.
He adored the way his children celebrated life even before birth. He adored their laughter, the ridiculous games, the way even Artemis would send him letters full of snide guesses and “I bet you another constellation it’s a boy this time.” He adored knowing that, for once, his existence wasn’t being mocked, but cherished—even if through chaotic mortal tradition.
And when the newest little sun-baby arrived, wrapped in soft golden light and blinking curiously up at their father’s radiant smile, the campers rang bells all over the camp.
Annabeth won the gender bet.
Clovis owed Will twenty bucks.
And Apollo?
Apollo simply kissed his baby’s head and whispered, “Welcome to the most ridiculous, loving chaos in the universe.”
Then he strolled outside and, still cradling the newborn, announced:
“So! Who’s placing bets for the next one?”
Camp exploded in cheers.
After all, it was Apollo Season. Again.
Chapter 338: When the Light Flickers
Chapter Text
Title: "When the Light Flickers"
It had been close. Too close.
One spark — just one stupid, unstable alchemical flame from a newbie camper's experiment — and the whole of Cabin 7 had nearly gone up like a pyre.
The fire was out now. No one was hurt. Not seriously. Just some smoke, coughing, and a few shaken demigods clinging to each other as they were ushered out by other campers. No tears yet. Just trembling limbs and ash-smeared faces.
Apollo stood there a second longer than he should’ve. His golden skin pale, his hands clenched, shoulders tense. Then, without a word, he turned.
And walked away.
Not fast. Just… steadily. Like a man trying to hold in an earthquake.
He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the forest, where the sun filtered through thick leaves, dappled like guilt on his skin. Then the shaking began. His knees gave. He slumped to the ground, back pressed to a tree, hands clutching at his hair as his breathing hitched and broke.
It had almost happened again. His children, his bright, brave, shining kids — almost gone. He could still hear their laughter from this morning. Could still see Will’s determined eyes, Kayla’s stubborn smile, the way that little one, Elia, looked up at him like he hung the stars.
He’d nearly lost all of it.
“Damn sun god trying to disappear without a word.”
Apollo startled. His head jerked up just in time to see Dionysus approaching, a soda can in one hand and a sour look on his face.
“Don’t.” Apollo wiped his eyes quickly, but the tears were obvious. “I don’t want them to see me like this. I need to be—”
“Sunshine incarnate? Mr. Eternal Optimism?” Dionysus dropped down beside him with a sigh, cracking open the can. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Apollo didn’t reply. His breath still came fast and shallow. He wrapped his arms around his knees.
Dionysus didn’t press. Just sat beside him in silence for a minute. Then, quietly:
“They’re safe. That’s what matters.”
“I know,” Apollo whispered. “But they could’ve—if I had been just a second too slow—”
“You weren’t.” Dionysus reached into his coat, pulled out a flask, then swapped it for a water bottle at the last second and shoved it into Apollo’s hands. “Here. Drink this. Don’t dehydrate like a drama queen.”
Apollo gave a watery laugh and took it, sipping slowly. “Why are you even here?”
“I dunno. Maybe because I know what it’s like to care too much and show it too little.” He squinted. “Or maybe Chiron guilt-tripped me. Either way, shut up and breathe, sunboy.”
The forest was quiet for a while, the only sound the soft rustle of trees and the slow return of Apollo’s heartbeat to something less frantic.
Dionysus didn’t leave until the light returned to Apollo’s eyes.
Then, stretching like he’d just done something terribly inconvenient, Dionysus stood.
“Alright. If you hug me, I will scream.”
Apollo snorted. “Thanks, Dion.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go check on your brats. I’ll tell them you went to go weep dramatically at the sunset or something.”
As Dionysus walked away, humming a half-drunk tune, Apollo lingered under the tree for a moment longer.
Then he stood, dusted off the ashes, and walked back to his children — still shaken, still recovering, but alive.
And that was enough.
Chapter 339: The Beetle Incident
Chapter Text
Title: "The Beetle Incident"
It was one of those quiet days on Olympus—too quiet, in fact. The kind of quiet that came with Ares getting bored, Hermes getting twitchy, and Dionysus getting... experimental.
Apollo, radiant and glorious, was lying on a floating sunbed just outside the palace, basking in the golden light he gave off effortlessly, a citrus-scented drink beside him and a book of haikus in hand.
Enter: Mischief.
“What if,” Hermes whispered, crouching behind a column, “we just... give him a tiny surprise?”
Ares raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘tiny.’”
Hermes opened a small jar. Inside, something shiny, dark, and many-legged clicked softly.
“A beetle,” Dionysus announced dramatically, leaning over with a grin. “A harmless, glorious beetle.”
“Are you drunk?” Ares asked.
“Always.”
And before reason could intervene, the beetle was launched like a sacred missile right into Apollo’s golden curls.
Silence.
Then—
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
The sound was legendary. Mortals wept. Mountains cracked. Aphrodite dropped her mirror. Poseidon nearly fell off his throne.
Apollo flailed, glowing so brightly that a few dryads fainted from sheer brilliance. He screamed like the sky was falling, hands in his hair, spinning in panicked circles.
“GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT I’M TOO BEAUTIFUL TO DIE—”
The beetle, utterly confused, clung on for dear life.
Zeus appeared in a thunderclap, lightning crackling at his fingertips. “What in the name of ambrosia is happening?!”
“BEETLE!” Apollo sobbed, diving behind Zeus. “THERE’S A MONSTER IN MY HAIR!”
The beetle was flicked away. The trio of pranksters were cornered.
“I’m going to smite you,” Zeus growled. “I’m going to smite you all.”
“But it was funny,” Hermes defended, giggling.
Zeus, rubbing his temples, turned to the council the next day and declared:
“By divine decree, no god, demigod, mortal, creature, or force of the universe shall ever again bring a beetle within a mile of Apollo. Ever.”
To this day, if a beetle so much as scuttles near Camp Half-Blood, a golden streak can be seen sprinting into the woods with a scream like an opera’s climax.
And Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus? They never fully recovered from the ringing in their ears.
Some say Dionysus still occasionally wakes up at night and mutters, “...so loud… so very loud…”
Chapter 340: Thread of the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: "Thread of the Sun"
To many, Apollo was the radiant goddess of the Sun—brilliant, golden, untouchable. But to the Fates, she was their sunbeam, their softness, their one shared thread of light in a world they weaved with detachment and divine certainty.
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the three stern weavers of destiny, had—somehow—fallen irrevocably in love with the same goddess. And Apollo, soft-hearted, naive, and far too trusting, had simply smiled and let them claim her without a second thought.
They never let her out of their sight.
Ever.
So, when the gods and goddesses of all pantheons gathered for the once-in-a-millennium Universal Concord—where the Primordials themselves would sit among mortals-turned-deities and old names long buried would rise again—Apollo was there too. Not at the meeting table. Not among the debaters and diplomats.
She was tucked into Atropos’s lap.
Her golden hair was braided with gentle fingers by Clotho while Lachesis silently rubbed soothing circles into her back. Apollo wasn’t paying attention to the ancient discussion of cosmic borders or shared spiritual territories. Her job was to exist—glow softly, yawn quietly, and occasionally lean back to whisper, “Can I have another honey drop?” to whichever Fate had her in their lap that hour.
The others in the room—the Shinto gods, the Egyptian Ennead, the Norse Aesir, even the Primordials—looked at Apollo the same way one might look at a baby phoenix. She was beautiful, radiant, and very clearly not to be touched.
“She still plays the lyre, yes?” muttered Anubis to Thoth.
“She is the Sun,” Thoth whispered back, “but more like the sun one wraps in blankets and feeds sweet things.”
Even Chaos, seated in a swirling, formless mist, tilted their endless gaze and hummed thoughtfully. “Still so…golden.”
Every time someone addressed Apollo directly, the Fates would tighten around her just slightly. If a god’s eyes lingered too long, Clotho’s thread would glow, Lachesis would smile with too many teeth, and Atropos would rest her hand a little too close to her shears.
“She is not involved in this discussion,” they said in unison to Odin when he tried to ask for Apollo’s prophetic insight.
“She is here to be admired, not burdened,” Lachesis added silkily.
“She is ours,” Atropos finished, petting Apollo’s golden curls as the goddess blinked sleepily and leaned against her shoulder, unaware of the tension curling around the meeting like a second storm.
And so, while the most powerful beings in the multiverse debated fate and dominion, the Sun napped sweetly in her wives’ laps, swaddled in divine affection, completely unaware that she was the most protected being in existence.
And no one—not even Time—dared say otherwise.
Chapter 341: The Forgotten God Who Loved the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: "The Forgotten God Who Loved the Sun"
Long before the Greeks named their gods, before even the concept of pantheons was born, there was Hyacinthus.
He was not the god of flowers, nor spring, nor beauty—though he had once been called all those things in tongues that no longer existed. He was a god of Beginnings, of the First Spark, of the Silent Creation. A being from a pantheon so ancient and far removed that even the Primordials could only whisper guesses about it.
And now, only Hyacinthus remained.
No one dared speak of what happened to the rest of his kind. No one dared ask. Not after they saw what he did the day Apollo, the bright, laughing, sunlit goddess of prophecy and music, welcomed him into her arms with the same warmth she gave the world.
It had started quietly. A gentle romance, like dawn creeping over a field of golden wheat. Apollo—oblivious, radiant, sweet—thought she had fallen for a soft-spoken god with sad eyes and ancient wisdom. She didn’t ask where he came from. She only asked if he wanted to stay.
And Hyacinthus did.
When he stepped into Cabin 7 for the first time, her children blinked up at him—mischievous, musical, clever, radiant little beings. One tugged on his robe. Another shyly handed him a sunflower they’d grown.
He knelt, touched each of their faces, and said with calm, unshakable certainty:
“You are perfect, because you are hers.”
From that moment on, he became Dad Number Two. The one who floated when no one was looking. The one who made time freeze when a child scraped a knee so they wouldn't feel the pain. The one who turned an entire legion of monsters into mist because one of the younger kids had a nightmare.
No one knew what he was.
They only knew that everyone—from Egyptian Netjeru to Norse Aesir to even Hindu Devas—feared him.
Ra once tried to challenge his authority over sunlight. The next sunrise didn’t come until Hyacinthus yawned.
Odin tried to probe his origin. The ravens didn’t return for three weeks, and when they did, they screamed constantly and refused to be in Odin’s presence.
Hades once asked—politely—if Hyacinthus had a tomb. Hyacinthus just smiled and said,
“No one has ever been able to bury me.”
Even Chaos watched him with the cautious respect of something older than Time, something that refused to bow or be categorized.
Meanwhile, Apollo remained completely, blissfully unaware.
She’d twirl through the camp, singing new songs, kissing her children’s heads, and giggling when Hyacinthus carried her bridal-style into the sky “just because.” She called him “Hy’cy” and never noticed how his hands trembled when she did.
One day, Dionysus muttered at a council meeting, “One day, she’ll realize he’s the most dangerous thing in all creation.”
To which Athena whispered, “She’ll love him anyway.”
Because while Hyacinthus was fearsome and unknowable to the gods…
To Apollo, he was just her husband.
To her children, he was Dad.
And to all the worlds, he was a terrifying shadow wrapped lovingly around a single sunbeam.
Chapter 342: The Golden Sun and Her Wild Moon
Chapter Text
Title: "The Golden Sun and Her Wild Moon"
In this world, Artemis was not the chaste huntress known for cold glares and silver arrows. No, he was a stoic, sharp-eyed protector, a god of the Moon with a growling wolf always at his heel and a silent devotion to one person only: his twin sister, Apollo—the radiant Sun.
And the Hunt?
All men.
Feral, sharp-toothed, forest-born demigods and immortals sworn to the wild Moon and just as rabidly obsessed with one other thing: Apollo.
She was everything they were not. Where they ran barefoot through blood and mud, she walked in light. Where they howled, she sang. Where they bit and bared their teeth, she smiled and laughed and made flowers grow. She was warm skin and gold lashes, sun-kissed arms and a voice that could pull any god to his knees.
And the Hunt?
They. Were. Weak. For. Her.
They would fight monsters barehanded, tear through armies, climb Olympus blindfolded if it meant she would touch their heads and call them her "sweet boys." They followed Artemis out of loyalty. But Apollo?
They followed her out of worship.
And gods, when she had children?
It was over.
Willow—her golden-haired, freckled daughter with Apollo’s smile and kindness—was the final nail in the coffin. The Hunt adored her like a princess, trailing behind her like enchanted puppies.
Willow once tripped on a root and scraped her knee. Five members of the Hunt wept. One of them tried to fight the root.
Another time, she handed one of them a flower crown. He passed out.
Apollo, of course, was oblivious. She thought the Hunt were just sweet, if intense. Artemis, however, knew. He’d watched his Hunt go from savage warriors to blushing idiots whenever his sister walked by in her sun-yellow tunic, smiling with her baby girl on her hip.
At the latest council meeting, one of the Hunt insisted on carrying Apollo up the stairs like she was divine cargo. She laughed. Artemis just stared in deadpan silence.
"You're all pathetic," he muttered to them later.
"She gave me a peach once," one whispered, eyes full of love.
"...She gave everyone peaches," Artemis growled.
Still, Artemis never stopped bringing Apollo to the woods with him.
She was the Sun, and he was the Moon, and even if the Hunt couldn't keep it together around her, he didn’t care.
Because in every forest shadow, in every clearing of light, his sister glowed.
And feral or not, the Hunt would follow her to the end of the world.
Just like him.
Chapter 343: The Light That Birthed Devotion
Chapter Text
Title: “The Light That Birthed Devotion”
Phanes was Creation. The spark of life. The first to breathe thought into the void.
He had seen all things bloom and wither, stars rise and burn, gods born and buried.
Yet nothing—nothing—had ever ignited the core of his infinite being like her.
Apollo.
The Sun, the golden goddess with laughter brighter than novas and eyes that could warm worlds. Her very breath was poetry, her footsteps miracles. And to Phanes—the oldest, the untouchable—she was everything.
When he first saw her, he wept suns into existence. When she smiled at him? He created galaxies just to echo it back.
And when she winced?
When someone had the audacity to hurt her, even in jest?
Phanes unmade an entire star system in silence.
It was terrifying. The Primordials whispered that Phanes, who had always been neutral, always distant, had gone mad. His madness had a name and it was Apollo.
When she once cried—soft, silent tears because a child of hers died—Phanes shook the foundation of the universe. Time skipped. Earth cracked. Tartarus screamed.
The guilty?
No one knows.
There is no record of them anymore.
Ever since then, Apollo has been gently wrapped in a sphere of light and power so potent that even gods feel faint stepping near. Phanes calls it “her cradle.” A creation so strong that nothing can reach her unless she wills it.
She thinks it’s sweet.
She giggles when Phanes strokes her cheek like she’s made of glass. She hums when he lays entire constellations at her feet. She kisses his brow when he sits at her feet and lets her thread gold into his hair.
The rest of existence? Trembles.
Because Phanes does not threaten.
He simply acts.
And the only thing keeping the world safe…
Is Apollo’s smile.
Chapter 344: The Hidden Throne of Tartarus
Chapter Text
Title: "The Hidden Throne of Tartarus"
Apollo curled into Tartarus’s lap, her golden hair glowing softly against the cold darkness of the Pit. Their children played nearby, weaving flower crowns and softly humming, a light in the shadowed abyss. To anyone watching, it looked like a quiet, tender family moment—warmth and softness wrapped in the coldest place in existence.
What no one knew was the secret section of the Pit, just beyond the flickering shadows of where Apollo and the kids played. A hidden realm ruled by Tartarus alone—a throne of iron and fire, where endless torment awaited anyone foolish enough to hurt or disrespect his beloved family.
Whispers of wails and screams echoed faintly through the cracks, but they never reached Apollo’s ears. The goddess stayed blissfully unaware, fingers gently carding through Tartarus’s dark hair as he held her close. His cold eyes softened only for her, the merciless tyrant of the underworld yielding entirely to his radiant wife.
When their children braided flowers into his hair and painted his face with bright colors, Tartarus only smiled—a terrifying smile that promised unimaginable fury to anyone who dared to cause his family pain.
Though he ruled the shadows with ruthless iron fists, in his lap, Apollo found peace. She never guessed the full weight of the darkness that protected her—the cruel, silent force that made Tartarus not just her husband, but an unyielding fortress no one could breach.
Chapter 345: Possessive Beginnings
Chapter Text
Title: “Possessive Beginnings”
Apollo’s light shimmered softly, her hands resting gently on her growing belly. She felt the tiny life stirring within — a new kind of creation, fragile and utterly hers. Khaos watched her with an intensity unlike anything the cosmos had ever seen before. This was different — not one of his primordial children born from chaos and power, but a living, breathing child born naturally, through Apollo’s warmth.
He had somehow wifed her, the goddess of light and music, and now he was a father-to-be. His possessiveness spiraled into full force.
“No,” Khaos said sharply the moment Apollo tried to stand, a tendril of cosmic energy gently but firmly holding her down on their celestial throne. “You will not walk. Not like this.”
Apollo rolled her eyes but smiled softly, knowing resistance was pointless. Khaos hovered, a swirling mass of stars and darkness, his every move dedicated to protecting her. The demigod children—especially Willow, who braided flowers into Apollo’s hair, and Asclepius, who always seemed to sense their father’s mood—curled close, safe and warm.
Khaos’s primordial kids, wild and immense, treated Apollo like the sweetest mother, all sprawling on her lap like gentle giants.
“Willow and Asclepius are favorites,” Apollo teased one day, her voice a tender melody. Khaos’s gaze sharpened.
“They are. And you, my light, will not be harmed. Nor will this child.”
No one dared argue when Khaos, the ancient and chaotic force, claimed Apollo and their unborn child as his world. With a soft but unbreakable grip, he held her close, whispering promises of protection and endless love—even if it meant never letting her out of his sight again.
Because for once, Khaos was not just a god of chaos. He was a father. And nothing—not even the universe itself—would come between him and his family.
Chapter 346: Don’t Mess With My Family
Chapter Text
Title: "Don’t Mess With My Family"
Apollo’s blue eyes darkened with a storm no one wanted to face—especially if you dared threaten his daughter, Willow, or his precious son Asclepius. They were his favorites, his light and heart wrapped into two radiant souls.
When Willow came home one day, her smile faded after whispers and cruel glances from some high school bullies. Apollo heard. And oh, did he hear.
That night, the bullies’ nightmares were filled with blinding light and voices that echoed like thunder. Apollo’s warning wasn’t subtle—he made sure they understood that hurting Willow was crossing a line no one returned from.
But it didn’t stop there.
His possessiveness stretched beyond the mortal realm—Willow’s stepfamily, mortal half-siblings, even anyone foolish enough to get close to either of his kids felt the full force of Apollo’s wrath. He shadowed their lives like a relentless guardian, his presence a blazing shield.
And with Asclepius? Well, the gods knew he was as fruity and fabulous as his father, and that just made Apollo’s protective streak fiercer. Anyone daring to hurt Asclepius or break his heart found themselves facing the divine fury of a father who wouldn’t just burn them with light but erase them from existence if needed.
God forbid you made either child cry.
Because in Apollo’s world, family was sacred. And no one—mortal or immortal—was allowed to break that sacred trust.
Chapter 347: Golden Light Fades, Golden Light Returns
Chapter Text
Title: “Golden Light Fades, Golden Light Returns”
Fem Apollo, hurt/comfort, family angst to healing
---
Before the skies shimmered with the light of her children’s eyes, before Olympus echoed with the laughter of younger gods, Apollo had been cherished.
Helios, the towering sun god with fire in his veins, had taken her in when she was just learning to shine. He’d called her “my little dawn” and taught her how to ride the chariot, how to shape flame and illuminate darkness. He taught her how to be the sun.
Poseidon, loud and rough around the edges, built sea caverns for her to hide in when the pressure of Olympus weighed her down. He told her stories of coral kingdoms, made her laugh with terrible sea shanties, and swore if anyone ever hurt her, they'd drown in their own lungs.
Hades, the quietest of them all, never said much—but he let her sit on the obsidian steps of his palace, reading poetry aloud. He made sure the dead never touched her, whispered to the shadows that she was to be protected, honored, loved.
She had three gods who saw her not as a weapon or symbol but as a niece, a daughter, someone precious.
And then their children came.
Persephone's laugh became Hades’ sun. Triton’s pride replaced Poseidon’s concern. Helios married, had daughters and sons of his own. Slowly, so slowly Apollo barely noticed at first, their warmth faded. Their time shortened. Their smiles dimmed when turned to her.
Then came the annoyance. The sighs when she asked to spar. The delays in invitations. The way they left her out of family dinners, assuming she’d understand.
She did. Eventually.
And so, Apollo—who once knew no home but their hearts—learned to make one from fragments. From Artemis’ unshakable loyalty. From Leto’s gentle presence. From her children, who she loved fiercely.
She never told them they broke her. But she stopped visiting the Underworld. The sea. The Sun Palace. Her light stopped knocking on their doors.
---
It was a stray spell. A fragment of ancient Titan magic seeping up from the roots of the world. One moment, the three gods were discussing mundane immortal matters—and the next, they blinked, memories clipped like broken film reels.
They remembered Apollo, though. Smiling. Radiant. Calling them “Uncle,” “Teacher,” “Dad.”
And when they found her again—sitting in the soft gardens of Delos, cradling her newest child, surrounded by her older ones—they expected to hear her call them those names.
She didn’t.
Her eyes were kind, but not close. Her smile polite, but not familiar. She let them sit beside her, but she didn’t lean in.
She wasn’t theirs anymore. She hadn’t been for a long time.
Poseidon reached for her hand. She withdrew it. Hades tried to ask if she was alright. She nodded and changed the subject. Helios called her “my little dawn” and she looked like he’d slapped her.
They went to Artemis first—now tall and grave as the Moon he ruled—and he didn’t spare them a single ounce of mercy.
“You left her,” he said. “The moment you had kids, you left her like she was a toy you outgrew. She cried in my arms for centuries.”
Leto was kinder, but his disappointment was a blade. “She never asked for much. Just your love. Your presence. You stopped giving her even that.”
---
When their memories returned, it hurt more. The clarity. The guilt.
They remembered how she dimmed. How she stopped laughing in their halls. How they made her feel like an intruder in homes she once ran through barefoot.
And they saw her now—so careful with her light, so careful around them.
So they worked.
They started showing up.
Hades returned to her garden and sat on the edge of the flowerbeds, reading her poetry again. He didn’t ask her to read aloud—he just waited until one day, she did.
Poseidon carved her a new coral harp, singing terribly the entire time. She rolled her eyes, but accepted it.
Helios rewrote every star chart he had, engraving her name into constellations he used to teach her about. He called her “my little dawn” again—but softer, afraid.
Eventually, Apollo looked at them—and smiled.
Really smiled.
It took centuries. Apologies. Relearning.
But the sun forgives in the end.
And Helios’ palace shone brighter than ever when Apollo finally napped in his lap again. The sea sang when she visited Poseidon’s halls. The dead stepped aside when their golden aunt returned to Hades’ throne.
Because they were family again.
And family, even if dimmed, never truly stops glowing.
Chapter 348: Bros and Confusion
Chapter Text
Title: “Bros and Confusion”
---
Apollo lounged on the rocks by the shore of Camp Half-Blood, tossing a pebble lazily into the water. Triton was beside her, hands on his hips, cracking a rare smile as they traded stories from their long lives—no grandeur, no godly protocol, just genuine bro vibes.
“Remember when you nearly drowned that poor cyclops?” Apollo teased, nudging Triton’s shoulder.
Triton laughed, low and warm. “Only once. You were the one who dared me to.”
They high-fived, and the waves splashed happily at their feet. Nearby, Percy Jackson was watching this display with a mixture of awe, suspicion, and absolute bafflement. The boy had grown up knowing Triton mostly as this stern, distant figure—his half brother, sure, but someone who was way too serious and intimidating, especially compared to their goofy, laid-back dad Poseidon.
And yet here was Triton, hanging out like an old best friend with Apollo, telling jokes, making jokes, just... being chill.
Percy’s jaw dropped when he saw Apollo ruffle Triton’s hair—something no one had dared do before.
Percy’s eyes darted over to the ocean’s edge where Poseidon and Amphitrite stood watching the scene unfold. Even they looked caught off guard. Poseidon furrowed his brow, whispering, “Since when does Triton hang out like that?”
Amphitrite, arms folded but amused, chuckled softly. “Since when does Apollo act like a carefree mortal teenager?”
Apollo caught Percy staring and grinned, flashing a sly wink. “Relax, Percy. Triton’s just a big softie underneath all that royal armor.”
Percy shook his head, utterly confused but secretly grateful. Maybe gods could surprise you after all.
And maybe, just maybe, having a goddess who’s “broing” with your intimidating brother is exactly what Camp Half-Blood needed.
Chapter 349: Waves of Possession
Chapter Text
Title: “Waves of Possession”
---
The salty breeze whipped through Camp Half-Blood, but Kymopoleia barely noticed. His stormy gaze was fixed in the far corner of the camp, where Apollo—radiant and golden-haired—laughed softly with a group of demigods.
Poseidon’s youngest son, god of sea storms and tempests, was a force to be reckoned with, but all anyone really knew was his fierce devotion to her. To Apollo.
He hated every demigod who wasn’t hers. Each smile they shared, every casual touch—they burned him with jealousy. So whenever she was at camp, he kept his distance, brooding, glaring like a thundercloud ready to burst.
Poseidon noticed. "Kym, you can't keep fighting every one of my children just because they aren’t hers," he said one afternoon, exhaustion lining his voice. "They are your family too."
Kymopoleia’s jaw clenched. "I fight to protect her," he spat. "No one else gets to claim Apollo."
Poseidon sighed deeply, watching his son storm off toward the shore. But it wasn’t over.
One evening, the tension finally snapped.
At the edge of the sea, Kymopoleia stood, eyes burning with stormy fury. Poseidon approached, steady but cautious.
"I won’t let you keep hurting my other children," Poseidon said quietly, but firmly. "Apollo loves all her family."
Kymopoleia’s glare softened just a fraction before he stepped closer, voice low and possessive. "I fight for her, father. Because no one deserves her like I do."
Apollo, arriving then, saw them standing there—father and son locked in silent storm and sea. She smiled softly, stepping between them.
"Kym," she whispered, reaching for his hand, "you don’t have to fight him to have me. I’m here. I’m yours."
He looked down at her, storm and calm crashing together in his eyes.
And for the first time, Kymopoleia allowed the fury to ease, because some battles were won with love, not war.
---
From then on, whenever Apollo was at camp, Kymopoleia still kept a watchful eye—but now, it was with a protective warmth, not just a fierce glare. And Poseidon, though wary, understood that love sometimes came wrapped in wild storms.
Chapter 350: Sunlight & Spring: The Best Dads Ever
Chapter Text
Title: "Sunlight & Spring: The Best Dads Ever"
---
It started with a mortal teacher’s casual observation.
“Your kids worship you,” she said, squinting at the two gorgeous, glowing men who had arrived for parent-teacher conferences like they’d just walked off a celestial runway.
Apollo, with his golden hair and sun-kissed skin, smiled dazzlingly. “They do? That’s sweet.”
Hyacinthus, elegant in an earthy, almost timeless way, simply nodded with a knowing smile. “We do our best.”
They left the meeting with an invitation to speak at Career Day. Again.
Meanwhile, in the school hallways, the murmurs were constant.
