Chapter Text
A child wailed while a storm raged outside the ramshackle house. A woman bowed her head at the hearth, the fire barely flickering. Her husband was passed out, drunk, in their marriage bed, which had long since felt like a trap. She murmured frantic, near voiceless, prayers.
The house was soaked from more than just rain. Despair…hopelessness…misery…it radiated from the home, almost a physical presence stifling the hearth that Hestia’s influence could only do so much to stoke.
Please, Lady Hera.
No, that was wrong. The Queen of the Heavens was not likely to take notice of such a humble plea.
Please, Lady Hestia.
Closer, but not enough. The eldest daughter of Kronos did what she could, but this was not quite her domain.
Countless other gods and goddesses fell from the woman’s lips, none able or willing to answer.
Finally, what he’d been waiting for occurred.
Please, anybody , help me.
A nameless calling, and room to intervene.
He breathed in, tasting the cloyingly sweet tang of misery. This was almost better than ambrosia, and like Charbydis, he couldn’t help but suck it all in.
The woman shuddered as the oppressive air in the home lightened. Perhaps he should feel bad about this, taking advantage of a mortal’s desperation, but he didn’t. However, he could leave something in exchange.
In the space left behind from his ravenous consumption, something slithered in, something stubborn and persistent, misery’s direct opposite. The woman gasped.
Thank you.
She collapsed in a heap, wordless tears of relief spilling from her tired eyes.
Thank you!
Satiated with his meal, his view of the house began to fade. His last view was of the hearth dancing brightly, its flames tall and strong, and just as he faded away, he felt the blazing presence of Hestia reaching out to him, just a little too late as always.
No matter. She would catch him eventually, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, even though his waking self knew of countless reasons to fear the attention of the other gods.
Hope, after all, survived best at the hearth.
“You seem distant.”
Had he been mortal, Perseus would’ve flinched. As it was, he jerked his head up, cocking his head in question as he looked up across the table at his stepmother, Amphitrite.
“What makes you say that?” Perseus asked.
Her lips quirked.
“You’ve been playing with that seaweed on your plate more than you’ve been eating it.”
Amphitrite’s dark eyes were kind and concerned. That only made guilt squirm in the stomach all the more. What would she say if she knew that he’d been having strange dreams of the surface world? But he knew he had to give her something, as Amphitrite was as stubborn as Poseidon at times.
“Just some dreams,” Perseus said with forced casualness.
But despite his efforts, his response only seemed to stoke her concerns even more.
“They must be some dreams if they have you that deep in thought.”
Perseus kept his shoulders relaxed, grateful that neither his siblings nor, Fates forbid, his father were at breakfast yet.
“It’s nothing really,” Perseus said. “Just the usual prayers for safety during sea voyages.”
The lie tasted like ash on his tongue, but what else was he supposed to say? His father had nearly had a fit when he’d found out that Perseus was dreaming of his worshippers on the surface, too afraid of the attention that might bring Perseus. But Poseidon had been mollified in that they were all solidly along the coastline or at sea. Plus, despite his paranoia, Poseidon was proud that Perseus embodied domains connected to the sea. It was only natural that sailors and coastal cities worshipped the god of sailing, sudden storms, and riptides, even if they never prayed to him as much as his father. But these most recent dreams…they were solidly out of the domains that Poseidon took so much pride in.
Perseus shied away from thinking about which domain could be calling him, even as something inside of him felt invigorated at the idea. It was no use thinking of what-ifs or could-have-beens.
“Ah,” Amphitrite said, leaning back in her chair. “That explains it. It can be overwhelming when more mortals begin praying to you. No wonder it is spilling over to your dreams. Perhaps, you shall have a new temple soon.”
“Maybe.”
Perseus doubted it. He would never be a popular or well-renowned god. The few temples he had were constructed at Poseidon’s command, back when they’d first discovered his domains. In the 200 years since, there had not been any more built. This was not helped at all by the fact that Poseidon hadn’t let him leave the sea in those same 200 years either.
Before Amphitrite could probe further, the massive door to the dining room slammed open. Kymopoleia swam in cackling as Triton trailed after her with a chiding look on his face. The presence of Kymopoleia could only mean one thing -- Poseidon would not be attending breakfast.
“How many times have I told you - do not touch my conch!”
Kymopoleia just let out another dolphin-like laugh.
“Don’t be so gullible then!”
Amphitrite sighed, but Perseus ducked his head to hide his smile.
“Children, please,” Amphitrite said, a put-upon tone in her voice.
Triton’s back straightened, and he frowned indignantly.
“I am not a child, Mother!”
“I am not a child, Mother!” Kymopoleia mocked with a high-pitched voice.
“Kymopoleia!” Amphitrite said sharply.
All at once, Kymopoleia’s gleeful expression dropped, replaced by a sullen and resentful twist of her lips.
For a moment, Perseus was afraid another shouting match would break out, but it seemed that without Poseidon here to hear her displeasure, Kymopoleia constrained herself to a sneer as she swam to the seat next to Perseus. With an obnoxiously smug smirk, Triton took the seat across from him.
Perseus narrowed his eyes at his older brother and promptly slapped one of his tails with Perseus’ own. Triton yelped, causing Kymopoleia to snicker under her breath.
“Perseus,” Amphitrite chided, but Perseus was unrepentant. It was worth it if Kymopoleia smiled again.
“Perseus, I created the most magnificent storm yesterday! If only you could’ve seen--” Kymopoleia started enthusiastically.
“Kymopoleia,” Amphitrite interrupted. “You know better than that. You know your father does not like you speaking of the surface to Perseus.”
Just like that, Kymopoleia’s restored good mood fled.
“Storms are his domain as well as mine! Why shouldn’t I speak of them to him?”
“We’ve had this conversation before, Kymopoleia. Your brother is perfectly capable of managing his own domains from below the waves. There is no need to--”
“To what?” Kymopoleia snapped. “Show him what he’s missing by being caged by all of you?”
Amphitrite’s eyes darted to Perseus, but he quickly bowed his head to avoid her gaze.
“Perseus knows that this is for his own good. He’s perfectly happy here--”
“Because you won’t let him be anything but!”
“Kymopoleia,” Perseus tried to interject.
“No! If you won’t stand up for yourself, then I will!”
“Perseus doesn’t need your so-called help,” Triton snapped. “We all know why it has to be this way. Perseus understands this.”
“You’ve just smothered him enough that he doesn’t argue!”
“Don’t make me get your father involved in this, Kymopoleia!” Amphitrite said, raising her voice for the first time.
Despite all of her indignance and her rage, Perseus felt Kymopoleia’s flinch. He grabbed her hand.
“Kym,” Perseus whispered, pleading.
Maybe it was his touch, or perhaps the sound of her nickname that only Perseus used, but she took a deep breath and fell silent.
Once Triton and Amphitrite had begun a forcefully normal conversation, Perseus made to let go of Kymopoleia’s hand, but she swiftly grabbed his again. The rest of their meal, the two of them ate one-handed and in silence.
Later in the day, after they’d gone their separate ways after breakfast, Kymopoleia found him in his private gardens.
Her expression was stormy, and the tips of her jellyfish hair sparked. Even her glowing white skin seemed to have taken on a harsher tint.
“Kym--” Perseus started.
“Why do you not argue with them?” Kymopoleia said as she paced in front of him. Percy was seated on a large rock, his black tail curled around it as it lay on the sea floor.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Perseus said, already exhausted from rehashing a familiar conversation. “Father will hear none of it.”
The last time Perseus had brought up going to the surface, even with Poseidon as a guide, his father’s expression had grown so thunderous that Perseus had dared not bring it up again in the past fifteen years. It had taken too long for Poseidon to call off the guards that he had commanded to trail Perseus, and he was loath to chance that again.
“Argh!” Kymopoleia cried out, throwing her hands up. “Can’t they see what they’re doing to you?”
“It’s not that bad--” Perseus started, but Kymopoleia whirled on him.
“You’ve dimmed, Percy. You do not take the same joy in things that you did even a hundred years ago.”
Perseus slumped, unable to fake it any longer in front of his closest sibling, not when she called him by that name.
“You’re the only one who sees that.”
Kymopoleia sat on the rock next to Perseus and leaned against his shoulder.
“You and I are alike. What’s a little danger in the face of your happiness?”
Perseus took a shuddering breath, holding back frustrated tears.
“Father is protective. He cares.”
“He’s killing you.”
“If I just wait a bit longer, it will get better,” Perseus insisted, more to himself than to his sister. “It will.”
Kymopoleia was silent for a long moment.
“One day, you have to stop waiting for permission and start taking things for yourself again. It won’t be like the last time you went off on your own.”
Perseus certainly hoped not. He did not want to experience that again.
“Stop waiting for permission, huh?” Perseus couldn’t say the thought hadn’t occurred to him before, but something always stopped him from taking that last leap toward freedom.
“Don’t you miss our races?” Kymopoleia asked, voice uncomfortably small.
“Oh, Kym, of course I do.”
There was nothing quite like the thrill of racing his boat against Kymopoleia’s storms. It was how they had bonded in the first place.
The truth was, he missed a lot of things.
Most of all was his mother, but she was not something that he could ever get back.
But perhaps he could eventually get back the feeling of sand between his toes, the wind in his hair.
The sun on his face.
“I’ll think about it,” Perseus said, shaking off his melancholy. “I won’t let this last forever.”
“You better not,” Kymopoleia said. “One day, we shall weave storms together again, little brother, and it will be the most beautiful art the surface world has ever seen.”
Kymopoleia’s words felt like a promise, a prophecy for things yet to come.
He couldn’t help but hope.
The day Perseus snapped was the day that his sister left the palace for good. Kymopoleia and Perseus had been sparring in the palace courtyard when a stray burst of power damaged one of the elaborate mosaics along the walls. Perseus couldn’t say whether it was his or Kymopoleia’s, but their parents blamed Kymopoleia anyway.
Too destructive.
Too out of control.
Too much.
Never mind the fact that Poseidon’s wrath was infamous, that he had wrought more destruction than Kymopoleia ever had. But this was the last straw in an already strained relationship. The argument between Kymopoleia and Poseidon shook the palace and ended with Kymopoleia fleeing into the darkness of the sea with harsh words. She had only stopped when Perseus had raced after her, forcing her into a hug.
“I don’t belong here, brother,” Kymopoleia had whispered into his ear. “And neither do you. Find me when you are ready.”
And then she was gone.
When Perseus returned to the palace after carving a new trench into the ocean floor in his rage, his father was waiting for him. Poseidon looked weary, all his tumultuous anger drained away now that Kymopoleia was no longer there.
“I know you are saddened, my son, but this is for the best.”
This is for the best.
This is for the best.
Those familiar words rang in his ears. It was what Poseidon had said 200 years ago when he had first convinced Perseus to confine himself under the sea. It was what he said every time that doubt and restlessness had crept into Perseus’ mind.
In that moment, Perseus decided. He would no longer let his fear rule him. The first available opportunity, he would leave. Not for good, as that would take much more planning to escape his father’s reach, but even if only for an instance, he would finally breach the waves and breathe the fresh air of the world above.
His opportunity came a month later, when Poseidon’s protective, smothering gaze had finally lightened after his father reassured himself that Perseus wouldn’t go racing after Kymopoleia at the first chance.
In the end, an errand for Palaemon provided a decent excuse.
