#toa yan

Fandom: Trials of Apollo
Rating:Gen
Genre:Family
Characters: Apollo, Austin Lake, Will Solace, Kayla Knowles, Apollo Cabin

You know those days where everything goes wrong no matter what you do?  Today was one such day.  To begin with, anyway.

For some timeline clarification, this fic is set in 2012.  Don’t ask me what I’m doing back in first person Apollo pov again because I don’t know.  Clearly I wanted to torment myself for a while.

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You know those days where everything keeps going wrong – your little brother steals the keys to your sun chariot, so you’re late with dawn because he’s a twisted little scamp that makes you run all over Olympus on a scavenger hunt before it transpires that he hid them in the chariot the whole time (they were in the cupholder) and your father gets mad at you for being lax in your responsibilities even though it wasn’t your fault, then your lyre gets a snapped string and your spare one also breaks, and just to add insult to injury, one of your current favourite mortal singers dies?

Yes,those days. Horrible things that would make a lesser individual buckle and snap under the unfairness of life, or at least burst into uncontrollable tears once in the safety of your own domain where no-one else gets to spy on you (I, personally, did not cry, but when I heard the news about Brian Hibbard there might have been a wail of despair).  That was the sort of day I was having, so when Austin’s prayer floated into my awareness, I was both ecstatic and also feeling woefully inadequate for whatever it was my son wanted.

Dad, his prayer began (I call them prayers because that is, functionally, what they are, but really it’s more akin to a one-sided phone call that I let my kids make whenever they like – Iris complains at me because it deprives her of the drachma they ought to be spending, even though demigods tend not to use drachma to communicate with gods anyway, but I prefer that they aren’t worrying about whether or not they can affordto talk to me.  Regular communication is difficult enough between gods and mortals anyway, even when those mortals are our own children).  Could you drop by camp sometime today?  It’d be great to see you.

I wish I could say that the call filled me with absolute joy – after all, my son wanted to see me, what could be more joyous than that? – but with the day I had, so far, been having, I am ashamed to admit that the request filled me with some degree of dread. You see, my children do not tend to request my presence.  This is in no way their fault; I have never made it blatant that I will come if they do so I assume they follow the unspoken warning and don’t set themselves up for disappointment when I inevitably fail to appear sometimes, but it does mean that on the rare occasions I am directly requested, there is seemingly always something rather catastrophic going on.

(I try not to think of the aftermath of Will and Nico’s sojourn into Tartarus, and the desperate screaming that had filled my awareness as my younger children tried desperately to keep their brother and his boyfriend from slipping back into the Underworld for good.)

With the way my day had been going so far, despite the non-urgency of both Austin’s words and tone, my heart leaped straight into my throat.

Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to visit Camp Half-Blood unless I have godly business there, and with Dionysus filling the role of resident god, it is very difficult to find business that would necessitate my dropping in (my younger brother might find his punishment grating, not that I can fault him for that, but it has also been rather a source of discontent for me, too – after all, if we’re being technical about it, I am the god of Camp Half-Blood. It wouldn’t exist if not for me, you know!  But for as long as Dionysus is there, father frowns very heavily on any other gods dropping by – even Hermes has to keep his delivery times brief to avoid a stern lecture and that’s him genuinely doing one of his jobs).  However, since the events of last year, Dionysus is a little less openly hostile in my direction and as long as I endure a game or few of pinochle and his smug grin as he thrashes my godly behind every time, he does not make a fuss if I drop by for a little while, every so often.

I split off a fragment of myself and reappeared at the border of the camp, giving Peleus the berth he demands from where he resides as always around the base of the pine tree that holds the golden fleece.  From there, I made my way, as low-key as it is possible to be when you’re me, into the camp proper, tracking down my children.

None of them were in the infirmary, to my delight.  There’s almost always at least one of them on duty there during the day, so it made a nice change for the infirmary to be deserted (and no, it was no deserted because they were busy dealing with a patient in the field – my godly healing senses could pick up no hint of serious injury, nor could I spy any signs of distress in the demigods as I approached the main pavilion.  In fact, some of the demigods seemed to be rather excited).