“Why does Amber get dropped off by literal models?”
“Lucien’s dads bring snacks for the whole class.”
“Did you see them at the winter concert? Hyacinthus cried when Braxton hit that high note. Cried. And Apollo filmed the whole thing like a proud stage mom.”
It wasn’t just that the kids of Apollo and Hyacinthus loved them. It was how different their love was.
When they got hurt, they ran home to both dads.
When there was trouble, their dads showed up faster than the school could call.
When there were bullies, the parents didn’t just step in—they showed up. And so did the sun. Literally.
And then… came the interactions with the mortal stepfamilies.
Amber's mortal stepmother couldn’t help but stare when Apollo walked in wearing a sun-patterned shawl and gently greeted everyone by name—even those who had never been kind to Willow.
Hyacinthus, ever gentle and observant, saw everything. He didn’t start fights. He ended them with grace, with cold elegance and cutting politeness that made even the nastiest step-uncles sweat.
The step-siblings were… not okay.
“You get gods as dads and I get Doug?” one muttered, watching Apollo braid Amber's hair while singing softly in Ancient Greek.
Another step-sibling, who had once made a snide comment about demigod “brats,” suddenly started trying to “bond” with Braxton once they saw how often he got hugged and encouraged. (“You’re a miracle, my sunshine,” Apollo would say, pressing a kiss to his head. “The world’s lucky you exist.”)
Even the teachers started playing favorites. (“We can’t help it,” one said. “Apollo brings fresh ambrosia cookies and Hyacinthus gives the best life advice I’ve ever gotten.”)
---
One day, while watching Willow and Asclepius win their school awards, a stepbrother leaned over to his mom and whispered:
“Do you think if I asked nicely… they’d adopt me too?”
---
At home, curled up on their sun-dappled couch, Apollo grinned as he wrapped his arms around Hyacinthus, both of them surrounded by their giggling, glowing kids.
“We’re kind of legends,” he whispered.
Hyacinthus kissed his temple and whispered back, “We’re just dads.”
But the gods knew better. They were the dads. And no one—mortal, demigod, or divine—could compare.
Chapter 351: Sunflowers and Daughters
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunflowers and Daughters”
---
Willow knew she was being ridiculous.
She knew it the moment she found herself glaring at Meg McCaffrey across the campfire, while Apollo—her father, her sun, her everything—laughed brightly at something Meg had said. He hadn’t even noticed her there, standing with her plate of food growing cold in her hands.
Willow turned away before he could look over.
She wasn’t mad at Meg. Not really.
But lately, Apollo had been everywhere with her. Training, talking, sparring, playing music. He even took Meg into the woods to help with his archery forms, something he used to do with Willow.
And it hurt.
She started declining his invites to go riding or play music. She stayed in Cabin Seven instead, telling herself she was just busy with her siblings. That he probably wouldn’t even notice.
But Apollo noticed.
He noticed when she stopped hugging him in the mornings. When she didn’t send him songs anymore. When she wouldn’t even sit near him at meals. The golden god began to unravel.
He tried sending her gifts—her favorite flower crown, a golden lyre, a freshly written poem about the first day he held her in his arms.
Nothing worked.
So he got clingy.
He started showing up at her cabin at sunrise, joining her for meals even when Meg asked him to come help with something, always hovering, always watching. His brightness dulled when Willow wouldn't meet his eyes.
Then, it happened.
A monster attack during a forest patrol. Willow had wandered off without telling anyone because she didn’t want her dad fussing over her again.
By the time help arrived, she was bleeding badly, crumpled at the base of a tree, clutching her side. Apollo dropped to his knees beside her, glowing hands already healing her wounds, his heart racing with terror.
But it wasn’t the wounds that broke him.
It was Willow’s weak, delirious sob as she gripped his tunic and cried, “I’m sorry—I’m sorry I’m not as good as Meg—I tried—I tried to not be jealous but I’m not enough for you, am I?”
Apollo froze.
“What?” he whispered, voice cracking.
“She’s cooler and stronger and better—she’s more fun—and you’re always with her and I—” Willow hiccupped, “I thought maybe if I left you alone you’d come back. But you didn’t. I’m not enough.”
The sun god trembled.
“Oh, my sunshine.”
He gathered her in his arms, glowing tears slipping down his cheeks. “Willow, she’s just a friend. Just a friend. But you—you are my daughter. My Willow. My first note in the morning. My sunbeam. You are everything.”
She sobbed harder against him.
“If I had to choose between you and the world, I would burn the world down, sweetheart. If I had to choose between you and Meg—I wouldn’t even blink. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
Her fingers clung to his robe, and he pressed kiss after kiss into her hair.
“No one could ever matter more than you and your siblings. You’re not just enough—you’re the reason I even am who I am.”
---
Later, Willow sat curled in his lap on the infirmary bed, healed and quiet, still tearstained but calm. Apollo stroked her hair gently, humming one of the lullabies he wrote for her as a baby.
Meg, standing awkwardly at the doorway, gave a soft smile and mouthed, She’s your whole world, huh?
Apollo didn’t look away from Willow.
“She’s the whole damn sky.”
And everyone who heard it believed him.
Chapter 352: Thread of the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: "Thread of the Sun"
Fem!Apollo x Male Fates AU
---
Zeus had ruled Olympus for centuries, but even he flinched when the Moirai summoned him.
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos—now towering, now shadows of inevitability—were the reason he wore the crown. They had known what would come before it ever did, and with cool, knowing smiles, they had warned him:
“We will spin, measure, and cut your fate… only if you promise us hers.”
He’d hesitated then, the prophecy clinging to his throat like a curse.
“Promise us Apollo.”
And so he had. It wasn’t a request.
---
Apollo had never understood Zeus’s strange look when he was around—part guilt, part grim resignation. She had never understood the shuddering sighs the king gave when the Fates were mentioned. He never spoke of them fondly. He described them as cruel. Cold. Unyielding.
And so, as the day of her wedding approached—the wedding she’d been “destined” for—Apollo trembled.
Everyone celebrated. Everyone cheered. The Moirai had spoken it into existence: Apollo, bride of fate itself. The gods whispered of honor, prophecy, inevitability.
Apollo only felt dread.
---
On the night of her wedding, she sat alone in the grand, shadow-woven temple that belonged to the Fates. The threads of destiny swirled around her, glowing softly. A divine gown, embroidered with stars and truths yet to be, clung to her skin. Her golden hair shimmered like the dawn.
She was perfect.
She was terrified.
Because no one had ever asked her. Because Zeus said they were cruel. Because they hadn’t spoken to her yet—not the way a husband should. Just… watching. Waiting. Knowing.
She tried to steady her breath.
Then the doors opened.
They were beautiful in a way that broke reality: Clotho’s gaze spun stars in her mind. Lachesis’s touch could measure the distance between souls. Atropos’s smile felt like the end of everything—but gentle, just for her.
They approached with reverence. Silent. All-consuming. She flinched.
Then cried.
She couldn’t help it. She curled in on herself, shimmering tears streaking down her cheeks, whispering, “Please don’t hurt me… I didn’t ask for this…”
Silence.
Then—chaos.
The thread of time shuddered.
The air cracked like glass.
The Moirai roared.
---
Zeus, comfortably sipping nectar in Olympus, dropped his cup in horror as fate itself twisted with rage. The shadows that held up his reign began to tremble.
He heard the scream before the wind carried it: “YOU SCARED HER?!”
Then came a thousand silent promises—threats woven in golden blood.
---
Back in the temple, Apollo gasped as arms, warm and gentle, wrapped around her.
“No,” Lachesis murmured against her ear. “No, no, beloved sun. We would never harm you.”
“You were afraid of us?” Clotho’s voice cracked with emotion. “Why would we ever—? We were waiting for you.”
“We’ve loved you since before you were born,” Atropos said, pressing a kiss to her hand. “We didn’t want to frighten you. You are not a prize, you are our home.”
Apollo blinked up at them.
“You… don’t want to force me?”
Clotho kneeled, taking her hand. “We only ever wanted you to be ours. But not like this.”
“We were supposed to court you. Woo you. Dance with you in starlight,” Lachesis added, his voice breaking. “But Zeus—”
“He told me you were cruel.”
Their divine faces shattered into grief. “Then we’ll destroy him.”
“No!” she gasped, grabbing Atropos’s hand.
He stilled. The other two turned.
“If you’re not forcing me… then… give me time. Let me know you. Show me… what fate looks like when it’s in love.”
A heartbeat. Then three voices, one thread:
“We will.”
---
From that night on, the Fates became gentle shadows in her sunlit path. They wooed her like the dawn, gifted her stars they stitched from light itself, and they never let Zeus forget.
Because he scared their wife.
And no fate, no future, and no king could save him from that.
Chapter 353: Favorite Niece Privileges
Chapter Text
Title: “Favorite Niece Privileges”
Fem!Apollo + Uncle Chaos™ (Hades vs. Poseidon)
Ft. Percy & Nico: Baffled Sons™
---
It started with a picnic.
An innocent, peaceful, divine picnic in one of the warmer meadows of Olympus—hosted, of course, by the ever-sparkling Apollo, who sat in the middle of a blanket with a sun-themed teapot, strawberry cakes, and sparkling lemonade.
On either side of her sat Nico di Angelo and Percy Jackson, both invited without fully knowing why. Apollo had simply smiled and said, “It’s been a while since we had tea, hasn’t it?”
Which was sweet.
Until Hades showed up.
Then Poseidon.
Then the screaming.
---
“I TAUGHT HER HOW TO RIDE A HELLHOUND BEFORE SHE COULD WALK IN HEELS!” Hades barked, a literal shadow storm gathering over his head.
“PLEASE. I TAUGHT HER HOW TO DROWN HER ENEMIES WITH STYLE,” Poseidon roared back, sea foam bursting from his crown and the grass turning into mossy puddles.
“You gave her a seahorse.”
“It was war-trained!”
“She called it Bubbles!”
“She was six!”
Apollo sipped her tea with a soft hum, entirely unbothered. The curls of sunlight around her glowed happily. “I liked Bubbles,” she said fondly.
Percy and Nico, sitting stiffly on either side of her, watched their fathers full-on bicker in front of the assembled gods, nymphs, and confused woodland animals.
“I—I’ve never seen my dad act like this,” Percy whispered.
Nico narrowed his eyes. “This is new. He didn’t even flinch when I stabbed myself with my own sword last week.”
Percy blinked. “You what—”
Poseidon suddenly threw a seashell plate at Hades’s feet. “She spent ten summers in Atlantis! That’s practically adoption!”
“I have her name tattooed on Cerberus!” Hades snapped. “Cerberus loves her!”
Apollo waved dreamily at a passing butterfly.
“Remember when they didn’t talk for a century?” she said to the boys. “Because I refused to say who gave the better birthday gift?”
Nico paled. “That was because of you?”
“Mm-hmm. I said I liked the Underworld’s cake design, but the ocean-themed plates were adorable. Chaos followed.”
Percy leaned in. “What did they even gift you this year?”
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, Poseidon gave me an island shaped like my face, and Hades built me a library filled with books that write themselves based on my mood.”
“…What?” both demigods said in unison.
“Yeah.” Apollo stretched, the sun twinkling through her golden lashes. “They’re trying to out-uncle each other again.”
“Again?!”
At that moment, Poseidon brandished a glowing trident and yelled, “I NAMED A WHIRLPOOL AFTER HER!”
Hades bared his teeth. “I CREATED A WHOLE SPIRAL OF DAMNATION THAT SINGS HER POETRY!”
Percy and Nico just stared at each other, betrayed.
“Where was this energy when I won a war,” Percy muttered.
“I brought down a titan,” Nico hissed.
Apollo tilted her head between them, then gently pulled them both into her arms. “Don’t pout. You’re still my favorite cousins.”
They blinked.
Poseidon and Hades froze.
“What?!” they shouted in perfect unison.
Apollo giggled like the sun.
And somewhere, Zeus sighed into his wine goblet.
He really didn’t get paid enough for this.
Chapter 354: Crowns of the Underworld
Chapter Text
Title: “Crowns of the Underworld”
Fem!Apollo + Best Uncle Hades™ + One (1) Very Confused Nico di Angelo
---
The first flower crown Apollo ever made for Hades was woven from underworld blossoms — ghost poppies, soulshade lilies, and the soft silver roses that bloomed only near Lethe’s banks.
She’d been six.
He’d been… very confused.
“What is this?” he’d grumbled, frowning as the radiant little sun goddess balanced herself on his obsidian throne and gently placed the lopsided crown on his head.
“A gift!” she beamed, her golden curls bouncing with the enthusiasm of a thousand sunrises. “Because you’re my favorite uncle!”
“You have two uncles.”
“You don’t yell.”
“…Fair.”
---
Thousands of years passed, and the crowns kept coming.
Spring wreaths. Autumn circlets. Nightshade tiaras. One time, she made him a crown out of lava rocks and phoenix feathers. Hades wore them all.
“You’re a menace,” he told her once, cradling a crown of dried asphodels she'd tied together with strands of golden light.
“I’m your niece,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.
That hadn’t changed either.
---
Nico di Angelo had seen many strange things in his life.
But nothing—nothing—prepared him for the sight of the terrifying Lord of the Dead lounging on his throne with a crown of glowing heliotropes and sunflower petals on his head while humming something cheerful.
Apollo, in flowing gold and bare feet, was dancing in front of him, clapping her hands.
“There! Perfect! You look like a death god celebrating summer solstice!”
“I am a death god.”
“And you are celebrating!”
Hades actually smiled.
Nico, frozen at the doorway, slowly backed out of the room.
---
He tried to ignore it.
Tried.
But then came the threat.
Nico was minding his own business, sitting with Will on a bench at Camp Half-Blood, when the sky turned dark. Not cloudy. Not overcast. Underworld dark.
Hades rose from the shadows behind them like a nightmare dressed in royal black. Will yelped and scrambled off the bench. Nico flinched.
Hades didn’t look at his son.
He looked at Will.
“No matter what happens,” he said slowly, eyes glowing red, “you are important to Apollo. Therefore, you are precious.”
Will blinked, stunned.
Then—
His gaze snapped to Nico, sharp and deadly. “If you ever make him cry, I’ll personally remove your ribcage and replace it with piranhas.”
“DAD!”
“I’m not done.”
Will let out a strangled squeak. Nico looked two seconds from fainting.
“Piranhas, Nico.”
“Okay, I get it!”
Will flushed. “Oh my gods, your dad loves me more than you.”
“Not helping, Will!”
---
Later, Apollo showed up in the Underworld again with a crown made of blood poppies and bat-shaped ribbons.
“I made this for you,” she said, plopping it on Hades’ head without waiting.
“Is that a bat made of shadow stitched to the front?”
“Yes! His name is Mister Bitey.”
Hades adjusted it solemnly. “I love it.”
Nico watched from a distance, still traumatized.
“How long has this been going on?”
Persephone, passing by with a tray of pomegranate wine, snorted. “Oh, sweetie. Since before your bones were even atoms.”
---
To this day, no one knows how many flower crowns are buried in the secret chamber behind Hades’ throne.
But if you ask him who his favorite niece is?
He’ll only say:
“The one who made the Underworld bloom.”
And maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll spot him wearing a crown of glowing petals on a day when the sun shines just a little too bright in the land of the dead.
Chapter 355: Sea’s Favorite Niece
Chapter Text
Title: “Sea’s Favorite Niece”
Fem!Apollo + Uncle Poseidon Chaos + Amphitrite’s Fatal Mistake™
---
It started, like all great disasters, with a splash.
A golden splash that exploded like sunlight in Poseidon's throne room, soaking the shimmering coral tapestries and alarming three hundred sea nymphs. Apollo, glorious and barefoot, landed in a twisting whirl of dolphin laughter, arms outstretched like a cat demanding worship.
“Uncle Poseidon!” she cried.
Poseidon, sprawled on his throne made of sea glass and shark bones, blinked once. Twice. Then threw his trident over his shoulder like it was a pesky umbrella and opened his arms.
“Niece.”
---
And so the chaos began.
She surfed on hippocampi through sacred sea courts. She replaced the Pearl Throne’s pearl with a seashell painted to look like a smiley face. She accidentally collapsed a minor underwater economy by challenging a trade king crab to a dance battle. She replaced all the sea monsters near Camp Half-Blood with rubber ducks.
Poseidon?
He didn’t care.
“She’s brightening the place up.”
“She turned the Leviathan pink!”
“And it’s fabulous.”
---
The Atlantean Council began calling her The Golden Menace.
The nymphs called her Sunlight in Salt.
The dolphins called her Mommy (no one knows why).
Poseidon just called her “Kid.”
---
Amphitrite noticed.
Of course she did.
She'd noticed how Poseidon laughed more when Apollo visited. How he listened to her. How he once called her “the daughter I never got to raise” and gave her his personal sea cloak just because she said she was cold.
He’d never even remembered her birthday.
And Apollo wasn’t even trying.
Worse, there was no romantic affection between them. Just... love. Familial, open, worshipful love.
The kind Amphitrite had never received.
---
So, in a fit of seething, salty rage, Amphitrite did the unthinkable.
She cornered Apollo during a solo dive into a deep sea trench and hissed, “You think you're special because he likes you? You're a sun-child. You don’t belong here. Touch him again, and I’ll make sure your body is never found.”
Apollo, momentarily stunned, blinked—then smiled.
But she didn’t smile like a goddess.
She smiled like a little sister about to tattle.
---
Ten minutes later.
Artemis burst through the waves riding a giant shark, her silver bow blazing with divine moonlight. Behind her came Hera, clutching a wine bottle and murder in her eyes. Athena, fully armed. Demeter with angry seaweed. Hestia with a frying pan.
Even Hades came.
“Who made my sunshine cry?”
Apollo hadn’t cried.
Yet.
But the second she saw her family charging toward her in a wave of vengeance, she did tear up, which meant Amphitrite was doomed.
---
Poseidon stood back, watching the entire thing unfold with the exhausted patience of a man who absolutely warned her.
“I told you,” he muttered into his wine, “she’s untouchable.”
“You're not going to stop them?” Triton asked, alarmed as Artemis punched a kraken in half just to look cool.
“Why?” Poseidon shrugged. “She threatened my niece. I’m just glad I’m not the one being vaporized.”
---
Amphitrite wasn’t seen again for several eons. Some say she’s in Tartarus. Others say she’s a sea cucumber now.
Apollo?
She got Poseidon’s throne to nap on, an entire court of nymphs who now call her Princess Solaria, and a new swimsuit personally woven from starlight and sea-foam by Aphrodite as a “you almost got murdered” gift.
She still surfs on hippocampi.
Still turns sharks into sparkly disco balls.
And Poseidon, watching her somersault over Atlantis on a killer whale?
Smiles.
Because family, real family, always gets a free pass in the sea.
Chapter 356: Sun’s Fury
Chapter Text
Title: “Sun’s Fury”
fem!Apollo + Overprotective Dad Helios + Interpantheon Chaos™
---
There are many terrifying forces in the cosmos.
Khaos in his wrath.
Tartarus in hunger.
Zeus with a thunderbolt.
Hera with her wine glass.
But none compared—not even close—to Helios when someone so much as glanced at his daughter Apollo for longer than 1.2 seconds.
---
To most, Helios was a relic. The Old Sun. The one before Apollo, the one with a flaming chariot and an ego even bigger than Mount Olympus.
He rarely attended meetings. Skipped them, ghosted messages, and had a habit of ignoring summons with the same indifference most gods reserved for morals.
But the second Apollo mentioned she’d be attending—whether it be a divine council, a boring interpantheon summit, or a war strategy session—Helios would appear like solar vengeance incarnate.
Flaming hair whipped back. Eyes blazing. Cloak like an eclipse. Expression? Permanent “I will burn you and your ancestors” scowl.
---
The Egyptians, usually smug and unbothered, physically flinched when Helios stepped into the last shared summit with Ra.
The Norse froze.
Even Odin blinked twice and subtly shifted Thor in front of him like a divine meat shield.
The other Greek gods?
Absolutely terrified.
---
Zeus tried to joke once. “She’s grown up, Helios. She can handle herself now.”
Helios: “You’re still breathing because she said I can’t incinerate you indoors.”
Zeus didn’t speak again for the rest of the year.
---
The moment any god, demigod, or mortal looked at Apollo a little too fondly, Helios was there.
Ares: flung into the sun.
Hermes: set on fire.
Bastet: politely asked if she wanted to lose her eyes.
Lugh (Celtic pantheon): still in therapy.
---
Apollo, for her part, was half-exasperated and half-amused.
“Dad, I can handle myself.”
“Yes, and I can handle them handling you.”
“Literally no one was flirting.”
“He blinked twice. That’s sun-code for lust.”
“That’s not even a real thing—”
“I MADE THE SUN. I KNOW THESE THINGS.”
---
She once tried going alone.
Once.
Helios showed up anyway, burned through a portal mid-conference, and dragged her out bridal style while threatening three pantheon representatives and declaring the meeting “morally corrupt and visually unsafe.”
He then set the agenda papers on fire and complimented her braid.
She didn’t speak to him for a week.
He cried on the sun for three days. It rained solar flares.
---
The scariest part?
He wasn’t joking.
He wasn’t acting protective.
He genuinely believed the world wasn’t worthy of her.
That no one—god, monster, mortal, hero—had the right to even exist in her light unless they were willing to burn for it.
And if they hurt her?
Even emotionally?
Helios would not leave ash.
He’d leave nothing.
---
In the end, all the pantheons adjusted.
Meetings rescheduled.
Dress codes modified (no gold near Apollo).
Seating charts changed.
Helios got a permanent throne next to hers at every summit.
The universe bowed—not to the power of the sun.
But to the wrath of a dad.
Chapter 357: Light of My Heart
Chapter Text
Title: "Light of My Heart"
fem!Apollo + Dad Aether + Zeus-Slander & Godly Retribution
---
The first time someone tried to hurt Apollo, they didn’t even make it to her.
The moment their intention registered in the cosmos, Aether—Primordial of the Upper Air, the glowing breath of life and celestial radiance—descended like divine wrath incarnate.
No one really saw what happened.
There was just a blinding light.
And when it cleared?
The offender was sobbing, blind, and begging for death.
---
“Aether doesn’t get involved with gods,” Hades had once said.
“He doesn’t even talk to most of us,” Poseidon added.
“He didn't attend Olympus' creation,” Hera muttered.
Then there's Apollo, humming as she sits on his lap, dressed in a flowing sun-gold tunic laced with starlight thread, Aether braiding glowing strands of her hair with literal sunbeams.
“…How?” Athena whispers.
Apollo shrugs. “Zeus is a trash dad. He abandoned me when I was like... 4 months old. Aether found me. Raised me instead. Taught me to sing to the stars, braid light, and murder men politely.”
Silence.
“…Murder?” Artemis asks, cautiously.
“With light,” Aether says, smiling serenely. “It’s cleansing.”
---
Every piece of clothing Apollo wears?
Infused with living light.
Not just for sparkle or vanity. No, no.
Defensive enchantments. Attack protocols. Light blades woven into her hems. Evaporating shields. Aether’s personal signature coded into every thread.
If anyone touched her tunic without permission, they’d be thrown into a week-long hallucination about guilt and mortality.
All her siblings hated it.
Not because it wasn't gorgeous—she always looked like a living constellation—but because they couldn’t touch her without disintegrating half the time.
---
Zeus, who once tried to exert authority by demanding she “dress more modestly,” had to be carried off Mount Olympus after a single glare from Aether.
“You lost custody, spark-boy,” Aether had hissed, glowing brighter than Apollo’s entire chariot.
---
Whenever Apollo gets hurt, Aether feels it in the light.
Stub her toe? Her sandals reweave with celestial padding.
Break a nail? Her bow reshapes itself with automatic polishing.
Get punched by a monster? Aether tears open the sky and replaces the sun with his own eye until someone finds the bastard and delivers them.
---
One time, during a particularly messy battle, Apollo came back bloodied, her tunic singed, arrows broken.
She tried to laugh it off—“Dad, I’m fine, I won!”—but Aether didn't even speak.
He just cupped her face, kissed her forehead, and whispered something in Ancient Light.
The next day? The region where the battle took place?
Gone.
Like it had never existed.
---
“Why is he so terrifying?” Hermes once asked.
“Because I’m his heart,” Apollo said, smiling.
And truly—she was.
To Aether, who had never known love outside of creation, who had existed before form and flame and thought—
Apollo was his sunrise.
His first warmth.
The first soul that ever made his divine light feel like love.
---
So yeah, Zeus was a trash dad.
But Apollo?
Apollo had Aether.
And honestly?
No god, titan, monster, or mortal stood a damn chance.
Chapter 358: Daddy Bear Leto
Chapter Text
Title: "Daddy Bear Leto"
---
Leto used to be known as the gentle, wise Titan—a father figure who embodied calm patience, reason, and quiet strength.
But then came Apollo.
And everything changed.
---
No one, absolutely no one, was allowed near her unless it was absolutely necessary.
Her children? Even more so.
It wasn’t just protective—it was feral. A silent, primal guarding instinct that set his entire being on edge, like a lion watching over her cubs.
---
Apollo herself just smiled and called him “Daddy” with a teasing softness that made Leto’s chest swell—both with pride and the fierce urge to growl at anyone who dared look at her wrong.
---
At camp, a few demigods learned the hard way.
One kid tried to ask Apollo a question about archery—nice enough, harmless enough.
Leto appeared beside her like a shadow, eyes blazing amber.
“Is there something you need?” he said, voice low, calm but with an unmistakable edge.
The kid stumbled backward, suddenly very busy with their own feet.
---
One time, when Apollo’s son Will was teased by a group of bullies, Leto didn’t even have to move from where he stood.
His glare alone sent them scattering like frightened deer.
Will looked up at him and whispered, “Thank you, grandpa.”
And Leto just rumbled, “Always.”
---
He’d mellow out around other kids, other gods even, but Apollo and her children?
No one could ever quite shake the sense that beneath his composed exterior was a beast ready to rip the world apart for them.
---
Apollo knew this was his way of showing love—his way of saying, You’re mine. You’re precious. I will fight the stars themselves before I let harm touch you.
Sometimes she teased him, calling him a “fierce daddy bear.”
Leto would just smile and pull her close, growling softly, “Only for you. And your little ones.”
---
In his arms, Apollo always felt safe—no matter how fierce or gentle her daddy was.
Because she knew:
No one was allowed near her without his blessing.
And that was exactly how it should be.
Chapter 359: Gods at Their Breaking Point
Chapter Text
Title: "Gods at Their Breaking Point"
---
The gods were done.
Not just a little tired, not just bored—they were exhausted beyond measure.
Eons had stretched on and on, and immortality? It was starting to feel more like a curse than a blessing.
---
They didn’t bother hiding it anymore.
No one tried to turn mortal and die—the few who attempted found that Zeus would hunt them down through Hades or some dark loophole. Death was a cage, not a release.
---
Apollo was one of the few who still mildly joked about the absurdity of it all—when he was in a good mood.
That mood didn’t last long.
---
Just yesterday, Zeus had zapped him with a lightning bolt.
"Doing your job too well," Zeus had snapped. Apollo had been tending the sun, and apparently, the heat was “disturbing the natural order.”
Apollo blinked, dusting himself off.
---
Then came Percy.
The kid had the audacity to threaten Apollo once.
And Apollo?
He just looked at him with deadpan calm.
---
"Okay," he said. "Been there. Done that. Just do it."