“Really, Perseus, should you be doing such menial work with your status?” Triton asked.
“You know how much I love helping sea creatures,” Perseus said mildly. “Sharks especially.”
“Oh, let it be, Triton,” Poseidon said with an indulgent smile. “There’s a reason he’s so beloved in our kingdom. Perseus, take care and bring your weapons with you.”
“I always have them with me, Father,” Perseus said, absent-mindedly touching the torc he always wore around his neck. It was a rigid golden band capped with two black pearls on the ends, the gap in the necklace framing the hollow of his neck. When the pearls were touched, Perseus could summon either a sword or a trident at any given moment.
“Good. I trust you know how to use them if necessary,” Poseidon said with a hint of pride.
If only he trusted Perseus with more.
“Of course, Father,” Perseus agreed, not letting his thoughts show on his face.
Finally, Perseus left the palace, swimming with powerful thrusts of his tail through the depths of the ocean as far away from Atlantis as he could in a few hours. Along the way, he checked on the Great White shark nursery that Palaemon was worried about. It was close to the coast near a human settlement and needed coaxing to a safer location further away.
“Thank you, lord!” The baby sharks chorused as they swam in happy circles around him.
“Of course,” Perseus said with a smile, running a hand over the closest shark's smooth back. He had always found peace by helping sea creatures. He almost didn’t want to leave, no matter that he had resolved that today was the day he breached the surface.
Despite having anxiously awaited and dreamed of doing so, the thought of poking his head above the water caused anxiety to swirl in his stomach. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he had never been to the surface before, even if it had been over 200 years. Perhaps he had absorbed his father’s paranoia.
To his shame, he almost abandoned his plan, if not Kymopoleia’s voice ringing in his ears.
One day, we shall weave storms together again, little brother, and it will be the most beautiful art the surface world has ever seen.
This was the first step to that future.
Without letting himself think any further on it, Perseus swam toward the surface. The water grew lighter, and the glare of the sun refracted through the water. It grew brighter, and brighter, and brighter--
Perseus burst through the waves and took a deep breath of air, his first in so long. For a moment, his eyes couldn’t focus on anything as it was so much brighter than he was used to. But then--
Endless blue, delicate white clouds, a blazing sun.
Perseus was warm again.
Chapter Text
Perseus was ashamed to admit that when a seagull flew overhead, he flinched and retreated back under the water out of nerves. But his curiosity drove him back up again just as quickly, so he could observe the bird whose name he only barely remembered.
Eventually, he ended up lying on his back floating at the water’s surface as he watched clouds drift by and birds soar across the sky. He stayed so long that the sky began to change colors, first a darker blue, then gradually, pinks and oranges and purples.
His eyes burned with unshed tears.
He remembered watching the sunset with his mother back when she was still alive.
A tear trailed down the side of his face, mixing in with the salty water of the sea. He missed her, and he’d missed this.
Eventually, the sun fully dipped below the horizon, and as much as he wanted to gaze at the newly revealed stars, Perseus knew he should get back to Atlantis. There would be time to stay out later, maybe even for a few days at a time, when he knew his father would be more preoccupied.
So with reluctance, he twisted and dove back under the now dark water. But even as he swam deeper, back toward Atlantis, his heart felt lighter, and excitement buzzed in his veins.
Soon, he would be back. Maybe he’d even set foot on land!
Apollo was having a good day. A great day even. He had a part of his consciousness painting a vase as a gift for his mother, another part was serenading Olympus with the Muses, and he had countless fragments of his essence attending to his domains in the mortal realm. However, the force of his attention was currently focused on driving the sun chariot across the sky and peering down at the mortal realm.
Normally, he didn’t bother to pay that much attention to fulfilling the duties he had taken over from Helios. Unlike that old Titan, he had better uses of his time than spying on the world below, but occasionally, when he wanted to relax, he would direct his attention to his form in the sun chariot.
And oh, by the Fates, was he glad he had done so.
There, walking rather unsteadily across a sandy beach, was one of the most gorgeous creatures he had ever seen.
Wavy black hair, sun-kissed skin, lean muscles framed by a rather flattering white chiton…he was a dream come to life. Apollo spent the next several minutes just oogling the unknown creature. A nymph, perhaps? There was no way someone that beautiful was a mortal.
Just then, the gorgeous nymph turned his gaze toward the sky, exposing luminescent sea green eyes. Was this what mortals meant when they said their hearts stopped in their chests?
That settled it. Apollo had to meet this enchanting being. Leaving behind the smallest amount of his consciousness with the sun chariot, Apollo appeared in front of his soon-to-be lover, causing his eyes to snap from the sky to Apollo, where they belonged.
This close, in the bright sunlight, Apollo could even see flecks of gold in those green eyes.
“Hello there,” Apollo said, putting on his best sultry voice.
Almost imperceptibly, the mystery man’s eyes narrowed.
“Hi,” his new love-of-his-life said in a rather flat tone.
Apollo fought back a frown. Perhaps this magnificent creature did not know who he was. He would have to fix that immediately.
“I’m Apollo--” he started, but before he could get to his titles, he was interrupted.
“I had guessed that.”
This time, Apollo’s frown manifested before he quickly wiped it away. Surely it was a good thing he was so recognizable.
“You have me at a disadvantage, sweetheart,” Apollo said, recovering his purpose for coming down here. “You know me, but I have not had the pleasure of being introduced to you yet.”
“Oh, I’m no one important,” said sweetheart waved a dismissive hand and turned away (turned away!) from Apollo to walk shakily up the beach toward the neighboring trees.
For a long moment, Apollo just gaped at his muscled back as it got further away from him. Had he just…walked away from Apollo?
For a moment, he was tempted to smite this boy and be done with it, but then Apollo’s eyes trailed down to the back of well-developed thighs as he stode up the hill. Perhaps this one was worth a bit of (temporary!) disrespect.
Making up his mind, Apollo hurried to catch up to the disrespectful, yet oh so gorgeous nymph.
“So what brings you to his lovely island?”
“This and that,” the nymph said as he paused, eschewing paying attention to Apollo in favor of examining a tree, trailing his fingers down the trunk as he did so. “Exploring.”
Exploring! How wonderful. Just as Apollo was about to suggest that he guide this nymph in his exploration (in more than one meaning of the word), his new love plucked a leaf from a tree and sniffed it.
Aghast, Apollo once again found himself without words. The nymph hummed a little with a small smile on his face and continued walking up the wooded slope. Apollo watched, following along silently as the nymph stopped to examine every little flower or rock, snapping his head around at the chirping of birds or the scuttling of small animals.
Was this nymph dull? Was that what this was about?
They came to a stop on a small ledge overlooking the ocean. Waves crashed against the rock, spraying them with salty mist. Here, next to the sea, there was something more about this maybe-dull nymph.
Apollo looked closer at him, not allowing himself to get distracted by his good looks. Sure enough, there was a faint glow to his skin that betrayed divinity. A minor god, then, one Apollo had never met before. How curious.
Then, a thought came to him. Was this god newly born and thus providing a reason for his strange curiosity about the world?
“Are you just going to stare at me all day? Or will you finally go away?”
Surely, it was only because this god was newly born that he was so dismissive of Apollo’s attention. Surely that was the reason. Apollo strangled his rising rage and plastered a charming smile on his face instead.
“Tell me, lovely, are you new to this world? Which god is your parent?”
A dark brow arched imperiously over mesmerizing, infuriating green eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Apollo’s patience snapped, and even without looking in a reflection, he knew his eyes were burning golden.
“Listen here, you impertinent godling--”
Said godling laughed in his face.
“I haven’t been called impertinent in over a hundred years!”
Why did this unfortunately attractive god sound so delighted by it, like Apollo was not an inch away from pulling out his bow? Bafflement softened his anger unwillingly.
“So you’re not a newborn god. Then why, for the love of all that is sacred, are you sniffing at leaves and touching rocks of all things?”
The minor god laughed again. Apollo wished the sound wasn’t so charming.
“I’m just not used to things up here anymore.”
“Up here?” Apollo latched onto the clue. “Where are you from then? And what’s your name?”
“I think it’s time I head back home,” the other god said, completely ignoring Apollo’s question.
Ah, there was that rage again.
Before Apollo could act on it, however, the infuriating, impertinent, impossibly lovely god strode over to the end of the ledge, gait somewhat more graceful than when Apollo had first seen him. He glanced over his shoulder, a smirk on his face.
Dimly, Apollo realized that he’d been purposefully winding him up this entire time if the amused and smug expression was anything to go by.
Oh, this minor god was going to get it. But whether it was before or after Apollo kissed him, he hadn’t decided yet.
“And my name is Perseus, by the way,” the newly named Perseus said just before he jumped into the water.
Apollo peered over the edge. Perseus did not resurface.
Now removed from the vexing presence of Perseus, Apollo was able to think more clearly.
Perseus. Perseus. Perseus. There was something familiar about a god named Perseus, if only he could remember what.
Another wave crashed against the rock face, and sea spray caressed Apollo’s face.
The sea. That was the connection.
He got it!
Poseidon had announced during a council meeting some couple of hundred years ago that he had a new immortal son. God of something or other related to the sea. Something so minor that Zeus hadn’t demanded the new god’s presence on Olympus. The rest of them just assumed that Poseidon’s new immortal son was rather monstrous or weak or both, and that was why his uncle did not insist on a grand introduction.
But Perseus wasn’t monstrous at all. Perhaps weak, but Apollo hadn’t been looking all that closely beyond the superficial, admittedly. Still, best to put Perseus out of his mind. He found the prospect of Poseidon’s protective wrath to be rather discouraging to any attraction. That, combined with Perseus’ disrespectful mouth, was enough to cool any dangerous impulses.
Still…there was something intriguing about Perseus and the circumstances surrounding his introduction to Olympus, or lack thereof, that pulled at Apollo.
Bah, don’t be a fool, Apollo , he told himself. He’d have to be madder than Dionysus to think pursuing Perseus was worth it.
Apollo and Poseidon had been on good terms for hundreds of years, and he’d like to keep it that way.
Under the waves, Perseus burst into loud peels of laughter, startling a nearby school of fish. The look on Apollo’s face! Especially when he had sniffed that leaf!
The very thought set Perseus off again.
Admittedly, Perseus was out of touch, but not that out of touch. He had impulsively decided to play up his actions solely to annoy the sun god. But could he be blamed? Perseus had finally managed to set foot on land for the first time in hundreds of years, and Apollo had the poor timing to show up and interrupt him. His only regret was that he didn’t get to stick around to truly enjoy the island, but he could tell that if he stayed any longer, Apollo would probably smite him if a god could be smote. Either that or flirt with him some more. Perseus couldn’t decide which would be worse.
Finally, Perseus managed to calm down from his fit of cackles. Really, when was the last time he had laughed like that? And when was the last time he had been called impertinent?
The thought sobered him.
Growing up in Atlantis, he had always managed a balancing act between pushing his limits and being just barely respectful enough. It was something that his family, his father in particular, had found amusing. After all, even Triton, the most well-behaved of them all, was known for being willful.
Sometime in the past 200 years, Perseus had lost that spark. He knew what had caused it, of course, and back when Poseidon had first decreed that Perseus would remain under the water permanently, he had agreed. Back then, the idea of drawing the wrath of Zeus and the Olympian Council had frightened him enough that the idea of spending the rest of eternity with his family sounded like a great idea. He would have the whole ocean to roam after all. But he’d had no idea how stifling it would become until he had turned into a shadow of himself without realizing it. No wonder Kymopoleia had been so insistent.
