#pjo athena
Fandom: Trials of Apollo/Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard
Rating:Teen
Genre: Adventure, Friendship
Characters: Will Solace, Magnus Chase, Apollo, Nico di Angelo, Alex Fierro, Meg McCaffreyAnd so it ends. This fic was a lot of fun to write, and I’m delighted at the response it’s received. Thank you so much for your support for this fic, and the welcome I got into the TOA fandom. It’s been absolutely incredible, and I hope this won’t be the last longfic you’ll see from me (I have another one planned!). Thanks for reading this story! Tsari.
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APOLLO (XXX)
Everything And Nothing Changes
Olympus hadn’t changed at all since the last time Apollo had laid eyes on it, which was a bit concerning because Annabeth was supposed to be redesigning it and she’d barely managed to get started on the renovations before Zeus had closed it in light of Gaia’s rising. Maybe Zeus hadn’t yet opened it back up to their aspiring young architect, which if you asked Apollo, seemed rather dumb. Did his father really want to keep wandering past all the rubble that signified Kronos’ near-successful attempt to destroy their home? Apollo wasn’t really a fan of it, himself.
If he knew his half-brother at all – and he did – Hermes was no doubt still beside himself at his son’s death, and the reminder had to be agonising every time he saw it. Apollo was self-aware enough to know he’d be beside himself if it had been one of his children in Luke’s position (as it was, he, too, had lost too many children in that war and wasn’t particularly enamoured with the reminders), and would almost certainly have done something inadvisable by now.
Something inadvisable like standing up to Zeus in front of two pantheons and effectively telling him he was being stupid.
Which was exactly what Apollo had just done.
Great.
“Putting it off will only make it worse,” his sister reminded him. She’d returned to her usual form at last, the familiar twelve year old face looking up at him with eyes that had seen millennia pass. Apollo had considered shifting back to Lester’s appearance – the original one, not Odin’s einherjar-perfect-warrior one, although it had been nice to have actual muscles and no acne – but while that had become a comfortable form over the past seven months, it still wasn’t his favoured form, and experience told him he didn’t want to broadcast exactlyhow much he’d changed to the other Olympians.
Gods were not fans of change.
That being said, he’d kept his clothing the same style of t-shirt and jeans, although now the t-shirt was a replica of the same black Icarus shirt Percy Jackson had originally dressed him in for the irony. This one fit far better than that one had, the cut flattering his godly-perfect body, and there was no label proclaiming BLOFIS (with the return of all his memories had come the knowledge that it was not, in fact, a protection spell, but rather the very mortal need to put names on their clothing), but it was otherwise identical.
Just a little something to remind Zeus that the past seven months had happened, and that Apollo had not forgotten that his father had been the primary orchestrator behind it.
Artemis’ disapproval was a tangible thing in the air between them, but she didn’t bother to say anything about it out loud. She also stuck by his side as the doors to the throne room loomed before them, rather than breezing on ahead as so often happened in her determined, huntress, way. The problem with siblings, especially a twin, was that sometimes – often, when said twins were immortal – they liked to make sure they were viewed as uniquely as possible, which meant that it was rare the pair of them presented a united front to the entire council.
Today, Apollo needed his sister to stay by his side, and she was giving him exactly that, keeping in step with him right up to the door and not leaving more than a pace between them until they were level with their thrones, growing with every step until they were the perfect size at the perfect time.
Thrones seven and eight were opposite each other, and never had Apollo been more glad for that as they seamlessly peeled from each other’s side at the exact same moment, as though it was a dance they’d choreographed and practiced for eons, and not just two twins perfectly in tune.
Like everything else in Olympus, his throne was exactly as he’d left it. Were it not for Will’s recounting of his dreams, and Zeus’ furious words to Odin, Apollo could have fooled himself into thinking it had been left in statis, perfectly preserved until his return. Certainly, there was no sign of the black cracks spidering across the gold that Will had hauntingly described, and the throne was as rune-free as Apollo’s bared wrists, but it didn’t take much imagination to picture how it had been.
It was not a pretty image.
Thankfully, it was in the past, never to occur again, and he refused to hesitate in front of the rest of the gods even for a moment. He sank into the familiar chair, moulded exactly to fit him, at the precise same moment that Artemis delicately settled into her own.
For the first time he could recall since the rise of Gaia, the twelve seats of Olympus were filled.
“I told you not to keep me waiting,” Zeus rumbled from the head of the arc, hands clenching the arms of his platinum throne. “Apollo.”
He could have reminded his father about the demigods, how Will had been nearly killed by Ares – sat on his ragged throne next to Apollo and oozing aggravating emotions as though he wanted Apollo to try and destroy him the same way he’d almost murdered his son – or how someone had to make sure they got home safe. On some level he felt he probably should, but Zeus’ temper was clearly not yet abated and Apollo only had so much defiance in his essence.
“My apologies, father,” he bit out instead, feeling his twin’s eyes on him as he did so. She didn’t show it, would never show it and certainly not during the Olympian council, but he could tell that she was relieved.
“Now you show deference.” Despite that, Zeus did not sound appeased. “In front of our own, but not in front of Odin?”
Apollo fought not to let his hands ball into frustrated, yet frightened, fists, and said nothing.
“He stopped a war, brother,” Hades interjected, the lord of the Underworld on a simple throne of obsidian a short distance away from Hermes’ – not part of the twelve, but on a raised dais nonetheless. His throne had been the first thing Annabeth had made room for, likely because they all – gods and demigods alike – owed him for his intervention in the second Titanomachy. “I think Apollo can be forgiven some impertinence considering the circumstances.”
“He disrespected me in front of another pantheon!” Zeus growled. “You would have me let that slide?”
“I agree with Hades, father,” Athena broke in. “Both sides were manipulated equally by Loki; Apollo saved us from being used to trigger the apocalypse.”
“You have a target to take your wrath out on,” Poseidon added, lounging back in his throne as though he didn’t particularly care what happened either way despite the words he was saying. “The girl is to blame, not Apollo. In fact, I would remind you why Apollo was vulnerable enough to be taken in the first place.”
Thunder crashed.
“You go too far, Poseidon!” Zeus snarled.
“Do I?” The god of the seas had no fear when it came to confronting his brother, something Apollo had lost millennia ago. “Or are you too proud to admit your involvement?”
“Poseidon-”
“That same pride had us almost enter another war,” Poseidon continued. “You are simply angry because you needed Apollo to open your eyes to the truth of the situation, and have blinded yourself to the fact that Odin, too, needed the same, or have you forgotten that he believed Apollo’s presence in Valhalla was our orchestration?”