He shrugged, voice flat but not without a dry humor. "Eradicate my soul too, you’d be doing me a favor."
---
The room went quiet.
---
"Me being here," Apollo continued, voice steadier now, "is just consideration for you all. Without me, the sun stops shining. Your health and entertainment industries collapse. You lose your best ratings."
---
Slowly, the other gods nodded, some smirks tugging at tired faces.
Athena grunted, "He's right."
Hera sighed, "We’re hanging on for the mortal world now."
---
Even Dionysus, usually the life of the party, looked more drained than drunk.
---
"Why bother trying to die," Apollo muttered, "when death’s just a game Zeus will never let us win?"
---
Ares cracked a tired grin.
"Guess we’re stuck being old, immortal, and really tired."
---
Zeus rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the truth.
Immortality wasn’t what they thought it would be.
---
And so the gods—once gods of glory and chaos—just sat back, exhausted, with Apollo’s words hanging in the air:
"Keep me around, or the sun goes dark. Your call."
And maybe, just maybe, that was the only thing still keeping them all going.
Chapter 360: Zeus’s Missed Mark
Chapter Text
Title: "Zeus’s Missed Mark"
---
The demigod camp was abuzz as usual, but today, a quiet tension hummed beneath the surface.
Zeus had shown up for a rare visit — and his presence immediately sparked a mix of awe, disappointment, and quiet whispers.
---
Will, son of Apollo, lounged nearby with his usual easy confidence, surrounded by a handful of siblings—Asclepius, Kayla, and a few others, all laughing and chatting with their dad, Apollo.
Apollo’s attention was unyielding. He was the perfect father figure—doting, protective, endlessly patient.
He handed out advice, wiped away tears, and lifted spirits, never once seeming tired of the demands.
---
Across the field, Zeus stood stiffly, watching, arms crossed, face set in a scowl.
The demigods noticed. Some exchanged looks, their admiration for Apollo spilling over into silent jealousy.
Zeus barked orders here and there, barely sparing a glance for the children, and when a younger demigod approached him, he waved them off impatiently.
It was clear: Zeus was not a father in the same way.
---
Suddenly, Apollo’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it—a call from Zeus.
The smile that had been lighting up his face faltered.
He pressed the answer button, voice polite but tired.
---
“Another mission,” Zeus said bluntly on the other end.
Apollo’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening.
Another mission. Another endless task piling onto his already overflowing plate.
---
Apollo glanced back at the children gathered around him, their faces bright and hopeful.
He swallowed a sigh.
“I’ll be gone for a while,” he said quietly.
---
The demigods watched as Apollo’s bright energy dimmed just a little.
He was working twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, with no breaks—not even a moment to breathe.
---
Zeus might be the king of the gods, but here, with these children, his failings were clear.
Apollo, worn but loving, carried the weight of it all—father, protector, and never-ending provider.
---
Will looked around at the other demigods’ faces, all silently agreeing.
They had the father they deserved.
---
And Zeus?
Well, maybe one day he’d learn what it truly meant to be a dad.
But for now, the crown weighed heavy on his shoulders — and Apollo just carried the family.
Chapter 361: The Mystery of Apollo and the Insects
Chapter Text
Title: "The Mystery of Apollo and the Insects"
---
At Camp Half-Blood, the demigods whispered about it like it was some ancient secret.
“How does Apollo, the god who casually summons eldritch horrors from the abyss, sit there and pet them like a kitten, yet freak out at the sight of an ant?”
---
The truth was stranger than anyone expected.
---
It all started centuries ago, long before the camp existed, when Apollo was still exploring the limits of his divine powers.
He found himself in the deepest abyss—darkness so complete it swallowed the sun, where creatures older than time stirred.
One such creature, an ancient eldritch horror with writhing tendrils and eyes like burning stars, loomed before him.
Most would have screamed or run, but Apollo?
He curled his fingers gently along one of its tentacles, cooing softly.
The horror relaxed, purring an eerie rumble, and from that day on, they became strange companions—Apollo’s pet, the terrifying and the divine in one.
---
Yet, for all his cosmic bravery, Apollo had one weakness: insects.
---
The story went that years ago, Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus decided to play a prank.
They smuggled a beetle into his golden hair.
The shrieks that followed echoed through Olympus, sending gods scrambling for earplugs.
Zeus himself banned any insect near Apollo ever again, and the other gods treated the beetle incident as a warning.
---
Even an ant was enough to send Apollo running.
The demigods watched, bewildered, as their radiant, fearless father figure would jump on tables, scream, and demand someone else “deal with it.”
---
One day, curious demigods gathered the courage to ask him.
“Apollo, how can you tame monsters from the abyss but scream at ants?”
---
Apollo’s cheeks flushed the faintest shade of gold.
He glanced around, embarrassed but amused.
“Some things,” he said with a wry smile, “are just… too small to handle. Eldritch horrors don’t crawl on you.”
---
And so the mystery remained.
Apollo—god of the sun, music, prophecy, and cosmic darkness—was utterly defeated by the tiniest creatures on earth.
---
Sometimes, even gods have their quirks.
Chapter 362: Ghosts of Camp Half-Blood
Chapter Text
Title: “Ghosts of Camp Half-Blood”
---
It started as a joke.
Apollo, ever the prankster god in his downtime, decided one slow afternoon that Camp Half-Blood needed a little excitement. The camp was usually full of battles, quests, and monster attacks—but ghosts? Now that was something new.
---
He gathered a small group of demigods by the campfire and spun a tale.
“Did you know,” he whispered dramatically, “that Camp Half-Blood is haunted? Spirits of ancient heroes and forgotten gods wander these grounds every night.”
The kids’ eyes widened. Whispers spread like wildfire.
---
But Apollo didn’t stop there.
Using his divine light and illusions, he conjured shimmering ghostly figures—floating, translucent, eerie. He invited real spirits to visit, just enough to keep things mysterious but harmless.
A glowing shade passed through the dining pavilion.
A whisper echoed near the cabins.
A cold chill swept through the woods.
---
Rumors grew.
Campers told stories of shadows lurking near the lake, flickering lights in the forest, and strange voices in the wind.
The old stories combined with Apollo’s illusions and soon every demigod was on edge.
---
Even Mr. D—usually too grumpy and cynical to believe in anything but chaos—started acting strange.
He’d snap at his own reflection, jump at noises, and glare suspiciously at empty hallways.
Once, he barked, “If there’s a ghost in this camp, I’m the one who’ll haunt them!”
---
One night, a group of brave campers gathered to hold a seance—half to confront the ghosts, half just to see if it was real.
Apollo watched from the shadows, suppressing laughter as the camp descended into chaos.
---
But then, the real spirits—ancient heroes who had always lingered in the background—decided to join the fun.
A glowing warrior appeared near the Big House, raising his spectral sword and letting out a triumphant cry.
Campers screamed, Mr. D nearly fainted, and Apollo realized maybe he had gone too far.
---
The next morning, Apollo stood before the camp, hands raised in mock surrender.
“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, “Camp Half-Blood might have a few ghosts. But only the friendly kind.”
---
From that day on, the haunted stories never really died. And neither did Apollo’s mischievous grin.
---
Sometimes, even gods need to shake things up.
Chapter 363: When the Light Stays
Chapter Text
Title: “When the Light Stays”
Camp Half-Blood & Olympians | Found family feels
---
Everyone claimed Apollo was annoying.
Loud. Dramatic. Always singing or cracking some ridiculous pun, never knowing when to shut up. He’d show up in golden shorts, sunglasses, and enough ego to fill Olympus, and everyone would collectively groan like it was a sacred ritual.
“Oh gods, he’s here.”
“Someone mute him.”
“Don’t let him near the instruments again, I just got rid of the migraines.”
But no one ever meant it.
Not really.
Because when it mattered—really mattered—Apollo was always there.
---
Percy remembered.
After the war, when nightmares swallowed him whole and he woke screaming, drenched in sweat, there was Apollo. Sitting by the windowsill of the infirmary, strumming a soft tune on a lyre made of starlight. He didn’t talk. Didn’t joke. Just played until the trembling stopped.
He never told anyone.
---
Annabeth remembered.
After her nightmares of Arachne and the pit, when she couldn’t breathe in the dark, Apollo quietly lit a golden flame beside her bed. He didn’t need to say anything—just stayed until she fell asleep again. Every night. No questions asked.
---
Even Nico remembered.
He’d sneer and call Apollo “sunshine idiot,” but there was a time in the Underworld—just once—when the cold threatened to freeze his soul completely. Apollo had appeared in the gloom, bright and burning like dawn, and silently held out a hand.
Nico didn’t ask why.
Apollo didn’t make him.
---
Even the gods remembered.
Hera pretended to hate his recklessness. Athena rolled her eyes. Ares muttered curses. But during the worst battles, when Olympus trembled and the skies bled red, Apollo never hesitated.
He burned brighter.
He shielded them, even when they didn’t deserve it.
He sang hope back into broken bones and scorched earth.
---
Zeus would never admit it, but once—once—he’d looked to Apollo after a vision tore through Olympus, and Apollo didn’t ask what it meant. He just placed a steady hand on Zeus’s shoulder and quietly said, “I’m here.”
That was enough.
---
They all pretended to be annoyed by Apollo.
They groaned when he flirted with everything that moved. They facepalmed when he composed a 32-verse ballad about his own abs.
But when the world ended—when the monsters rose, or grief struck like lightning, or the shadows felt endless—they turned toward the sun.
And Apollo was always there.
Still shining.
Still smiling.
Still staying, even when no one asked.
Because if there was one truth about the sun—it never left you in the dark.
---
“You all complain,” Apollo once said with a grin, hands in his golden pockets, “but I’m your favorite.”
No one answered.
But they didn’t deny it either.
Chapter 364: Here Lies Frostopher the Brave
Chapter Text
Title: "Here Lies Frostopher the Brave"
Camp Half-Blood chaos | Winter edition | Found family & absurdity
---
It all started with a snowman.
Not just any snowman, mind you—the snowman. Seven feet tall, perfect symmetry, a golden scarf that glowed faintly with celestial bronze thread, and eyes made of polished sunstones Apollo had definitely stolen from Hephaestus’s temple.
He named him Frostopher the Brave, Knight of the Winter Solstice, Protector of Cabin 7’s front lawn.
"He's perfect," Apollo had sighed, hands on his hips, beaming like he’d birthed the thing. "The pinnacle of seasonal art. My frosty son."
Everyone was concerned.
---
The first few days were fine. Apollo would bring Frostopher hot cocoa (which he then drank himself), sang songs to him at dusk, and had full conversations about the weather and global politics.
“Bro,” Leo said. “You’re talking to compacted water.”
“Don’t be rude,” Apollo scolded. “He has feelings. We bonded.”
“…You named him Frostopher.”
“He named himself, actually.”
---
Camp Half-Blood quickly adapted. Cabin 7 had designated Frostopher a sacred resident. New campers were told to salute the snowman or suffer the wrath of the sun. Percy did it once for laughs and Apollo declared him Frostopher’s honorary squire.
Everything was great.
Until one fateful Tuesday afternoon.
No one meant to do it.
It was a game of Capture the Flag, and things got a little too intense. A flying shield, some chaotic yelling, and suddenly—
CRACK.
SHATTER.
FLUMP.
Frostopher lay in ruins.
Decapitated. Disemboweled. Dethroned.
Apollo’s scream could be heard in Manhattan.
---
“He’s GONE,” Apollo sobbed, dramatically sprawled across the ground. “My BOY. My icy angel. What monster would do this?!”
Everyone turned slowly.
To Chiron.
“…I didn’t see him there,” Chiron muttered, hoof scraping the snow guiltily.
“You MURDERED him,” Apollo wailed, clutching the scarf like a widow with a bloodied handkerchief. “I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY.”
Chiron sighed. “I... tripped.”
---
Apollo refused to leave his cabin for three full days.
The sun dimmed. Music died. Cabin 7 went into mourning.
Eventually, it was Nico (of all people) who intervened.
“If we give him a grave,” Nico muttered, “do you think he’ll come out?”
“…Only if there’s a funeral. With a eulogy,” Will said.
“Murals,” Annabeth added.
“Statues,” Percy offered.
“Poetry,” Apollo sniffled from the cabin window, “and bagpipes.”
---
And so, Camp Half-Blood gave Frostopher the Brave the most extravagant snowman funeral in recorded history.
There were black robes. Cabin 9 made a biodegradable coffin of enchanted ice. Cabin 3 created an actual frozen tomb.
Will played the world’s saddest violin solo. Nico recited a dramatic haiku. Artemis sent a wreath of winter flowers from the Hunt with a note that just said:
"You’re ridiculous. But I’m sorry for your loss.”
Even Dionysus showed up, sipping Diet Coke and muttering, “I’m too sober for this,” but didn’t leave.
The mural on Cabin 7’s wall still shows Frostopher valiantly fighting a lava monster with a carrot sword.
---
As for Chiron?
He’s still not allowed near snow.
Ever.
---
Epitaph:
Here lies Frostopher the Brave,
Beloved Son of Winter,
Friend to All Campers,
Gone too soon, melted not by sun, but shattered by fate.
(May your slush never be stepped on.)
Chapter 365: Just Wait Till Apollo Hears About This
Notes:
Apollo is Helios's son here btw
Chapter Text
Title: “Just Wait Till Apollo Hears About This”
Big Brother of Olympus | Wholesome but terrifying | Godlings Raised Right
---
Contrary to what mortals thought, the gods were...surprisingly well-behaved these days.
Sure, Zeus still had a thunderbolt addiction, Poseidon occasionally flooded a cruise ship out of spite, and Ares tried to start MMA leagues in random cities, but overall? Olympus had toned it down.
Not because of mortals.
But because of Apollo.
---
The thing was: when the Olympians had been little godlings—fresh from Chaos, still glowing with the leftover stardust of creation—it had been Apollo who looked after them.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
When Hera cried because everyone kept calling her "bossy," Apollo let her wear his laurel crown and called her Queen of the Universe for three centuries.
When Poseidon got overwhelmed by the sea’s voices, Apollo built him a shell-harp and sang lullabies to quiet the tides.
When Hermes stole half of Mount Olympus’ sacred grapes and hid under the moon in fear of punishment? Apollo just sat down beside him, pulled out his lyre, and said, “You’re not bad, you’re just bored. Want me to show you how to prank Zeus without getting caught?”
---
That’s how it started.
By the time they were full gods, they were more powerful than any mortal could imagine.
But no matter how old they got, no matter how many temples they had or how many prayers they ignored...
None of them wanted to disappoint Apollo.
Especially Hermes, who still carried a "Best Little Brother" badge Apollo made for him 5,000 years ago.
---
Once, a minor god started trash-talking Athena behind her back.
Athena raised an eyebrow, unbothered.
Hera smirked.
Artemis just pulled out her phone and started recording.
And Hestia? Sweet, gentle Hestia?
She whispered, "Should we tell Apollo?"
The minor god paled.
He bowed. He apologized. He wrote a formal letter in golden ink and offered five cows to Athena’s temple.
Because you do not make Apollo disappointed in you. That’s worse than getting smited.
---
It got so bad that Zeus himself—King of the Gods, Lord of the Sky, Supreme Thunder Daddy—once got caught slacking on his divine paperwork and when someone muttered:
“Should we call Apollo?”
Zeus went white as cloud.
“No. NO. There’s no need for that. I—uh—I was just about to file it! Right now! See? Signed! Stamped! Filed! Completely on time!”
---
So now, Olympus had peace.
Not because the gods had matured.
But because deep down, every single one of them remembered the golden-haired god who tucked them in with a lullaby of sunlight and stardust—and who would still roast them to Tartarus and back if they acted up.
And no one—not even War, Death, or Zeus—wanted to be the reason Apollo gave them The Disappointed Look™.
---
Bonus:
At Camp Half-Blood, the demigods once asked Hermes why he didn’t smite that one mortal who defaced his statue.
Hermes just sighed, took out his "Best Little Brother" badge, and muttered:
"Because big brother Apollo taught me to be better.
And also... because if I did, he would find out. And cry. And I can’t survive that again.”
Chapter 366: Percy Jackson vs. Apollo (and His Own Hormones)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Title: “Percy Jackson vs. Apollo (and His Own Hormones)”
Genre: Humor / Fluff / Crack / Secret Simp Energy
Featuring: Extremely Flustered Percy | Oblivious Apollo | Concerned Bystanders
---
“Hey, Percy, what do you think of Apollo?”
The question wasn’t even loaded. It was tossed casually across the dining pavilion by a curious Clarisse, who was honestly more interested in whether there’d be extra ambrosia for dessert.
Percy, however, responded by choking on his nectar, turning redder than Dionysus' best wine, and very nearly collapsing face-first into his dinner.
Annabeth stared at him, unimpressed.
“I knew it,” she muttered, watching Percy fan himself with a napkin like a swooning 19th-century duchess.
“I-I don’t—What? Who said anything about Apollo? I didn’t say anything. No one said anything. Hahahaha—”
Nico arched a brow. “...Are you having a stroke?”
---
It started with the Camp Orientation Video.
You know the one. The one where the gods appear in glamorous, updated, slow-mo cinematic intros. Each one dramatically lit, overly stylized.
Most kids cringed.
Percy? Percy passed out the first time Apollo showed up on screen. That man—that literal sunbeam of a god—had walked into frame in slow-motion golden armor, smiled, and winked.
Aphrodite: “How do I look?”
Percy: “You’re fine.”
Apollo: [winks at camera]
Percy: [brain shuts down like an overheated computer]
---
After that, it was like a switch flipped.
Someone mentions sunlight? Percy stares into the distance with a dreamy look and walks into a wall.
A photo of Apollo? Nosebleed.
Apollo visits Camp Half-Blood in person? Percy collapses behind a strawberry bush and refuses to come out.
Apollo: “Hey Seaweed Brain, long time no—whoa, is he okay?”
Annabeth, dragging a red-faced Percy away: “Don’t worry. He’s just allergic to overwhelming beauty. And by ‘allergic,’ I mean violently in love with you but too dumb to admit it.”
Apollo: “Aww, who’s he in love with?”
Annabeth: “YOU!”
Apollo: “Oh? Me? Nooo. Percy’s just...you know, a fan. I mean, who isn’t?”
Nico: “He called Aphrodite ugly to her face, but literally fainted when you held a bow.”
Apollo: “Oh gods...did I break him?”
---
At some point, Percy tried to deny it.
“I do not simp for Apollo!”
“You tried to give him your sword, Percy. While he was already holding one.”
“It was a symbolic gesture! Like...a peace offering!”
“You said, ‘Take me instead,’ when he got injured sneezing.”
“I panicked!”
---
The truth was: Percy had no resistance.
Apollo would bat his lashes and say, “Could you carry my bow for a second?” and Percy would offer to carry him bridal-style across Olympus if he asked.
And yet...Apollo never noticed.
Never caught on.
Because Apollo—oblivious, golden, sunny idiot that he was—just thought Percy was “such a good kid!” and “so polite!” and “gosh, a little intense maybe, but sweet!”
---
One day:
Apollo tripped and nearly fell into the canoe lake.
Percy caught him. Literally scooped him up in his arms like a romance novel hero, bridal-style, muscles straining, face red, heart doing backflips.
Apollo blinked up at him. “Oh. Wow. You’re really strong.”
Percy’s brain: 404 ERROR: FUNCTIONALITY LOST
His mouth: “Marry me.”
Apollo: “...What?”
Percy: “I SAID ARE YOU OKAY SIR. SIR. YES SIR. SIR I AM NORMAL.”
---
From that day on, everyone knew.
Except Apollo.
And Percy?
He was just praying no one ever told him.
(But also...if he happened to trip again, Percy would definitely be there. Bridal carry included.)
Notes:
I honestly hate people so much. So I was in the karaoke/dance room during PE since I hate kickball and didn't want to do it—and I put on "wouldn't you like" since it was my turn to pick a song. But then—these fucking cunts who have no music tastes were just like "OMG turn that off" "it's not even a real song only illustrations!" And holy shit that pissed me off bc they called Epic not real songs? The audacity when they have played horrible songs the whole fucking time! AND IT WAS MY FUCKING TURN TO PICK A SONG! THEY ALREADY HAD A FUCKING TURN! I kinda just snapped and left the room. Our teacher asked me what happen and all though I usually don't snitch —i was so fucking angry because of these fuckers.
I hope they got in trouble since one of the girls was swearing at me...I told the teacher she sweared and maybe lied a bit but whatever they were cunts!
Chapter 367: Who’s the Favorite?
Chapter Text
Title: "Who’s the Favorite?"
Genre: Humor | Chaos | Found Family | Asclepius is THAT son
---
It started with something innocent.
“I just think,” Hermes said, lounging upside down in a tree at Camp Half-Blood, “that if Apollo were forced to choose one of us, I would clearly be his favorite.”
Artemis, sharpening her knives, paused.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh come on, Artie. We’ve been through a lot. I even covered for him that one time with the satyrs and the enchanted mistletoe—”
Athena, appearing with a scroll of calculations, interjected. “Statistically speaking, if we measure Apollo’s recorded interactions, expressions of endearment, gifts given, time spent—”
Hephaestus dropped his hammer and raised a flaming eyebrow. “He asked me to build his personal chariot. That’s got to mean something.”
“I gave birth to him,” Leto snapped from her chair in the corner. “All of you shut up.”
Zeus cleared his throat. “Technically, I—”
“YOU DON’T COUNT!” the entire pantheon roared in unison.
---
Chaos broke loose.
Ares challenged Hermes to a duel over the claim. Aphrodite weaponized gossip. Artemis unleashed a boar. Dionysus accidentally turned someone into a vine. Hera poisoned the refreshments. Even Hades rose from the Underworld just to smack Poseidon with a scroll labeled "Reasons Why Apollo Loves Me More.”
Athena hosted a formal debate. Hestia tried to maintain peace by offering cookies.
Even the Primordials got involved.
Chaos manifested and whispered, “He smiled at me once in 600 BCE.”
Nyx hissed, “He let me nap in his lap during the Titanomachy.”
Everyone went feral.
---
Meanwhile…
Apollo sat by the lake at Camp Half-Blood, strumming his lyre in the sunshine, utterly unaware of the divine MMA brawl breaking out over his hypothetical affections.
Asclepius, calmly mixing herbs beside him, raised an eyebrow.
“You know,” he said casually, “they’re going to destroy Olympus fighting over who your favorite is.”
Apollo blinked. “Who?”
“The gods. Pantheons. Primordials. Artemis may or may not have challenged Chaos to a knife fight.”
Apollo paused, then giggled. “Aw. That’s kind of sweet.”
“Should I tell them?”
Apollo set his lyre down, golden eyes softening. “Sure. They won’t believe you, though.”
---
Asclepius walked into the middle of the battlefield with a mild, unimpressed expression. The gods were in mid-chaos: lightning flying, tentacles from the void, one of the Muses screaming into a megaphone.
“Hi,” Asclepius said. “Can I say something?”
Zeus, covered in glitter and claw marks: “This better be good.”
Asclepius pointed a thumb at his chest. “It’s me. I’m the favorite.”
A beat of silence. Then laughter.
Hysterical, unhinged laughter.
Until they all noticed… Apollo had walked up behind him.
And he was smiling.
Not his usual flirtatious, charming grin—but a fond, warm, soul-deep smile.
He ruffled Asclepius’s curls and said, “Of course it’s you. My miracle. My boy. My heart.”
Asclepius grinned, smug as a smug thing could be.
Apollo continued, turning to the stunned crowd. “I love all of you. I really do. But... none of you saved lives in your toddler years. None of you stitched my wounds when I bled. None of you studied for centuries to make the world better without me asking.”
He placed a kiss on Asclepius’s temple. “He’s the favorite. End of debate.”
The silence was deafening.
---
Hera fainted.
Artemis punched the nearest pillar.
Zeus screamed into a lightning cloud.
Hermes muttered, “I should’ve studied medicine.”
Ares said, “I'm gonna go fight a volcano.”
Athena updated her chart with a deep sigh.
And Asclepius?
He just sipped some tea and basked in the glory.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Apollo laughed. “Anytime, baby.”
And with that, Olympus collectively gave up.
Because no matter what they did—
They had no. Freaking. Chance.
Chapter 368: Family Reunion, Apollo-Style
Chapter Text
Title: “Family Reunion, Apollo-Style”
Genre: Humor | Wholesome | Jealous Demigods Club ft. Percy Jackson
---
Camp Half-Blood was used to weird things.
It was not, however, used to seeing a glowing sun chariot descend from the sky with a golden-haired god leaping out like a Broadway star, arms flung wide as he sang:
“MY CHILDREN! GATHER, FOR I HAVE BROUGHT YOUR SIBLINGS!”
Demigods blinked from across the field.
Will Solace blinked from his seat on the infirmary steps. “He brought them?”
The entire cabin seven had gathered behind him, staring as divine beings stepped out of the chariot with regal grace. Each one more radiant than the last, glowing with divine energy, dressed in solar silks and light-infused tunics. There were archers, singers, healers, and at least one god who looked like he invented skincare.
“Apollo's godly kids,” someone whispered.
“But… they’re hugging the demigods?” another muttered.
Indeed, they were. Divine beings—actual Olympians—were rushing forward with giddy energy, wrapping their arms around their mortal siblings, ruffling hair, lifting them in the air, and squealing:
“YOU MUST BE WILL!”
“YOU’RE THE FAMOUS ASCLEPIUS!”
“Oh, you're the one who healed that satyr? We were cheering from Olympus!”
Will, very unused to anyone outside his siblings being enthusiastic about him, blinked. “Huh?”
One of the godly siblings took his hand. “Dad never shuts up about you.”
Another added, “You’re basically royalty up there.”
Meanwhile, the rest of Camp Half-Blood stood back and stared.
Ares kids: “My godly siblings tried to stab me.”
Hermes kids: “Mine tried to rob me.”
Athena kids: “Mine tried to out-debate me and then called me ‘quaint.’”
And here was Apollo, hugging his kids like they were made of gold, squishing their faces, proudly introducing everyone.
“Everyone, this is Will! My sunshine, my genius, the light of Cabin Seven!”
He spun to another, wrapping an arm around Asclepius. “And this? This is my miracle son. You know, god of medicine? Invented hospitals while teething?”
The godly kids clapped. “Asclepius!!” “King behavior!” “You cured the plague with one hand and a nap!”
Asclepius blushed, very unused to groupies.
Meanwhile, Percy Jackson stood awkwardly with his arms crossed, muttering to Annabeth:
“Triton. My brother is Triton.”
Annabeth patted his shoulder. “There, there.”
Apollo, of course, noticed the stares. He simply waved cheerily. “Don’t be jealous, everyone! It’s not my fault my kids are perfect and know the meaning of love and familial unity.”
Artemis, watching from a distance, grumbled. “Showoff.”
One godly child ran by holding a sun-shaped kite. “Dad’s letting us roast marshmallows with actual solar flares later!”
A demigod sobbed in the background.
---
By nightfall, the campfire blazed, and all of Cabin Seven sat cozily between their glowing divine siblings, laughing and playing games. Apollo beamed at them like a proud dad who just watched all his kids graduate top of their class.
Meanwhile, the rest of the camp was forming a Jealous Demigods Support Group.
Percy stood at the front with a shaky voice. “I just want Triton to look at me without trying to duel me, is that too much to ask?”
Clarisse raised a hand. “Can we trade parents?”
Annabeth sighed. “You don’t want mine.”
