#pjo hephaestus

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 McCaffrey

And 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!

<<<Chapter 25

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.

Chapter 27>>>