Maybe taunting an Olympian wasn’t the smartest way to regain his impertinence, but he had gotten out of it without a scratch. It wasn’t likely that Apollo would be so keen to try and seduce Perseus again or whatever his motive was for approaching him.
Regardless, Perseus would be returning back to the surface again, sooner rather than later. If he could find the time outside of his duties, that was. Perseus might have been able to let fragments of his essence fulfill any prayers and tend to his domains in small ways, but he had never learned how to fully separate his consciousness like his parents or siblings could. It was apparently difficult for minor gods to do so, especially earlier on in their divine life.
Triton could create several fully functioning parts of his consciousness that he would use to complete his various tasks and still retain full memory of them later on. Rhode, on the other hand, had only ever managed one.
Maybe it was time for Perseus to try learning it again now that he was older. The ability to be in two places at once would go a long way in helping him sneak around, especially if his father never learned that he could do so.
A mischievous grin split his face.
The world felt so much brighter now.
Notes:
Apollo: It's not worth it anymore to pursue Perseus. He's impertinent and Poseidon's son. I'm not a fool.
Perseus just existing: Bet.Hope y'all liked this chapter and Apollo's introduction! It's a bit of a tonal shift but what else can you expect from a lust-driven Apollo POV.
Lowkey I anticipate that future chapters will be longer, but this felt like a good stopping point for this chapter, considering what I have planned for the next. We're just warming up!
I hope the explanation about the whole "gods can be in more than one place at a time" thing makes sense. Like it can't not be there bc of the nature of gods and specifically Apollo driving the sun chariot but also having time to seduce people during the day, but also Percy needs some challenges bc of the Plot so it's more difficult for younger and/or minor gods.
So for my analogy - splitting consciousness is like. creating a whole other fully functioning version of yourself. Sending out fragments of your essence to answer prayers is like, stretching limb via astral projection. It's not that important to the plot but i thought i would explain it here bc i put a little too much thought into the logisitcs of being a god lmao.
Love the support for the first chapter and let me know what you think of this one!
Chapter 3
Notes:
What?? Two in one day?? Does it count if the publish date actually says tomorrow? I think not XD
Hope you enjoy this one!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A barren house filled with empty promises. A filthy alleyway, desolate and ignored. An elaborate palace, full of luxuries yet absent of what mattered.
He traveled to all of them in his dreams, taking his fill and leaving just as quickly. Sometimes, there was just the echo of suffering, empty of people yet so swollen with the remnants of pain that he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Other times, it was prayers that summoned him here.
At first when he dreamed of these places, he was a nameless force acting on instinct. Now, he had grown more aware, and, in turn, the mortals had grown more aware of him. They had a name for him now. Not his real one, the one he answered to in his waking life, but one that he was compelled by nonetheless.
He who thrived on misery, he who consumed it.
He who would heed your pleas in your darkest moments.
He who left something in return, like an exchange of drachma for passage to the Underworld.
Hope in exchange for Misery.
Sometimes, he thought he should feel guilty. The mortals thought he was giving them hope on purpose, when in actuality, it was simply nature filling a void after he so greedily preyed on their misery. After all, what else would mortals feel when their suffering was suddenly alleviated?
As always, whenever he was near a hearth, Hestia dogged his heels. One day, he would let her catch him, but not yet. It was too soon.
It was time to wake up now.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Perseus?” Triton’s green face twisted with concern as he peered at Perseus from across the sparring grounds. “You’ve been sleeping quite a lot lately.”
“Lay off it, will you?” Perseus grumbled. “It’s the closest I can get to tending to my domains in person.”
At least for riptides, Perseus was free to attend in physically, as it was under the sea. That was not the case for the rest of his domains.
Triton grimaced and twirled his trident, a gesture that betrayed his anxiety.
“Don’t let Father hear you say that.”
“I know,” Perseus snapped, tightening his grip on his own trident.
Triton pursed his lips and planted his trident in the sandy floor. He almost seemed…hesitant.
“I know what Kymopoleia--”
Perseus barred his teeth at hearing his sister's name from Triton’s mouth. Triton winced minutely, but continued regardless.
“--thinks about me, but I do care about you. I was not unaware of your…unhappiness in recent years.”
“What about it?” Perseus grumbled, eyes narrowed as he looked at Triton. Somehow, it hurt worse to hear that Triton noticed and said nothing versus when Perseus thought he hadn’t noticed anything at all.
Triton appeared to age before Perseus’ eyes, even if he physically did not change at all.
“There was nothing I could do, so I didn’t see the point in saying anything. We can’t risk losing you to Zeus’ ire.”
“So why are you saying something now?” Perseus said, voice forcibly even, but it came out harder than he had intended.
“Because you’ve been happier recently.”
Perseus kept his face still. Was this some kind of backhanded accusation?
“All I’m trying to say is that I’m glad,” Triton continued. “I want you to be happy.”
It was hard to look Triton in the eyes. Would he want Perseus to be happy when the reason was that he had been sneaking up to the surface? He had gone up several times since his first attempt, since his unintentional meeting with Apollo. Just as Perseus thought, the sun god hadn’t taken notice of him, or if he did, he stayed away, which suited Perseus just fine. He was constantly worried that he would draw the wrong attention and ruin things. He was still trying to come up with a way to convince his father to set him free for good. If Triton had noticed this change, had Poseidon? Had Amphitrite? Would they wonder what had caused it?
Perseus had been silent for too long.
“Thanks, Triton,” he said around the guilt and paranoia strangling him. “I appreciate it.”
Still, Triton peered at him with too open eyes.
“You can tell me anything, you know.”
“I know.”
Perseus smiled through a mouthful a lies.
In spite of Perseus’ caution, he decided to do something different for his latest excursion to the surface world. He had been having an amazing time exploring deserted islands and desolate stretches of wilderness, but he wanted to see more. More wonder, more color, more people. Which was how he found himself dressed in simple clothes, wearing sandals for once, as he wandered the streets of a mortal city.
It was a city on the northern coast of the island of Crete. It wasn’t the largest city Perseus could recall from his memories, but it was active, with plenty of inhabitants milling about the streets leading to the market.
The smell of spices, of scented oils, of life permeated his nose. He couldn’t get enough of it as he travelled from vendor to vendor, asking questions and trying wares, thoroughly exposing himself as not native to the city.
“Where are you from, son?” A gnarled old woman asked as she accepted his coin in exchange for a honeycake.
“A village outside of Corinth,” Perseus answered. It had been true at one point after all.
The old woman raised a white eyebrow.
“That’s quite a distance, young man.”
Perseus shrugged.
“I want to see the world.”
She smiled a bit wistfully.
“Ah, youth.”
Perseus kept a straight face. He was certainly quite a bit older than her, but he was certain that his age did not wear on him like hers clearly did. The perks of immortality.
“Well, if you want to see a sight, you must stay for the performance in the amphitheatre. Our humble city is known for its musical arts.”
Perseus’ grin widened.
“That sounds lovely.”
“It’ll be starting soon.” The old woman pointed up the hill. “It’s that way. You can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. For the food and your recommendations.” Perseus hoped she found her troubles a bit lighter in exchange for her congeniality.
The woman seemed to stand up straighter and waved him off with a smile.
As Perseus walked, he took a bite from the honeycake. It was a touch bland, and nothing like food made by the divine, but he could taste the feelings that went into it. He finished it gladly.
Once at the small amphitheatre, he found that it was mostly full already, but he managed to find a spot standing near the entrance.
Just in time, too, as one of the musicians called for the crowd to be silent.
“Be silent! For we are to perform in honor of our Patron. O bright one, O slayer of the mighty Python, we call upon you to join us in our song. Apollo Musagetes!”
The musician went on to sing a hymn to Apollo, but Perseus couldn’t pay any attention to that as the god himself appeared in a flash of light next to Perseus.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.” The god was just as bright as Perseus remembered from their first meeting.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why Perseus --” Apollo said, practically purring his name. “I should be asking you that. After all, it wasn’t you who was called upon.”
A quick glance at the nearby mortals showed that none of them seemed to notice the gods talking in their midst. Satisfied that they wouldn’t interfere, Perseus returned his gaze to Apollo, eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“Yet I can’t imagine that you answer every time a musician prays to you.”
Apollo’s smile widened.
“Guilty. But I like to check in on certain cities when there’s a big performance like this.”
Certain cities? Perseus wasn’t accidentally on Delpi, was he? Apollo must have noticed Perseus’ confusion as he chuckled.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as ignorant as you doesn’t even know where you are.”
Perseus gritted his teeth.
“I’m on Crete.”
Apollo’s smile grew smug.
“In Apollonia . One of quite a few places named as such.”
“No wonder your head is so big,” Perseus couldn’t help but quip.
Apollo’s eyes flashed gold before he closed them.
“I’m not going to smite you today. I’m not .”
Well, that sounded like a challenge.
“Can you even smite another god?” Perseus asked innocently.
Apollo’s eyes opened, still golden.
“I can skewer you with arrows to a tree and let my ravens take turns pecking out your disrespectful tongue.”
“You ought to save such talk for when you get to know me better,” Perseus said with a smirk. “A guy might get ideas.”
Apollo stared at him.
“That was a threat, not a come-on.”
“What’s the difference?”
Apollo grinned, full of teeth. It wasn’t a kind expression.
“You’re not beating the allegations that you’re dull, sweetheart , as only a fool would taunt me like this.”
Maybe Perseus was a fool, as this set his veins alight like nothing else had in the past century. He had missed the rush of danger, the sparks of fear that came with playing with fire. Staring into Apollo’s molten eyes delivered on that feeling.
But maybe it was time to back off a little lest he actually end up skewered to a tree.
Perseus softened his smirk, smiling at Apollo instead. The god looked startled, wrathful expression dropped in an instant.
“I don’t get out much. I mean no offense.”
Apollo frowned.
“Not falling for that one again.”
Perseus snorted as he remembered their last meeting.
“No, really. It’s not like I had never been to the surface, but I’ve been under the sea for the past 200 years. It really does feel like new.”
“Ah, yes,” Apollo said, eyes returning to their easy-going blue and his demeanor relaxing, though there was still something intent about the lines of his shoulders. “You weren’t even presented to Olympus. Why is that?”
Perseus shrugged, maintaining a nonchalant expression.
“I’m a minor god.”
“Still, as a son of Pos--”
Alarm coursed through Perseus, and, before he knew what he was doing, he had a hand slapped over Apollo’s mouth.
For a moment, their eyes met in shock. Then, like he was burned, Perseus yanked his hand away.
“Sorry!” Perseus hurried to say. “Just…don’t say his name.”
For a too-long moment, Apollo stared at Perseus, face full of calculation. Whether he was calculating which tree to pin Perseus to or whether to name Poseidon anyway, Perseus didn’t know. He held his breath, as if that would help calm his anxiety when gods didn’t need to breathe anyway.
Finally, Apollo spoke.
“You’re hiding from your father.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Just for today!” Perseus said, trying to salvage things. Just for good measure, he tried for a charming grin, but he was afraid it fell flat when Apollo’s contemplative look did not change.