“Watch your tongue,” Zeus warned, “I will not have you blame me for this.”
“No-one here is to blame,” Artemis spoke up, to Apollo’s horror, even if what she was saying was true. “Loki and his daughter, Carrie, are the only ones responsible for this situation.” Apollo wondered if he was the only one who heard her unspoken so they’re the only ones who should be punished.
From the way Zeus’ eyes flashed, he heard it, too, but even the temperamental king of the gods couldn’t find a reason to disagree with her; if he did, the blame would come back to rest on his head.
Apollo loved his sister, even if she terrified him sometimes.
“The girl,” Zeus ground out. “A feeble mortal who thought to defy the gods.” Me, Apollo rather suspected his father actually meant by that, his pride wounded and seeking a target to lash out at. “As she so clearly wishes to toy with immortal powers, she will discover what the consequences of that are.”
Apollo tried to feel sorry for Carrie, but the girl had never shown any indication that she was being forced by Loki, nor had she shown any remorse for her actions. Her sins were her own, but even if they were not – if she had simply been Loki’s toy soldier with no autonomy of her own – she was the sacrificial bull to keep the peace.
It was harsh. Cruel, even. The demigods would be furious, and after spending six months as a mortal pawn himself, Apollo could understand why. He could even, to some extent, agree with them.
However, it was also necessary. His time as a mortal had not changed him so much that he couldn’t sit back and objectively (if not impartially; Carrie had killed him once, effectively extended his punishment past its supposed conclusion, and – worst of all – threatened demigods he was fond of) observe the situation. If Zeus did not take out all of his frustrations on the former Valkyrie and some of them were left to stew and eventually boil over, they were still at risk of igniting the inter-pantheon war – and potentially Ragnarok – after all.
There could be no lightening of her sentence, and Apollo would not try.
“As for you, Apollo,” his father continued, lightning eyes pinning him firmly in place. There was no consideration in his tone, and Apollo braced himself for yet another punishment. “Your duties have been sorely neglected this past year. I expect you to dedicate your entire efforts into rectifying this. There will be no time for slacking off or dallying with mortals. You’ve done more than enough of that recently.”
To casual ears, that was hardly a punishment. If anything, it was a reinforcement of the ancient laws none of them had really been taking seriously for the past half a decade or so. For Apollo, who had done his best to be as close to his children as possible despite the law even before his tenure as a mortal, and had every intention of keeping that up, learning all about his current children and being an active presence in their lives (the bow had been a gift of necessity, and he had several ideas for things he could gift Will that better suited and honed his son’s already impressive healing talents – and with the memories of the quest fresh in his mind, specifically how much it had torn his son down, he was well aware that the paltry attempts at talking to Will he’d managed so far were nowhere near enough – and he had several other children to bond with and shower with gifts), it stung.
No doubt that was Zeus’ aim. His father hadn’t even worded it as a punishment, so Apollo couldn’t protest the injustice of being punished for preventing the apocalypse without putting himself in the wrong and appearing as though he didn’t want to do his duties.
Sometimes, he really, really resented his father.
His fellow gods shifted in their thrones, none of them blind enough to not see Zeus’ manipulation, but not willing to draw attention to the fact that none of them had upheld those ancient laws as rigidly as they were supposed to in recent years in case the king of the gods’ wrath descended upon them, too.
“Zeus, why are you targeting Apollo?”
None bar one, and if he were still mortal, Apollo would have got backlash from how quickly his head whipped around to face the speaker.
She stood at the foot of the dais that held their thrones, the self-proclaimed least and last of the gods. Petite, human-sized, and wearing her customary appearance of a girl younger than even Artemis, the goddess of the hearth rarely involved herself in Olympian matters since passing her throne to Dionysus.
Hestia was, however, the eldest of the six elder gods, and for all the temper and self-righteousness of the Big Three, when she did choose to involve herself, she was heard.
No-one spoke as she made her way between the thrones, her hearth at her back and bare feet passing soundlessly over the marbled floor. As softly spoken as she was petite, she did not raise her voice, but her words reverberated around them anyway.
“Your son has returned, having completed trials beyond the capability of the gods as a mortal. What happened to the Olympus that rewarded heroes for doing what the gods could not?” She stopped in the centre of the horseshoe, directly between Apollo and Artemis’ thrones, and faced Zeus with her head held high. “You turned Apollo mortal so that the Oracles might be freed, because you understood that only a mortal could succeed, did you not?”
Not even Zeus defied his eldest sister, but he grumbled and slumped back in his throne regardless. “Apollo needed to be punished for his role in the rise of the earth,” he protested. “It was simply convenient to solve two problems at once.”
Apollo could certainly believe that Zeus considered his punishment an act of convenience. He did not, however, believe Hestia was correct about his original reasoning, but knew better than to voice those thoughts, otherwise he’d ruin whatever it was his aunt was trying to do.
“His punishment ended with the defeat of the serpent,” Hestia reminded them all. “His actions after that were outside of its scope, and just as worthy as the other heroes you have rewarded through the years.”
“Hedefied me,” Zeus protested.
“As did Perseus Jackson,” the goddess agreed, inclining her head towards Poseidon, “and yet, when he saved us from destruction, we rewarded him regardless.”
“We would not have lost to the Norse!” Ares protested, leaning forwards on his throne. With Hestia stood in front of Apollo, it left him also leaning closer to him, and Apollo had to resist the urge to flare up at him.
Ares would not be forgiven for the spear in his son any time soon.
“Only the Fates could say that for certain,” Hestia replied, meeting the eyes of the god of war. “I believe the prophecy was clear; had no agreement been reached, Ragnarok would have begun. We have weathered many things over the millennia, but nothing of that scale.” She returned her attention to Zeus. “I understand your reluctance to reward Apollo for events that came out of his punishment,” she promised, “but I see no logic in punishing him further.”
Zeus’ fingers twitched on the arms of his throne.
“I agree with Hestia,” Artemis voiced, trying to give Apollo another heart attack, apparently. He appreciated her sticking up for him, but he was terrified at the retaliation Zeus might inflict, no matter how much he usually favoured her. “Even if you do not reward him, father, why does he need to be punished again?”
Quite frankly, Apollo wasn’t bothered if he wasn’t rewarded. A year ago, he’d have been horrified at himself for thinking that, but after his time as a mortal, he was more tired than anything else. Let the sun direct the attention onto someone else for a while, especially if that attention was Zeus’.