From the center of it all, Apollo looked over, eyes warm.
“My kids,” he murmured, “divine or mortal, are the best thing I ever made.”
One of his divine daughters leaned against him. “You’re kind of the best thing we ever had, too.”
And in the soft orange glow of the fire, surrounded by laughter and light—
Apollo knew:
This was everything.
---
(Meanwhile, Triton sneezed violently somewhere in Atlantis and had no idea why.)
Chapter 369: Everyone Loves Apollo
Chapter Text
Title: “Everyone Loves Apollo”
Genre: Humor | Wholesome | Found Family Vibes
---
There were many things Percy Jackson thought he understood about the gods.
They were prideful, messy, often explosive—sometimes literally. They weren’t great with parenting, had a tendency to throw mortals into chaos, and sibling dynamics were often… violent, at best.
So you could imagine his utter disorientation when he stumbled upon a scene at Camp Half-Blood one afternoon that nearly gave him a stroke.
It was Apollo—yes, Apollo—lounging on a picnic blanket in the training arena, surrounded by literally all his siblings.
Zeus kids. Hades kids. Demeter kids. Even Ares.
Jason was tossing a frisbee with Hermes. Thalia was perched on Apollo’s back as he played the lyre and giggled when he changed the tune to match her sass. Nico was sitting between Athena and Hephaestus kids, eating a chocolate chip cookie Apollo had apparently baked himself.
Ares was giving Apollo a fist bump.
Percy walked up in a daze. “Is this a prank? Am I being punked?”
Annabeth, who was reading nearby, glanced up. “You haven’t heard?”
Percy blinked. “Heard what?”
“That Apollo is, like… the glue of the godly family?”
He stared at her.
Annabeth adjusted her glasses. “He’s the only one who actually acts like a sibling. Sends birthday presents. Bakes cakes. Shows up to your chariot races. Thalia calls him her favorite brother.”
Percy looked toward the Hunter of Artemis, who was currently showing Apollo a new knife and getting style advice.
“He sends Jason ‘Good luck’ scrolls before quests,” Annabeth added. “Hades likes him because he always checks in on Nico and brought Persephone that solar-powered garden lamp for winter solstice. Demeter’s obsessed with him. Ares doesn’t hate him because Apollo made him a song called ‘The Bloodied Victor’ and it went platinum in Sparta.”
“Wait—what?” Percy choked. “Even Ares?”
Apollo at that moment was letting Ares ruffle his hair like a proud older brother. The god of war actually smiled at him.
“Do you smell toast?” Percy muttered. “I think I’m having a stroke.”
Just then, Jason spotted him. “Hey, Percy!” he called, waving cheerfully. “Come join us! Apollo just made lavender lemonade.”
Percy’s brain crashed.
Thalia noticed and grinned. “He’s short-circuiting.”
Nico, holding a second cookie, shrugged. “Everyone does the first time. You get used to it.”
“Apollo's just... like that,” Jason added. “He was the first one to check on me after my first quest. Helped me fix my bow. Calls me ‘sky baby.’”
“Sky baby,” Percy echoed weakly, sitting down as a plate of fresh fruit was handed to him by a glowing god who was now braiding Clarisse’s hair.
Apollo smiled. “Hi, Percy! I saved you the best peach.”
And Percy, heart pounding, nose bleeding a little from confusion or maybe divine radiance, simply nodded.
“Thanks… bro.”
---
And so it was that Percy Jackson joined the exclusive club of mortals who discovered the truth:
Nobody dislikes Apollo.
Not even Ares.
Not even Thalia.
And, quite frankly?
It was terrifying.
Chapter 370: Apollo, God of Light... and Unofficial CPS
Chapter Text
Title: “Apollo, God of Light... and Unofficial CPS”
Genre: Humor | Found Family | Wholesome Chaos
---
It started with one kid.
Technically, it always started with one kid.
Hermes had forgotten the name of his son again—was it Lyle? Leo? Lance? Whatever. Apollo found the poor boy sitting alone at the dining pavilion during Solstice week, eyes red, clutching a charm bracelet like it was the only thing grounding him to the earth.
So Apollo sat next to him, offered a granola bar and a dad-joke, and by the end of the night, Lyle-Leo-Lance was curled up in a golden sun hammock in Cabin 7 with a new blanket, a flower crown, and the declaration that, “Mr. Apollo is my real dad now.”
Hermes shrugged when he found out. “Eh, one less mouth to misname.”
That’s when Apollo decided.
He was going to adopt everyone.
---
The next was a Demeter kid who confessed that their mom only sent seeds and passive-aggressive droughts. Apollo didn’t even blink—he brought out lemon bars, a sun lamp for their windowsill, and adopted them too.
Then came the neglected Ares kid who cried during Capture the Flag because he didn’t like violence and thought he was broken. Apollo wrapped him in a sun cloak and kissed his forehead.
“You’re not broken,” he said softly. “You’re kind.”
The kid now followed Apollo around like a duckling.
And then... it spiraled.
---
Within weeks, Camp Half-Blood was filled with whispers:
“If you cry in Cabin 7, Apollo will adopt you.”
"He legally stole a Hephaestus kid yesterday.”
“Rumor has it, he has a folder labeled ‘Parental Failures’ with all the gods' names.”
One time, Zeus blinked and a Zeus kid was gone.
“APOLLO!” he bellowed from the throne room.
Apollo didn’t even look up from painting his new child’s nails.
“Should’ve remembered their birthday, Dad.”
Even Dionysus got involved once.
“You can’t just keep stealing campers.”
Apollo sipped his peach nectar and stared at him.
“I’m not stealing. I’m rescuing.”
---
Eventually, the gods held a formal meeting.
The Olympian Round Table had one topic: Apollo’s mass adoption spree.
“He has thirty-two kids from other cabins!” Hera shrieked.
“They all get along and bake together,” Artemis added with a shrug. “It’s horrifying.”
Poseidon grumbled, “Even Percy spends weekends there now.”
“Apollo is spoiling them!” Athena huffed. “One of my children turned in a research paper titled ‘Why Apollo Should Be Everyone’s Dad.’”
Apollo arrived ten minutes late with Starbucks for all his kids and none for the council.
He sat down and smiled radiantly.
“So, how’s my custody hearing going?”
---
In the end, the gods gave up.
They couldn’t stop him. The kids loved him. He threw birthday parties for every single one, remembered allergies, nightmares, hugged them daily.
Camp Half-Blood slowly accepted that Cabin 7 had evolved into a communal haven of golden therapy, dad jokes, warmth, and aggressive love.*
---
One night, a new camper arrived—small, trembling, and afraid.
Apollo crouched to their level, offered his hand.
“Hi, I’m Apollo. God of the sun, music, poetry, and unofficially the best dad you’ll ever have. Want a hug?”
The child stared… then launched into his arms.
And somewhere, another god sighed as they felt the warmth of their child’s soul slip away from them and toward the sun.
Apollo smiled, holding the child close.
No regrets.
Just love.
Chapter 371: Sunlight and Chaos
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunlight and Chaos”
Featuring: Female Willow, Dad!Apollo, and Naomi Solace’s shocked family
Genre: Humor | Family Feels | Light Crack
---
There were many things Naomi Solace’s extended mortal family had expected when her daughter Willow said she wanted them to meet her father.
A sun god was not one of them.
Especially not one who descended from the sky in a golden convertible drawn by actual flaming pegasus-horses while wearing rhinestone sunglasses, short golden shorts, and a shirt that read:
“DILF OF THE YEAR – EVERY YEAR”
He twirled out of the vehicle, threw sparkles into the air, and yelled, “WILLOW, MY RAY OF PERFECTION!!”
Willow, sitting on the porch like a war veteran waiting for the storm, groaned. “Hi, Dad.”
Apollo scooped her up in one arm like she was five years old again, spun her around, kissed her forehead, and said (loudly), “Did you drink enough water today? Is anyone bullying you? Do I need to smite someone?”
Willow muttered, “No, Dad. I’m fine. Please don’t make this a scene.”
But it was already a scene.
Because standing on the front lawn were:
Naomi’s husband Greg, wearing socks with sandals and looking like he just witnessed a war crime.
Willow’s two mortal step-siblings, Josh and Lindsey, who were reconsidering every time they’d called her weird.
And half a dozen aunts, uncles, and grandparents who had assumed Naomi’s “Greek god baby daddy” talk was just a metaphor for “young and stupid.”
Now they were the stupid ones.
---
“Apollo,” Naomi hissed, dragging him aside as Willow ran into the house.
“What?” he said innocently, placing a flower crown on her.
“You sparkled on my lawn. You’re wearing shorts. And why did you just summon a mariachi band—”
“It’s Tuesday,” he said, gesturing to the band. “They play on Tuesdays.”
Her eye twitched.
“Could you at least pretend to be normal?”
Apollo blinked, confused. “This is me pretending.”
---
Inside the house, Willow sat at the dinner table silently while her stepdad Greg watched Apollo show her step-siblings how to enchant cookies into flying little suns. Her aunts tried (and failed) to gossip to Apollo, only to get embarrassed when he dropped his actual god status casually like a mic.
“Oh, are you a lawyer?” he said sweetly. “That's cute. I manage the sun. You know. Daily.”
Lindsey whispered to Josh, “I think I’m scared... but also want to dress like him.”
Josh nodded solemnly.
“Same.”
---
But what really broke Naomi’s family's pride was when Willow’s Uncle Marcus—the one who used to mock her for being a “bastard child”—joked, “So, Apollo, how many kids do you have, exactly? Bet you don’t even remember half their names.”
Apollo didn’t blink.
“Actually, I do. Willow’s my favorite. And also the only one who makes solar storms when she’s mad. Like last year. Remember, sweetheart?”
Willow blushed. “That was an accident.”
He smiled proudly. “It burned three cities.”
Uncle Marcus didn’t speak again.
---
By the time dessert came around, Apollo was lounging in a golden chair he summoned just for him, Willow curled under his arm while her step-family stared like he was an alien. Naomi sighed in the kitchen, watching him dote on their daughter like the literal sun revolved around her.
Because in Apollo’s world, it did.
“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.
Apollo grinned. “And yet your family now sends me Father’s Day cards.”
---
Later that night, Willow stood on the porch with Apollo, watching the stars.
“You didn’t have to come, you know,” she said softly.
Apollo smiled. “Willow. I would fight Titans for you. Do you think I’m scared of Greg and his grill collection?”
She laughed, leaning into him. “You’re insane.”
“I’m your insane dad,” he said proudly, wrapping his arm around her.
And above, the stars shimmered just a little brighter.
Chapter 372: Who Did Apollo Love Most?
Chapter Text
Title: “Who Did Apollo Love Most?”
Genre: Humor | Light Angst | Found Family Vibes
Featuring: Mortal Parents of Apollo’s Demigod Kids, the Demigod Kids, and One Unbeatable Answer
---
It started, as these things often did, with an overly long PTA meeting.
The mortal parents of Apollo’s demigod children had gathered for a "Camp Half-Blood Parental Support Group" session hosted by Chiron and sponsored—somehow—by Mr. D’s wine budget. They were supposed to be talking about the emotional toll of raising half-divine kids, but things derailed the moment Naomi Solace, mother of Will, opened her mouth.
“Obviously,” she said, flipping her sunglasses up with flair, “Apollo loved me the most. You should’ve seen the way he looked at me when Will was born. That man had poetry in his eyes.”
Across the room, Martin Evans, father of Lee, rolled his eyes. “With all due respect, Naomi, Apollo kissed me while glowing. I’m pretty sure that counts for something.”
“Are you kidding me?” snapped Claudia from the back. “He wrote an entire song for me. Played it on a damn harp. That’s commitment!”
The group exploded into arguments.
“You think a harp trumps divine glowing?”
“He took me to see the Aurora Borealis!”
“Please, he healed my scoliosis with a forehead kiss.”
---
Chiron, exhausted and sipping wine he wasn’t supposed to have, stared in horror.
“Should we stop this?” he asked Mr. D.
“No,” Dionysus said, sipping his drink. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had since Achilles and Patroclus argued over dog names.”
---
Eventually, someone said the forbidden words:
“Let’s just ask the kids.”
The room fell silent.
And as if summoned, in walked several of Apollo’s demigod children—Will, Lee, Kayla, Austin, and a few others—each looking as done with life as expected of teenagers raised by a sun god.
Will looked at them all, narrowed his eyes, and said, “What did you do now?”
Naoimi beamed. “Sweetie, we were just having a little debate about who your father loved most romantically. Among his... you know. Many.”
Kayla groaned, Lee gagged, and Austin muttered, “Can’t believe I walked in for this.”
But it was Will who gave the final answer, voice flat and certain.
“It’s Hyacinthus.”
The parents all blinked.
“What?”
Will crossed his arms. “It’s Hyacinthus. No competition. Dad still carries a hyacinth on him everywhere he goes. Literally grew the first one out of his grief. He says his name like it’s a prayer. He still talks to his ghost when he thinks no one’s listening.”
Kayla nodded. “Sometimes he writes letters and burns them on the wind. Like that’ll carry them to him.”
Austin added, “He never smiles the same when he talks about anyone else.”
The mortal parents were silent.
Claudia cleared her throat. “But... he loved me... too, right?”
Lee shrugged. “Sure. Probably. But not like he loved Hyacinthus. That one’s... eternal.”
---
Later that evening, Apollo visited the camp.
He was all sunshine, warmth, and glittery charm, playing music near the canoe lake. The mortal parents watched as he sat beneath a tree, a single violet-blue flower tucked behind his ear, gently humming a soft melody no one recognized.
It was Will who noticed the old, worn letter sticking out of his pocket.
“Still writing to him?” he asked quietly.
Apollo smiled, but it was a different smile. Something ancient. Soft.
“Always.”
And every single mortal parent in that camp never asked again.
Chapter 373: The Light Beneath Everything
Chapter Text
Title: "The Light Beneath Everything"
Genre: Mythic Drama | Power Fantasy | Reverent Awe
---
They called Zeus King, but when it came to power—raw, unknowable, all-encompassing power—there was only one god the others whispered about behind closed temple doors.
Apollo.
Golden-haired, sharp-eyed, always with a lazy smile and a lyre in hand. To mortals, he was the God of the Sun, of Music, of Healing, of Plague, of Prophecy.
But what they didn’t see was everything else.
---
There were domains that were flashy, terrifying, monstrous. The sea could drown. The sky could rage. The underworld could swallow.
But light? Light revealed everything. It bathed the gods themselves. It touched the first molecule of matter, the breath of the newborn, the final spark in death. It carried sound. It birthed growth. It was clarity. Enlightenment. Art. Emotion. Truth.
And truth… well, truth bowed to no one but Apollo.
---
There were whispers in the deeper places of the world, where even gods feared to tread. That the reason the Fates never dared thread his name into their tapestries was not reverence, but fear.
Because he saw the strands before they even spooled.
He dreamed the dreams before Nyx had names for them.
He sang the notes of time before Kronos could speak.
He was the light behind the sun, the spark beneath thought, the silence between fate’s decisions.
He didn’t ask. He knew.
---
The Primordials called him “The First to Witness.”
Even Khaos, infinite and beyond naming, would pause when Apollo turned his gaze. The God of Prophecy wasn’t just a vessel—it was said the first idea the universe ever had was vision. And that vision belonged to him.
And yet he danced and sang and laughed and flirted, like it meant nothing. Like the atoms didn't bend around his will when he whispered.
He wasn’t a king. Kings ruled out of fear and thunder.
Apollo sang, and the world obeyed because it wanted to.
---
Once, Zeus tried to punish him again—lightning ready, threats thrown—and Apollo simply turned and said:
“That doesn’t happen.”
The bolt vanished mid-air.
The Fates didn’t stop it. Apollo did. He had spoken a truth the universe couldn’t defy.
Hermes, once playful and full of mischief, didn’t dare lie in his presence anymore.
Athena paused before voicing wisdom when Apollo was in the room, as if embarrassed to speak knowledge when the source of knowing looked her in the eye.
And even Ares, who feared no war, found no victory when Apollo declared it wouldn’t come.
---
The gods stopped challenging him eventually. Not because he threatened them.
He never did.
But because they all remembered the moment they broke, the moment they bled, the moment they begged—
And it was Apollo who knelt beside them. Not as a king. Not as a tyrant.
But as the one who already knew.
The one who understood.
The one who, with all his terrible power, still chose to heal.
Still chose to love.
---
They called Zeus king.
But they called Apollo something else.
They called him "The Light That Watches All."
And they knew…
He let them live.
Chapter 374: Spa Day With the Primordials
Chapter Text
Title: "Spa Day With the Primordials"
Featuring: Apollo, Erebus, Tartarus, an alarming amount of bath bombs, and total cosmic confusion.
---
It started as a rumor. One of those impossible ones.
"Apollo’s been spending his off-days with Tartarus and Erebus."
— "As in the pit and the primordial darkness?"
"Yeah. They do spa days."
"…What?"
---
The gods didn’t believe it.
Because Tartarus didn’t do company. He did eternal torment, monstrous prisons, and eldritch snarls that sent titans screaming back into chains.
And Erebus was practically a walking shadow. Silent, unknowable, ancient. The god of darkness and the void between creation. He barely tolerated Nyx, and she was his sibling.
So when Apollo casually strolled into the Council meeting late—glowing, serene, skin absolutely radiant—and said,
“Sorry, Tartarus and Erebus insisted on a full exfoliation this time,”
the entire room froze.
Even Zeus looked like he was having a stroke.
---
“It’s true?” Hermes whispered to Dionysus, slack-jawed.
Dionysus sipped his Diet Coke and muttered, “He posted a selfie with Tartarus in a cucumber mask, bro. I saw it. It haunts me.”
---
The truth?
They adored him.
Tartarus, who had once swallowed entire pantheons and buried primordial rebellions, now let Apollo rub sea-salt scrub into his volcanic skin while talking about music.
Erebus, who flickered in and out of existence with every heartbeat of the universe, allowed Apollo to drag him into bubble baths with soft lo-fi music and glowing candles. And when Apollo laughed—sunlight pealing like a chime in the void—Erebus glowed softly with starlight. Just for a second.
They didn’t smile for anyone else. But when Apollo entered, they relaxed. They existed without needing to obliterate something.
---
The best part?
Apollo wasn’t even trying.
He was just… Apollo. Friendly, flirty, dazzling, kind. He brought light without burning. Music without pain. And somehow, somehow, the most terrifying entities to ever crawl out of creation’s bones… liked that.
They even knitted him a robe. From shadow-stitch and molten thread.
He wore it everywhere.
---
The rest of the gods were horrified.
“Do you even know what Tartarus is?!” Athena snapped one day.
“An overcooked rock dad with abandonment issues and a mean foot callus,” Apollo said without looking up from his peach smoothie. “And he’s sensitive, so don’t raise your voice.”
---
Rumor says that when a minor deity insulted Erebus for “hanging out with that golden pretty-boy,” he was instantly swallowed by a rift in space. No scream. No flare. Just gone.
Apollo never knew.
He just brought Erebus chocolate-covered strawberries the next day and said, “You looked upset, figured you needed a treat.”
Erebus just sighed like a love-sick cloud and nodded.
---
The gods gave up eventually.
If Apollo wanted to do face masks with death itself, fine.
If he wanted to get Tartarus into foot soaks while giggling about demigods, fine.
Just… nobody speak ill of him. Ever.
Unless you want a primordial horror to exfoliate your soul.
---
Moral of the story:
If the God of Light thinks you’re spa-day material, not even the abyss will say no.
Chapter 375: Beef in the Breeze
Chapter Text
Title: "Beef in the Breeze"
---
Camp Half-Blood was buzzing with whispers, jokes, and sly glances every time Zephyrus, the West Wind, breezed by. The demigods would smirk, nudge each other, and toss around jokes about the ongoing beef between Apollo and Zephyrus.
“Man, Apollo looks like he wants to turn Zephyrus into a tornado every time he shows up.”
“Yeah, bet it’s because Zephyrus stole his favorite lyre or something.”
“Or maybe he’s just salty ‘cause Zephyrus won’t stop messing up his hair.”
No one really knew why Apollo despised Zephyrus so much. The truth had been locked away, whispered only in shadows by the older gods.
---
One afternoon, Artemis and Hermes gathered a group of curious demigods by the campfire.
“Alright, listen up,” Artemis said, voice low but serious. “You want to know why Apollo hates Zephyrus so much? It’s not because of lyres or hair.”
Hermes grinned. “It’s because Zephyrus killed Hyacinthus.”
The camp fell silent, jaws dropping.
“Wait, what? How?” one kid whispered.
Artemis nodded grimly. “Zephyrus was jealous—of Hyacinthus’s beauty, of Apollo’s attention on him. The West Wind blew too hard during a game, and Hyacinthus was fatally struck. It broke Apollo.”
Hermes added, “That’s why Apollo’s always been icy toward Zephyrus. And now? You’ve all got beef with the wind god too.”
---
The demigods shared glances, their jokes fading into something heavier. They looked at Zephyrus differently now — the carefree breeze now carrying the weight of tragedy.
---
Then came the twist no one expected.
Nico, eyes dark and voice steady, approached Hades. “If you don’t help bring Hyacinthus back, I swear I’ll never talk to you again. Ever.”
Hades, who rarely showed emotion, sighed but nodded.
---
The camp watched in awe as the impossible happened.
Hyacinthus, radiant and alive, returned. He smiled softly at Apollo, who nearly wept, pulling him into a fierce embrace.
---
Zephyrus stood at the edge of camp, silent and remorseful, as the demigods quietly nodded their silent verdict. The wind god had lost their trust, and only time—and perhaps genuine repentance—could change that.
---
And Apollo? He held Hyacinthus close, his heart healed in ways the gods only whisper about.
---
End.
Chapter 376: The Smile That Shook Sparta
Chapter Text
Title: "The Smile That Shook Sparta"
---
Hyacinthus’s parents sat in the grand hall of Sparta, worry etched deep in their faces. Their son, the fierce and silent prince, had never shown even a flicker of warmth toward anyone. His presence alone was enough to make courtiers, soldiers, and even gods nervous. No suitor dared approach him, for Hyacinthus was known as much for his icy silence as for his unmatched skill with the spear.
“He’ll never marry,” his mother whispered one evening, casting a fearful glance at her son training alone in the courtyard. “No one can get close to him.”
His father nodded grimly. “They’re all too scared. Who can blame them?”
---
Then something impossible happened.
One morning, as Apollo arrived in Sparta—a rare sight of the sun god visiting in person—the unthinkable occurred: Hyacinthus smiled. A real smile, soft and bright, lighting his whole face. Whispers spread through the city like wildfire.
The warriors who once trembled at his gaze were now frozen in shock. The priests whispered prayers to the gods, unsure if they were witnessing an omen—or a curse. For Hyacinthus, the prince who never smiled, had smiled... and the world felt unsettled.
---
But then the smile didn’t fade. It appeared every day, each one brighter than the last. The once cold prince became a living enigma. Some feared the change, others hoped for it. Yet, when the smile vanished suddenly—just as abruptly as it had come—fear rippled through Sparta like a storm.
The rumor spread quickly: Hyacinthus only smiled for Apollo.
---
One day, when Apollo failed to appear, Hyacinthus’s smile was gone. His usual silent, intimidating presence returned, and the entire city seemed to hold its breath.
His parents, desperate to keep their son happy—and their people safe—made a bold decision.
“If we do not anger the god who brings our prince joy,” Hyacinthus’s father declared, “then Apollo shall be Sparta’s chief god from this day forth.”
---
From that moment on, Apollo was honored like never before. Temples were built, sacrifices made, and festivals held—all to appease the god who brought light and smiles to their daunting prince.
Whenever Apollo and Hyacinthus appeared together, Sparta’s people felt a strange mix of relief and fear. Relief that the prince’s happiness was restored, but fear because, well... it was Hyacinthus. And that smile? It was beautiful but terrifying.
---
In the end, no one dared question why the fierce prince finally smiled. They only knew one truth: never cross Apollo—Sparta’s beloved god—and the one who holds their prince’s heart.
---
End.
Chapter 377: Crossing Apollo: Pantheon Panic
Chapter Text
Title: “Crossing Apollo: Pantheon Panic”
---
Apollo walked into the grand hall where representatives from every pantheon gathered—a rare interpantheon summit meant to foster peace and alliances. The room buzzed with divine energy, but beneath the surface was a tension thicker than the air itself.
The Egyptian god of wisdom blinked nervously, clutching his staff tighter. The Norse thunder god's usually booming voice was unusually quiet. The Hindu devas shifted uneasily, exchanging worried glances. Why? Because here stood Apollo—the radiant god of prophecy, music, and the sun—but also the father.
See, it wasn’t just Apollo’s brilliance or charm that left the room on edge. It was the memory.
---
Long ago, an Egyptian deity accidentally disrespected one of Apollo’s demigod children during a gathering. It was a tiny slight, an offhand insult, but Apollo’s wrath was immediate and terrifying. The god had found himself trapped in a blinding, endless light until he swore to never cross Apollo again.
The Norse god had once carelessly brushed past Apollo’s son during a feast—no harm intended. But Apollo’s furious glare summoned a storm so violent it shattered shields and sent the party scrambling for cover. That storm was whispered about for years after.
A Hindu goddess, trying to prove her power, once challenged one of Apollo’s daughters in a contest. When Apollo’s child was harmed unfairly, Apollo’s rage ignited a divine fire that forced the goddess to retreat and reflect on respect.
---
Now, the gods sat frozen, fingers twitching nervously, as Apollo moved through the hall, radiant and seemingly serene. But their minds raced with memories of that anger—the real anger—that had shown them how dangerous the god of the sun could truly be when his family was threatened.
Every sideways glance toward Apollo was full of caution, every word carefully measured. They didn’t want to find out what it felt like to be on the receiving end again.
---
Apollo smiled gently, completely unaware of the ripple of fear and respect trailing him. To him, these reunions were about unity and friendship, but to the others? It was a reminder that no slight against his children would ever go unanswered.
In this grand hall of gods, one truth was unanimous:
You do not mess with Apollo’s family.
---
End.
Chapter 378: Sun and Shadow: The Unlikely Love of Apollo and Hyacinthus
Notes:
Okay so someone on Wattpad asked if I was misogynistic—I- do I seem like that to you guys??? Like what gave them that impression??? Be honest have u guys thought that I was misogynistic???? (FYI I'm not)
Anyways—I have a concert at 7 pm aka in 1.5 hours wish me luck Apollions! ❤️
Chapter Text
Title: “Sun and Shadow: The Unlikely Love of Apollo and Hyacinthus”
---
In the endless weave of fate and prophecy, it was written that Apollo—the radiant god of light, music, and prophecy—would one day marry a god unlike any other. Not a god of Olympus or any known pantheon, but an ancient primordial of death, Hyacinthus, who existed long before even Khaos.
Hyacinthus was a figure cloaked in mystery and shadow. Legends whispered of his cruelty—of how he ruled the domain of death with an iron grip, indifferent to pleas or mercy. When word spread of the destined union, the gods and mortals alike shook their heads in doubt. How could Apollo—bringer of light and life—bind himself to the cruelest god of death? Surely, it would be a tragedy. Surely, Apollo would suffer.
---
But fate, as always, was far more complicated.
When Apollo and Hyacinthus met, there was an immediate, undeniable spark. The light and the shadow, the sun and the eternal night, drawn to each other in a dance older than time. And slowly, everyone who doubted began to see something miraculous: Hyacinthus, the feared god, was gentle—so gentle with Apollo it was like handling the most delicate glass.