“When you say you haven’t been out of the sea in 200 years,” Apollo started, voice even and measured. “I take it that wasn’t voluntary.”
Perseus’ smile tightened.
“Father is…protective.”
“I’m sure.”
He dropped his smile and widened his eyes in a pleading expression. That seemed to do something, as Apollo’s expression grew a bit slack.
“Please,” Perseus pleaded.
Apollo’s pupils widened, darkening his eyes, as he opened his mouth to say something before he snapped it shut.
Closing his eyes again, Apollo took a deep breath through his nose and then counted to seven before responding.
“I said I wasn’t going to do that either.”
“Do what?” Perseus asked, confused even as his stomach rebelled from the force of his anxiety.
“Flirt with you.”
“What?”
What did that have to do with what was going on right then?
“Well, flirt or smite. Those were the rules I gave myself when I sensed your presence here.”
Indignation washed away all of Perseus’ other emotions.
“Were you going to flirt with me as I was asking for your help?”
Apollo squinted at him.
“It’s like you don’t know how flirting works. You said please so nicely, what else did you expect?”
“I don’t know, like you wouldn’t try to take advantage of a vulnerable moment.” Perseus thought over what he just said as Apollo's lips parted to speak. He held up a hand in front of Apollo’s face. “Wait, don’t say anything to that. I don’t want to know what horrible things are about to leave your mouth.”
Apollo reared back, offense written plainly on his face.
“Clearly, the sea god has good reason to be protective of you if you go around talking to your betters like that.”
His betters . Ichor flooded Perseus’ mouth from the force of biting his tongue. Apollo seemed to read into the silence anyway.
“Maybe I should call your father here, let him know what his precious son is up to. He would probably thank me. We’ve had a good relationship for years.”
“Please don’t,” Perseus blurted out before he could think better of it. But thankfully, Apollo seemed to be past his impulse to flirt with him.
“What would I get in return?”
Or so he thought.
Perseus glared at him. Apollo rolled his eyes.
“That wasn’t a come-on either. I mean it, what could you, a minor god, offer me to keep this secret from my fellow Olympian?”
Perseus’ mind raced. What could he even offer? Anything from below the sea, Apollo could just as easily ask of Poseidon in exchange for doing him the favor of reporting Perseus’ rebellion. Think, Perseus, think.
He remembered how Apollo recalled that he wasn’t presented to Olympus, as well as the hint of something else in his expression. He seized on an idea. It was risky, dangerous, and would get him into far more trouble with his father than merely sneaking out. It likely wasn’t worth it. It likely wouldn’t work . But this is what his instinct led him to, and he had nothing else.
“Curiosity,” Perseus said before he could talk himself out of it.
Apollo cocked his head.
“What about it?”
“You’re curious, right? About why I wasn’t presented to Olympus.”
Apollo’s face was a stone-like mask, and that was how Perseus knew he was correct. Recklessly, he pushed forward.
“I bet you’re also curious about why you haven’t heard my name leave his lips since my existence was announced and why he kept me confined to the sea. If you report me to my father, he won’t tell you, even if you ask.”
“And you would?” Apollo said softly. This, more than his earlier threats, felt like Apollo at his most dangerous.
“If you let me continue to visit the surface in peace, you have the chance to find out,” Perseus bargained, avoiding any promises he would not keep. “After all, you are the god of knowledge. Why not keep the opportunity to know more ?”
Apollo stared at him for another moment before he threw his head back and laughed.
“Oh, you’re trouble. I know that already.”
Perseus braced himself for rejection, already dreading his father’s reaction.
“Fine, you win this one.”
When Perseus gaped at Apollo despite himself, the sun god just smirked.
“What? I can admit when I lose. You’ll soon learn that about me, Perseus, along with a lot of other wonderful things as we spend our time together.”
“Together,” Perseus said slowly.
“Of course!” Apollo said with blatantly false surprise. “How else will I satisfy my curiosity ? We’ll explore the world above the sea just as you wanted all along. We both win now, see?”
“Right.” Perseus ground his teeth together.
“Glad we’ve come to an understanding,” Apollo crooned. “Now, I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of the blessed performance. But the next time you emerge from the depths, be sure to call upon me.”
It was Perseus’ turn to breathe in deeply and count, tempering his impulse to say something that would ruin everything.
“You’re…too kind.”
“Aren’t I?” Apollo said brightly.
Then, he disappeared as he came, in a flash of light. Yet somehow, his smug aura remained.
Bastard.
Perseus didn’t dare say it out loud, not when Apollo’s attention could still be lingering.
How was he going to get out of this one?
Notes:
Apollo: I'd be mad to touch Perseus with a ten-foot pole considering his father.
Also Apollo: Oh look he's in Apollonia, that's practically an invitation.So what did you think about Apollo and Perseus' interactions? Apollo had rules but did he abide by them XD Idk im with Percy - his threats kinda feel like flirting to me.
We'll get an Apollo pov the next chapter! Probably.
Hope you liked this one and let me know your thoughts!
Chapter Text
Perseus wasn’t ashamed to say that he fumed for several days straight after leaving Apollonia. He was, however, slightly ashamed of the new trench only a few miles away from the one he opened when Kymopoleia left. But could he really be blamed? Apollo was just that infuriating.
“Smug, stupid, arrogant --” Perseus muttered as he swam through the palace hallways to return to his room. A booming laugh interrupted his curses.
“So who has your ire now, my son?” Poseidon said with a grin as he swam up next to Perseus.
For a moment, pure blinding panic coursed through him before reason prevailed. Poseidon wouldn’t be in such a good mood if he thought the object of Perseus’ anger was Apollo of all the gods. He could just blame his poor mood on one of the countless scheming Atlanteans he dealt with during his princely duties. His father would certainly believe it. But no, there was a better target.
“Triton,” Perseus answered. “Who else?”
Poseidon sighed, but Perseus could see the smile tugging at his lips. He found the clashes between Perseus and Triton to be amusing, though he tried to hide that fact from them.
“Have mercy on him, would you?” Poseidon chided half-heartedly.
Perseus just snorted, as if the thought was preposterous. After that, they both fell silent as they swam toward the family wing of the palace. Eventually, they paused outside of Poseidon’s private study.
Poseidon peered at Perseus for a moment, expression unreadable. Perseus’ nerves started to rise again.
“Would you like to join me in my duties? I could use the help.”
If Perseus didn’t know any better, he’d have said that Poseidon was nervous. Still, that was the last thing he wanted to do when he needed to be working out how to ditch Apollo. But as he looked at his father’s face, he found that he couldn’t say no.
“Sure.”
Poseidon’s face broke out in a smile.
“Amphitrite will thank you if it means she has to hear less of my complaints later.”
“Well, if it’s for the queen,” Perseus said with an easy smile.
Inside Poseidon’s office was a mess of various scrolls and knick-knacks that Poseidon had accumulated over the years. The scrolls that were strewn across the desk were no doubt the reports they had to get through about the state of the kingdom, while his more permanent fixtures of books were stored in a slightly more neat fashion on some shelving.
The desk, as usual, made Perseus shake his head in reluctant amusement. It was made out of the dismantled pieces of Odysseus’ sunken ship. His father’s pettiness knew no bounds. When he looked at his father again, Poseidon’s face was mischievous, as he undoubtedly knew what Perseus was thinking.
Deciding that he didn’t want to be subjected to another rant about that man, Perseus sat in the chair in front of the desk without a word.
“Alright, what are we working on first?” Perseus asked.
Poseidon yanked out a scroll from the bottom of the pile on his desk, nearly toppling the entire thing.
“Attikos has been insufferable lately. Time to see what fuss he’s got his tail in a twist about now.”
Together, they went through the pile of reports, making snarky comments about the report writers and their complaints.
At one point, Perseus was bent in half with the force of his laughter.
“Do you remember when Rhode put that jellyfish stinger in his seaweed?”
Poseidon let out a bark of laughter.
“Bion spoke with a lisp for days, his tongue was so swollen.”
Perseus cackled with newly remembered amusement. When he calmed down a little and looked over at Poseidon’s face, he almost flushed at the blatant fondness carved into his father’s features.
“I’ve missed your laughter, son,” Poseidon said. “The palace has not been the same.”
“I’ve missed it too,” Perseus admitted. It was hard to think back to who he was before he started sneaking to the surface. He’d been so unknowingly depressed it made him sick. He didn’t want to ever go back to that time.
He took in the love and happiness on his father’s face as he looked at Perseus. Maybe this was the solution to his Apollo problem.
“Father…”
“Hmm?” Poseidon said absently as he sorted through the remaining scrolls.
“Do you think…my restrictions…” Poseidon froze halfway through unrolling a scroll.
“Can I visit the surface?” Perseus blurted out. He wouldn’t have to worry about Apollo if there was no longer a secret for the other god to keep.
Like a storm had just developed off the coastline, Poseidon’s face darkened.
“Perseus--”
“Please, Father!” Perseus pleaded.
“No.”
“But--!”
“I said no! You know the reason I keep you in my realm, and yet you still ask me that?”
“I miss it!” Perseus said, trying to appeal to his father’s love for him. “You know how unhappy I have been these past centuries. I don’t ever want to go back to that. Surely, if I went to the surface with you or Triton or--”
Poseidon slammed his fist into his desk.
“I will hear no more of this. You will not speak of this again,” Poseidon commanded.
“Father--”
“I let you roam the whole ocean. Do not make me confine you to Atlantis.”
Perseus reared back as if struck. His father’s sea green eyes, the ones that they shared, were dark and narrowed. His father’s threat was entirely serious. He really would keep him in Atlantis if Perseus protested any more.
His own anger roared inside him. How could he, how could he, how could he --!
Perseus got up, knocking the chair on its back as he did so, and swam out of the room as if it were occupied by a monster rather than his father. He didn’t stop until he got to his room, slamming the door behind him.
He wanted to break something, he was so angry. His eyes fell on the piece of bright blue coral he kept on his shelf, the one his father had given him when he had first arrived in Atlantis. He seized it, raising it over his head to throw. The coral dug into his palm.
He was hesitating. Why was he hesitating?
His grip tightened. Any more and it would break apart in his hand.
A tear rolled down his face.
He couldn’t do it.
Perseus set the corral down and stared at it, the physical symbol of his father’s love and acceptance of him into his home. Before he could impulsively try and break it again, Perseus threw himself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite his sadness, Perseus’ anger still raged inside of him.
While he would, no doubt, have to lie low over the next few months to avoid Poseidon’s attention, he would not stop visiting the surface in secret, even if it did mean having to deal with Apollo.
Apollo.
The thought struck him, and he almost cackled in glee.
Oh, how pissed off would Poseidon be if he ever learned that Perseus was consorting with Apollo ? Poseidon and Apollo might have had an amicable relationship ever since Apollo’s birth, but Apollo’s reputation preceded him. His father would assume that Apollo had designs on Perseus, and that would trump any kind of goodwill toward the sun god.
Perseus actually did cackle at that thought.
He could never actually tell Poseidon, but the thought of his rage amused Perseus enough that his anger dwindled. How could it not when Perseus was already getting his revenge, even if Poseidon didn’t know it?
It was a wonder what a change in perspective did.
Perseus was almost, almost , looking forward to seeing Apollo again.
Apollo would most definitely smite Perseus the next time he saw him, or at least seriously maim him. It had been several months since their coincidental meeting in Apollonia, and the minor god had not called out to him once!