One by one, other voices spoke up in assent. First Hades, then Athena and Poseidon, followed by most of the pantheon. Only Ares and Hera stayed quiet, neither of which surprised Apollo in the slightest.
He was more surprised that the rest of them hadn’t.
Zeus snarled. “Very well,” he said disdainfully, “I will overlook Apollo’s misconduct just this once. Let that be his reward for his deed.” He turned back to look at Apollo again, who forced himself not to avert his eyes. “Regardless, I expect you not to be lax in your duties, and remember the ancient laws. The demigods are not to be coddled.”
Coddled, no, but protected and reassured as best Apollo could manage without directly interfering and thereby breaking the ancient rules rather than just bending them a little? That was a different matter entirely.
“Of course, father,” he agreed, shoulders slumping in relief.
“Does anyone have anything else they wish to address?” the king of the gods demanded, pinning them all with a look, one at a time. No-one spoke. “In that case, this council is over.”
He rose from his throne, and disappeared in a flash of lightning. Apollo hoped he didn’t see his father again until the next council; he was not ready for another encounter any time soon, and would be quite content if he didn’t have to interact with him again for at least the next century.
Then he remembered neither he nor Artemis had mentioned Odin’s appointment of Magnus as an ambassador, and winced. That would need to be brought up before the son of Frey made his first journey.
“We’ll deal with that once father has calmed somewhat,” Artemis said softly, crossing the room to stand in front of him and proving that a year apart had done nothing to her ability to read what he was thinking. Around them, the rest of the Olympians were disappearing back to their duties. Apollo tried not to feel hurt that not one of them had bothered with so much as a ‘welcome back’, reminding himself that he’d never expected it anyway, even if they had all gone to Asgard because of him. “I did not think now was a good time to mention it.”
“I would not take too long, whatever it is,” Hestia murmured, drawing Apollo’s attention to the fact that she hadn’t yet retreated to her hearth. He slipped from his throne and shrank down to human size, sensing Artemis do the same. “My brother does not like things being kept from him.”
Apollo winced. “I know,” he said, before kneeling down so that he was the same height as his aunt’s child form. “And thank you,” he added heartfeltly.
“Family may be my sister’s domain, but we share the home,” Hestia reminded him, reaching out a small hand. Apollo didn’t pull away as she cupped his cheek. Her skin was, as always, warm and reassuring to the touch, even to a god used to the heat of the sun. “Welcome home, Apollo. My hearth has been rather colder without you; I am glad to see you back.”
She regarded him warmly, and he cracked a smile. “Thank you,” he said again.
“I will continue to look over the children,” Hestia reassured him. “Your father may have rescinded his punishment, but do not test him. Focus on your duties for now; they will be safe for as long as they remain in camp, and I do not expect any of them are eager to leave just yet.”
She was right, of course, but the memories of Will looking so down, so broken, after Angrboda, haunted Apollo’s perfect recall, along with the giantess’ words: a mother who never wanted a child and gladly gave you away to be someone else’s responsibility. Apollo had nothing but fond memories of Naomi Solace, and he was ashamed to admit to himself that on the occasions he’d checked up on Will as a young child, he had never realised she hadn’t been as good a mother as she had been a lover. If Angrboda was to be believed – and Apollo had the unsettling feeling that she hadn’t lied – Will had never known true parental love from either parent.
That was something he had to change, as well as taking a much closer, more critical, eye to how the rest of his children were treated by their mortal parents – and it wasn’t something he could change by staying away.
Artemis squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure my Hunters wouldn’t mind a rest after tearing apart the world to find you,” she said lightly, a familiar-sounding sibling tease that didn’t quite distract him from the implications behind it. His sister had been worried, much the same way that he had been a few years earlier, when she’d been captured herself. “I’ll send them to camp for a while.”
“As long as they don’t give my kids extra work to do,” Apollo quipped, choosing to fall back into their regular banter before things got too emotional in the throne room. He was more touched than he was willing to voice at the silent reassurance both goddesses were promising him. “No more people in the infirmary than necessary.” No more work for his children, for Will.
Artemis snorted and took her hand back. “That will depend entirely on how the campers treat them,” she reminded him, “and how many of your children are foolish enough to challenge them in archery.”
“My children are just as good as your Hunters,” Apollo protested, rising to his feet again.
His sister smirked at him. “We shall see,” she taunted. “Your daughters are always welcome to join them.”
Apollo gaped at her for a moment, outraged in a way only his twin sister could provoke. “Leave my daughters alone!”
“I make no promises,” Artemis laughed. Apollo knew that she would never force anyone to join who didn’t want to, but that didn’t make him any happier about the ever-there potential for his daughters ending up under his sister’s patronage instead. What could he say? He wasn’t a big fan of sharing; he was a god, after all. As he’d told the demigods on the quests, gods didn’t like others trampling over their domains, not even him. And not even if the one doing the trampling was his twin sister and it actually meant his daughters became immortal and he could spend more time with them.
Okay, so maybe Apollo didn’t mind that bit.
Artemis sobered up again after a moment, and met his eyes. “I should go to my girls and let them know you’re back,” she said. “Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.”
“Who, me?” he asked, mock-offended as he placed a hand over his chest. “I would never!” He’d had enough of trouble for the time being, and was looking forwards to a nice, trouble-free few years. If you asked him, he more than deserved it.
The look she sent him made it painfully clear she didn’t believe him for one moment, but she said nothing, disappearing in a shower of silver and leaving him alone in the room. Hestia had slipped away unnoticed while they’d bantered; her hearth burned as healthily as ever, but the small figure that often tended to it was absent. Apollo assumed that meant she was already at its sister hearth in Camp Half-Blood.
He was a god again. Standing alone in Olympus, without any other gods around to watch him, he could let that properly sink in. No more trials, no more mortality, no more runes binding him to another power. Just Apollo, restored again to his rightful place, albeit with a slightly different mindset than before.
But different mindset or not, as Zeus had said, he still had duties to attend to. Helios’ old palace was no doubt covered in a thick layer of dust that would need clearing, and the horses would be angsty after remaining cooped up for so long. Apollo was well aware he was in for several equine temper tantrums, which needed to run their course before he could even think about harnessing them. No doubt, that would take most of the night.
Come dawn, Phoebus Apollo would drive out the sun chariot once more.