He treated Apollo with reverence, protecting him fiercely from any harm.
---
Then came the demigod and godly children—Will, the fiery and beloved son, and Asclepius, the gifted son. Rumors flew that Hyacinthus would resent these children, who were not his by blood.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
Hyacinthus adored them. He lavished them with attention, love, and protection so fierce it bordered on terrifying. Will and Asclepius often shared amused, exasperated looks as their “stepdad” paced the halls, glaring at anyone who dared come too close or say anything less than adoring.
---
Then the unthinkable happened.
Apollo was pregnant with their first child.
Hyacinthus went into full-on protective and possessive mode.
He hovered over Apollo constantly, never allowing him to so much as walk outside without an escort of shadows and silent warnings. To Will and Asclepius, it was a mix of “Dad, chill” and “This is actually kind of amazing.” They sipped tea, exchanging amused sighs as their father freaked out trying to make sure they didn’t feel replaced or unloved—his love was infinite, not divisible.
But to anyone else who even looked at any of Apollo’s family wrong? They found themselves swallowed by a darkness so deep and cold it was as if death itself had come to collect them.
---
The cruel god of death? No.
Hyacinthus was the fiercest protector and most loving husband and father anyone could imagine.
And Apollo? He shone brighter than ever, basking in the love of a god who was his perfect, eternal counterpart.
Together, they were unstoppable—the sun and shadow intertwined.
---
End.
Chapter 379: The Light of Wisdom
Chapter Text
Title: "The Light of Wisdom"
---
People always thought of Apollo—her—as the radiant sun, the laughing bard, the golden god of music, poetry, healing, and prophecy. They saw the beauty, the warmth, the charm.
They forgot the mind.
Apollo, daughter of Leto, wasn’t just a goddess of song and sunlight. She was also the Goddess of Knowledge. The one who knew the names of stars before mortals saw them. Who whispered truths into the ears of prophets. Who remembered things even the Fates sometimes forgot.
Even Athena, proud in her strategies and cunning, sought her advice when logic wasn't enough—because knowledge and strategy were not the same. Athena built plans. Apollo understood people, time, and fate.
---
When the Second Gigantomachy shook Olympus, the gods scrambled to hold the skies, the seas, and the earth. Demigods were rallying across the globe. But Apollo? She had a task no one else could handle.
Python had returned.
The great serpent of chaos, the one who Apollo had slain once before to claim Delphi, was reborn—stronger, darker, more connected to Gaea’s vengeful heartbeat. And so Apollo disappeared into the shadow of battle, alone, with no songs, no chariots. Just her bow, her knowledge, and a terrifying calm.
---
At Camp Half-Blood, her children noticed it first.
She didn't come in dreams.
Not to Will. Not to Asclepius. Not to even the newest, youngest child still glowing from their first claiming.
The worry spread fast. First a whisper, then a panic.
"She's never silent this long."
"She's always there when we need her."
"Something's wrong."
Even the gods were shaken. Without Apollo’s dreams, their coordination weakened. Her prophecies had guided the camp. Her advice kept them one step ahead. With her gone, they were flying blind.
---
Then, as the final battle reached its peak and the Giants threatened to tip the scales—
The skies split.
The battlefield turned gold, saturated in a light so fierce, so pure, it made even Zeus shield his eyes.
From the heavens descended Apollo, riding not her chariot, but on light itself, golden bow in hand, her presence searing.
Behind her, the corpse of Python.
She had killed the serpent again, alone, in silence.
And as she stood, hair glowing like wildfire, wounds bleeding light, eyes burning with ancient wisdom, everyone—from Olympian to demigod—stared.
The sun had returned.
And they remembered.
Apollo wasn’t just light.
She was knowledge, memory, truth.
---
That night, the demigods lit a bonfire in her honor. The gods gathered, humbled. Even Athena bowed her head when she approached. Zeus muttered thanks under his breath. Artemis said nothing, but stood beside her the whole time, hand protectively at Apollo’s back.
Her children ran to her. Will sobbed. Asclepius clung to her like a child again. And for the first time in a long while—
The world recognized her not as just the beautiful goddess of art and warmth.
But as the mind behind the divine.
---
She didn’t want the praise. But it was hers.
Apollo, goddess of the sun, of prophecy, of music... and the mind that remembered everything when others forgot.
The war was won.
Because of her.
---
End.
Chapter 380: How Not to Court a Sun God
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Title: "How Not to Court a Sun God"
Featuring: Hopelessly Infatuated Heracles x Completely Done Apollo
---
There were few things in the world that could truly shake Olympus to its core. One of those things was Heracles in love.
Unfortunately—for literally everyone—it had happened.
And tragically... it had happened to Apollo.
---
Heracles leaned against Apollo’s sun chariot one bright morning, shirtless, oiled up, holding a bouquet of sunflowers he most definitely yanked out of Demeter’s sacred field.
Apollo, glimmering in divine robes of gold and white, paused in his stride.
“What the Hades are you doing?”
Heracles grinned. “Just admiring your wheels. You know, I bet we’d look great riding it together. Like... forever.”
Apollo stared at him. Blinked once. “Did you steal those sunflowers?”
“No.”
Pause.
“Maybe.”
Pause.
“Yes. But they reminded me of your hair!”
Apollo audibly groaned. “Get away from my chariot, you walking bicep.”
---
Next day, Heracles wrestled a hydra and dragged its heads up to Mount Olympus as a gift.
“For you,” he said proudly, heaving the slimy mess at Apollo’s feet. “A bouquet of heads. Because you slay me.”
“I hope it regenerates and eats you,” Apollo muttered, stepping around the pile with elegant disgust. “Also, you're banned from entering the sun court.”
“I love when you play hard to get!” Heracles called after him.
---
One week later: a sky-written message made of clouds hovered over Olympus. “APOLLO, YOU RADIANT CREATURE, GO ON A DATE WITH ME – LOVE, YOUR FAVORITE HALF-BROTHER <3”
Apollo stared up at it from his throne during council.
The other gods turned to him slowly, some trying not to laugh.
“I will melt the clouds,” he said flatly, “and then I’ll melt him.”
Zeus coughed, half-apologetic. “He gets it from me.”
“No,” Apollo snapped, “he gets it from your bad decisions.”
---
Heracles once tried writing a song. A song.
It included lines like:
> “Your hair’s like a sunrise that punched me in the face,”
“You play the lyre and my heartstrings break,”
“Let’s be immortal together, or just go on a picnic.”
Apollo threw the scroll in the River Lethe. He went to the Underworld himself to do it, just to be dramatic.
---
Eventually, Heracles scaled the Temple of the Sun naked, holding a torch and yelling:
“I’D BURN FOR YOU, APOLLO!”
Apollo looked down from the balcony, took one long sip of his wine, and turned to Hermes.
“Push him.”
Hermes didn’t even hesitate.
---
And yet, Heracles never gave up.
He tried flowers.
Sonnets.
Offering himself as a "coat rack."
Wrestling demons in Apollo’s name.
A failed rap battle against Orpheus (he lost spectacularly).
Each time, Apollo’s dislike grew more radiant than his sun.
Until finally, one day, Apollo sat down next to Artemis and muttered:
“Why is he like this?”
Artemis snorted. “Zeus.”
Apollo sighed. “I’m going to become a star and live in space.”
---
And so, Heracles remains in eternal pursuit.
And Apollo?
He now has a restraining order in twelve realms.
Because even a sun god has limits.
---
End.
Notes:
ITS FINALLY MY BIRTHDAY!!!!
gods dam I have waited so long for this 😭😭😭 anyways— my mom said she'll give me $200 on Thursday since everyone else got expensive gifts (I'ma kill her if she backs out) and later on I'ma hangout with my friend to finish our background for our tacos truck project. Our background is a mix of the underworld and the nether. We have ghasts as guards and the river Styx. Ohhh and on the last day of school, next Friday, everyone's getting cotton candy, snow cones and ice cream.
Chapter 381: The Sun That Burned Me
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun That Burned Me”
Helios & Fem!Apollo | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Family Drama | Slow Burn Reconciliation
---
Helios was a god of brilliance, of fire, of ego.
And Apollo—golden, radiant, ever-chasing—was his little shadow.
Not Artemis, not Leto. No one else had bothered to chase after him the way she did. When she was younger, fresh from being born under a cypress tree and hidden from the world, she had stumbled into his light like a moth desperate for warmth.
He'd sneer and roll his eyes, but he didn’t send her away. And for Apollo, that was enough.
Helios taught her how to draw a bow with pride, how to ride with her back straight, how to drive the chariot of the sun when he was feeling generous. He'd scoff and say, “Don’t crash my ride, little leech,” but Apollo would beam, because he let her.
In her bright eyes, Helios was her world. Not because he was kind—but because he was there.
And one day, after centuries of basking in his indifference dressed up as mentorship, Apollo laughed softly, resting her chin on her arms as they sat on a sun-bathed cliff. “You feel like a dad to me, you know?”
Helios blinked.
Then he laughed. A loud, scornful sound that made her shoulders stiffen.
“I’m not your father, Apollo. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not my daughter.”
He didn’t see the way her smile faltered. How she turned her face away and nodded like it didn’t hurt. Like she hadn’t poured the aching remnants of her childhood into the shape of him.
---
From that day on, Apollo changed.
No more dragging him to festivals. No more spontaneous gifts. No more morning rides. The daddy-daughter days turned to dust.
And Helios? He didn’t notice.
Why would he?
He was too busy polishing his crown, basking in the prayers of sun-worshippers, and watching his reflection in golden water. Apollo still smiled, still waved at him across Olympus, but she never lingered anymore.
Not like before.
---
Years passed. Centuries. Then, Helios had children.
And he loved them. Gods, he adored them. He spoiled them, taught them, praised them openly.
But something felt… off.
The joy didn’t fill the strange, quiet space inside him. The one that had grown cold long ago.
It was when his eldest daughter handed him a sun-drawn painting of them together, clumsily drawn, and called him the best dad in the world that the guilt began to burn.
He remembered the way Apollo had once brought him sketches of their sunrises, her poetry about their chariot rides, her handmade crown of heliotrope flowers.
He remembered the way she looked at him—like he was her hero.
And the way that look disappeared after that day.
He hadn’t understood then. He does now.
---
Helios doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t know how.
Gods don’t apologize. Sun gods, especially, don’t say they were wrong.
But when he sees Apollo standing alone, brushing her hand through her horse’s mane, the sadness in her stillness cracks something inside him.
He walks up beside her and speaks without his usual swagger.
“I never told you this,” he says quietly. “But… you were the first one who ever made me feel like being followed wasn’t a burden.”
Apollo doesn't look at him, but her fingers stop moving.
“I was an ass,” Helios mutters. “Still am. But—” He swallows his pride. “You were… you’re my kid, too. You always were.”
She doesn't answer right away. But her throat tightens. Her eyes sting.
And when she finally turns, face unreadable, her voice is hoarse.
“I missed you.”
And for the first time, Helios doesn’t laugh. He opens his arms.
And Apollo, his daughter-in-every-way-that-mattered, steps into them.
----
Drawings of my background for satanic taco truck
(Bad quality photos)
Chapter 382: The Sun Alone
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun Alone”
Apollo | Hero OC | Isolation, Mythic Tension, Slow Burn | Hurt/Comfort | Enemies to Unwilling Allies
---
Centuries had passed since Zeus threw Apollo to his cage of sun-scorched exile. Not for killing Python—no, that had been necessary, even glorious—but for killing Python without permission. For daring to rise too far in his brightness.
He'd been cast to a lonely island at the edge of the world, where the sun never set and the sky never wept. The earth bloomed under his power, and monsters curled like dogs around his feet, the broken things who followed the only god who dared not fear their twisted forms.
Apollo made the island into a sanctuary. A prison, yes—but his prison.
He played his lyre to still the wildness in the monsters' hearts.
He taught the nymphs that remained how to dance under eternal light.
And every day, he looked at the sea, wondering if anyone remembered his name.
Until one day, a ship came.
---
It wasn't the sound that woke Apollo—it was the silence. The kind of silence that came only when the monsters grew wary, huddled deep in the roots of trees.
Something foreign had stepped onto his soil.
He emerged from the marble remains of his temple, barefoot and golden, hair like burnished copper trailing down his back. His eyes glowed like twin suns.
And standing at the edge of the glade was a man—a young hero, sword strapped to his back, expression full of naive determination and barely-hidden awe.
Apollo raised one brow.
Then he sang—his voice smooth as honey, dangerous as poison:
---
Apollo:
"I don't know who you are, nor why you're here
But let me make this one thing clear
I've got people to protect
Nymphs I can't neglect
So I'm not taking chances, dear
If you make one wrong move, then you're done for
Anything I don't approve, then you're done for
I could put a spell on you, and you're done for
Boy, you better run, or soon you will be done for"
---
The hero did not run.
Instead, he stepped forward. Slowly. Respectfully.
"My name is Lyrian," he said. "Son of no one important. I came… because I heard there was a god here. A beautiful one. A lonely one. A powerful one."
Apollo’s fingers tensed around the hilt of his golden bow.
“And what, pray tell,” he said with a poisonous smile, “did you hope to do with such a god? Capture him? Woo him? Slay him?”
“I came to see you,” Lyrian said, voice sincere. “To know if the stories were true. To see the sun that sings.”
---
Apollo nearly laughed.
He’d been worshipped, feared, cursed. But no one had come to see him in all these years. Not as a person. Only as a punishment.
So he let the boy stay.
For a night.
One night turned into a week. Lyrian asked questions—awkward, honest ones—and Apollo answered them with sharp, glittering truths. When Lyrian tried to help repair the broken columns of the old temple, Apollo mocked him. But he didn't stop him.
And when Lyrian sang off-key trying to match Apollo’s haunting notes, the sun god almost smiled.
---
But it wasn’t all gentle.
Apollo was wrath and flame, moody and magnificent. There were days he wouldn’t speak, days he’d disappear into the heart of the island, and Lyrian would spend hours searching through flowered ruins and sacred groves just to find him—curled up under the roots of an ancient olive tree, staring into nothing.
“You don’t get to fix me,” Apollo would snap.
“I’m not trying to,” Lyrian would say. “I just want to stay.”
---
Then one day, Lyrian did what no one had done in a thousand years.
He knelt.
And not in worship.
But in apology.
“For all the centuries you’ve spent alone,” he whispered. “For how the gods treated you. I’m sorry.”
Apollo’s chest ached with something fragile and old. He walked forward slowly, took the hero’s chin in his fingers, and lifted his head.
“You foolish, earnest child,” Apollo said, voice trembling like the first note of dawn, “you should not love a god who has forgotten how to be loved.”
And Lyrian, bold as always, replied:
“Then let me remind you.”
Title: “The Sun That Was Forsaken” — Part 2
Apollo | Hero OC: Lyrian | Found God AU | Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Godly Politics
---
It was raining.
It hadn’t rained on the island in over a thousand years.
Not since Zeus chained Apollo to his own brilliance and said, “You wanted to shine without my permission? Then bask in it, alone.”
But now, silver water danced in the air, soft and light, as if the sky were crying in apology.
Apollo stood at the edge of the grove, barefoot in the dirt, the first droplets brushing his cheeks like hesitant fingers. Lyrian stood behind him, cloak already soaked through, watching the god tremble in the rain like it might break him.
“…You said it couldn’t rain here,” Lyrian whispered.
Apollo’s golden eyes flicked to him. There was something tight in his throat—something he hadn’t felt in centuries. “It can’t,” he said softly. “It shouldn’t.”
And yet it did.
Because something in the world had changed.
Because someone had come for him.
---
Lyrian stayed.
He built a hut beside the ruined temple, helped Apollo tend to his monstrous wards—each of them strange and misshapen, but gentle beneath his hand. He learned their names, their fears. He fed the serpent with no eyes and sang to the half-winged stag when its broken legs ached in the heat.
Apollo watched from afar at first, arms crossed, face unreadable. But every time Lyrian knelt beside a wounded creature, treating it without fear, Apollo’s chest burned with something raw and painful.
No mortal had ever stayed so long without asking for something.
Until the night Lyrian did ask.
---
They were sitting beneath a half-collapsed archway, starlight catching in Apollo’s hair like fireflies. Lyrian looked at him—not as a god, not as a legend—but as Apollo.
“Why hasn’t anyone come for you?” he asked quietly.
Apollo stilled. His golden hands curled against the stone.
“They don’t care,” he said simply. “Zeus said it was for the balance. The others didn’t argue.”
“Not even Artemis?”
“…She tried.” His voice cracked. “But she wasn’t strong enough to defy him. No one was.”
Lyrian’s jaw tightened. He reached forward, hesitated—then gently touched Apollo’s wrist.
“You didn’t deserve this.”
Apollo looked at him for a long time. He didn’t speak. Just leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Lyrian’s shoulder, breathing him in like air after centuries of drowning.
---
But the gods were not blind forever.
It started with whispers. A new star glowing in the sky. A sudden shift in the island’s clouds. Then, the Oracles began speaking again—in his voice.
A golden god walks the earth again. The sun weeps in joy.
Zeus heard.
And he was furious.
---
Apollo felt it before it happened: the rumble of thunder splitting through the island’s stillness. The monsters cried out in terror and scattered into the shadows. Lyrian drew his sword instinctively.
A tear opened in the sky. Divine lightning cracked against the barrier of the island—and this time, it broke through.
Zeus stood in the breach.
Towering. Imposing. Crowned in stormlight.
“You’ve disobeyed me again, boy.”
Apollo stepped in front of Lyrian without hesitation, eyes blazing like twin suns.
“I am not your boy.”
Zeus’ nostrils flared. “You were meant to be humbled.”
“I was!” Apollo shouted. “I was alone for centuries! I broke, Zeus. I bent. I shattered. I learned. Isn’t that enough for you?”
Zeus said nothing.
Apollo drew himself tall. “This is my island. And he—” He reached back, tugging Lyrian beside him, “—he is under my protection.”
“Then you doom him, too.”
“No,” Apollo said coldly. “This time, I don’t let you take what’s mine.”
---
The sky roared.
But something answered back—a second light rising behind Apollo’s shoulders. Not lightning. Not divine fire.
But the soft, steady radiance of belief.
Lyrian’s hand slid into Apollo’s. “You’re not alone anymore,” he said. “If they try to cage you again, they’ll have to fight me too.”
For a moment—just a moment—Zeus faltered.
Because something had shifted. Apollo was no longer a child trying to please a pantheon that didn’t care.
He was a god, loved and remembered.
And no longer forsaken.
Chapter 383: Where the Light Dies Softly
Chapter Text
Title: "Where the Light Dies Softly"
Scylla, Daughter of Apollo and Hecate | Apollo's Devotion | Tragedy | Beauty and the Beast Themes | Mythical Romance & Monstrosity
---
Before she became a monster feared by every sailor of the narrow straits, Scylla was a nymph—radiant, powerful, and otherworldly. Born from an impossible union between Apollo, god of light and music, and Hecate, goddess of witchcraft and shadow, she was made of both sunfire and moonlight, melody and silence.
The gods whispered when she passed. Not only because of her parentage, but because she was perfect—untouched by Olympus, choosing to wander the sea cliffs instead, singing to the tides, laughing with dolphins, chasing starlight across the Aegean.
And then Glaucus came.
Half-man, half-fish, half-dream, Glaucus begged for her love. But Scylla, who adored her own wildness too much to be tamed, recoiled from his scaled body and sorrow-filled eyes.
She did not mean to be cruel. But she would not lie.
That should have been the end of it.
But Circe, in love with Glaucus herself, took vengeance not on him—but on the girl who did not return his love.
And Scylla, daughter of the sun and the moon’s shadow, was cursed.
She bathed beneath the moonlight one night as she always did, letting the tide wrap around her like a lullaby—until the lullaby turned to screams.
Until her skin split. Until her ribs cracked and mouths opened where none should be.
Six heads. Twelve feet. Three rows of teeth in every maw.
And wolves—twisting from her hips, snarling, clawing, howling in unholy agony.
Scylla crawled into a cavern beneath the sea, away from the moon, away from the world.
She waited for her father.
And he came.
---
Apollo heard her scream across oceans.
He burned through the clouds, lighting the world with rage, until he found her—writhing, weeping, monstrous and alone. Even the waves dared not touch her.
He landed before her, golden and terrible, ready to destroy whatever had done this.
But when Scylla looked at him, eyes still the same as they were when she was a child nestled in his arms, all he said was—
> “My star. Who did this to you?”
She couldn’t speak. Her mouths wouldn’t allow it. Her claws trembled.
Apollo fell to his knees.
He cradled her.
Even as one of the wolf heads bit into his shoulder, even as another mouth screamed into his ear, even as her twisted form wrapped around him like a curse—he held her.
“You’re still my daughter,” he said. “Always.”
---
The gods told him to let her go.
They whispered that monsters could not be saved. That it was fate. That Circe had only awakened what was already inside her.
But Apollo knew better.
He had held her first tear. Had sung her to sleep in the cradle of shadows. He had taught her to laugh louder than storms.
So Apollo did what gods are never meant to do.
He gave up his titles.
He laid down his lyre. Let the sun rise without him. Removed the crown of laurels from his head and burned it himself.
And he walked into the sea.
And never returned.
---
They say a new monster joined Scylla not long after.
Golden-eyed, flame-haired, once-beautiful and now grotesque in new, unknowable ways. A creature of claws and burning wings, wrapped in scales and celestial rage.
But when he sang, even the monsters wept.
Apollo did not try to save her anymore.
He became a monster with her.
He lived with her in the darkness—her father, her protector, the only god who loved her as she was, not in spite of what she’d become.
And from their cave, where light and shadow met, the sea trembled.
But Scylla no longer screamed.
She sang again.
And Apollo sang with her.
Title: "Where the Light Dies Softly" – Part 2: The Sun Sings for the Monster
Scylla | Apollo | Odysseus’ Voyage | Horror, Beauty, Tragedy, Divine Horror
---
The crew had been warned.
Circe herself had whispered it into Odysseus’s ear: “Scylla waits for you in the shadows of stone. Sail swift, sail silent. Offer six men, and pray you pass.”
But Circe had not known the truth.
She did not know that Scylla no longer waited alone.
---
The waters around the jagged cliffs were calm—too calm.
The sea sloshed, salt-heavy and slow, like it knew it was in mourning.
And in the distance, nestled among sea-worn rocks and spires of coral, a voice rose.
It was not the shriek of a beast.
It was music.
Golden. Velvet. Haunting.
A song that spoke not of danger, but of longing. A song that dripped honey into the hearts of men and numbed their fear.
The crew stirred restlessly.
Odysseus stood at the bow, hand on his sword, heart pounding. He had heard of sirens. Of goddesses. Of divine traps.
But nothing—nothing—had ever sounded like this.
---
Apollo stood atop the crag, where moonlight and sea spray kissed his bare chest, long golden hair tumbling down his back in tangled waves. His eyes were pools of burning sunset. His smile was sweet and hollow like a cracked lyre.
He lifted his arms and sang:
“Come closer, sailors, hearts grown bold,
Come rest in arms that don’t grow cold.
Come see what gods have thrown away—
And learn how monsters choose to stay.”
One of the sailors dropped his oar.
Another stepped forward, dazed, whispering, “He’s beautiful…”
And beneath the water, Scylla stirred.
---
Six heads rose first, eyes glimmering red in the deep.
Then the twisted wolf-mouths at her waist, snarling softly, hungering.
She waited just under the waves, hidden beneath kelp and shadow, patient as the dead.
Apollo turned, his voice still soft as starlight.
“Scylla, daughter—wake now.
The world forgets your name, but I remember.
I bring you gifts—six hearts, beating.
I bring you song and sacrifice.”
The sailors did not hear the warning in his voice.
They only saw a god of beauty weeping light across the sea.
---
Then, all at once, the water erupted.
Claws like anchors. Mouths like chasms. A screech that tore through sinew and soul.
One sailor was gone before he could scream—snatched from the deck. Another was bitten in half by a wolf-head before his foot left the plank. Three more were taken mid-prayer, mid-gasp, mid-song.
Odysseus tried to shout. He tried to order them to row, row, row!
But it was too late.
The sixth was taken by Apollo himself—his divine form shifting, something inhuman in the angles of his face. Fangs where there should’ve been teeth. Hands like glowing brands.
He fed them to her gently.
And then, when it was over, he turned to the last remaining crew.
Odysseus. Alone.
---
Apollo floated down to the deck, bare feet glowing, blood on his lips like wine.
“You were warned,” he said. “You were lucky. She only took six.”
“You’re… Apollo,” Odysseus whispered, trembling. “You’re supposed to be… light.”
Apollo tilted his head.
“I am light. And even light, when abandoned, turns hungry.”
He walked past Odysseus like a dream fading, pausing only once.
“She doesn’t scream anymore. Not because she stopped hurting—because she knows I will always feed her. Always love her. Even like this.”
He leapt from the ship and vanished into the waves.
And the cliffs sang again.
---
Odysseus never spoke of what he truly saw.
But when he returned home, older, hollow-eyed, and broken, he built a shrine not to Athena, not to Poseidon, but to the sun—half-shattered and draped in shadows.
He never forgot the voice that sounded like heaven
And led men into hell.
Chapter 384: The Sun Does Not Forgive
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun Does Not Forgive"
Apollo & Achilles | Dark Themes (noncon referenced) | Divine Vengeance | Twisted Obsession | Greek Myth Reimagining
---
Warnings: This fic references themes of rape (offscreen, canonical myth reinterpretation), trauma, and unhealthy obsession. Please proceed with care.
---
They say the gods do not feel as mortals do.
But when Apollo learned what Achilles had done to his children—his daughter, and his sweet, golden-hearted son Troilus—the sun itself screamed.
Mountains cracked. The sea boiled. Even Helios turned his chariot away from the god’s burning wrath.
Troilus had only been a boy.
Barely grown, still offering hymns at Apollo’s temple, still asking about how stars were born. His daughter—gentle, nameless in some mortal tongues, but known to Apollo by her laugh—had barely begun to write her own verses before her prayers turned to weeping.
And the man who shattered them?
A hero.
A mortal called glorious.
---
Achilles had never felt shame before. He had felt bloodlust, rage, hunger, and love—but never regret. Never real fear.
Until the day he saw Apollo descend onto the battlefield—not with arrows, but flame.
The sky darkened.
And still, the sun god burned.
He did not speak at first. He only looked—and Achilles, for the first time, saw death that could not be killed.
A god that did not warn.
A god that did not forgive.
> “You touched what was mine.”
---
And yet, Achilles—stubborn, doomed, radiant Achilles—did not flee.
He fell to his knees.
And he smiled.
> “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Apollo’s hand twitched on the golden bow. One thought pulsed through him:
I should end him.
But the Fates are cruel, and Apollo’s curse was already written.
He could not kill Achilles with his own hand. So he cursed him instead.
Every time Achilles raised his sword, he would hear Troilus’s voice.
Every time he bathed in the glory of victory, he would feel Apollo’s eyes watching, seething.
And every time he dreamed… he would see the god he loved, drenched in sunlight, just beyond reach.
---
Because yes—Achilles loved him.
Fiercely. Obsessively. Selfishly.
Not with worship. Not with purity.
But with possession.
“I did it because I love you,” Achilles would whisper to the night, even as the flames of Troy rose higher. “Because they were yours. And I wanted all of you.”