After a few weeks, Apollo had taken to paying attention while flying the sun chariot, just to see if the definitely-not-attractive son of Poseidon was going back on their agreement. He hadn’t caught a glimpse of him, so Apollo imagined that Perseus was simply sulking under the sea all the worse without Apollo’s company.
Still, it was probably for the best. It had admittedly been an impulsive decision to show up in Apollonia when he had sensed Perseus there, but he had absolutely innocent intentions! Along with rules! That he totally stuck to!
And Artemis said he had no self-control.
In fact, in the ultimate show of discipline and self-control, Apollo would banish Perseus from his mind altogether. Apollo nodded to himself. That would show that disrespectful minor god.
Just as Apollo was about to leave Olympus to go inspire the masses to create lovely music, he heard his name called in the most casual, insolent manner that he’d ever heard outside of Artemis and Hermes.
Apollo, get down here if you want to stalk me. Otherwise, I’ll take this as you agreeing I don’t actually need to spend time with you.
That little--!
In a blaze of heat and blinding light, Apollo appeared on the beach, instantly turning the sand under his feet to molten glass. Across from him, Perseus shielded his eyes and squinted like he was staring into the sun. Apollo stood at his most menacing, with golden eyes and his divine aura flaring. Even other Olympians would be wary of Apollo in this mood.
Perseus let out a low whistle, even as his hair steamed from the heat.
“You could’ve just said you missed me. No need for such an entrance.”
As had happened far too many times for the short period that Apollo had known Perseus, he was forcibly pushed out of the worst of his rage via sheer bafflement.
“You--I don’t--How dare--” Apollo sputtered.
Perseus grinned, and like it had in Apollonia, the sight of his smile thoroughly disarmed him. Damn, this insignificant god for being so beautiful.
Apollo sighed and let go of the heat radiating off of him.
“I’m going to wipe you off the face of the earth one day. Then what would I tell your father?”
At the mention of Poseidon, a dark glower broke out on Perseus’ face. The Fates help Apollo, even what should have been an ugly expression was attractive on the minor god. Still, Apollo was nothing if not vindictive, and he sensed an opportunity to get the upper hand again.
“What? Not happy with daddy then?” Apollo said with a smirk.
Perseus’ scowl deepened. Apollo could really see the resemblance to Poseidon in his anger.
“Why do you think I took so long to return?” Perseus said. “I had to shake his attention. A guy mentions one little thing about maybe being allowed to go to the surface, and I get the full force of his paranoia for over four months.”
“Aww, sounds like you’re the one who missed me after all?” Apollo said, conveniently ignoring how often he looked for Perseus these past few months.
Perseus scoffed.
“As if.”
The dismissal should’ve enraged him, but he was too busy gloating internally about the small lie in Perseus’ words. Oh, Apollo wasn’t delusional enough to think Perseus was infatuated with him, his annoyance rang too true, but some part of Perseus associated Apollo with his desire to explore the surface world.
But while one part of him was gloating and preening, the rest of him was evaluating the information that Perseus had let slip. Paranoia was not a trait that Poseidon was known for. Being protective of his spawn, yes, but not outright paranoia. That implied there was a legitimate reason that Perseus was in danger outside of the sea, that being introduced to the gods on Olympus would have put him in danger. Something that Poseidon feared so much that he would hover over his immortal, grown son at the mere thought of him escaping the seas.
Apollo sincerely doubted that his first assumption, that this was just due to an aversion of his beautiful son attracting lovesick gods and goddesses, was the truth. Admittedly, maybe that first assumption was from Apollo’s bias, but he dared any divine being to deny Perseus’ good looks. Well, until he opened his mouth.
No, Poseidon would know that his reputation would keep most of the lecherous gods away from Perseus. Assuming Perseus was born under the sea around the time that Poseidon announced him, it had to be something evident from the beginning. A curse, maybe even a prophecy from before Apollo’s time holding that domain? Apollo did not have enough information yet, but he would sooner or later.
In the meantime, Apollo focused on projecting a teasing grin onto his face, looking slyly at Perseus.
“God of truth, darling. Some part of you missed me.”
Delightfully, a slight golden flush framed Perseus’ cheekbones as ichor flooded his face. Perhaps a truth yet to be acknowledged? Delicious.
Absentmindedly, a thought occurred to Apollo.
“Was your father binding you to your form?” Apollo asked with some concern, but mainly with calculation. “So that you could not split your essence and return sooner?”
To his glee, Perseus flushed even more heavily, looking almost as golden as Apollo himself. He mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Apollo asked loudly, cupping his ear and leaning forward. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
Perseus sneered at Apollo, but the expression looked embarrassed more than anything.
“I said, I can’t do that. Yet.”
“You can’t split your consciousness?” Apollo asked in a loud, high-pitched voice that he often used when gossiping with Aphrodite. Then, he graced Perseus with a pitying smile. “Well, you are a minor god. I suppose that’s to be expected.”
Oh, that got Perseus spitting mad. His aura flared with his anger, and the waves crashed heavily down on the beach. Was that an increase in humidity? Perhaps Perseus had a minor storm domain. He really should find out what he was the god of one of these days.
Still, while nowhere near as intimidating as Apollo’s own presence, Perseus didn’t feel like the kind of minor god that embodied one inconsequential domain. He had a greater presence than that. He really wasn’t so weak that Poseidon should be embarrassed to present him, ruling out that incredibly unlikely hypothesis. In fact, Apollo suspected that this anger was shallow, a flimsy facade for embarrassment. What would Perseus feel like when he was actually mad? When he was full of wrath?
Apollo grinned. Oh, did he want to see that.
“I just haven’t been taught yet!” Perseus spat out. “I can’t exactly ask for help if I don’t want my family knowing about it!”
“Hmm,” Apollo tapped his finger against his chin. “I wonder who else you could ask. Someone who is already keeping secrets from your father.”
A muscle in Perseus’ jaw twitched.
“Apollo, will you help me?” Perseus ground out.
“Say please,” Apollo crooned.
“Please, Apollo, will you help me?” Maybe Apollo could push a bit further?
“Call me Lord Apollo.”
Well, the gathering clouds were definitely confirmation that Perseus held some dominion over storms.
Perseus opened his mouth and closed it, like he was choking on the words. Apollo’s grin widened. It would be so sweet to hear such a willful creature brought to heel, all because he needed Apollo.
Perseus let out a sigh, and his formerly tight shoulders dropped in resignation, looking at the ground in shame.
Or so Apollo thought.
Perseus raised his head, looking at Apollo coyly from underneath dark, full lashes. Apollo froze, pinned in place by the depth in those eyes, which were illuminated by a break in the clouds just so that gold glittered among the vibrant green.
“You would ask that of me?” Perseus said, voice breathy yet so loud in Apollo’s ears.
Perseus took a hesitant step forward.
“You would make me do that?”
Another step, then another, until he was standing right in front of Apollo. Perseus reached out, and Apollo stood as if a statue, unable, or unwilling, to move away. Would he really touch him? Would he dare?
Long fingers toyed with the edge of Apollo's chiton, right above his chest, but never quite grazing skin. There was no way Perseus was warmer than Apollo, who embodied the sun itself, yet the shadows of Perseus’ touch seemed to leave burns in its wake.
“Shouldn’t my first time be more special?”
Apollo’s breath hitched. First time? His mind spun with the most delectable images that his mind could conjure.
Perseus stood up on his toes, leaning further into Apollo's space so he could whisper in his ear. This close, Apollo could smell the sea, could smell storms, and could smell something so deceptively sweet it reminded him of nature’s more poisonous flowers.
“Don’t you want me to call you ‘Lord’ for the first time under…different circumstances?”
Apollo tilted his head so that his nose just barely grazed the side of Perseus’ cheek. Gratification welled up inside of him at realizing that Perseus was holding his breath.
He had promised himself he would banish Perseus from his mind, that he wouldn’t flirt, wouldn’t take, but his restraint was being sorely tested. Had his muscles ever been this tense from holding himself back?
Just when Apollo thought Perseus couldn’t get any closer without leaning onto him, he managed it somehow, his breath fluttering against Apollo’s ear.
“You’ll help me, won’t you, Apollo ?”
Apollo closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The sheer audacity of this god was astounding, truly, yet even his plainest name had never sounded so sweet. Would anyone really blame him for giving in? When the alternative was hearing Perseus’ utter supplication under more pleasurable circumstances?
“Oh, sweetheart, you make a convincing argument,” Apollo murmured.
And suddenly, that intoxicating scent was diminished as Perseus leaned back, yet it was seared into his memory, leaving behind a phantom trail leading right to Perseus.
But Apollo wasn’t done with him yet.
It was his turn to get in Perseus’ face. He leaned forward, capturing Perseus’ gaze, unwilling to let him leave Apollo’s orbit so easily.
“You’re playing with fire. Are you sure you won’t get burned?”
Then, Perseus smiled. His mouth was full of sharp, sharklike teeth that were made for rending flesh from bone.
“And are you sure you won’t get bitten?”
Maybe Apollo had been wrong. Maybe Poseidon had made a monster out of Perseus, a beautiful monster that threatened to tear Apollo apart with a smile.
“Imagine yourself stretching, like you’re a branch on a tree,” Apollo said, voice low and raspy even to his own ears. “And at the very end, there is a leaf. Imagine that leaf falling, taking a part of you with it. It travels with the wind, independent, yet it is still a part of you, and eventually, it will return. That is what it’s like to split your consciousness.”
Perseus frowned, hiding his delightfully menacing teeth from view.
“That makes no sense. How does the leaf return?”
Just like that, the moment was broken. Like a spell had been lifted, Apollo leaned back, away from the tempting, absolutely forbidden god in front of him.
“Perhaps, think of it like a spider, leaving behind a trail of silk.”
Perseus narrowed his eyes.
“Perhaps, instead of metaphors, direct instructions would be best.”
Apollo chuckled.
“I’m the god of poetry, what did you expect?”
“Besides,” Apollo continued, staring intently at Perseus. “You cheated. All you had to do was call me ‘Lord’ and I’d be a fountain of knowledge for you. You’d rather tempt fate than submit.”
Perseus glared at him.
“Submission is earned.”
Maybe it was from the leftover heat still seared into his bones from their earlier encounter, but Apollo did not feel offended like he should have. He’d always loved a challenge, after all.
“So are favors,” Apollo said, giving Perseus another chance to say the magic words.
Perseus lifted his chin defiantly, though Apollo had a hunch it was more out of stubbornness than pride.
“I’ll leave you with this,” Apollo said. “How do you cut off a part of yourself and expect it to return? To know that is to know how to do what you wish.”
With that, Apollo decided he needed to leave before he did something he would regret or, more accurately, that would result in a trident through his chest.
However, his essence lingered just long enough to hear Perseus mutter to himself.
“God of poetry? More like god of being-a-pain-in-my-ass.”
Alone in his temple on Olympus, Apollo threw back his head and laughed.
Perhaps it was Apollo who was playing with fire.
Notes:
Percy: I'd rather flirt with Apollo than call him lord.