Fin
Fandom: Trials of Apollo/Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard
Rating:Teen
Genre: Adventure, Friendship
Characters: Will Solace, Magnus Chase, Apollo, Nico di Angelo, Alex Fierro, Meg McCaffreyWell, we’re getting near the end of the fic now, and I’m being reminded how much I hate wrapping storylines up…
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APOLLO (XXVII)
Hostage Negotiations Are Had
Thank Olympus for Thor, Zeus’ counterpart where it mattered. It was unlikely that the single bolt would have killed either Apollo or Odin, but they certainly wouldn’t have escaped unharmed. Memories of every molecule of his existence being seared more than once told Apollo that. Hammer raised high, the Norse god of lightning caught it on Mjolnir, redirecting it from its intended target and channelling it down harmlessly to the ground.
“Father!” Artemis protested. On his knees, Apollo found himself looking up at her, still looking seventeen but unmistakable with her auburn ponytail and silver bow.
“I said if he touches him,” Zeus rumbled.
Odin released the first wrist and snatched up Apollo’s left wrist, repeating the process. It took Athena and Artemis combined to stop Zeus from hurling another thunderbolt as Apollo cried out again.
“Look at his wrist, father,” Athena said. Apollo raised the wrist in question up, taking in the unblemished skin as the rune on his other wrist burned. “Odin is removing the bindings.”
Another surge of magic later, and the All-Father dropped Apollo’s other wrist, leaving him breathing heavily but unmistakably intact. It was a relief to no longer feel any power inside him except for his own, finally settling him into who he shouldbe in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time; long before the punishment.
Those had been a long six and a half months, and he was under no illusions that he didn’t want to risk it happening to him again. Unfortunately, Zeus was clearly not pacified by Odin’s actions, and as much as Apollo appreciated Athena and Artemis doing their best to persuade him, he knew that they wouldn’t be enough.
The abused child must stand tall.
He wanted to have words with his Oracle for describing him quite like that, ruthlessly forcing him to confront his relationship with Zeus once again. Had his admittance at Temple Hill, when he’d stared up at the looming statue of his father and caved enough to call him an abuser in the safety of his own mind not been enough? Unlike Meg, whose abusive step-father had been defeated and would never trouble her again outside of memories and dreams, his father was going nowhere, and he had millennia more to spend with him. It was just saferto roll with the punches he couldn’t outright avoid.
But no, apparently he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore.
“He should never have placed them in the first place,” Zeus boomed against the common sense of his daughters. Apollo grabbed his twin’s elbow and used her to pull himself back to his feet, planting himself directly between the two pantheon rulers.
“He was deceived, just as you’re being manipulated,” he said firmly, forcing himself to stand his ground and not back down as eyes the colour of sparking lightning focused directly on him. The last time Zeus had looked at him like that, he’d lost six months and then regained awareness rudely as a mortal falling into a dumpster. It was not an encouraging thought.
“None of us benefit from a battle between the pantheons,” he continued, gesturing to both pantheons with wide sweeps of his arms. “None of us benefit from Ragnarok. Most of the Aesir and Vanir are fated to die when that rolls around, and where will we stand when Midgard is destroyed and those that believe in us are wiped out as collateral damage?”
Their children would be the first to go, and as a mortal one of the things he had quickly realised was how little weight the name Apollo held amongst non-demigods. Helios had faded when people stopped believing in him. Pan had faded when the wild was destroyed.
Unlike the Aesir and Vanir, whose lives were tied to golden apples and the unchangeable fates set aside for them, the Olympians had nothing so tangible holding them in place. Maybe they’d survive Ragnarok, maybe they wouldn’t, but Apollo was in no hurry to find out.
Athena had a thoughtful look on her face, and Apollo hoped the goddess of wisdom was drawing the same connections he was.
“Theonly one who benefits from this is Loki,” he pointed out. “Not the Olympians. Not the Aesir and Vanir.”
“You would have me let this insult pass unpunished?” Zeus demanded, still towering over Apollo and casting a shadow that never felt right. The sun was the ultimate source of light; nothing should cast a shadow over it, but that was Zeus for you, a law unto himself. “Show the other pantheons that we are weak and willing to retreat at the first sign of war?”
Some of the gods murmured quietly in assent – Ares, Poseidon, Dionysus, even Athena. Artemis placed a hand on his arm, gripping tightly, and Apollo knew that his sister was torn, too.
“I would have you find a solution that isn’t the apocalypse,” he snapped, unable to soften his tone at all. Maybe, just maybe, bluntness would get through to Zeus this time. “A solution that doesn’t condemn our children to death, or destroy the world more thoroughly than the titans and giants ever managed.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he realised he’d struck a nerve. Zeus stormed forwards, crackling with power, and despite his intentions to stand his ground, Apollo stumbled back a half-step, millennia of learned fear rising up his throat.
“You go too far, Apollo!” the king of the gods roared. He raised his hand, the Master Bolt lashing out at the air, and Apollo flinched at the sight of it.
“No.”
Darkness shimmered in front of him, between Apollo and Zeus, and Apollo’s eyes widened.
“Apollo is right, brother,” Hades said. “More war is not the answer. More death is not the answer. The Underworld is already overcrowded. I do not wish to see my domain expand any further than it must.”
“And yet you came because you feared that Odin was planning to steal your owed dead,” Poseidon pointed out. The seas were temperamental at the best of time – Apollo saw it every day, as he flew the sun chariot across his uncle’s vast domain – and while in recent years Poseidon had showed a mostly mellower side, no doubt in large thanks to his demigod son, the rage of the sea had never left him. Right then, even with all his powers of prophecy, Apollo didn’t know which way Poseidon’s mood was going to fall. Which brother he was going to side with.
“A fear that has since been proven unfounded,” Hades answered. “If it was Loki, not Odin, who took Apollo, then Odin has continued to operate only within his own bounds.”
“Loki is still Aesir,” Athena interjected. “Father is correct that there is a responsibility on Odin’s behalf.”
The Norse gods, who had mostly stayed silent to watch barring the occasional quiet comment to each other, bristled at his words.
“Loki is bound,” one of them snapped, stepping forwards. He had only one hand, Apollo noticed, and immediately recalled what he – what Lester – had read in Valhalla on the Norse gods. That hand had been lost to Fenris, Angrboda’s eldest son. “We no longer associate with the trickster in any capacity.”
“Peace, Tyr,” Odin interrupted, raising a hand for silence amongst his fellows. “Athena is correct that an insult has been dealt to the Olympians.”
“And their uninvited crossing of the Bifrost was not an insult to us?” the same god – Tyr, god of justice amongst other things – returned. “They are the invaders.”