Apollo never answered him directly.
He only brought the plague.
He only tore down statues in Achilles’ image. Desecrated every prayer whispered in the warrior’s name.
But still, Achilles loved him.
Because some men love the sun not for its warmth—
—but for the way it burns them alive.
---
Epilogue:
When Achilles died, pierced through the heel, the gods rejoiced.
But Apollo stood at the edge of the Styx, watching as Achilles’s shade approached.
“I don’t regret it,” Achilles said, bare and bloodied even in death.
Apollo said nothing.
Just turned, and walked away.
Achilles chased him anyway.
Even in death.
Even still.
Chapter 385: Fires That Bind
Notes:
I apollogize for this chapter
Chapter Text
Title: "Fires That Bind"
Achilles x Apollo | Dark Humor | Forced Romance | Divine Mischief | Slow Burn
---
The battlefield of gods and mortals was no stranger to chaos, but what happened next was something even Olympus hadn’t prepared for.
---
Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, watched Achilles with a secret tenderness. His fierce spirit, his unyielding strength, his reckless charm—she found herself drawn to him in a way even she could not fully explain.
One day, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Achilles approached her with a request.
“I need a love potion,” he said bluntly.
Athena blinked, hiding her surprise. She didn’t ask why. She simply nodded and handed him a vial shimmering with golden light.
“Use it wisely.”
---
Achilles, with a wicked grin, found Apollo not long after—radiant, proud, utterly unprepared.
Before Apollo could protest, Achilles forced the potion between his lips.
The effect was instant.
Apollo’s eyes softened, his stance relaxed, and for the first time in centuries, the god of light looked flustered.
---
Achilles grinned wider.
“Well, my sun god, since you’re feeling so... lovey-dovey,” he said, grabbing Apollo’s hand, “Let’s see just how romantic you can be.”
---
And so it began.
Walking hand in hand through the groves of Olympus, Apollo blushed at every compliment Achilles gave him.
Sharing a meal under the stars, Apollo laughed with genuine warmth at Achilles’ jokes, a sound rare and precious.
Slow dancing beneath the moonlight, Apollo’s usual godly composure melted as Achilles pulled him close.
---
Olympus watched in stunned silence.
The proud god of the sun, humbled and enchanted by the mortal who once shattered his family’s peace.
And Achilles? Well, Achilles was loving every second.
---
But beneath the forced smiles and stolen glances, Apollo’s mind churned.
This was not how their story was meant to unfold.
Yet...
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t want it to end.
Title: "Fires That Bind" – Part 2: Shadows of War and Heart
Achilles x Apollo | Trojan War Era | Complicated Love | Betrayal and Secrets | Divine & Mortal Tension
---
The war thundered on.
Smoke curled into the sky, and the clash of swords drowned the songs of gods. But within the cracked walls of a hidden cave near the Trojan battlefield, Achilles found refuge—not in the cheers of warriors, but in the quiet presence of Apollo.
---
The love potion’s golden haze still lingered around Apollo’s softened gaze, but the real world had begun to seep back through the illusion.
Achilles wrapped himself in Apollo’s warmth, seeking solace from the endless tide of blood and death.
Apollo, ever radiant, tended to his wounds—not only those of flesh, but those of spirit.
They were a fragile light in a world drenched in shadow.
---
But even the brightest fires cast the darkest shadows.
---
In the dim glow of the cave, Patroclus appeared.
His smile was easy, his touch familiar, but to Apollo it felt like an intrusion—a knife wrapped in velvet.
Achilles' eyes flickered with guilt, but the bond with Patroclus was old and fierce. The battlefield had forged it long before love potions and godly whims.
---
Apollo watched silently, heart tightening as Achilles kissed Patroclus—stolen moments in the chaos.
The potion did not blind him to betrayal.
---
Achilles caught Apollo’s gaze once, and for a brief, raw moment, regret cracked his usual defiance.
But the war demanded sacrifices, and Achilles was a warrior first, lover second.
---
“Don’t make this harder,” Achilles whispered one night, voice rough. “You’re my light, Apollo. But Patroclus… he’s my shadow.”
Apollo’s eyes burned with hurt and something fiercer still—an unspoken vow.
---
In the days that followed, they clung to each other with desperate intensity—two broken souls bound by forced love and painful truths.
The war raged on outside, but inside the cave, Apollo and Achilles faced a different battle—one of love, jealousy, and the price of devotion.
Title: "Fires That Bind" – Part 3: Fractures and Flames
Achilles x Apollo | Betrayal | Heartbreak | Escape | Wrath Unleashed
---
The golden haze that had once wrapped Apollo in warmth was fading.
With each passing day, the love potion’s hold weakened — his radiant eyes dimmed, his laughter grew hollow, and the smile that once softened for Achilles now barely flickered.
But the weight in Apollo’s chest grew heavier — a quiet agony born from love twisted and betrayed.
---
Late one night, under a slivered moon, Apollo stood by the cave’s entrance.
The bitter taste of heartbreak lingered on his tongue like ash.
His mind raced, tormented by the stolen kisses shared between Achilles and Patroclus — a betrayal no potion could erase.
---
With trembling hands, Apollo packed the few things he could carry — a lyre, a cloak spun from dawn’s first light, and a small vial of starlight for protection.
Every step away from Achilles was a shard of pain, but his heart screamed for freedom.
He could no longer be the prisoner of a love born from trickery and lies.
---
Silent as the wind, Apollo slipped away, leaving no trace — no whispered goodbye, no final glance.
The cave that once echoed with their stolen moments was empty.
Only the fading scent of sun and sorrow lingered.
---
When Achilles woke to the cruel truth — Apollo gone — fury exploded within him like wildfire.
His roar shattered the stillness, a storm unleashed on gods and mortals alike.
The war had taught him to kill without mercy — but now his wrath was personal, volcanic, blind.
---
He tore through the camp, a whirlwind of destruction.
No one was spared.
Friends, foes, soldiers — all fell beneath his rage.
His sword was a burning comet, his screams a symphony of wrath.
---
Yet even amid the carnage, his heart shattered, fractured beyond repair.
Because the brightest sun had abandoned him.
Because love could be a poison more lethal than any blade.
---
And far from the ruin, Apollo ran toward a horizon painted with new hope — the dawn of a freedom he never dared imagine.
Chapter 386: Only Apollo Gets to Say It
Chapter Text
Title: “Only Apollo Gets to Say It”
Apollo | Zeus | Olympus Shenanigans | Humor | Family Chaos | Bratty Son Energy | Petty Gods
---
On Olympus, hierarchy was everything.
Respect. Title. Dignity.
Which made it all the more infuriating that out of all Zeus’s many children—gods, demigods, heroes, and monsters—only Apollo was allowed to call him:
“Daddy.”
---
It started when Apollo was still in his adorable, chubby toddler phase, wearing a little laurel crown and golden diaper. He’d wobble up to Zeus during council meetings, climb up his thunderous thigh, and chirp in his bell-like baby voice:
“Daddy! Pick me up!”
Zeus would stop mid-lightning decree and instantly scoop him into his arms like a prize melon. “There’s my sunshine,” he’d beam, cradling the baby god like the world’s most dangerous plush toy.
No one batted an eye then.
He was a baby.
It was cute.
---
But the real problem started when Apollo grew up.
---
At sixteen:
"Daddy, can I have the chariot of fire tonight? Pleeeease?”
At twenty:
"Daddy, Ares hit me in the face with a spear and I want to kill him, is that okay?”
At full divine adulthood:
"Daddy, did you see how the mortals praised my new temple? I’m your most gifted child, I just thought I’d remind you. Again.”
And Zeus?
Would just sigh like a tired sitcom dad.
"Yes, yes, my golden boy. You’re very impressive.”
---
The rest of the pantheon was not okay.
---
Ares:
“I called him ‘Daddy’ once and I got electrocuted!”
Hermes:
“I said ‘Dad’ and he made me file taxes in Hades’ basement for three centuries.”
Athena:
“I would never call him that. Ever. That’s beneath me. But still. Why Apollo?”
Artemis:
“I swear if I hear ‘daddy’ one more time I’m shooting someone.”
---
Apollo knew exactly what he was doing.
He’d sashay into meetings late, lean against Zeus’s throne, and pout with a perfectly calculated expression of spoiled entitlement.
“Daddy, they’re all being mean to me.”
“Daddy, Hades said I’m dramatic. Me! Can you believe it?”
"Daddy, I wrote you a hymn. It’s called: ‘I’m the favorite and that’s okay.’”
Zeus, massaging his temples:
“Your ego is going to crack the firmament.”
Apollo: “Your ego made me, so really this is your fault, Daddy.”
---
One day, Dionysus—drunk off ambrosia and pettiness—decided he’d try it.
He swaggered up to Zeus and slurred:
“Daaaaddy~”
Cue thunder. Lightning. Chaos.
When the smoke cleared, Dionysus was sitting in a smoking crater.
Apollo sipped nectar on the sidelines.
“Told you,” he said. “Only I get to call him that.”
---
To this day, the rule is carved into the golden columns of Olympus in ten-foot-tall glowing letters:
“ONLY APOLLO CAN CALL ZEUS DADDY.”
All others will be smitten. Repeatedly.
Chapter 387: Olympian Abs & Baby Betrayal
Chapter Text
Title: “Olympian Abs & Baby Betrayal”
Baby Apollo | Jealous Zeus | Uncle Hades & Uncle Poseidon | Crack Fic | Light Humor | Adorable Chaos
---
Olympus was, for once, quiet. Birds sang, ambrosia sparkled in chalices, and Zeus was in a rare good mood.
He cradled baby Apollo in his arms—newly born, golden curls soft and wild, tiny hands grabbing at his father’s beard.
“Aren’t you lucky,” Zeus grinned. “You’ll grow up looking just like me, the king of the gods!”
Apollo drooled on his toga.
A high compliment, Zeus assumed.
---
But peace on Olympus never lasted long.
It began with Poseidon.
The sea god arrived shirtless, as he often did, glistening with ocean spray and adorned in pearls. His biceps flexed as he waved at little Apollo, trident casually slung over his shoulder.
Apollo stared.
His golden eyes went wide.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Then let out a happy coo and reached both arms toward Poseidon.
“Oh ho!” Poseidon chuckled. “You want your Uncle Poseidon? You like the muscles, little sunshine?”
Apollo squealed and kicked his feet, absolutely ecstatic.
Zeus blinked. “…Interesting.”
---
It got worse when Hades showed up.
Dark and regal, robes draped open just enough to reveal chiselled abs and ink-black tattoos winding over his torso. Shadows curled around his ankles like loyal dogs.
Apollo stared again.
Mouth open.
Drooling.
Hades smirked.
“Well, well. Looks like someone appreciates a proper aesthetic.”
Apollo flailed his little arms and crawled out of Zeus’s lap—wobbling like an overexcited jellybean—straight toward Hades.
“Hnnn,” said Apollo, grabbing at the dark god’s robes and burying his face in his stomach.
Zeus’s eye twitched.
“Okay, rude.”
---
It didn’t stop.
Every time Poseidon flexed, Apollo giggled.
Every time Hades leaned against a column and brooded, Apollo swooned.
He followed them around Olympus like a tiny, star-struck groupie, clutching his toy lyre and babbling nonsense that sounded suspiciously like “absy” and “hot.”
---
Zeus had had enough.
One day, after catching Apollo trying to crawl into Hades’ lap while simultaneously drooling on Poseidon’s biceps, Zeus pulled him aside like a betrayed parent at a parent-teacher conference.
“Listen here, you ungrateful sparkleball. I’m the King of the Gods. I smite people! I have abs too!”
Apollo blinked at him.
Then reached out… and squished Zeus’s belly.
Not his abs.
His soft dad belly.
Zeus’s soul left his body.
---
From that day on, Zeus could be found in the palace gym, lifting mountains and running laps around Olympus while muttering “I’ll show him abs. I’ll show them all.”
Meanwhile, baby Apollo lounged in Hades’ lap while Poseidon braided his curls.
It was official.
The sun god had excellent taste.
Title: “Olympian Abs & Baby Betrayal – Part 2: The 10-Pack Revelation”
Baby Apollo | Helios | Jealous Zeus Returns | Hades & Poseidon’s Abs Face Competition | Crack Fic | Adorable Drama
---
It was a peaceful day on Olympus.
Zeus had finally gotten his abs to show—faintly, mind you—but they were there. He was lounging shirtless on a throne-sized sun lounger, flexing whenever anyone walked by.
Apollo, now a proud one-and-a-half years old (mentally), toddled around with his plush sun chariot toy, giggling to himself and occasionally face-planting on the marble floor.
Artemis, a chubby-cheeked toddler with judgmental eyes, was nearby picking up fallen pomegranate seeds and shoving them into Apollo’s mouth.
All was good.
And then…
Helios arrived.
---
Helios, god of the original sun, strolled through the courtyard with all the dramatic flair of a man who knew he was underappreciated but stupid hot. Golden robes swept around his legs. His skin glowed. His chest was bare. And on that chest were—
Ten.
Perfect.
Abs.
Sculpted like marble. Lined like divine artwork. Shining like Apollo’s future.
---
Apollo’s plush sun toy hit the ground.
He stared.
Helios noticed and smiled like the literal embodiment of a thirst trap.
“Hey there, little sunshine,” he purred. “You like what you see?”
Apollo’s mouth fell open.
Then:
“AAAAAAAAHHH—!!”
He flailed. He shrieked. He crawled at lightspeed toward Helios and clung to his leg, little fingers gripping golden skin as if he were trying to absorb it via osmosis.
“Abs!! Abs!!! AaaaAAAA!!”
Artemis stood in the background, pomegranate in mouth, unimpressed. “Betrayer,” she muttered.
---
Meanwhile, from behind a marble column, Zeus peered out—in horror.
He knew that tone.
That squealing. That awe-struck baby warble.
He stormed into the courtyard, hands on hips.
“WHO GAVE HELIOS PERMISSION TO BE HOT?!”
Helios blinked. “I was born hot. You’re just mad because your ‘dad bod’ isn’t winning awards.”
“EXCUSE ME—?!”
But Zeus wasn’t the only one outraged.
Hades appeared in a puff of shadow, eyes narrowing as he saw Apollo climbing Helios like a sparkling jungle gym.
Poseidon emerged from a salt-spray portal holding a towel and an offended expression. “We worked hard to earn that simp, Helios!”
Apollo, perched on Helios’s shoulder now like a drooling parrot, just babbled:
“Ten… abs… Daddy doesn’t have ten…”
And Zeus collapsed emotionally.
---
Later that evening, Hades, Poseidon, and Helios had a shirtless showdown in the main hall.
Zeus tried to join in.
Apollo patted his stomach once, sighed, and waddled off toward Helios’s lap again.
---
Final Score:
Helios: 10/10 abs, smug level 300
Hades: Awarded "Best Monster Goth Core" by Artemis
Poseidon: Won "Best Biceps" from baby Apollo
Zeus: Bought a divine treadmill
Chapter 388: Sun Mirrors and Daddy Issues
Chapter Text
Title: "Sun Mirrors and Daddy Issues"
Fem!Apollo | Helios | Zeus | Family Comedy | Petty Gods | Uncanny Resemblance Chaos
---
If there was one thing everyone on Olympus could agree on, it was this:
Apollo looked exactly like Helios.
Uncannily. Uncomfortably. Irritatingly.
Exactly. Like. Helios.
---
From the blazing gold eyes with flecks of sunfire, to the lush, golden hair that flowed like molten sunlight, to the arrogant brows, sharp cheekbones, and "I-am-the-morning" smile — even the way they turned their heads was the same.
It was like the gods took a mirror, gave it sass and rhythm, and split it into two sun gods.
The only difference was that Apollo was, technically, Zeus’s daughter.
But try telling that to literally anyone who walked by the two of them laughing on a balcony together, both draped in shimmering silk, tossing their hair and exhaling pure golden light like overachieving fashion icons.
---
Even worse?
They acted like father and daughter.
Helios doted on her like a proud dad at a solar-powered pageant.
"My darling girl, you’re radiant today.”
“Your solar flares are developing beautifully.”
“Do mortals worship your ankles yet? They should.”
Apollo, smirking like a favored princess, would reply:
"Thanks, Dad—but only six cities built shrines this week. I expect eight by Friday.”
---
Zeus. Was. Not. Okay.
---
At first, he tried subtle approaches.
“Helios, maybe don’t stand so close to her,” he said one afternoon as the two giggled over chariot designs.
“She’s mine,” he added.
Helios blinked. “What, the chariot?”
“No. The girl. My daughter.”
Helios gave him the exact same squint Apollo did when she was unimpressed. “Oh, right. Of course. You’re the father.”
That tone. That infuriating “if you say so” tone.
Zeus seethed quietly.
---
He tried overcompensating next.
Started braiding Apollo’s hair himself, calling her “my little lightning bug,” and sending her thunderbolt earrings she never wore.
Apollo just went:
"Aw, thanks. I’ll give these to Artemis. She likes shiny things.”
He died inside.
---
One day, at the monthly Olympian Council, it reached critical levels.
Apollo entered late, glowing as usual, and dropped into the empty seat beside Helios instead of Zeus.
The two leaned into each other and started whispering. Laughing.
Zeus stared at them like a betrayed sitcom husband watching his wife flirt with the mailman.
He snapped.
“YOU’RE NOT HER FATHER!”
Silence.
Even Hades looked up from his crossword.
Helios blinked. “I never said I was. You just keep yelling it.”
Apollo tilted her head and blinked at Zeus with pure innocence.
"Daddy, why are you so loud about your insecurity?”
---
Zeus slumped in his throne, dramatically defeated.
Apollo reached over to pat his hand.
"Don’t worry. I look like Helios. But I get my drama from you.”
Zeus perked up slightly.
"And my gift for thunderous overreactions.”
“…You really do love me.” He sniffed.
She winked. “Of course I do, Daddy.”
Then she turned and high-fived Helios behind his back.
Chapter 389: Son of Thunder, Heart of Gold
Chapter Text
Title: "Son of Thunder, Heart of Gold"
Apollo | Zeus | Athena | Troilus | Myth Reimagined | Possessive Parent Zeus | Divine Family Drama
---
The pantheon often joked that Zeus had too many children to count—somewhere between a godly hundred and a scandalous thousand—but only a few ever mattered to him.
One stood above the rest.
Apollo.
---
Golden, radiant, sharp-tongued and soft-hearted, Apollo wasn’t just the god of music, prophecy, poetry, healing, and the sun.
He was Zeus’s favorite.
Not even Hera dared say otherwise.
---
Of course, Zeus never said he had a favorite child.
Not out loud.
Except—
“Where’s my perfect son?” (shouted across the palace)
“Why doesn’t everyone write hymns like Apollo?”
“Hermes, why can’t you look that graceful holding a lyre?”
“Ares, stop bleeding everywhere, your brother wears white.”
He was about as subtle as a thunderclap in a china shop.
---
The other gods rolled their eyes. Artemis ignored it with cool detachment. Hermes claimed favoritism gave him allergies.
But Athena?
Athena took it personally.
Because while Apollo sang songs and made mortals swoon, she led armies. She strategized. She won wars.
But Zeus never called her “my sunshine.” Never carved marble statues of her smiling face. Never listened when she cried.
And when it came to Troilus, the gentle Trojan boy Apollo adored more than anyone—
Athena crossed a line.
---
Troilus had been marked by fate for slaughter. He was a son of Troy, and war demanded blood.
But Apollo had tried to intervene—he begged, pleaded, threatened, wept.
He saw in Troilus what the gods rarely saw in mortals: kindness that refused to die.
He asked Athena, once, not to involve herself in the boy’s fate.
She brushed it aside. “Compassion does not win wars.”
When Troilus fell by Achilles’ hand, and Athena dared call it “necessary,” Apollo shattered.
He screamed for days. He ripped down prophecies. He refused sunlight to the Greeks. He howled.
Zeus found him curled at the edge of the battlefield, covered in ash and silence, cradling the boy’s broken corpse.
---
And something inside Zeus snapped.
---
Later that day, thunder roared over Mount Olympus.
Athena arrived for council, proud and poised—until her war helmet crumbled into dust the moment she stepped inside.
“Father,” she started, but Zeus didn’t let her finish.
“You made my son cry.”
A beat.
“I did my duty,” Athena said, steeling her voice.
“You made Apollo cry.”
His voice was like a thousand storms tearing across a god’s spine.
He struck her name from the war memorials. Shattered her favorite temple. Sent her owl M.I.A. for months.
Not even Hera stepped in to stop it.
Apollo said nothing.
But he never forgot.
---
From that point on, Zeus didn’t even pretend.
If Apollo walked into the room, conversations stopped.
He was the only one allowed to interrupt council.
When he was sad, the world paused.
He once tripped on a pebble and Zeus smote the entire mountain.
---
When Artemis challenged Apollo to a race, Zeus declared, “You’re not allowed to beat my son in anything.”
When Apollo broke a harp string, Zeus summoned the Fates to personally retune it.
When Ares mocked Apollo for wearing perfume, Zeus flung him across a valley with a bolt and shouted:
"MY SON SMELLS LIKE HEAVEN, YOU BRUTE.”
---
Eventually, even mortals picked up on it.
They whispered prayers to Apollo more often, because they knew he was the golden boy, and if you pleased him, you pleased the king of the gods.
---
One day, Apollo leaned into Zeus’s throne and said softly,
“You know I love you, right?”
Zeus didn’t smile. Not really. But his voice softened like thunder just before rain.
“You’re the only one who never had to.”
---
And in that moment, the god of storms wrapped a protective arm around the god of light, and Olympus bowed—
not to the king—
But to his favorite sun.
Chapter 390: The Sun, The Moon, and All Their Children
Chapter Text
Title: "The Sun, The Moon, and All Their Children"
Fem!Apollo | Male!Artemis | Zeus’s Firstborns | Sibling Chaos | Family Fluff | Soft Power | Divine Drama
---
Before there were wars and weddings, thrones and tempests, there were two.
Not Hera’s, not Leto’s, not even the Fates’.
But Zeus’s first true children:
Artemis, the quiet moon-eyed hunter, born first with silver blood and starlight in his hair. Stern. Wild. Protective.
And
Apollo, the golden darling of Olympus, radiant from her first breath, with a voice like a hymn and a gaze that could command gods and mortals alike.
Although they were twins, Artemis was older by nine days—he would always say that with a proud tilt of his chin—but they were as close as breathing.
They grew together. They learned together.
They ruled their younger siblings before they even realized they were doing it.
---
Olympus was never the same after their arrival.
---
When Hermes was still a barefoot toddler stealing sandals and truths, it was Artemis who taught him how to move without guilt. It was Apollo who taught him how to lie with beauty.
When Dionysus stumbled onto Olympus weeping divine madness, it was Apollo who sat beside him and combed his hair while Artemis stood guard with a drawn bow, eyes daring anyone to come closer.
When Athena carved herself from Zeus’s skull and didn’t know how to feel, it was Apollo who wrote her a song with no lyrics, just strings—because sometimes love isn’t spoken.
---
Even Ares, ever the loud-mouthed brute, once paused mid-battle when a young Hermes cried and whispered:
“What would Apollo say if she saw you hurt him?”
He paled.
He stopped.
---
“How would Apollo feel?”
It became the universal warning.
When a young goddess reached to start a petty war over jealousy, her hand froze at the words.
When Hermes planned to charm a cursed object from the Underworld, Artemis said, “She would cry, you know. If you died again.”
When Athena plotted another manipulation that involved mortals as pawns, she paused. “She wouldn’t look at me the same,” she whispered.
And that was always enough.
---
Because Apollo, with her golden eyes and too-big heart, never asked for this power. She never claimed it.
She simply was.
---
Where Zeus ruled with fear, Apollo ruled with affection. And that made all the difference.
Because every younger god could remember a moment when they were small, scared, and cold—and it was Apollo who knelt down and cupped their face and said:
"You’re not alone. Not while I burn.”
---
Of course, everyone knew she was the favorite.
It wasn’t even a secret.
Zeus once declared it during a banquet, drunk on nectar and pride, his arm thrown around her shoulder:
“Look at her. My masterpiece. My sunlight. The one thing I’ve done right.”
The room had gone silent.
Artemis, standing beside them, only smirked.
"I’ll let you have this one, sister.”
Apollo rolled her eyes.
“As if you could stop me.”
---
The younger gods idolized them.
To Artemis, they came for protection, for lessons in discipline and survival.
To Apollo, they came for comfort, for inspiration, for warmth.
They were not siblings.
They were mother and father by divine proxy.
---
When Hebe stumbled during her duties, she burst into tears and hid behind the columns. Apollo found her, lifted her chin, and said softly:
"Even perfection spills nectar. I do it all the time. Ask Artemis.”
Artemis, hearing his name, raised an eyebrow from across the room. “I do not.”
Apollo laughed. “You do.”
---
When Persephone first came to Olympus, half spring, half shadow, she flinched at every god who looked at her wrong.
But when Apollo placed a laurel wreath in her hands and said, “You remind me of a poem I haven't written yet,”
Persephone smiled for the first time.
---
Even Hades once muttered (after watching her calm an entire council of bickering gods with a sigh and a song):
"I understand Zeus’s bias. It’s irritating, but understandable.”
---
And Zeus? He never pretended.
When Apollo cried, the sky darkened.
When she laughed, the clouds glowed.
When someone hurt her—
They paid.
---
Once, Athena scolded Apollo too harshly over a prophecy gone wrong. She hadn't meant to—she had been logical, cold, precise, as always.
But Apollo’s lip had trembled.
And that night?
Zeus cracked one of Athena’s temples in half.
The next morning, he announced that Apollo would receive a new constellation and a fortified sun palace.
He never even mentioned Athena’s incident.
---
She didn’t apologize.
But she did bring Apollo a scroll the next day that said: “Let’s revise the prophecy together.”
Apollo beamed.
Artemis rolled his eyes.
---
They weren’t perfect gods.
But to Olympus?
They were its golden pillars.
The elder siblings who raised a pantheon and never asked for praise.
The gods you didn’t want to disappoint.
Because the sun could scorch.
But worse—
It could dim.
---
And none of them could bear the thought of that.
Chapter 391: Golden God, Spartan Prince
Chapter Text
Title: “Golden God, Spartan Prince”
Apollo | Hyacinthus | Olympus Meets Sparta | Fluff, Brutality, Divine Romance
---
To Olympus, Apollo was everything.
He was song and prophecy, sun and poetry. He glowed like a sunrise, sharp as a spear of light, and carried pride like a second skin.
He was surrounded by worshippers, lovers, and admirers.
So when he fell for a mortal, the gods rolled their eyes.
"Another tragic romance.”
“Let me guess—handsome face, empty head?”
“Someone who will die before he finishes that poem Apollo wrote him.”
And when they heard the name—
Hyacinthus.
A mortal prince. A Spartan, no less. Born to war, raised on stone and blood, said to be beautiful enough to stun the gods.
They didn’t believe the hype.
Apollo did.
---
He didn’t just love Hyacinthus.
He worshipped him.
He wrote sonnets and burned laurel leaves in his name.
He showed up late to divine meetings because “Hyacinthus was braiding my hair and I don’t interrupt art.”
He mentioned him in prophecies.
He painted murals of his back muscles.
Zeus tried to hold a council once. Apollo showed up mid-discussion and just said, “I would’ve been earlier, but I was watching Hyacinthus spar shirtless.”
Hera nearly threw a wine goblet.