Percy: Wait a minute--Apollo: If only this one didn't come attached with an overprotective god of the sea who could beat my ass
Also Apollo: I'm so mad I'll never think of him again
Apollo ten minutes later: his scent is seared into my memory forever.-------
Loweky i did not mean for Percy to get all up in Apollo's space like that. I was just writing and I was like - Apollo is def the type to want to be called lord when being asked a favor and Percy is the type who would rather do anything but call him Lord Apollo. All Percy needs as a motivation to flirt is spite and stubborn disobedience.
But really, Percy was relying a lot on his father's threat of retribution, otherwise, Apollo would be all up on him in a heartbeat.
We'll see how things between these two go from here. Hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think!
Chapter Text
The ripe scent of blood and the acrid aroma of decay permeated everything.
This time, he was not in a home or a city, but in the aftermath of a skirmish. Had he wished to know, he could decipher which cities had fought, but why bother? In the end, it didn’t matter who won to those left behind. They were the dead and the dying and those only alive to collect them.
Flies buzzed and vultures circled overhead.
This time, as he spread his essence across the battlefield, he did not come to consume misery, but leave it behind.
Death cries and soft weeping. Quiet moans and the hitch of a last earthly breath.
Here was a scene where there was no room for hope. That was not his purpose here, but the part of him that was growing more aware of these dreams mourned. Part of him ached to ease these mortals' suffering, to take their misery and keep it all to himself. But the rest of him luxuriated in the feeling of stretching out, adding to the misery instead of taking it away. This was his essence as well.
Besides, he was not alone.
Unseen by all but him, Ares walked the battlefield.
Gone was the bloodlust of battle. He, too, dealt in the aftermath.
Pausing in the center of the plain, Ares cocked his head, like a dog tracking a trail of blood. The god of war grinned, and the fire in his eyes flared.
Looks like I have some company.
As if he had been waiting until he was noticed, he felt his presence here begin to fade. It wasn’t the right time to make himself known, though he longed to step out of the shadows.
He would be patient, however. Inevitably, he would return and walk with Ares again.
After all, Misery and War were eternal companions.
When Perseus awoke, the taste of iron coated his mouth.
Apollo’s words were nonsense, Perseus decided three weeks after their meeting. Stretch like a tree branch…if Perseus were any more stretched out, he would dissolve in the water like sea foam.
Between tending to his domains of storms and sailing from afar, answering the habitual prayers of his worshippers, and fulfilling his duties under the sea, Perseus was stretched to the limit. He really needed to learn how to be in two places at once already, not just so that he could visit the surface but so he could get some breathing room with his domains.
Not only that, but his dreams lately…they troubled him. Perseus had the distinct impression that he’d been having and forgetting them for longer than he had been conscious of them. It was disheartening, and he didn’t know how to reconcile the person he thought he was with the person he was in his dreams. All this time, he’d believed he’d gotten away with ignoring the parts of him he didn’t want to acknowledge. Yet somehow, his subconscious found a way to circumvent him.
Perseus didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he could do, but one thing was for certain -- he could not let his father become aware of this. The Fates only knew what Poseidon would do if he knew how much Perseus had slipped the leash and had been coming into contact with other gods, no matter how unintentional.
But there was nothing he could do about it at this point, so Perseus focused on other matters, namely, learning how to split his consciousness, damn it!
That was how Perseus had found himself decidedly not sulking in his favorite coral reef, far away from Atlantis. He lay sprawled on the sandy floor, arms outstretched and tail sprawling. Schools of fish swam around him, and occasionally, a crab would crawl over his tail. He screwed his eyes shut as he focused yet again on stretching his consciousness.
The worst part was that he felt close to achieving it. Yet, just like all the other times, when his divided selves were hanging onto each other by a thread, rather than separating, they snapped back together at the last minute, giving him a raging headache in response.
Perseus groaned and knocked his head against the sea floor. Would he ever get it?
Because he was a masochist, Perseus decided to go over what Apollo had told him. Be the leaf, spider silk, blah blah blah. He got that part. It was the part where he stayed separate that was the problem. That left only one last piece of “advice”, if it could even be called that.
How do you cut off a part of yourself and expect it to return? To know that is to know how to do what you wish.
The words were nonsensical. He’d never had a mind for riddles, and his headache wasn’t helping matters. Maybe he needed to think about this from a different perspective.
What would Kymopoleia do?
Perseus grimaced and laughed at the same time, the resulting sound startling a group of fish.
She would create a massive storm, get out all her rage, cause a bunch of chaos, and somehow end up at the right answer at the end of it.
Triton? He probably got step-by-step instructions from Father, so there was no point in speculating.
Rhode? She was so serene that she had likely waited until the knowledge came to her one day. She was too patient for Perseus to relate to.
But Benthesikyme…she was the wisest of their siblings. She would have some kind of valuable insight into his problem.
Perseus sighed. Kymopoleia wasn’t the only sister that he missed. Rhode might live on her sacred island above the water, and so Perseus wasn’t allowed to visit her, but he had no such restrictions with seeing Benthesikyme, who spent just as much time in the waves as she did out of them.
But that was a task for another day. For now, he would imagine what she would tell him. His mind drifted back to when he was a child…one of the things she had always told him when he was having troubles was that sometimes he had to distance himself from the problem. He had to stop his anger and frustration from blocking his vision.
So, Perseus needed a new perspective.
How do you cut off a part of yourself and expect it to return?
Ignoring the first part, what about the second? There was something particular about the phrase “expect it to return.” How did one expect anything to return?
He thought again of Kymopoleia. She had left the palace, left him, but he was certain that if he needed her, she would return. Too often, Amphitrite had lamented when he was younger that him and Kymopoleia were two halves of the same whole. She had meant it in a commiserating way due to the chaos they had left in their wake, but the comparison was apt. So, how did he expect Kymopoleia to return? The answer was simple.
He trusted her.
Trust. Was it really as easy as that?
Perseus thought back to all his failed attempts. Perhaps he was too scared to let go. Maybe he was holding on too tight, and that was causing him to fail. He had been going around and around in circles trying to figure out how to keep himself tethered, but maybe the answer was that he didn’t. He just trusted those parts of himself to return.
Elation rose up inside of him. He was certain he was right. That had to be the answer!
Perseus sat up and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating. He felt his consciousness start to divide, and rather than latch onto it, he let it flow, like the river into the sea.
Just like that, something shifted.
He opened his eyes.
There, sitting opposite him, was another version of himself.
Perseus grinned, and his mirror image did the same.
Without even having to speak his intentions out loud, his other self swam away. As Perseus sat there, he passively absorbed the images that were trickling into his mind. Yet despite having a duplicate set of sensory input, the flood of information wasn’t obtrusive. It was like he had space set aside just for this in the back of his mind. He was here in this coral reef, but at the same time, he was playing with a nurse shark. There was nothing to manage or coordinate -- it was all him at the same time.
Still, no matter how easy it seemed at the moment, he would test out his limits before gloating to Apollo. There would be nothing more embarrassing than somehow popping out of existence in front of the Olympian.
Apollo would never let him live it down.
It was a little over four weeks since Apollo had last seen Perseus when he received another call.
Apollo! Get down here already!
Unlike the last time Perseus summoned him, Perseus’ voice held a tinge of excitement. With speed that he should be ashamed of, Apollo dropped his latest musical composition on his bed and appeared at Perseus’ location.
As with the last time, Perseus waited for him on a beach. However, this time he had chosen an island in the north of the Aegean called Samos.
“Well, someone’s excited to see me,” Apollo said as he appeared in front of the minor god.
Instantly, Perseus’s eyes narrowed, but like a summer storm, his dark expression quickly passed.
“I’m ignoring your ego today,” Perseus said. Before Apollo could decide if he would play up his offense or not, Perseus continued. “I did it!”
Perseus said it with such innocent pride that Apollo had to indulge him a little and started clapping.
Perseus’ grin grew even more smug.
“By the way, what did you do, exactly?” Apollo asked.
To Apollo’s amusement, Perseus slumped in place, pride forgotten as he shot Apollo a dark glower.
Apollo let out a bark of laughter.
“I’m just playing with you,” Apollo said after a moment. “You’re talking about your newfound ability to be in more than one place, right?”
Perseus perked up again slightly.
“You’re talking to one of three me’s currently running around!” Perseus said. “Part of me is with my father right now as we speak. He doesn’t suspect a thing!”
“Wow, it only took you a few weeks,” Apollo teased, though internally he was a bit impressed. He hadn’t given much by way of instruction, and to already be at three manifestations so soon spoke of hidden power. He tucked this information away for consideration later.
“I know,” Perseus grumbled. “But I got it eventually.”
“And what do you say now?” Apollo prodded, only to get a blank look in return. “You know, to the generous god who helped you.”
He got an incredulous look in response.
“You call that help? Please,” Perseus scoffed.
“You did it in the end! Unless you asked someone else for help.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Irrelevant! You had made no progress before I gave you a few hints.”
“Hah! So you admit they were hints, not help!”
“You’re playing with semantics.”
“Says the god of poetry. Aren’t you all about word choice?”
Apollo had to give Perseus that one, and the other god knew it as he burst into laughter at whatever expression was on Apollo’s face.
He was decidedly not sulking when Perseus stopped laughing at his expense.
“Thank you.”
Surprised, Apollo snapped his head around toward Perseus. The other god gave him a warm smile. It felt different than the previous times he had seen Perseus grin. Apollo burned the memory of this expression in his mind. Later, he would be smug that it was directed at him, but for now, his mind was shamefully blank.
“For the hints,” Perseus emphasized, lips still curled in a lovely smile. “Not the help. Just so we’re clear.”
“Crystal,” Apollo breathed out.
“Good.” Perseus nodded decisively. “Now, let’s go.”
“Go?” That shook Apollo out of his stupor. “Go where?”
Perseus looked at him as if he were a simpleton. Excuse him, Apollo was the god of knowledge, amongst many other wonderful things. He couldn’t ever recall having been directed this particular look before. Well, aside from Artemis, but she didn’t count.
“Exploring, of course,” Perseus said. “I picked this island at the recommendation of a swordfish, so it’s a gamble if this was a good choice. Swordfish are notoriously bad judges of character, so that might extend to island recommendations, too.”
“Are you friends with this swordfish?” Apollo said, finding his footing again in this conversation.
“Yes.”
“Well, I suppose that answers whether this swordfish has bad taste.” This said nothing about Apollo’s taste, of course.
“So funny,” Perseus said, deadpan. Apollo wasn’t fooled, however. Perseus’ sea green eyes practically danced in amusement. It was a good look on him.
“I haven’t been here in a while,” Apollo said, directing the conversation back to the topic at hand, no matter how much he enjoyed bantering with Perseus now that he’d gotten past the urge to smite him weeks ago. He might have grown desensitized to the other god’s disrespect. “It has a rather large and famous temple to my beloved stepmother, but who cares about that?”
Perseus, Fates help him, actually looked a bit intrigued at that, but Apollo was not in the mood to visit a place of worship for Hera. He'd better divert his attention.
“I believe Dionysus has mentioned before that the wine here is well known, and it is a major center for trade in the Aegean,” Apollo continued. “The markets should be much bigger than the one you passed through in Apollonia.”
Thankfully, Perseus looked suitably intrigued by this, though Apollo couldn’t imagine the appeal of a mortal market or mortal wine when one could have wine grown by the god of wine himself. However, he supposed being locked under the sea didn’t do much for one’s taste.
“Let’s go then,” Perseus said. “I can’t wait.”