“No.” Apollo found his voice again, and moved away from his uncle’s shadow. “Both sides have been insulted, but the root of both was Loki.”
Neither pantheon seemed to be impressed by his words; immediately Norse voices accused him of siding with his father, while the majority of the Olympians pointed out that it was Odin who had kept him bound in Valhalla.
Zeus was the loudest of all, and Apollo almost hid behind Hades again as his father’s fury focused on him once more.
Once he got back to Olympus, he was staying out of Zeus’ way for at leasta century. Possibly longer. He’d work out what to do about the solstices later.
“Enough!” For a change, it wasn’t Apollo saying it. Instead, it was a woman, with startlingly red hair and faint scars running down her cheeks. Frigg, Apollo remembered from Lester’s readings, the wife of Odin and queen of Asgard. Unless he missed his guess, she was also the mother of Mallory Keen. “This fighting will get us nowhere,” she said firmly, standing by her husband’s side. “Apollo is right; a compromise must be reached. Odin, my love, what are your thoughts?”
It sounded less like a question, and more like an instruction, Apollo thought wryly. He didn’t know much about Frigg, beyond what he’d read; she kept herself to herself, and certainly didn’t go socialising across pantheons. Still, he got the impression he’d rather have her as a step-mother than Hera.
“Loki is not the only guilty party that I can see,” Odin announced. He met Zeus’ eyes without flinching, and Apollo wished he had his self-assuredness in the face of the furious god of the skies. “We cannot turn Loki over to the Olympians in appeasement without releasing him, but the other guilty party there is no such restrictions upon.”
He spoke a word that Apollo wasn’t familiar with, although from context he assumed it was a runeword, and the demigods all appeared in the midst of the gods. Apollo immediately placed himself beside them, delighted that they were all on their feet – even if in the case of Will and Magnus, it was barely.
Seeing his son mostly conscious and no longer on the brink of death did wonders for his emotions, and uncaring of what the other gods thought, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, tugging him close against his side. Nico pressed up against Will’s other side, with Meg next to him, Magnus’ arm over her shoulders.
In front of them, on the golden paving and covered in blood, was the defiant form of Carrie.
Frey was nowhere to be seen, and Apollo made a mental note to track him down as soon as possible to thank him for saving Will.
“Carrie, daughter of Loki,” Odin boomed. “After the success of Samirah and Alex, I had thought that the children of Loki might be changing in modern times. That, it seems, was my mistake.” He stepped closer to her, and she snarled, trying to scramble her way to her feet.
Meg kicked her back down, while Nico trained the point of his sword on her. Both of them were covered in wounds that hadn’t been there when Apollo had left them, but they had the unmistakable air of assured victory around them.
“Zeus,” the All-Father continued, “Loki was the brains, but Carrie was the willing body that carried out this task. She is dismissed from the Valkyries.” He made a sharp movement with his spear and the girl screamed as her uniform and weapons disappeared, leaving her in tattered jeans and a t-shirt that said Team Loki in snake green letters. Above it was the face of a handsome man that Apollo knew from his forays into modern cinema. Not the real Loki, but given her parentage, it was a damning statement regardless. “Beyond that, I relinquish the rights to her punishment to you, to do with as you wish.”
Children should not be punished for the sin of the parent. Angrboda had been adamant on that, and despite everything else about her, Apollo had agreed with that stance, but as he looked at the furious yet tearful girl, even with his newfound hatred of pushing demigods around like toys, he struggled to find pity for her. Alex was proof that children of Loki were no more bound to obey their parents than any other demigods, and with her actions, Carrie’s sins were as much her own as her father’s.
“Your peace offering is a mortal girl?” Zeus demanded, sounding incredulous.
“The girl who would see us trigger the end of the world,” Athena corrected. “Even now, I sense no remorse for her actions, Father. It is a sound offering.”
“Humph.” Apollo shifted out of the way, pulling Will with him protectively and tightening his grip further as his son stumbled at the movement, as his father approached Carrie. She spat in his direction, and the god’s face seized. For a moment, Apollo was convinced that he’d need to shield the rest of the demigods from Zeus’ wrath, but almost impossibly, Zeus didn’t smite her then and there.
Instead, he snapped his fingers and she disappeared in a flash of lightning.
“Very well,” he said, fury still lacing every word he spoke. “I will accept the girl, Odin, but do not allow this to happen again. Next time, I will not be so lenient.”
“I will endeavour to prevent a next time,” Odin agreed. Zeus, with all the manners Apollo expected him to possess, simply turned his back on the All-Father and addressed the rest of the Olympians.
“Leave,” he ordered bluntly. “I will see you all on Olympus.” There was no argument from most of the gods, and Apollo gathered the demigods to him as the Olympians one by one turned into their true forms before vanishing, until only four of his brethren remained.
Hades was the first to approach, running worried eyes over Nico’s many wounds for several silent moments before being seemingly satisfied that his son was not about to drop dead. Frey quietly stepping forwards and placing his glowing hands on both injured demigods, closing up their wounds soundlessly, probably had a lot to do with that. Demeter was behind him, running her own critical eye over Meg, although her daughter scoffed and refused to acknowledge her.
The goddess pursed her lips, before disappearing. Hades, however, was less inclined to leave in silence.
“I’m proud of you,” he told his son. “If you have any questions about what you’ve seen on this quest, you know where to find me.”
“Hades-” Zeus growled, but the lord of the Underworld waved him off.
Likewise ignoring the lord of the skies, Nico almost glowed with the praise, although he kept a tight hold on Will which broadcasted to Apollo, at least, that he wasn’t going to be leaving his boyfriend’s side any time soon. “I know,” he said simply. “Thanks, father.”
Hades seemed content enough with the response, nodded serenely before turning to Apollo. “I will see you on Olympus,” he said, before disappearing himself.
That left Apollo and the demigod children with only Zeus, Artemis, and the Norse pantheon.
“Why are you still here?” Zeus demanded of him. “Your time with the mortals is over, Apollo. Return to Olympus at once, where we shall discuss your new attitude.”
Apollo couldn’t suppress the flinch, and didn’t fail to notice the worried look Will sent him, apparently aware enough of his surroundings to notice things like that. In answer, he squeezed his his son further against his side, hoping he wasn’t going to have to suddenly push him away from the danger zone if Zeus lashed out.
Artemis, his beloved, amazing, sister, intervened. “We have to ensure the heroes are returned home safely, first,” she said. “We shall return to Olympus as soon as that is done.”
Zeus huffed. “If you must,” he said, turning away. “Do not take too long, or I will reconsider my decision.”