---
It was getting out of hand.
So the gods decided to meet him.
They came down from Olympus in all their glory: draped in power, expecting some fragile pretty boy who simpered and swooned.
What they found was…
Sparta.
---
Hyacinthus met them at the training field. Shirtless, sweat-slicked, holding a spear in one hand and the severed head of a bandit in the other.
He blinked at them, unbothered.
Apollo waved happily from the sideline, perched like a delighted little sun on a rock, eating grapes. “You’re early! He just finished his warm-up decapitations.”
---
Ares was the first to speak. “You’re the Spartan?”
Hyacinthus nodded once. “Do you want to fight?”
“…Yes.”
They fought for six hours.
Ares lost.
---
Hermes appeared next, flashing around, trying to trip him, confuse him, outpace him.
Hyacinthus didn’t blink. He just slammed Hermes into the dirt and said, “You’re fast. But you breathe too loud.”
Hermes never spoke of it again.
---
Athena tried to challenge him to a game of strategy.
Hyacinthus looked at her war board once. Reorganized it. “Your left flank’s weak. I’d invade at dawn.”
She narrowed her eyes.
He was right.
She now refers to him as “The Mortal General.”
---
Even Hades, watching from the Underworld, muttered, “Well. Damn.”
---
But it wasn’t just the brutality.
It was how Hyacinthus treated Apollo.
He brushed Apollo’s hair like it was woven sunlight.
He called him my sun with a voice like carved bronze.
He didn’t worship Apollo. He loved him—with his hands, his eyes, his cock, his entire damn Spartan soul.
And Apollo, who could destroy nations with a breath, melted like honey around him.
---
Once, after a long day of sparring, Apollo curled up beside Hyacinthus in front of a campfire. The gods watched from a distance, confused.
He wasn’t glowing like usual. He wasn’t posing or singing.
He was quiet. Soft. Real.
And Hyacinthus was just… running fingers through his hair and saying, “The sun sets for now. But I’m still here.”
---
Later, Zeus grunted. “I still don’t get it.”
Hera said, “You wouldn’t.”
Hestia simply smiled. “Because he is home.”
---
From then on, no god ever questioned Apollo’s devotion again.
Because Hyacinthus was not just beautiful.
He was brutal. Brilliant. Steady. Loyal.
And to Apollo?
He was everything the gods were not.
Chapter 392: Your Light in the Shadows
Chapter Text
Title: “Your Light in the Shadows”
Telemachus x Apollo | Long Fic | Bottom Apollo | Obsession, Devotion, and Divine Intrigue
---
Prologue: A Prayer in the Dark
Apollo wasn’t meant to hear the boy.
The prayer was barely more than a whisper, a desperate plea carried through broken sobs and childlike hopelessness. Not a hymn in a temple. Not a song of praise. Just a voice under a tattered blanket, shivering under the threat of power-hungry men who laughed too loudly, drank too freely, and circled his mother like wolves.
“Please. I don’t care who hears. Someone—anyone—make them go away. I don’t want to lose her too.”
Apollo, god of prophecy, healing, and light, felt the plea slice into his immortal chest like a knife.
He rose from his golden throne.
---
Chapter 1: The Visit
Apollo appeared not as a god, but as a golden-hooded traveler cloaked in starlight. Telemachus saw him by the hearth, radiant and strange, flame-cast eyes glowing with a warmth he had never known.
“Who are you?” the boy whispered.
The traveler only smiled.
That night, none of the suitors crossed the threshold of Telemachus’ room. They claimed to feel watched, that the hearth roared hotter when they approached, that they dreamt of burning eyes and celestial judgment. They began to fear the shadows.
But Apollo never hurt them. Zeus’s laws forbade it.
He only watched.
---
Chapter 2: A Boy and His God
Telemachus was fourteen the first time he truly saw Apollo—glowing softly beneath a tree in the orchard, playing a mournful tune on his lyre. The sound wove around him like mist, clinging to his skin, stirring feelings he didn’t know how to name.
“You came back,” Telemachus said.
“I never left,” Apollo answered.
That day became the first of many. Apollo would meet him in secret, teach him songs that made the olives bloom faster, show him how to heal a cut with a chant, how to read the stars. To others, Telemachus grew quiet. Disciplined. Distant. But inwardly…
He was burning.
He began praying daily—not for protection now, but for Apollo himself.
Not a father. Not a savior.
A lover.
---
Chapter 3: The Obsession
By the time Telemachus turned eighteen, the suitors spoke with caution around him. The boy who once cowered now had steel in his spine, and fire in his eyes.
When Penelope asked him why he never looked at any of the maidens paraded before him, he only said:
“They’re not divine.”
Odysseus had returned by then, in disguise. Watching. Waiting. He found his son...odd. A boy grown into a man with strange habits—chanting softly to no one, staring into the sun as if daring it to burn him.
And in his sleep? He whispered a name.
“Apollo.”
---
Chapter 4: Divine Confession
Apollo had tried to pull away.
He knew what it was becoming. A mortal’s devotion turning to madness. But the more he tried to distance himself, the more Telemachus clung to him. The boy who once cried at his altar now gripped his tunic and begged him to stay.
“You saved me,” Telemachus said, mouth brushing Apollo’s shoulder. “You’re mine now.”
Apollo, trembling with mortal longing that no god should feel, let him press kisses into his throat, collarbone, chest—each one more possessive than the last.
That night, the god of light let himself be claimed.
He could still hear the boy whisper in his ear, over and over like a vow:
“You’re mine. Mine. Mine.”
---
Chapter 5: The Reactions
Penelope found out first.
She walked in on her son pressing his forehead to a golden god’s chest, murmuring prayers like poetry, while Apollo cradled him as if he were porcelain.
She screamed.
Odysseus came running, sword in hand—only to stop cold when he saw Apollo, naked beneath a silk wrap, eyes wide and startled like a deer in torchlight.
Odysseus: “Are you—are you SLEEPING with my son?!”
Apollo: “It’s...more complicated than that.”
Penelope fainted.
---
Chapter 6: The Gods Intervene
Zeus was furious.
Athena rolled her eyes.
Artemis was ready to kill Telemachus on sight. “You TOUCHED my brother?!”
Apollo, curled behind Telemachus, hissed: “I wanted it.”
Ares laughed.
Hermes took pictures.
Poseidon sat back and said: “Well, at least someone in that family can seduce a god.”
Even Hades showed up like: “This is why I stopped going to family dinners.”
Zeus was about to smite the entire room when Telemachus stood up and said in a calm, terrifying voice:
“If you hurt him, I’ll make sure Olympus burns. He is mine.”
Everyone shut up.
Even Zeus.
---
Chapter 7: Golden Chains
Apollo wore golden bracelets that matched Telemachus’ own. Gifts exchanged in a quiet ceremony under starlight and sea breeze.
The suitors were long gone—driven off by storm and sword.
Odysseus eventually accepted the madness. Penelope did not—but even she knew better than to get in the way of a man in love with a god.
Telemachus still prayed every night, but not for favors.
Just to hear Apollo’s voice whisper back.
And when they lay together, Apollo soft and pliant beneath him, lips swollen with kisses and
stardust, Telemachus would smile.
“Still mine?”
And Apollo would sigh.
“Always.”
---
END.
(Or is it the beginning of a myth they’ll never forget?)
Chapter 393: He Knows Exactly What He’s Doing
Chapter Text
Title: “He Knows Exactly What He’s Doing”
Pairing: Top!Telemachus x Bottom!Apollo
---
The temple was filled with the scent of wildflowers, honey, cinnamon, and citrus. Offerings laid at Apollo’s feet shimmered in the sun—music sheets written in Telemachus’ hand, fresh-picked fruit, and an expertly crafted golden lyre.
But what really had everyone’s attention wasn’t the offering. It was how it was delivered.
Telemachus stood in front of the altar like he owned the place, his voice low and rich as he recited, “To the most radiant of gods. To the one whose beauty puts Aphrodite to shame. May these gifts please your divine... everything.”
Gasps. Stifled laughter. Someone dropped their wine cup.
And there, lounging lazily against a golden column, was Apollo.
He wore a loosely draped chiton that left very little to the imagination, sun-gold hair curling just right, lips glossy with pomegranate oil. His smile was sin in daylight.
“Flattery, Telemachus?” Apollo purred, twirling a curl of his hair. “You know I prefer sincerity.”
“Oh, I’m being very sincere,” Telemachus replied, voice like a caress. “I didn’t offer that lyre just to play songs. I offered it hoping you'd let me strum something more divine.”
The room exploded in whispered scandal.
Apollo laughed, high and clear, cheeks faintly pink. He stood with all the slow elegance of a cat stretching in the sun and walked barefoot toward Telemachus, hips swaying like he knew exactly how many stares he owned.
And he did.
“Well then,” Apollo said, stopping so close that Telemachus could feel the warmth of his skin, “you’d better pray your hands are skilled, mortal. Because I have very high standards.”
Telemachus leaned in with a smirk. “I never miss a target.”
“Oh?” Apollo hummed, dragging a finger along Telemachus' jaw. “I suppose we’ll just have to see if you can… keep up with a god.”
A beat. Then Apollo turned with a sway of his hips and disappeared into a corridor behind the altar—his smirk unmistakable.
Telemachus calmly turned to the stunned audience and said, “Excuse me. I’m about to worship properly.”
Then he followed after Apollo, as the mortals gaped and the other gods just rolled their eyes.
---
End.
Chapter 394: What in Olympus Just Happened?
Chapter Text
Title: “What in Olympus Just Happened?”
Top Telemachus x Bottom Apollo — Post-Lovemaking Chaos Edition™
---
Apollo could barely keep his eyes open. He was flushed, glowing faintly like a golden peach under sunlight, buried under linen sheets with his hair sticking to his face. He clung tightly to the very smug and very shirtless Telemachus like a koala, face buried in the mortal prince’s shoulder.
“…I can’t walk,” Apollo mumbled, red in the face and refusing to look his twin in the eye.
Artemis stood at the doorway.
And she was vibrating with the fury of ten thousand moons.
“Telemachus,” she said, voice calm in the way that promised murder was on the horizon, “you slept with my brother.”
Telemachus, unfazed, kissed the top of Apollo’s head. “Yes.”
Artemis’s bow materialized with a glimmer of divine rage. “You absolute mortifying menace of a—"
“Arty, no!” Apollo whimpered from the bed, dragging the sheets over his head. “You’ll ruin the afterglow!”
“Oh, I’m going to ruin something, alright—like his spine.”
---
Outside, Mount Olympus was already in chaos.
Aphrodite was shrieking with laughter.
Hermes had bet ten drachmae that Telemachus would be dead by noon.
Zeus was silent, but the sky was rumbling.
Hera was drinking wine like water.
And Hades? Hades had popcorn.
Poseidon was suspiciously quiet.
Until he appeared next to Odysseus and Penelope, who had just been summoned via extremely panicked dream-visions.
Penelope looked at her son. Then at Apollo. Then at the gods. Then back at her son.
“I left you alone for two weeks,” she said calmly, “and you seduced a god?”
Odysseus, traumatized, stared into the void. “That’s…that’s the god of the sun.”
Telemachus shrugged, Apollo still clinging to him like a golden scarf. “He started it.”
“I did not!” Apollo squeaked. “You literally said you’d ‘worship me in ways Olympus forgot’ and then you did!”
“Wait.” Odysseus squinted. “Is that why the sun was late yesterday?”
Apollo covered his face with both hands.
“Yes,” Telemachus said proudly.
Penelope sighed. “At least he’s pretty. And polite. Are you two being safe?”
“Mother—!”
---
As Artemis lunged with her arrows drawn, Apollo dragged Telemachus into a dramatic vanishing act via flash of golden mist.
Only a golden feather remained, drifting onto Artemis’s nose.
Hera sipped her wine. “They grow up so fast.”
---
Title: “Sun God Afterglow: The Debrief”
or: Apollo Should Really Not Talk When Flustered
---
Olympus, mid-morning.
The divine gossip council had assembled.
Aphrodite lounged on a cloud-shaped chaise in a robe that looked like it cost entire empires. Dionysus was sipping wine from a cup that refilled itself when he winked. Hermes had two scrolls ready: one for “Emotional Support” and the other for “Absolutely Unhinged Receipts.”
And in the middle of it all, Apollo.
Wrapped in a golden silk robe. Hair fluffy. Legs crossed. Eyes wide and glowing a little too brightly.
“You slept with the mortal prince of Ithaca,” Hermes said slowly, “and now you’re blushing like a maiden in a romance scroll.”
“I’m not blushing,” Apollo said, lying terribly.
“Darling,” Aphrodite purred, “you’re the color of a sun-ripened pomegranate. Spill. Everything.”
Dionysus leaned in. “Yes. Details. What did he do? How did he do it? Did you—?”
“YES, we did it!” Apollo snapped, hiding behind his hands. “Multiple times!”
Aphrodite gasped. Hermes high-fived Dionysus. Dionysus cheered.
Apollo peeked out between his fingers, frowning. “He—He said he’d worship me in ways Olympus had forgotten, and then he meant it.”
“He made you see the constellations in your own sky, huh?” Dionysus winked.
“I—I couldn’t walk for six hours,” Apollo whispered.
Hermes immediately wrote that down. “Noted: Telemachus causes solar paralysis.”
“I had to reschedule the sun!” Apollo wailed. “I missed three poems I was supposed to inspire! There was a bard in Athens crying because I didn’t whisper lyrics into her ear!”
“Oh baby,” Aphrodite giggled, “I can feel the blush in your aura. It’s got roses in it.”
Apollo sank into the pillows, face hidden. “He was so… confident. He bit my shoulder! I melted like nectar!”
“Did he—?” Hermes raised a brow. “You know. Say your name?”
Apollo squeaked.
“That’s a yes,” Dionysus said smugly.
“He said it like it was a prayer,” Apollo confessed. “And then—then—he grabbed my lyre-hand—”
“OH MY GODS.” Aphrodite screeched, kicking her feet.
“—and he looked me in the eye, and he said, ‘Sing for me, golden one.’”
There was a long pause. All three gods just stared.
Hermes clutched his heart. “Okay. I see it. I get it.”
“I’d marry him,” Dionysus said.
“I already tried to seduce him last spring and he rejected me because he was ‘loyal,’” Aphrodite sighed. “Now I know why.”
Apollo curled into himself and moaned dramatically. “I am doomed.”
“Blessed,” Dionysus corrected. “Ravished.”
“You are positively ruined for other men,” Aphrodite declared.
Apollo peeked out again. “I’m not giving him back.”
“Oh no, honey,” Hermes grinned. “He owns you now.”
Chapter 395: The Sun That Scorches the Sea
Notes:
Inspired by Get In The Water
Chapter Text
Title: “The Sun That Scorches the Sea”
Apollo vs. Poseidon | Divine Rage | Olympus Drama | Intense Confrontation | Unholy Threats | Humor, Angst, and Fire
---
It started with one betrayal.
Poseidon thought he could brush Apollo’s patience like a wave against a stone—chipping, wearing, mocking—and there would be no consequence.
But there are rules to the divine.
You do not insult the sun and expect to walk away unburnt.
---
No one knew what Poseidon had said—some whispered he mocked Hyacinthus, others swore he tampered with Apollo’s temples in Delos, or worse, used prophecy-warping salt magic to reroute one of Apollo’s visions.
But whatever he did, it broke something golden and ancient inside Apollo.
Because when Apollo arrived on the cliffs above the sea, face blank, hair aflame with restrained fury, the tides themselves slowed.
He didn’t yell.
He didn’t scream.
He just said, in a voice colder than space between stars:
"Get in the water.”
---
Poseidon, lounging on a rock and conjuring dolphins, blinked.
“What?”
“Get in the water.” Apollo’s tone was dead calm. “Or I’ll shine the sun so bright all the water will burn. Get in the water.”
Poseidon stood slowly. “Wait—wait, let’s talk about this.”
Apollo stepped forward, his skin glowing hotter by the second.
“Get in the water.”
The ocean hissed. Steam began to rise from the waves below.
“Stop this. Please!” Poseidon said, hands lifted.
Apollo didn’t flinch.
“I’ll make the water burn so profoundly even your wife and son will blister beneath it.”
“NO!” Poseidon shouted, panic replacing arrogance. “This is madness!”
Apollo raised one hand toward the sun.
The sky cracked white.
“GET IN THE WATER! GET IN THE WATER!”
“DON’T DO THIS, APOLLO!”
“DON’T MISTAKE MY THREATS FOR BLUFF!”
“YOU HAVE LIVED MORE THAN ENOUGH!”
---
Olympus was chaos.
Gods gathered on balconies and clouds to witness the unfolding meltdown.
Hestia was sobbing.
Iris was sprinting between realms trying to keep the weather stable.
Hermes was live-etching the entire scene in stone tablets for future generations.
---
Hera, wine glass in hand, nudged Zeus, frowning.
“Stop your son. Help your brother.”
Zeus didn’t even look up from his seat. “I’m not dealing with that.”
"He’s going to boil the ocean, Zeus!”
“Maybe Poseidon deserves it.”
Hera blinked. “You’re petty.”
“I’m a parent. He said Apollo ‘cries too much for a Sun god.’ He’s lucky he’s still breathing.”
---
Back at the cliff, Poseidon was halfway submerged, steam curling around him, glaring.
“You’ve made your point.”
Apollo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Oh no. My point begins now.”
He raised the sun another notch.
The sea screamed.
---
Later—after the water calmed, after sea creatures began resurfacing, after Apollo extinguished the unnatural solar flare—Poseidon emerged from the depths like a drowned cat.
Burnt eyebrows. Soggy pride. Smelling like kelp and divine humiliation.
Apollo was already gone. Only the heat remained.
---
The gods didn’t speak of it again.
But every time Poseidon passed Apollo, he bowed slightly.
And every time Apollo smiled at him, Poseidon winced.
---
Because the sea endures…
But the sun?
The sun will burn it dry if you forget who it is.
Chapter 396: She Called for the Moon
Chapter Text
Title: “She Called for the Moon”
fem!Apollo | male!Artemis | Divine Twins | Broken Sunlight | Giant War | Loyalty & Love (Familial)
---
Once, when Olympus was new and the world was still drenched in starlight, Apollo was their favorite.
She was a miracle in motion—a gleaming goddess with molten-gold hair, sunfire eyes, and laughter like the first dawn.
They called her joy incarnate.
Her music wrapped around the columns of Olympus like silk. Her poetry bled into mortal tongues. Her voice, when raised in prophecy, shook the bones of the earth.
They loved her.
---
But love is loud at first, and silent when it fades.
Over time, the gods began to change.
They grew used to her glow.
Her songs became background noise at feasts.
Her beauty became a nuisance, compared too often to Aphrodite’s.
Her emotions? “Too much.”
Her presence? “A bit too bright.”
They stopped inviting her to councils.
Stopped listening when she warned them.
Mocked her kindness. Scoffed at her sentiment.
She went from muse to menace, from golden girl to gleaming burden.
---
But he never changed.
Artemis.
The moon to her sun. Her twin in name and soul, though they were no twins in age—he was older, steadier, forged from wild midnight and winter wind.
To the world, he was stoic.
To her, he was soft.
He braided her hair when she couldn’t stop crying.
He held her close when even her warmth felt cold.
He stood between her and the sharpness of Olympus without ever asking for thanks.
“They only love you when you shine for them,” he whispered once.
“But I see you even when you flicker.”
And she had smiled. Weakly. But truly.
---
Years passed.
Apollo burned slower now. Dimmer.
She stopped writing songs.
She no longer played her lyre unless she was alone.
She spoke less at councils.
And the gods?
They didn’t notice.
Except for Artemis.
He noticed everything.
---
Then came the Giant War.
And she fought.
Gods, she fought.
With her hair in a braid Artemis tied, with arrows kissed by the sun, with fire laced through her veins.
She burned through fields of enemies.
Until one of them, clad in mountain-iron and drenched in ichor, pierced her side with a cursed blade.
And she fell.
---
The battlefield paused.
Gods hovered.
The world tilted.
Apollo, their once-precious sun, was bleeding into the earth.
The gods circled her, hesitant.
Hera clutched her chest. “She’ll call for me. She always looked up to me.”
Athena stepped forward. “She’ll want me. I taught her strategy.”
Hermes shook his head. “She’ll want a healer—maybe Asclepius.”
Even Zeus, from afar, turned his gaze down.
But then—
A whisper.
Barely a breath.
“Artemis…”
---
The gods froze.
She wasn’t looking at any of them.
She wasn’t asking for praise. Or power. Or validation.
She was calling for the one who had never needed anything from her but her presence.
---
Within seconds, he was there.
Apollo’s vision blurred—sunlight flickering like candlelight—but she felt him.
The press of a cool hand on her burning cheek. The brush of familiar fingers lacing through hers. The way her name left his lips like a promise.
"I’m here,” Artemis said, kneeling in the blood-soaked grass.
“You called. I came.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
"You always come.”
---
He lifted her carefully. Cradled her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
The gods watched, silent, ashamed.
They had all assumed they'd be the ones she would need in her final moments.
But she had never needed gods who praised her sun when it warmed them and cursed it when it scorched.
She only needed him—her constant, her moon, her brother.
---
Later, after she healed, she didn’t return to Olympus for a long time.
She stayed with Artemis. In the deep forests.
In moonlight instead of sunlight. In silence instead of song.
And when she laughed again—really laughed—it was because he made her.
---
And the next time war stirred?
She didn’t wait for Olympus to summon her.
She only looked at Artemis and asked:
“Side by side?”
He smiled.
“Always.”
Title: “When the Light Returns”
fem!Apollo | male!Artemis | Olympus Amnesia | Broken Bonds | Regret & Repair
---
It began with Mnemosyne’s fall—
The primordial goddess of memory, struck down in battle by a dying Giant’s last curse.
Her body did not bleed, but the fabric of memory across Olympus twisted, snapped, and scattered.
The gods didn’t even notice at first.
Until one morning, the Council of Twelve sat in the great marble hall of Olympus… and looked across the table to see Apollo, leaning into the shadows beside Artemis.
Silent. Closed off.
And nothing like the shining sun they remembered.
---
They whispered.
Hera, fingers twitching around her goblet:
"She used to braid my hair in her youth, didn’t she? And I praised her singing.”
“Why does she not greet me?”
Athena, frowning at the silence:
“She used to come to my temple for strategy advice, curious as a fox. She called me her second teacher.”
“Why does she look through me now?”
Hermes, shifting uncomfortably:
“She used to tease me for stealing her lyre strings. She laughed at my dumb jokes.”
“She doesn’t even smile now…”
And Zeus...
He felt the ache more than he would ever admit.
He remembered the girl who danced in halls of lightning, who proudly called herself his favorite, who carved poems into the clouds.
But now?
She only looked at him when she had to.
---
They noticed other things.
The way she flinched when Poseidon brushed past her.
The way she no longer sang during feasts, only watched the flames.
The way she only smiled—truly, fully—when she looked at Artemis.
And Artemis… stood always by her side.
Not just her shadow.
Her fortress.
---
Eventually, the memories began to trickle back.
One by one, like distant dreams jolting into painful clarity.
Hera remembered brushing aside Apollo’s tears in council and calling them “excess.”
Athena remembered scolding her for “overstepping” and mocking her warmth.
Hermes remembered telling her she was “too radiant to feel sorry for.”
Zeus remembered turning away when she begged him—begged—to make them listen.
They had all loved her once.
And then they forgot how to.
And now?
She didn’t trust them.
Didn’t look at them.
She only clung to Artemis, her hand always near his sleeve, her face only softening when he laughed.
---
One night, they found her in the gardens, sitting under a cypress tree, head resting on Artemis’s shoulder.
She was humming softly. Not to the stars. Not to Olympus. Just to him.
Athena was the first to speak, hesitant.
“Apollo?”
She stilled.
Her golden eyes flickered up, cautious, cool.
“Yes?”
There was no venom. No heat.
Just distance.
Hera stepped forward. “We remember. We… remember everything now.”
Apollo blinked once. Her fingers curled tighter around her brother’s sleeve.
Zeus, for once, looked small. “We were wrong. I was wrong.”
Apollo didn’t speak.
Didn’t run.
Didn’t shout.
She simply said:
“You don’t get to apologize just because it’s convenient now.”
Her voice didn’t tremble. It rang like bells over bones.
"You mourn a sun you smothered. But I am not the girl you abandoned.”
---
Artemis said nothing.
But his arm around her tightened, and his eyes dared any of them to move closer.
---
Still, they tried. One by one.
Athena left a scroll of battle songs written in Apollo’s old style.
Hermes delivered laughter in the form of riddles and broken constellations.
Hera placed laurel seeds in her temples.
And Zeus… simply sat in silence one afternoon beside her fire, saying nothing but staying for once.
---
And slowly, very slowly—not forgiving, but softening—
Apollo began to sing again.
Not for them.
Not yet.
But in the twilight, as Artemis painted the sky in silver streaks, she let her voice rise. Cracked, imperfect, but hers.
And the gods listened.
This time, they truly
listened.
Chapter 397: Sunburnt Devotion
Notes:
The first person to request something for the next chapter will be able to request anything (smut or angst. But if it's smut it has to be bottom Apollo) and I will try to the best of my abilities to make it and make it 1k(+) words
Chapter Text
Title: “Sunburnt Devotion”
Apollo x Hyacinthus | Sadist!Apollo | Brutal!Hyacinthus | Divine Family Chaos | Protective Dad Energy | Obsession & Godly Love
---
Apollo had always loved beautiful things.
But beautiful things that bit back? That burned and bled and defied expectation?
Those were the things he craved.
That’s why he loved Hyacinthus.
Not because he was a handsome Spartan prince.
Not because his body was sculpted like a hero from myth.
No—he loved Hyacinthus because beneath all that beauty was a creature of violence, loyalty, and blood-drenched instinct.
---
Hyacinthus didn’t just defend. He destroyed.
If someone so much as looked at one of Apollo’s children wrong—god, demigod, or sacred beast—Hyacinthus would snap their wrist without blinking.
One time, a fellow demigod at camp called Will Solace "sun-kissed and soft."
Hyacinthus walked over calmly, pulled the boy by the collar, and broke his nose with the hilt of his dagger.
> “You don’t get to touch Apollo’s legacy,” he said, wiping his blade.
“Not unless you want your lineage erased.”
Will was horrified. Apollo was delighted.
---
There was something so divine about watching Hyacinthus go feral.
The flare in his eyes, the snarl on his lips, the way his hands moved like poetry made of wrath—
It made Apollo ache.
And the worst part? Hyacinthus only ever did it for Apollo. For his children. For their safety.
That loyalty? That possessive rage?
Apollo once watched Hyacinthus summon a Spartan spear and stab a monster straight through for spooking Kayla.
Then, with blood dripping down his forearm, he turned to Apollo and asked, completely calm:
"She’s fine now. Do you need anything else?”
Apollo had to excuse himself for divine reasons.
---
Artemis hated it.
“You are not supposed to find that attractive,” she snapped after Hyacinthus nearly ripped apart a minor god for getting too close to one of the Apollo cabins.
Apollo simply grinned.
“And yet, here I am. Absolutely glowing.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “You need help.”
Apollo shrugged. “I have Hyacinthus.”
---
When a rogue monster once attacked Camp Half-Blood, threatening the younger campers, Hyacinthus stormed into the fray alone. No armor. Just divine muscle memory, a glaive that shimmered like moon-silver, and a fury Apollo hadn't seen since Sparta.