Despite Apollo’s lack of enthusiasm, he quickly folded under the look of genuine excitement on Perseus’ face, even if he’d rather show Perseus places that worshipped him instead.
“If we must,” Apollo said, extending his hand.
Perseus looked at it blankly.
“What? You didn’t expect that we would walk, did you?” Apollo asked. He drew the line there.
Perseus looked at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“One day, I’m going to insist on hiking a mountain, and you will have no choice but to come with me.”
“The Fates forbid.” Apollo shuddered, perhaps a touch exaggeratedly, but all thoughts of mountains left Apollo’s mind when Perseus’ hand slipped into his own. It was slightly cool, as if just dipped in water, but the contrast with his own heat was pleasant.
He shook off his thoughts with a reminder of Poseidon’s potential wrath and quickly transported them to the outskirts of the city of Samos.
It wasn’t nearly as big or as grand as other places, such as Athens or Delphi, but Perseus’ look of wonder was endearing.
That proved to be the trend of the day, as they moved through the market, sampling food and observing crafts made with mortal hands. Nothing impressed Apollo much, but admittedly, he was paying attention to Perseus’ reactions more than anything else.
“And that tapestry took over a year to make?” Perseus asked a middle-aged woman.
“Yes. It’s my finest work to date,” the woman said, veritably beaming at Perseus’ attention and admiration.
“You should be proud,” Perseus complimented.
Apollo eyed the tapestry with a critical eye. He supposed if he were being generous, it was a well done piece, but certainly nothing compared to Athena’s work.
That pattern continued as they made their way to different vendors. Finally, Apollo had to ask the question that was burning in his mind.
“Do you really think so highly of these mortal works?”
Perseus looked at him with narrowed eyes, as if deciding if Apollo was making fun of him or not. Truly, Apollo had asked the question out of curiosity. After a moment, Perseus seemed to realize that.
“I do think highly of them, but not for the reason you are thinking,” Perseus said. “You’re probably comparing the works to the things you’ve seen made by the divine.”
“How else would you look at them?” Apollo asked, tilting his head as he looked at Perseus.
“It takes so much more effort for a mortal to achieve even a fraction of what the gods do,” Perseus continued, with Apollo paying rapt attention. “I think it’s admirable. And yes, some of them do it solely to survive. They take no real joy in their work. But for people like that weaver…she put her hopes and dreams into that tapestry. Couldn’t you tell?”
Apollo looked back toward the woman displaying her tapestries. As he observed, he could see what he had missed earlier -- the joy in her face as she spoke to patrons, the proud tilt of her chin as she displayed one of her works.
Yet, Perseus must have sensed that Apollo still did not quite understand. Of course, he knew that it took mortals actual effort to achieve feats, but that was like saying the grass was green and the sky was blue. It was just a fact of life. Was it to be admired?
“You may be the god of music and capable of creating divine songs that would make any mortal weep. But don’t you ever take pride or joy in the mortals who put their very soul into their music?”
“Well, yes,” Apollo admitted. “But that is my domain.”
“I guess that’s where our perspectives differ,” Perseus shrugged. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
Apollo frowned. Perseus hadn’t said it in an offensive way, but Apollo couldn’t help but think he was being found wanting.
The thought nagged at him, even as their conversation moved on and Apollo insisted on absconding with some local wine to a cliff overlooking the sea.
Apollo teased Perseus by extending the wineskin to him, before retracting his hand and stealing the first sip of wine. It was quite good for a mortal blend.
Then, Perseus took a sip, and his face lit up, promptly taking a bigger gulp.
“I haven’t had any wine aside from what’s made in Atlantis,” Perseus said.
“I take it this is quite different than what you’re used to?” Apollo said, amused when Perseus took yet another sip without sharing with Apollo.
Perseus nodded.
“I like it,” Perseus said decisively, before licking a stray drop off his lower lip. Apollo’s eyes followed the movement, but he yanked his gaze away before Perseus could notice.
“I’m glad,” Apollo said, softer than he had intended.
He watched as Perseus turned his attention to their surroundings, running his fingers through the grass, sniffing when the breeze wafted the scent of wild flowers past them, and gazing at the sky in wonder as a cloud drifted in front of the sun, like it was a marvel for him to witness.
Apollo had thought earlier that mortal labor was just a fact of life, akin to knowing the grass was green and the sky was blue. He had wondered who would admire that, yet the answer was right in front of him. Perseus would admire the green color of the grass or the blue expanse of the sky. He looked at the world as if it were something spectacular, even in the most mundane of things.
For the first time in a long time, Apollo felt the stirring of jealousy. What would it be like to see the world as Perseus did? Would Perseus’ admiration fade over time? Apollo had no way of knowing, but he thought it unlikely.
Apollo breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as he inhaled the fresh scent of nature, and threaded through that was a familiar, intoxicating blend of the sea, storms, and subtle sweetness. For a moment, his mind was taken back to the joy he had experienced in discovering the world for the first time just after his birth. It was a near-forgotten memory.
He opened his eyes and gazed at Perseus, who had a slight smile on his face as a butterfly landed on his finger.
Perhaps, Apollo could rediscover his appreciation for the world again.
Notes:
I Can Show You The World plays, but Apollo is a reluctant tour guide and Percy is the one to show him wonder again.
Apollo *looking at a tapestry as if it were a preschool drawing*: I can't believe he admires these mortal crafts
Apollo *looking at Percy as he literally just sits there*: I guess I can see joy in living againDamn, Apollo really has been doing the heavy lifting when it comes to romantic development. Don't worry though, Percy's time is coming up soon.
Percy has learned how to be in multiple places at once! It won't be a major plot item or anything but I needed to get this out of the way so Percy can see Apollo more!!! I'm so proud of him, a god learning how to do godly things.
And Percy is aware of his dreams now! We get a bit more insight into this in the future, though Percy (*cough* me) is keeping his thoughts still kinda cryptic.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think of it!
Chapter Text
Learning how to be in multiple places at once had really freed up Perseus’ time. As a byproduct of visiting the surface world more frequently, he began to see Apollo just as often.
At the beginning, Perseus had not known what to think of Apollo, aside from the fact that he was obviously aiming to sleep with Perseus. After that, he’d known that Apollo was a danger to Perseus’ secrets, but he still had backed himself into a corner with their deal. But slowly, like being gradually burned by the sun’s light, he’d grown used to Apollo’s presence.
In Samos, Apollo had been indulgent and not unkind, but still uncomprehending. Perseus didn’t hold it against him. It was likely only due to his own past that he didn’t hold the same views toward the mortals. Yet, after that, it seemed as though Apollo had started to show more interest in their travels to various mortal cities. Perseus was probably just imagining it, though. While not as old as the original six Kronides, Apollo was still a millennium older than Perseus. Would Perseus also grow disenchanted with the world after living that long? He hoped not, but only time would tell.
Admittedly, Apollo was not as heinous a company as Perseus had thought, though their trip to Thebes had been an interesting detour. Nothing said getting to know someone like walking through a city and having the other point out where he had killed the sons of Niobe, or where he had spread the plague in the wake of King Laius’ murder.
Other times were more pleasant, such as when Apollo had taken him to a concert of mortals blessed with his favor. Afterwards, Apollo had rhapsodized about the melodies and composition for hours while they drank wine and snacked on grapes and cheese. While Perseus had no ear for music, it was always entertaining to hear someone speak on something they were passionate about.
That day, however, it was Perseus’ turn to pick where they went, and he had a promise to fulfill.
“You’re joking,” Apollo said, after Perseus had transported him to the base of Mount Tymphi in the Epirus region.
“I promised a hike one day,” Perseus said, keeping a straight face despite his desire to laugh.
“But we can just appear right at the top in an instant,” Apollo whined, though the god would probably deny it if accused.
“And miss the view in between?” Perseus said, giving in to his urge to grin.
Apollo practically wilted.
But Perseus understood Apollo well enough at this point to know how to get him to cooperate.
“Well, I guess if you’re out of shape, we can--”
“Out of shape?!” Apollo drew himself up straight. “I am the pinnacle of athleticism, Perseus.”
Apollo always said his name like an accusation whenever he was mad, and Perseus secretly delighted in it.
“Do I look like I’m out of shape?” Apollo continued, gesturing at himself like one would a marble statue.
Unwillingly, Perseus’ eyes followed Apollo’s gesture and trailed over miles of exposed, tan skin and lean muscle. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he snapped his gaze back up to Apollo’s face, whose petulance had transformed into smug preening. Perseus glared at him to hide his embarrassment. It was his fault for wearing such a sparse chiton. Really, it was only pinned at one shoulder, and the hemline was way too short.
“Then, you agree we should hike our way to the top,” Perseus said after regaining the use of his tongue.
Apollo’s smile wavered, but he was trapped by his own ego, and he knew it.
“Fine, but I’ll be miserable the entire time,” Apollo complained dramatically.
That could be arranged, the back of Perseus’ mind whispered. He banished it. Now was not the time.
“You might be surprised,” was all Perseus said.
They started up the mountain, each with opposing levels of enthusiasm, but the more they climbed, the more Apollo forgot to suffer.
The view truly was stunning. The landscape around them was a lush green still, though summer was almost at its end.
In the end, while they made it up the mountain in a fraction of the time that it would take mortals, Perseus was satisfied with the journey. Judging by how Apollo had stopped complaining ten minutes in and started looking around thoughtfully, he thought Apollo might’ve come around to his point of view on this one.
When they finally reached the top, Perseus’ breath hitched at the view of the surrounding valleys and mountains from above. And not only that, but at a dip in the mountain’s landscape, there was a small lake. Perseus could tell even without sticking his feet in that it was filled with ancient water, from the time before these mountains had even formed.
“Alright,” Apollo said, breaking the peaceful silence. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Perseus turned to look at his companion. His blond hair shone golden in the early afternoon light, and he glowed with light that came from both within and without. Even his eyes seemed bluer this high in the air, closer to the sky.
He really was obnoxiously beautiful.
“See? There was no reason to be a baby about it,” Perseus said instead.
Apollo shot him a look that was a cross between affronted and amused.
“One day, your mouth will get you in trouble,” Apollo said, a far cry from his wrathful indignation at the beginning of their acquaintanceship.
“It already has,” Perseus said with a laugh. “Let me tell you about when I met Nereus for the first time.”
They settled at the edge of a cliff while they spoke. At some point, Apollo summoned ambrosia and nectar.
Apollo laughed at all the right moments, teased in the in-between, and provided actually thoughtful commentary every now and again.
Oh. He could get used to this, Perseus realized.
Once more, Apollo threw back his head in mirth, and Perseus found himself reluctantly charmed.
Forget about righteous retribution. This was the true danger of consorting with Apollo.
The worst part was that Perseus didn’t think he had it in him to stop.
One day, at the beginning of fall, Perseus called upon Apollo, and it wasn’t the usual cheerful, flirtatious Apollo who appeared in front of him.
“Perseus,” Apollo said, face solemn and carved from marble. “I’m quite busy right now. It’s not a good time.”
Perseus cocked his head as he evaluated Apollo. He thought of Apollo’s duties, his domains, and made the connection with some of his dreams lately.
“There’s a plague going on, right?” Perseus asked.
Apollo raised his eyebrow, a faint look of surprise breaking through his grave expression.
“I didn’t realize you were that in touch with the surface.” The question was unspoken.