With those ominous words, he disappeared in a ball of lightning, and Apollo’s knees almost gave out. Artemis gripped his arm tightly.
“Decision?” he asked her weakly. “What decision?”
The look on her face was one of equal bafflement, which didn’t reassure Apollo at all.
“Speaking of decisions,” Odin interjected. Apollo supposed it was too much to ask for that the Norse gods also disappeared, although with the departure of the majority of the Olympians, it seemed most of them had dispersed. The only ones still standing in the courtyard were the All-Father, his wife, and Frey. “Magnus Chase.”
The einherjar jerked upright as though he’d been zapped by Zeus’ lightning.
“Yes?” he asked, caution palatable. Apollo couldn’t really blame him, when he’d misused Valhalla’s doors to bypass Yggdrasil and bring in outsiders to Valhalla.
“I should punish you for your treatment of my wolves,” the All-Father mused, “and for bringing Greeks into Valhalla and Asgard.”
“Can I say please don’t?” the einherjar asked nervously. “I’m not too fond of punishment.”
“Asit happens, your actions resulted in helping to delay Ragnarok once again,” Odin continued, “so, I shall give you a choice.”
“What if I don’t like either option?” Apparently, it was not just the children of the Big Three who had a compulsion to run their mouths at powerful gods. Apollo wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not; it shouldn’t be, but this generation of demigods were amazing in ways he hadn’t seen in centuries. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed, a thought that caused his stomach to sink unpleasantly.
Odin laughed, a deep, belly laugh that did nothing to reassure Magnus, from the look on his face. Apollo wasn’t particularly reassured either, and the look Frey was giving the Aesir suggested he felt much the same way.
“Well, we shall see,” the All-Father said, several moments later once his amusement was sated. “Your first option, Magnus Chase, is to have all your memories of the Greek pantheon removed. The pantheons are not designed to mix, as I think we all just saw.”
As far as punishments went, that was mild – and also smart, on Odin’s part. No doubt the rest of floor nineteen would be subjected to the same mind-wipe, thereby tying up any loose ends and minimising the risk of what had happened repeating itself again.
Magnus, however, looked absolutely horrified at the suggestion, as though it was the worst thing he could possibly imagine. A glance at Will and Nico showed that the pair of them were likewise not happy at the idea, which Apollo could understand – they probably didn’t want to lose a new friend. Nico, in particular, had very few of those.
“What’s my other option?” Magnus asked warily, and also a little desperately.
The satisfied look on Odin’s face had Apollo wanting to snatch Magnus away and hide him in Camp Half-Blood, even though it would be a supremely bad idea.
“Or,” the Aesir said, “you will work for me as a liaison between the Norse and Greco-Roman pantheons, as required. It would be a dangerous position – as you have no doubt realised, Zeus’ temper is legendary and he does not hesitate to smite those who upset him. There is a high chance that you will find yourself vapourised at some point.”
“Just between the pantheons?” Magnus asked, sounding a little suspicious – and even hopeful, which had Apollo wanting to scream at him that Zeus’ temper really was no joke and he’d be better off taking the mind-wipe, “or between the demigods, too?”
“Magnus-” Frey started, the first time Apollo had heard him since that night in Stockholm. His voice instantly brought back memories that Apollo probably should not be having while he had his son tucked under his arm.
Odin laughed again. “My ambassador would be able to visit the camps, yes,” he clarified. “So, Magnus Chase, which will it be?”
Fandom: Trials of Apollo/Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard
Rating:Teen
Genre: Adventure, Friendship
Characters: Will Solace, Magnus Chase, Apollo, Nico di Angelo, Alex Fierro, Meg McCaffreyAnd we return to regularly scheduled posting! There shouldn’t be any more disruptions between now and the end of the fic, you’ll hopefully be pleased to hear. This chapter has been a Long time coming, and not just because of the brief pause in updates. It’s not the longest, but it’s a big one regardless. And it’s a pov I know people have been waiting for!
Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!
APOLLO (XXVI)
Olympian Family Reunion, AKA Drama Time
No! Apollo’s mind screamed, at a volume to rival Nico’s vocalised scream, as Will collapsed to the ground. There was a spear running straight through his son’s abdomen, and Apollo’s medical mind inconveniently immediately rattled off all the delicate organs and other things vital to living that would have been damaged by the weapon now impaling the unconscious teen.
It was a familiar weapon, one he’d seen a thousand times before. His half-brother had an ever-growing collection of the things, and while that had never been Apollo’s cup of nectar, it had never particularly bothered him before. Seeing one of Ares’ spears stuck through his son as though he was a kebab, however, did more than botherApollo.
Itinfuriatedhim.
His first emotion, when he’d seen the gods at a stand-off – before the spear exploded towards them faster than any of them, Apollo included, could react – had been an uncomfortable mix of delight and apprehension.
They were all there. Zeus, of course, was a given, and also the biggest issue, but he’d been far from alone. Artemis, his beloved sister and, according to Will, the one who had sent out the most searches for him – including the three that had found him – looked older than usual, seventeen or so compared to her favourite twelve, but was as always unmistakeable. Poseidon and, to Apollo’s complete amazement, Hades, flanked their younger brother, the Big Three united, while two of their sisters stood at the back. Apollo hadn’t expected any of his aunts and uncles to be there, but certainly not the goddesses; Hera hated him – a mutual feeling – while Demeter preferred to avoid conflict. Athena and Ares stood on the outermost flanks, the god and goddess of war in their element as it loomed. Hephaestus, Hermes and even Dionysus lingered back with the elder goddesses and Aphrodite, tense and ready for action. Hestia, as always, was the only one missing. The hearth waiting for them to come home, once everything was over.
The fact that they had all been there for him, regardless of the nuances behind that decision, had hit Apollo hard, sending his emotions haywire as he tried to work out what he was supposed to be feeling at the sight of them.
Then Ares had moved, the two pantheons had collided in a burst of energy that was still just posturing rather than war (thank Olympus), somehow one of his half-brother’s spears had ended up in his son, and all the emotional confusion their presence had brought melted away until only two emotions remained.
Fear and rage.
“Will, don’t you dare.” Nico was on his knees, clinging to his boyfriend tightly as though he had the power to keep him alive through sheer stubbornness. Technically, Apollo supposed he did. “Don’t you dare.”