By the time the gods arrived, there was nothing left but ashes.
And Hyacinthus, kneeling beside a trembling 7-year-old demigod, gently fixing her hair back into place.
Apollo stared, utterly smitten.
"You just wiped out a legion of beasts and then braided a child’s hair.”
Hyacinthus looked up, calm. “She asked nicely.”
Apollo bit his lip and said, “We’re leaving. Now.”
---
At night, when their kids were asleep and Olympus quieted, Apollo would lie tangled in Hyacinthus’ arms, fingers tracing old scars he remembered causing during sparring matches that became something else.
"You shouldn’t love me for this,” Hyacinthus murmured once, pressing his cheek to Apollo’s crown.
“For what I do.”
Apollo chuckled.
"I don’t love you despite it. I love you because of it.”
He tilted his head, eyes aglow.
"You protect them like a beast guards its cubs.
You slaughter anything that threatens what's ours.
And I—” he smiled, slow and sharp— “I’m a god who adores devotion. Especially when it's painted in blood.”
---
The sun god was radiant.
But his love?
It was terrifying.
And Hyacinthus—his Hyacinthus—was the only one who made him burn for it.
Chapter 398: The Honey Between Us
Notes:
I need an answer asap
Where do you think the best place would be for a temporary sun tattoo
Chapter Text
Title: “The Honey Between Us”
Apollo & Aristaeus | Family Feels | Healing a Fractured Bond | Bees, Light, and Unspoken Love
---
Aristaeus didn’t speak of Apollo often.
He wasn’t like Asclepius, bathed in temples and hymns, or Orpheus, immortalized in poetry. No, Aristaeus was the god who stayed on the edges—tending fields, milking goats, healing orchards that had no words for pain.
He didn’t need praise.
He needed quiet.
He needed purpose.
And he didn’t need Apollo.
Or at least… that’s what he told himself.
---
Apollo had dozens of children.
But only a few ever stayed.
Aristaeus remembered the day he realized his father would never raise him the way mortal fathers did.
He was seven, crying under an olive tree after being stung by a bee for the first time.
And when he whispered, "Father?" to the wind, no golden figure descended.
Only more bees came, humming around him like an answer.
---
Years passed. Aristaeus made peace with that silence.
He learned from nymphs, from dryads, from the creatures of the wild. He became the god of slow growth and simple things—bees, cheese, grain, tending life where none was before.
He never called Apollo again.
And Apollo… didn’t come.
---
Until one day, he did.
---
It was late summer when Apollo arrived. His chariot had long since vanished beneath a mortal disguise: sandals dusty, hair tied back, a humble linen tunic.
He came not with trumpets or prophecies, but a hesitant step across the dew-soaked grass of Aristaeus’s orchard.
And Aristaeus, shirtless and sunburned, holding a hive frame filled with golden honeycomb, simply stared.
“If this is about me not attending that last solstice festival,” he muttered, “I already told Hermes I’m not leaving my goats again.”
Apollo gave a soft, almost awkward laugh.
“I’m not here for that.”
Silence stretched.
“Then why are you here?” Aristaeus asked. “You’ve ignored me for centuries. What changed?”
Apollo looked down at the bees swirling around them, calm and content.
“I thought you didn’t want me.”
Aristaeus blinked.
“I didn’t.”
A pause. He added, softer:
“But I wanted you to try anyway.”
---
They sat under the olive tree—that same one—as the sun dipped low.
Aristaeus passed Apollo a jar of honey, the rich amber glowing in his hands.
“From the hives by the river,” he said. “They like the wild thyme there.”
Apollo took it gently, like it was a holy thing.
“It’s perfect.”
"It’s hard-earned.”
Another silence. Then Aristaeus whispered:
“I used to wonder what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t loud enough or bright enough to keep you around.”
Apollo's fingers tightened on the jar.
“You were never the problem.”
He looked up, eyes soft.
“I didn’t know how to be a father. And by the time I thought I could learn, I was too ashamed.”
Aristaeus let that sit.
Then, after a while, he held out a small beeswax-wrapped parcel.
“Here. Cheese. You’re not leaving empty-handed.”
Apollo stared, then laughed—really laughed.
It was the first time Aristaeus had ever seen that golden joy aimed at him.
---
They didn’t fix everything that day.
But when Apollo left, he had honey on his fingers and a promise in his voice:
“I’ll come back. Not as a god. Just as your father.”
And Aristaeus, surrounded by the hum of his bees and the warmth of the sun, whispered:
"Alright. I’ll be here."
Chapter 399: Golden and Unbroken
Chapter Text
Title: Golden and Unbroken
Female Apollo | Male Koronis | Male Artemis | Baby Asclepius | Family, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Kids
---
Koronis had been warmth to her once.
A mortal prince with steady hands and a smile that was quieter than most lovers Apollo had taken.
She’d thought him different.
Until the whispers reached her.
Until she walked into his chambers and saw him with another.
---
The god in her wanted to burn.
The woman in her wanted to break.
She did neither.
Instead, she turned and left without a word, her golden hair unbound, her heart pounding with something colder than grief.
---
It was Artemis who found her.
Not the silver huntress the mortals whispered about, but her twin — her brother in this telling — eyes sharp as steel, voice already laced with dangerous promise.
“Who hurt you?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
She didn’t have to.
---
When the arrow struck Koronis days later, Apollo didn’t stop it.
Perhaps she should have, but… she didn’t.
And when Artemis walked into the nursery afterward, carrying the swaddled newborn who had not yet taken his first deep breath of the world, she did not tell him to leave.
"His name is Asclepius,” she whispered. “He’s mine.”
Artemis’s jaw tightened.
“He’s ours now.”
---
They raised him between them — a child of sun and moon, of healer’s hands and hunter’s cunning.
Apollo taught him herbs and light.
Artemis taught him stillness and survival.
And as the boy grew, he learned that his mother had been betrayed — and that his uncle had avenged her without hesitation.
That seed of loyalty took root deep.
---
By the time Asclepius ascended to godhood, he was no longer the quiet boy in his mother’s garden.
He was a presence.
When anyone dared insult Apollo within earshot, he cut them down with words sharper than his uncle’s arrows. When a demigod sibling came to him in tears, he would shadow their door until the one who’d wronged them backed down — mortal or divine.
Once, Hermes made the mistake of joking that Apollo had “too many children to keep track of.”
Asclepius’s smile had been polite.
His voice, not.
“She remembers all of us. Do you?”
Hermes didn’t joke about it again.
---
Apollo sometimes watched him from a sunlit threshold — her son, grown into a god who healed with the same hands that could destroy.
Artemis would stand beside her, bow slung across his back.
“He’s like you,” Artemis would say.
“He’s like us,” Apollo would correct.
And for once, she felt that was true.
Chapter 400: Sunlight for the Next Generation
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight for the Next Generation
Female Apollo | Godly Family Fluff | Protective Grandma Energy
---
Time had a way of making gods feel… untouchable.
For Apollo, it had also made her a grandmother.
And she adored it.
---
Her children had always been hers in more than name — she’d raised them, fought for them, defended them even when Olympus frowned at her “overinvolvement.”
Now they had children of their own.
And those little ones? They were hers too.
---
She was that grandma.
The one who brought baskets of ambrosia cookies to visit.
The one who would drop everything — even an important council meeting — if one of her grandkids called her crying.
Zeus had once tried to scold her for leaving the throne room mid-session.
“Your presence was required—”
"My grandbaby’s tooth was hurting,” she’d cut in, voice deceptively sunny. “I’ll be back when they’re smiling again.”
Even Hera didn’t argue with that.
---
She took them everywhere.
One week it was riding in her chariot across the morning sky (“Don’t touch the reins unless Grandma says so!”).
Another week, it was sneaking them into the Muses’ hall so they could hear music not meant for mortal ears.
And gods help anyone who looked at her grandkids the wrong way.
Once, a minor sea god had muttered something snide about “sunspawn running wild.”
Apollo had leaned in, all sweetness.
“Do you like your tide cycles?” she asked.
“...Yes?”
“Good. Then keep my family’s name out of your mouth.”
The ocean was eerily still for days after.
---
Her favorite moments were the quiet ones.
Sitting in her garden, with one grandchild braiding flowers into her hair and another napping against her lap, tiny breaths warm against her skin.
Artemis (still the overprotective uncle) would hover nearby, pretending to read but glaring at any god who came too close.
---
To Apollo, it didn’t matter if they were godlings or demigods — each one was precious.
She’d lost too much in her long life to ever take them for granted.
So she loved them loudly, shielded them fiercely, and spoiled them shamelessly.
Because in her mind, the sun always shone brightest for her family.
Chapter 401: Thread of the Sun
Chapter Text
Title: Thread of the Sun
Male Moirai | Female Apollo | Origin of Prophecy
---
The Fates rarely spoke with anyone.
They wove, they cut, they tied. They decided.
But they did not… converse.
Yet the eldest thread-bearer — the one who held the shears, whose eyes saw every strand from its birth to its end — found himself watching the Sun.
---
Apollo, bright and golden, moved through the world with a laugh like morning bells.
She was radiant, unflinching, and alive in a way the Moirai never were.
And yet… in her eyes, he sometimes saw a shadow.
A wish to know.
A yearning to understand the shape of things before they came.
---
One day, when the sky burned in her colors, he stepped from the tapestry.
“God of the Sun,” he said, his voice low and soft as unraveling thread,
“Do you wish to see what I see?”
Apollo tilted her head.
"And if I do?”
"Then you will never be blind to the weave again. You will carry both the beauty and the burden of the future.”
She smiled, slow and dangerous.
“Show me.”
---
He took her hand.
His touch was cool, but it thrummed with the hum of all life. Threads began to form between his fingers and hers, luminous and endless.
Images bloomed behind her eyes — cities that had not yet risen, heroes who had not yet been born, wars that had not yet been fought. She saw lovers meeting for the first time, children’s first breaths, final farewells whispered in the dark.
And she saw herself, standing in all of it, bearing witness.
---
“This is the gift,” he murmured. “The sight of the loom. The prophecy in every thread.”
Her breath caught.
It was too much — and yet she didn’t want to let go.
“Why me?” she asked.
The Moirai’s mouth curved faintly.
“Because you are the Sun. And only the Sun has the strength to watch the world burn and still rise again.”
---
When he released her hand, she found her eyes glimmering with new light — a light that could see the weave even in shadow.
It was the day Apollo became not just the goddess of the Sun, but the Oracle’s first keeper.
And though they would rarely meet again, she always felt his presence when she spoke a prophecy, as if the one who gave her the sight still stood just behind her, watching.
Chapter 402: Sunlight & Bloodstains
Chapter Text
Title: Sunlight & Bloodstains
f!Hyacinthus | f!Apollo
---
Hyacinthus was beautiful.
The kind of beautiful that made mortals stare, gods pause, and Apollo’s heart do ridiculous little somersaults.
She was also utterly vicious when she wanted to be.
Which, to Apollo’s delight, was often.
---
It started small.
They’d be walking through a meadow, hand in hand, Apollo humming some new melody, Hyacinthus leaning close to smell her hair — when a hunter’s arrow would hiss past them.
Hyacinthus wouldn’t even flinch.
She’d just smile — slow and sweet, all dimples and sunlight — before yanking Apollo’s bow from her shoulder and firing three perfect shots without breaking eye contact.
“You were saying something about dinner?” Hyacinthus asked, stepping over the bodies.
Apollo fell a little more in love every time.
---
They had their kind of dates.
A picnic by a river that somehow ended with them chasing poachers into the woods.
Stargazing while plotting exactly how to humiliate a minor sea god who insulted Apollo’s lyre playing.
Dancing in the streets of Sparta after Hyacinthus challenged an entire squad of soldiers to a spar — and won.
And through it all, they were soft with each other.
Hyacinthus brushing Apollo’s hair back to kiss her temple.
Apollo wrapping Hyacinthus in her cloak when the night wind turned cold.
Both of them laughing in a way that made even jealous gods look away.
---
One evening, after they’d “accidentally” started a tavern brawl, Apollo pressed Hyacinthus against the wall outside, cheeks flushed from adrenaline.
“You know,” she murmured, “most people try to make me less bloodthirsty.”
Hyacinthus smirked, hooking a finger under Apollo’s chin.
"I’m not most people. And besides…”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“The way your eyes light up when you’re about to strike? That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Apollo kissed her like the sun was never going to set.
Perfect — here’s Part 2 of our bloodthirsty murder wives saga.
---
Title: Olympus Can’t Handle Us
f!Hyacinthus | f!Apollo
---
By the time rumors reached Olympus, they were impossible to ignore.
“Have you heard? The Sun Goddess and the Spartan princess cleared an entire pirate fleet in a single afternoon—”
“No, no, I heard it was a Cyclops nest.”
“Both. It was both.”
The truth?
Hyacinthus and Apollo had been on a “romantic getaway” that involved exactly one romantic picnic and about forty-eight hours of non-stop, mutually encouraged mayhem.
---
The trouble for the gods was…
Hyacinthus wasn’t scared of them. At all.
Ares had tried to spar with her “for fun.” She floored him in five moves and told him to “stay down, sweetie” like she was talking to an overeager puppy.
Athena tried to lecture her on strategy, only to find Hyacinthus already knew every formation, every trap, and had three ways to dismantle each of them.
Apollo? She just leaned back against a marble column, arms crossed, watching her wife dismantle egos and reputations like it was foreplay.
---
The first real problem came when a minor river god insulted one of Apollo’s demigod kids.
Hyacinthus did not take that well.
One minute, the god was standing there, laughing.
The next, Hyacinthus had a dagger pressed to his throat, voice low and even:
“You don’t get to breathe the same air as my wife’s children if you speak like that again.”
The entire throne room went silent.
Zeus blinked. Poseidon’s mouth opened, then closed. Hera’s lips twitched into something dangerously close to approval.
---
After that, “Hyacinthus and Apollo” became less a couple and more a force of nature.
When a monster escaped Tartarus? They hunted it before anyone else could even organize a search party.
When a neighboring kingdom threatened war? They showed up at the palace gates together, sun blazing at Apollo’s back, Hyacinthus’s spear gleaming — and the king suddenly decided peace was the better option.
---
One night, lying together under Apollo’s golden canopy bed, Hyacinthus traced circles on her wife’s arm.
“We scare them, you know.”
“Mm,” Apollo hummed, pulling her closer. “Let them be scared. You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”
Hyacinthus smiled against her shoulder.
The gods could watch, the world could whisper — it didn’t matter.
Because the sun would rise tomorrow, and so would they.
Chapter 403: Olympus’s Most Chaotic Parents
Chapter Text
Title: Olympus’s Most Chaotic Parents
m!Hyacinthus | m!Apollo
---
No one warned the teachers at Demigod Academy that two literal legends would show up for parent-teacher conference night.
In Apollo’s defense, he tried to look normal — but normal for him meant gold-threaded robes, sunfire still curling off his hair, and enough jewelry to blind half the room.
Hyacinthus showed up in his Spartan armor, spear strapped to his back, because apparently “casual” wasn’t in his vocabulary.
---
Their kids — all demigods and minor gods in training — were already sinking into their seats by the time they entered.
Kid #3: “Dad… please… just sit and don’t say anything.”
Apollo: “Of course, sunshine.”
Hyacinthus: “We’ll be so quiet.”
…They were not quiet.
---
At the first meeting, the teacher politely began discussing “behavioral disruptions” in class.
Apollo gasped dramatically.
“Disruptions? My child? Impossible. He’s a ray of sunshine. Literally.”
(Cue actual sunlight streaming in through the window directly onto the mortified kid.)
Hyacinthus leaned forward, voice deep:
“If anyone’s bothering him, point them out. I’ll handle it.”
The teacher blinked, unsure if that was a joke.
It was not a joke.
---
By the second meeting, they were in full “competitive dad” mode.
Teacher: “Your daughter is doing very well in combat class—”
Apollo: “Of course she is. She takes after me.”
Hyacinthus: “She takes after me.”
Apollo: “Oh, please, I’ve been fighting since Titans were a problem.”
Hyacinthus: “I’ve been a problem since before you were born.”
The kid in question just put her head down on the desk and prayed for the conversation to end.
---
The absolute peak of embarrassment came when a teacher praised their son’s poetry.
Apollo immediately insisted the boy recite it right there.
Hyacinthus clapped like it was the Olympics.
Apollo snapped his fingers, and suddenly the poem was accompanied by a full instrumental ensemble of invisible lyres and flutes.
The poor kid wanted to melt into the floor.
The teacher didn’t know whether to applaud or run.
---
As they left the building — Apollo waving at every teacher like they were his best friends, Hyacinthus making casual threats to anyone who gave their kids side-eye — their eldest groaned:
“You two are the most embarrassing parents in existence.”
Apollo just slung an arm around Hyacinthus’s shoulders and grinned.
“Good. That means we’re doing our job.”
Title: Olympus’s Most Chaotic Parents — Part 2
---
After the incident at last semester’s parent-teacher night, the demigod kids at the Academy had a new whispered rumor:
“If Apollo and Hyacinthus adopt you, your life becomes epic.”
At first, it was just talk. But then strange things started happening.
---
Kid #5 (Not Theirs): Casually sits next to Apollo at lunch.
Apollo: “Hey, sunshine, where’s your dad?”
Kid: “Don’t have one. You’re my dad now.”
Apollo: “…Okay.” Already planning matching outfits.
---
In combat class, Hyacinthus caught another student getting pushed around.
He stopped mid-match, glared at the bully, and said,
“Touch him again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”
That kid started following him everywhere after that, calling him Baba Hyacinthus like it was the most natural thing in the world.
---
By the time the next parent-teacher conference rolled around, Apollo and Hyacinthus were being greeted not just by their kids… but by a small army.
Some were their actual children.
Some… were not.
Teacher: “Why are there twelve of them here for this meeting? You only have four enrolled in this school.”
Apollo: “Family comes in all forms.”
Hyacinthus: “And ours happens to be larger than average.”
---
One brave kid actually tried to make it official.
Random Demigod: “So… if I just call you ‘Dad’ in front of the principal, does that count as adoption?”
Apollo: “Only if you also hug Hyacinthus.”
Hyacinthus: “And you’re prepared to be mortified in public. Regularly.”
Random Demigod: “Deal.”
Their actual children were in the corner, groaning,
“Stop adopting strays, you two!”
---
By the end of the night, the teachers had given up keeping track.
It didn’t matter whose name was on the file — if a kid sat between Apollo and Hyacinthus, they were theirs for the evening.
And every single one of them left that school grinning, bragging to their cabinmates:
“Best. Parents. Ever.”
Chapter 404: The Sun and the Immortal: Apollo & Finn Mikaelson
Chapter Text
The Sun and the Immortal: Apollo & Finn Mikaelson
The Mikaelson family had always drawn the attention of gods, though none of them ever realized it. A family of immortals who refused to bend to the laws of time? It was impossible for Olympus not to notice. But Apollo was not drawn to the Mikaelsons because of their power, nor because of their tragedy. He was drawn to Finn.
The quiet one. The overlooked one. The brother who never clamored for glory or throne, who didn’t revel in bloodshed the way Niklaus did, who didn’t weave schemes like Elijah, or burn bright and reckless like Kol.
Finn Mikaelson was restraint. He was control. He was grief wrapped in loyalty, and Apollo—who had spent centuries burning too bright, being adored and cursed in equal measure—saw in Finn something steady, something that could ground him.
And Finn saw in Apollo something he thought he’d never have: warmth.
---
The Meeting
It began centuries ago, when Finn wandered into a temple of Apollo in Greece. He hadn’t meant to be there. He hated temples. Hated prayers. Hated gods. But this temple… this one hummed with a music he couldn’t ignore.
He stood before the statue, muttering a bitter laugh.
“Another god who abandoned his worshippers. Another idol gathering dust.”
The voice that answered him was amused, golden, warm.
“Not abandoned. Waiting.”
When Finn turned, Apollo leaned lazily against a column, the sunset catching in his hair like fire and his eyes like molten honey.
“You…” Finn whispered, the world trembling with recognition.
“Me,” Apollo grinned, entirely too casual for a god.
---
The Courtship
Unlike his siblings, Finn did not believe in indulgence. He had centuries of suffering to atone for, too much shame to allow himself happiness. He tried to ignore Apollo. He tried to keep distance. But Apollo was relentless.
Everywhere Finn turned, Apollo was there:
A soft voice at dawn, whispering warmth into his frozen bones.
Golden light in the darkest caverns.
Music played on a lyre when Finn could not sleep, a lullaby threaded with sincerity.
And what undid Finn wasn’t Apollo’s divinity—it was Apollo’s humanity. The way he laughed too loud, talked too much, and yet carried his wounds like fragile glass under his skin.
“You’re insufferable,” Finn muttered once, though his hand lingered on Apollo’s wrist.
Apollo smiled. “You’re mine.”
---
The Marriage
It shocked the Mikaelsons when they found out.
Klaus had been furious. “A god? You married a god, Finn? While the rest of us bleed and fight and—”
Apollo silenced him with one flick of lightning in his palm, his smile sharp as a blade.
“And what of it? Would you prefer I let him waste away in shadows?”
Elijah was more cautious, bowing his head respectfully. “If this is true… then at least my brother has found loyalty in someone who can match him.”
Kol simply laughed himself hoarse. “Oh, this is rich. Brother Finn, husband of the sun itself! Does he warm your cold, dead heart, or do you finally melt into a puddle whenever he kisses you?”
Rebekah loved it. She adored Apollo instantly, dragging him into the fold like a long-lost sibling.
---
Parenting the Demigods
Apollo’s demigod children complicated things, though. Because once he was married to Finn, his children—those abandoned by their mortal families, those hardened by Camp Half-Blood—saw Finn too.
To their surprise, Finn was good with them. Quietly protective. He didn’t overwhelm them with affection the way Apollo did. Instead, he stood watch. Made sure they ate. Made sure no one came too close with ill intentions.
“A stepfather,” Apollo teased once, curling against Finn in their New Orleans townhouse.
Finn scoffed. “I am no father.”
“You are,” Apollo countered, kissing his jaw. “You always were. You just needed someone to remind you.”
And when Asclepius, grown into a god himself, called Finn Papa—the title so natural, so sure—Finn nearly cried.
---
Conflict
But nothing with the Mikaelsons was without blood.
Enemies came. Witches whispered curses. Vampires sought power. And more than once, Apollo and Finn stood back-to-back, sunlight clashing with immortal steel.
When an enemy taunted them—“What is a god to an immortal?”—Finn only smirked, because he knew the answer. He had seen Apollo at war. He had seen entire armies blinded by a flash of light, seen arrows of fire tear through the night sky.
And Apollo had seen Finn, calm and merciless, striking down threats with the precision of a man who had lived too long and refused to lose the love he found.
---
The Domestic
And yet, their greatest battles weren’t on the field.
They were in the small things.
Apollo insisting on singing loudly at dawn, Finn groaning into a pillow.
Finn repairing broken shelves in silence while Apollo perched nearby, spinning stories about constellations.
Rebekah dragging them both into shopping trips, Apollo thriving, Finn sulking.
Klaus rolling his eyes every time Apollo kissed Finn in front of everyone, only for Apollo to grin wickedly and kiss him longer.
They were love and chaos, light and shadow, warmth and restraint.
---
Eternal
For centuries, people wondered how a god of light and a vampire bound by darkness could ever last. But Apollo only laughed when asked.
“The sun doesn’t just rise for the bold,” he’d say. “It rises for the quiet ones, too. For the ones who thought they’d never see warmth again.”
And Finn, pulling him closer, would whisper, “And I will never let it set.”
Chapter 405: Important announcement for a book
Chapter Text
Okay so I'm thinking of making a book we'l the draft/timeline/characters and I need your help.
To summarize, Hyacinthus' is reincarnated into the modern world with no memories and he becomes a worshipper of Apollo.
I have gotten ideas from Looney with bad mom Leto, which I'll not spoil the details about, and a comedy idea I made.
On another note I have 5 ideas for the title:
The flower who forgot
His heart, remembered
To worship the Sun once more
His devoted bloom
A flowers second dawn
I want you guys to pick one of these titles and the one with the most votes will be it, the deadline with be October 1st maybe sooner if there's a lot of votes
I hope you all will be able to share your ideas for this book. For now I will be writing my ideas and possible characters.
Also, I may include 5 other lovers of Apollo in this book. Along with the title you desire please pick 5 characters that you want in this list:
Cyparissus
Branchus
Admetus
Daphne
Coronis
Calliope
Cyrene
Creusa
Psamathe
Marpessa
Cassandra
Herbuca
Chapter 406: The Strongest He Ever Knew
Notes:
I'm gonna stop the vote for the book of September 10th
I'll update the previous chapter with spoilers if you want them (also to get feedback and hat you guys want.) I'll show u guys the first 4 draft chapters tommorowBtw I'm going back to school tomorrow 😭
Sorry for the short updates on my works
Chapter Text
Fic: The Strongest He Ever Knew
The sunlight had dimmed.
It should have been a day of joy—Apollo had returned from Delphi, his lyre still echoing with hymns of prophecy, his heart alight with the thought of seeing Coronis, of touching her, of hearing about the child she carried. Their child.
But instead, whispers met him before the gates of Thessaly. Whispers of a mortal man. Of Ischys. Of betrayal.
---
Coronis sat in the courtyard, dark hair gleaming, but there was something in her eyes that struck Apollo like an arrow—no, like one of his own arrows, turned back against him.
“Let’s talk about family—” she began, her voice too calm, too calculated.
Apollo’s hand shook at his side, sunlight trembling on his fingertips as though the very day shared his fury. His golden eyes burned.
“Let’s talk about family?! You want to talk about family?” His voice cracked like a storm across the mountains. “Let’s talk about the ties and the lies that we had with this family!”
Coronis flinched, but lifted her chin. “Let’s talk about honesty—”
From the shadows stepped Artemis, silver light wrapping around her like armor. Her bow was slung across her shoulder, her jaw sharp enough to cut stone.
“You don’t know nothing about honesty!” Artemis’ voice was ice, cold enough to freeze the river nearby.
Apollo took a step forward, his radiance flaring. “I’ll let go of your hands,” he hissed, tears burning behind his fury, “and the plans that we had with this family!”
The courtyard went silent except for the trembling of Coronis’ breath.
---
Later, Apollo stood on the mountainside, staring out at the horizon, his heart aching in ways no battle wound could rival. Artemis lingered beside him, quiet now, her fury dimmed.
He thought of the child. Their child. His boy. His Asclepius.
He closed his eyes, whispered to the wind:
“Well… I will be the strongest that he ever knew. And I will be there when he needs a love, strong enough.”
Artemis turned to him, her silver gaze gentler now. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said softly, voice trembling with loyalty, “I will carry your burdens for him. No matter how bad this story gets.”
Apollo bowed his head, broken but resolute. “I will be the strongest that he ever knew,” he repeated, voice thick with tears, “and we’ll leave you alone, Coronis. Forever.”
---
When Asclepius was born, Apollo wept as he held the infant, golden curls like sunlight spun from his own. Artemis watched from the doorway, protective as a wolf. The child yawned, tiny fists clenching, and Apollo swore then and there—no betrayal, no pain, no shadow of the past would ever touch this boy.
He would be the light, the warmth, the strength. The father. The love strong enough.
And so, under the gaze of both sun and moon, Apollo kissed his son’s forehead and began the promise that would define eternity.
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