Perseus shrugged.
“Lucky guess.”
Apollo’s eyes were still calculating as he looked at Perseus.
“Well, in any case, you are correct,” Apollo said finally. “Consequently, I’m busy with both my domains of plague and healing.”
Perseus had known, in theory, that Apollo held both of those domains, but the reality of what that meant hadn’t sunk in until that moment. The duality of it all…it struck him.
While Perseus was having this revelation, Apollo continued, unaware of the direction Perseus’ thoughts had taken.
“I won’t hold it against you if you go about the surface without me this once,” Apollo said. Then a bit of his usual personality shone threw. “Though I know you’ll sorely miss my presence.”
“Can I come with you?” Perseus blurted out.
Apollo paused, clearly taken aback. Perseus internally cringed, but refused to take back his request.
“I know I said you’d miss me, but I didn’t think it would be this much,” Apollo said. Perseus just looked at Apollo, entirely serious and refusing to back down on his request.
“It won’t be fun,” Apollo continued slowly, as if Perseus needed help understanding the words. “A lot of mortals are suffering right now. Even if I heal some of them, they are still in pain. It’s grim work.”
“Please,” Perseus asked. He hoped that Apollo would not ask why. Perseus didn’t know how he would articulate his thoughts if asked, not even to himself, but something inside of him needed to see this.
Still looking at Perseus like he had been struck with a bout of madness, Apollo eventually nodded.
“If you’re sure,” Apollo said, reluctance clear in his voice. “You can leave at any time, and I won’t be offended.”
“Thank you,” Perseus said.
Apollo just looked at him, something distant in his gaze.
“Don’t thank me.”
Without any further deliberation, Apollo grabbed Perseus’ arm and transported them to a large city. Perseus couldn’t tell where they were just from looking at it, but the streets were quiet. Though the sun shone brightly, it was as though the entire population had been cast in shades of gray.
“Cities are where disease spreads the fastest,” Apollo said quietly. “Then it continues to the small villages if it's not caught before travellers come and go.”
Without waiting for a response from Perseus, Apollo led the way to what seemed to be a small Asclepieia, a place of healing named after Apollo’s own son. The rooms were stuffed to the brim with mortals, all suffering from the plague Apollo had spread. Moans filled the air, and painful, red sores decorated the mortals' bodies.
As soon as Perseus set foot in the room, the aura of misery almost overpowered him.
Almost.
As Apollo and Perseus glided unseen through the room, Apollo stopping to either worsen or alleviate the mortals’ symptoms, Perseus felt a foreign swell of power and energy flow through him.
Perseus thought he had been prepared for this because of his dreams, yet to be in the center of such misery as a physical manifestation was a more potent sensation.
Apollo was all business as he tended to his conflicting domains, ignoring Perseus’ presence altogether. However, at one point, he seemed to remember Perseus was there and looked back at him absentmindedly. Almost immediately, Apollo did a double-take, eyes wide as he looked at him.
Perseus didn’t know what Apollo was seeing, but he certainly felt unlike himself. No, that wasn’t the right word for it. Rather, he felt like a part of himself had been newly unearthed, and now that it had been discovered, he couldn’t go back.
When Perseus just looked at him steadily without a word, Apollo eventually went back to what he was doing. Soon enough, they moved onto the next center of healing, then the next.
At some point, Perseus stopped hovering over Apollo and ventured off on his own, taking the time to spread out his essence. The entire city radiated misery and suffering, but here and there were pockets of brightness. Either from those too young to understand the reality or those stubbornly holding onto hope. Those with hope shown bright in his mind through the sheer contrast with the misery surrounding him.
The last vestiges of denial fully left Perseus.
Those dreams were real. Like he had been warned over 200 years ago, he had inherited the domain of misery, no, he had taken it. He was Misery. But something inside of him still rebelled at the thought, and the conflict that had been unknowingly weighing him down for years became all he could think about.
Perseus did not want to revel in misery. He did not want to walk into a plague-stricken city and feel powerful. It made him feel guilty as he never did during his subconscious wanderings. In his dreams, everything felt so clear. He felt no uncertainty.
Perhaps in rebellion against the reality of who he was, rather than spreading more misery through the city, he decided he would take it instead. From sick mortals, from dying mortals, from healthy, yet fretful family members, he consumed. He took, and he took, and he took, but it was never enough to get rid of their misery and suffering. However, some of those he left behind filled the empty space with hope.
Not everyone, though. Some people were too consumed by their suffering to have any room for hope, and the hole left in Perseus' wake was replenished with more misery. But for others, they felt renewed, felt lighter, even if it was entirely unfounded. That was the thing about hope -- it didn’t have to come true.
As Perseus explored this aspect of his powers like he had never done in his waking life, he discovered that for some people, he couldn’t take their misery at all. It was too embedded in their soul. In fact, more often than not, he felt compelled to spread it. It was a disheartening realization, even as he felt more powerful than he ever had in his life.
Perseus couldn’t say how long he and Apollo stayed in that nameless city, but he could instinctively tell when Apollo was done with his work as his divine presence vacated his senses. He must have thought that Perseus had left him entirely. But that was not a problem for Perseus, as he could tell where Apollo had arrived next based on the uptick in misery.
With barely a thought, Perseus followed the pull and appeared next to Apollo, invisible to the mortals around them. Apollo startled, looking at Perseus with wide eyes.
“I said I wanted to stay with you,” Perseus said by way of any real explanation.
Apollo stared at him with a strange glint in his eyes.
“So you did,” Apollo said, then went back to work.
This time, having gorged himself on the misery of the last city, Perseus stayed with Apollo, holding a tight leash on his powers while in the presence of the other god. He was sure Apollo still suspected something based on how he had looked so surprised at Perseus in the last city, but he wasn’t ready to come clean to Apollo just yet. That way led to questions that Perseus did not want to answer.
Besides, he had a reason for wanting to follow Apollo that had nothing to do with exercising his own power.
Like before, Apollo tended to both opposing sides of his domains, though not in equal measure. Most often, Apollo worsened the effects of the plague, hastening many a mortal to death. Sometimes, in the corner of his eye, Perseus thought he saw a shadow with wings following them in silence.
After some time observing Apollo, he began to notice that for some, even though Apollo was ushering them toward the waiting hands of Thanatos, their misery lightened. Eventually, he realized that Apollo was blessing them with a less painful death, the best kindness most could hope for in the midst of a deadly plague. He couldn’t tell if there was a pattern to the mortals that received this blessing, though it seemed most commonly done for young children.
Occasionally, Apollo would look at a mortal as though staring at something only he could see, and would decide to ease their illness, effectively changing their fate from death to life.
No, not changing their fate, Perseus realized after some thought. What god of prophecy would go against the Fates? Perseus had no way of knowing if he was right, but he imagined that Apollo was observing the strings of the Fates themselves.
For the first time since he had met Apollo, Perseus realized just how powerful, how significant Apollo was. It had never been more clear that Apollo was not only the flirtatious god that had appeared in front of him all those months ago. That still didn’t excuse the ego, but Perseus could understand it better now.
This pattern of inflicting, of healing, of blessing continued for the rest of the day, and they gradually moved from the epicenter of the disease to the smaller settlements in a ring outside of the city.
Perseus knew somehow that while the disease was relatively contained to this region, it would spread, like a wave along the surface of the water, until it finally broke upon the shore.
Later, after the sun had set, Apollo paused his work and brought them both to an empty field outside the most recent village, turning to address Perseus for the first time in hours.
“Now that the sun has set, I’m relieved of one of my duties,” Apollo explained. “I can spare the time.”
Perseus knew that Apollo must have questions for him, namely, why did Perseus decide to follow Apollo all day in the midst of a plague. He imagined that not many other gods saw Apollo when he was in this element.
“What about your son, Asclepius?” Perseus asked in a vain attempt to divert Apollo’s attention. “I’m a bit surprised we didn’t see him today.”
Apollo looked at him for a long moment, gaze unreadable, but answered nonetheless.
“We don’t often appear in the same place at times like this,” Apollo explained. “Our domains overlap, and it’s not efficient. Besides, we are approaching the height of the disease in this region. During this time, I exercise my domain of plague far more frequently than that of healing. Asclepius will come into play more later.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Perseus nodded.
“Perseus,” Apollo said, voice more serious than Perseus had ever heard it. “Why did you stay?”
There were many ways that Perseus could answer that. He could say it wasn’t Apollo's business, something he thought the other god would not accept. He could go with what he had discovered along the way and say that it was because he was misery itself, that he was coming into his powers. Instead, he would go with the truth deepest in his heart.
“I guess I wanted to know…” Perseus started, avoiding Apollo’s eyes and looking up into the night sky. “How do you deal with your own duality? Your domains conflict, but you manage them. How do you stay true to who you want to be if one moment you are inflicting pain and the next you are healing it?”
There was a heavy pause.
“I suppose it’s about balance,” Apollo said finally. His voice was quiet, yet there was a gravity to it that held Perseus’ full attention. “Just as there is day, there is night. There is life and death, illness and health. One can’t exist without the other. I have never worried that this is not who I want to be because this is who I am in truth. However, it is not all of who I am.”
The words should have reassured Perseus, but there was still a dark hole of dread inside him that had developed over time, one that he had been ignoring in vain for too long.
“What if--” Perseus' voice broke as he still avoided looking at Apollo. “What if you’re not balanced. What if, one day, you forget what it means to heal and just…just relish in pain and misery and suffering for the rest of eternity and become the hideous creature that haunts your nightmares.”
Another pause. Perseus clenched his jaw, fixing his gaze firmly on the stars. Perhaps this was the moment Apollo tipped over the edge, the moment Perseus was too bold, too impertinent, the moment he flew too close to the sun.
But Apollo’s wrath never came.
“I have a feeling you’re not talking about me,” Apollo said softly. It was almost worse than receiving divine retribution for saying too much.
Perseus’ tongue refused to work, not even to deny the implication behind Apollo’s words.
“Eternity is a long time,” Apollo said. “We can’t know our fates, not even me. But nothing in this life is purely evil. Everything serves a purpose, and everything works in balance.”
Eyes burning, the stars grew fuzzy in Perseus’ vision. Footsteps drew closer. A warm hand cupped his cheek, tilting his head away from the night sky and toward the sun personified.
Apollo’s golden hue was diminished under the silver light of the moon, but his eyes burned with painful kindness.
“I don’t know what you’re struggling with, Perseus, but you could never be hideous to me.”
A single tear rolled down his cheek. Apollo’s thumb wiped it away, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“I--” Perseus started, throat constricted and voice swollen with countless conflicting emotions. “I’m not ready to say it yet.”
“I’ll be here when you are.”
Perhaps Perseus was mad after all, but he believed him.
Notes:
Yayyy Percy's POV this whole chapter!!! We get something nice and happy, then something a bit more introspective later on. Poor boy is so moody, he can't help himself.
Percy *teasing Apollo*: You're out of shape
Apollo *gestures at himself in indignation*
Percy: You got me thereLater.
Percy: What if you turn into a hideous monster!
Apollo *thinking this couldn't possibly be about me, I'm gorgeous*: there, there, Perseus. You're pretty to meSo, like y'all have commented, Percy has the domain of misery, but there's still some more mystery to be solved!
We will see some of Apollo's thoughts about this encounter in the next chapter, never fear.
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