Apollo didn’t remember falling to his knees next to his son, his dying son, but he was down there, too, and his hands were pressing on the wound, trying to stem the blood as he drew on his powers of healing. His wrists twinged warningly, as they did whenever he used his powers, but Apollo ignored them; despite what he’d told the demigods, they weren’t powerful enough to actually affect his abilities. The issue with them was something else entirely.
Other hands joined his, glowing golden, and he looked up to see Magnus next to him, grey eyes hardened in determination.
“I’ve got this,” the Norse healer said. “Go. Stop them.”
He should. Apollo knew that.
Apollo also knew that he had lost too many children in the past three years. None of his children had sided with Kronos, but while that was a source of pride and comfort that they did, at least, love him more than they hated him, it had meant that they had been one of the largest cabins going into battle, ending up on the front lines despite not being front line fighters through sheer, cruel necessity.
Will was not going to be joining his fallen siblings, not today. The quarrelling – warring – gods could wait until he was sure his son would live. And he wouldlive. There was too much Apollo still had to say to his son, too many cracks that had yawned into chasms during the quest that he’d yet to do more than weakly paper over that he needed to address properly. Too much that he’d put off, because there was an apocalypse at stake and it wasn’t going to wait politely for him to give Will everything his son needed from him, everything Apollo wanted to give his selfless – too selfless - child.
Willcould not dietoday.
“Apollo.” Nico’s face was tearstained, and Apollo knew that the son of Hades could feel the life threatening to leave Will’s body just the same as he could. Nico, however, could do little more than frantically tether his soul – healingwas beyond his powers.
Small hands on Apollo’s shoulders announced Meg’s presence.
“Go,” Meg said firmly in his ear, leaning in close enough that her breath tickled his skin. “You need to stop this.”
“Will-”
“Magnus is on it,” Nico told him, although the son of Hades was shaking as he ran his fingers through blond hair. “We won’t let him die. You have to do this, Apollo. You’re the only one who can.”
He was right, as much as Apollo was at loath to admit it. Any of the demigods would be torn to shreds if they even tried to get closer to the arguing gods; as it was, they were close enough that any moment they could end up in the same state as Will, whose body he could feelknitting back together again beneath his and Magnus’ ministrations. Outside of Valhalla, even Magnus would die for good.
Enough demigods had died at the whims of the gods. Enough demigods had died for Apollo.
Determination, fuelled by rage – both at himself and his brethren – flooded through him, and he let out a measured breath before pulling back his bloodstained hands. Immediately, Magnus’ shifted to cover where his had been, still glowing brightly gold.
Apollo tore his eyes away from the limp and bloodied body of his son and pushed himself to his feet, turning away from the tangle of demigods and facing down the carnage that was the battling pantheons.
“Shouldn’t you take the bow?” Nico asked as he started to take a step forward. “You’re weaponless.” Apollo paused and looked down at the weapon, gold against the golden paving and splattered with crimson droplets. The bow he’d stored Apollo in, out of Odin’s power but close enough to Lester to trickle in behind the seal he’d placed on his heart when necessary, and explode back where it belonged once his own power shattered it. The bow he’d then given to his son – to keep him safe, to protect his amazing, kind-hearted healer of a son who should never be asked to take a life but the Fates clearly had other plans for him – stained by the blood of the very same teen it was supposed to protect.
Breaking up an inter-pantheon conflict without a weapon for protection sounded like madness, but he didn’t reach for the bow. It was Will’s now – for all the good it had done his son so far. Apollo’s journey with that weapon was over; he had willingly gifted it away and he wouldn’t take it back. Not now, and not ever.
“Adding another weapon to the mix won’t stop anything,” he said out loud. “Stay back, and stay safe.”
Without looking back, he started walking. One foot in front of the other, fear bubbling under the surface as he realised what he was about to do but tempered by the determination to protect those four lives behind him, and stop this.
He didn’t have a weapon, but really, that didn’t mean that he was helpless. Instead, Apollo let the fear, the rage, the determination, swell up. He saw Will, skewered by his own uncle’s weapon as a thoughtless piece of collateral damage. He saw Alex, refusing to back down and buying them every last second she could. He saw the rest of floor nineteen, staying behind with grins on their faces to hold back an impossible stampede. He saw Jason, heard the dying voice yelling for him to REMEMBER.
Remember what it was like to be human. Remember what it was like to be the sacrificial heroes, fated to die like thrown-away toys of the gods.
He let it all bubble up, just like the tunnel, when he’d battled Commodus for the last time, and then let it all out in a single-note scream.
No arrow would break up this battle. No golden light would be enough to distract the single-minded gods. No shouting and waving would get their attention, except maybe as a target to hit.
The scream crashed into the gods like a physical force, knocking some of the slighter ones back and stunning the rest into stopping in their tracks. They weren’t weak enough to be destroyed, not like Commodus, but while Apollo was no Big Three, there was always a reason Zeus came down harsher on him than most of the rest. There was a reason it had taken six months to strip him down to total mortality, six months that still remained a gap in his memories, despite the restoration of everything else.
Hands balled into fists, trembling slightly from the flood of emotion, Apollo stalked forwards into the midst of frozen gods, feeling their eyes laser in on him. He didn’t acknowledge any of them until he was right in the centre, the sun he’d been ever since Helios had faded. Not Zeus’ blazing fury, not Athena’s scrutinising look, not even Artemis’ relief.
He stopped exactly between the two sides, took a deep breath, and said one word. “Enough.”
For a blessed moment, silence reigned.
Then the shouting began.
Somehow, Apollo had forgotten just how loud his brethren could be, although the addition of the various Norse deities – most of which he couldn’t name – really wasn’t helping the noise levels. He glanced across to where the demigods were huddled at the edge of the courtyard, and blinked when he realised they weren’t alone.
Magnus, his glow weak and his body no better, had been joined by an older man with the same blond hair and aura. Jack was pointedly hovering the other side of Magnus, although not touching him, which was interesting considering the man was one of the few Norse gods Apollo knew by name – and last he’d seen Frey, he and the sword had been nigh on inseparable. Inconveniently so.
If it was any other god, from either pantheon, Apollo would have stormed straight back over and dragged him as far away from his son as possible. It was tempting to do that anyway, but he forced himself to think rationally. Frey was the Norse god of peace; he wouldn’t do anything to risk aggravating the situation further. He was also, like his son, a healer.
Besides, Nico was there, and like all the current Greek children of the Big Three, Nico had noqualms about telling gods to shove it. Combined with his love for Will, there was no way the son of Hades would hesitate the instant Frey did anything that wasn’t directly helping. Apollo’s son was in the best possible hands outside of his own.
The thought calmed him some, for all that it chafed that he couldn’t be the one saving his son’s life, and he reluctantly let his attention return to the gods all yelling at him. Zeus looked almost apoplectic, and storm clouds were gathering above them, blotting out the sun.
That was not a metaphor Apollo was particularly keen on at the best of times. Right now, he hatedit.
“I said enough!” he roared. The gods all quietened, probably more out of shocked offence than obedience, and Apollo seized his chance before they worked themselves back up again. “Do you want another war?” he demanded of his own brethren, avoiding looking directly at Zeus, “so soon after the lasttwo?”
“Why not?” Ares shrugged. Apollo rounded on him, feeling his power flare up.
“Your spear is currently in my son,” he growled. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut.” The god of war scowled, but Aphrodite appeared next to him, a hand on his arm, and he kept whatever retort he had to himself.
Zeus, on the other hand, had no such restraint. “Do not speak to your brother like that,” he ordered. “Odin has reached beyond his territory, even now his taint is on Olympus, and that is an insult that cannot be let pass.” He stepped forwards, towering over Apollo despite not being that much taller.
He didn’t need to be.
“A father who terrifies you,” Angrboda had said. She hadn’t been wrong, for all that Apollo tried in vain to pretend that he wasn’t scared of Zeus. He didn’t stand up to him because Zeus was the king, not because he was afraid of what would happen if he did… Except he was, and that was a lie he’d told himself over and over again, hoping that if he said it enough, it’d become the truth. As though the god of truth could make a lie come true.
The last time he’d displeased Zeus, a minor infraction brought about by flattery, and something inconvenientcoming out of Rachel as though Apollo had any control over the timing of prophecies, his punishment had been the worst one to date. This was the first time he’d seen his father in person since then, and the urge to apologise, step back, and let his father do as he wanted, again, rather than risk another punishment bubbled up temptingly.
He turned away, and faced the god standing opposite Zeus instead. He’d never met Odin in person, but the power rolling from the one-eyed god matched the magic in the runes on his wrists perfectly, leaving his identity unmistakable.
“If you carry on fighting, Ragnarok will start,” he told him. “This war isn’t worth it.”
Odin’s fingers tightened around his spear, and when he spoke, his voice rolled over Apollo as heavily as Zeus’. “I am not the aggressor here, boy,” he said. “If you want to prevent this war, I am the wrong person to appeal to.” His one visible eye flashed with rage. “I have half a mind to strike you down where you stand for infiltrating my halls.”
“Touch him, and die,” Zeus snarled. Apollo wished that was because his father cared about him, but he knew better than that. It was all about Zeus – Zeus’ authority being undermined, his territory being advanced upon. Apollo was just a convenient god-shaped representation of all of that – Zeus’ property, not his son.
Apollo’s eyes found his own son again, still limp but no longer on Nico’s lap. Magnus was barely conscious next to him, leaning heavily against his own father and no longer glowing while Frey continued to work. Movement next to them snatched his attention, and his eyes widened at the sight of Meg and Nico, wrestling with a bloodstained girl with ringlets and a tattered Valkyrie uniform.
Of course, Carrie was a Valkyrie. Travelling to Asgard was well within her powers.
Nico had his sword out, parrying every blow Carrie made, while Meg danced around them both, calling up plants in an attempt to snare the daughter of Loki. Despite the state she was in, Carrie seemed determined to take at least one of them down with her, and Apollo remembered what she’d said earlier. Neither Hades or Demeter would sit by idly if their child was killed on Norse ground.
By pure chance, Meg caught his eye. Meg, who had stood up to Nero when it mattered the most, who had faced her personal demon, her abuser, and claimed her own life back. Meg, who had the strength Apollo lacked. Meg, who in a single look reminded him that no matter what, she believed in him.
Apollo couldn’t let her down. Couldn’t let down any of the demigods that had got him this far.
And Odin’s words had given him the last piece of the puzzle.
“Enough,” he said, again, turning back around to glare at his father. “Odin will not smite me, and you will not use me as an excuse to wage war.”
“Apo-”
“You sound very confident of that,” Odin said, overriding Zeus’ furious response. Apollo was glad for that, because it meant no-one else had noticed him flinch at his father’s tone. Hopefully. “Explain.”
“You won’t smite me, because if you do, Loki wins,” Apollo declared, facing the Norse All-Father again. The Norse gods shifted, murmuring amongst themselves. “I didn’t enter Valhalla of my own choice; I was brought there, stolen, if you will, by a Valkyrie.”
“One of myValkyrie?” Odin raised his visible eyebrow, but the rage in his eye didn’t abate in the slightest. “You were not brought to Valhalla on my orders.”
“I know.” The moment Odin had called him an infiltrator, the question about which god was responsible had been answered. “The Valkyrie in question was her.” He pointed to the fighting demigods, and sensed Hades and Demeter both stiffen at the sight of their children caught up in battle against a shape-shifting menace.
Even if she was mortal, and seriously injured, Carrie was still a Valkyrie. With Nico on the defensive, protecting Will, and Meg without her scimitars, it was an even fight.
“Carrie,” Odin rumbled.
“Daughter of Loki,” Apollo confirmed. “She captured me on his orders, not yours.” He stepped forwards, holding out his rune-marked wrists. They were still throbbing warningly, protesting against his usage of his power even though they couldn’t stop it. “Remove these, and set me free.”
Behind him, Zeus sucked in an indignant breath as he saw the runes. From his earlier words, Apollo suspected the same runes had sunk into his throne on Olympus.
“Father,” Athena said quietly. She’d come up next to Zeus, the favourite daughter and advisor. Her words were enough, for the moment, to silence the king of the gods, but Apollo knew it wouldn’t last.
He met Odin’s eye squarely, refusing to back down. Silver glistened in his periphery, and he knew without looking that his twin had come to stand beside him.
Odin regarded him for several moments. “You’re impertinent,” he said.
“I’m right,” Apollo retorted, “and you know it.” Odin, All-Father, seeker of knowledge, god of poetry and divination. In many aspects, they were each other’s counterpart. All Zeus and Odin had in common was their position as the ruler of their pantheon, but Odin and Apollo?
Not equals, perhaps, but there was something between them. Understanding.
“As I said,” Odin replied. “Impertinent.”
He reached out with one hand, and clasped Apollo’s right wrist, exactly over the rune. His magic burned as it activated, searing pain forcing its way through the rune, and with a choked cry, Apollo sank to his knees.
Zeus’ fragile hold on his temper broke, and lightning crashed down.