The residents of cabin ten – Aphrodite’s children – seemed to be particularly vibrant, buzzing with the same sort of energy I had seen from their godly mother far too many times to be particularly comfortable with.  Do not underestimate the whims of that goddess, or her children – they are things to be treated with a very healthy level of respect.  Further into camp, I could also see some of Demeter’s children gently tending to plants and creating bouquets (Meg was not in their number – I knew this for a fact because she was back in Aeithales; I had spent yesterday attempting to teach her the fine art of piano playing.  She is an enthusiastic student, but her fingers have not yet developed the unique sort of flexibility required to do more than basic scales), while some of Athena’s brood seemed to be bartering with Connor Stoll over something I should probably make an effort not to listen to.

Of my own children, there were no sign.  The Me Cabin, with its gloriously shining golden exterior, was completely devoid of demigods, and I will admit the panic started to climb up once more.  Where were my children?  The archery range and amphitheatre likewise came up empty, and when I found myself at the lake, staring out at the water with none of my kids in sight, I started to feel a little frantic.

In hindsight, I should have simply followed the signal of Austin’s prayer to the source, but at the time I had seen no need to do so – the camp was not that large, and he had specifically mentioned it so they would not be elsewhere – a mistake I was now paying for.  That is not to say, however, that I have no method of locating my children (what sort of a god would I be if I couldn’t find a few mortals when I pleased?) but the unexpectedness of none of my children being anywhere predictable was rather disconcerting.

“Are you losing your touch or do you simply enjoy running around on a wild goose chase?” a voice asked from behind me.  I span around to see my brother there, lounging against a tree with a can of diet coke in his hand.  Dionysus took a lazy swig of the drink and rolled his eyes.  “You might want to try the arts and crafts cabin,” he continued, sending me a look that could only be considered amused.

That is not necessarily a good look on any god, and certainly not when aimed in my direction. Artemis is particularly fond of it, usually as an accompaniment to a kick me sign on my back, and I saw it just this morning in Hermes’ eyes before he led me on his merry goose chase after my sun chariot’s keys.  On Dionysus, well, the last time I’d seen a look quite like that, it was 1709 and it turned out that the Maenads were on their way to crash one of my concerts.  Hehad found that amusing; Ihad found it really rather irritating.

Considering my children were the presumed topic of conversation, as well as the sort of day I’d had so far, this did not help to put me at ease at all – rather the opposite, in fact.

“Don’t bother joining me for pinochle today,” my brother continued, still looking far too amused – rather like a leopard who had got the cream, although that is not a combination that I would ever recommend, either.  “You won’t be worth my time.  I’ll put an afternoon of games on your tab, instead.”

With that rather alarming proclamation – I could never defeat Dionysus at pinochle, why did he believe that today of all days I would be boring to thrash when none of my siblings ever passed up a chance to do so – he disappeared in a flash of purple.

Having no better lead, I reluctantly followed his advice and made my way to the arts and crafts cabin, ducking inside to finally locate all of my children sat around one of the tables, chattering away to each other.  Austin had golden paint smudged on his cheek and seemed to be trying to smear more of the substance on Kayla’s face while the others laughed at them both.

Will was the first to notice me; he lit up (not literally, which was slightly disappointing because I always love seeing him glow) and a huge smile graced his face.  “Dad!”

Immediately, I was set upon by a stampede of young demigods, which was easily the best thing that had happened to me so far that day (although even if I had had any other positive experiences, it would still have been top of the list; my children are amazing like that).

“Hello, hello,” I responded, before greeting each of them individually.  It transpired that Austin was not the only one with paint streaked somewhere on their person – all of them had something, somewhere, although Will’s smudge of gold on his forehead looked suspiciously like a deliberate sun rather than a haphazard accident or by-product of a sibling paint war.

Not one of them seemed surprised to see me, which told me that Austin had likely been the spokesperson for all of them with his prayer, rather than it being something specifically from him.  I was a little surprised that it hadn’t been Will, as the head of the cabin, but that was far from a complaint – I love hearing from any of my children.

“What have you guys been making?” I asked them once the relevant greetings and updates were exchanged (Kayla had managed to increase her range by another ten metres since we’d last spoken, Austin’s channel had gained another thousand intelligent people with good taste – I mean, subscribers).  “Austin, I take it you know you have paint on your cheek.”  Certainly, I wanted to know what had prompted them to summon me, but I feared that if I asked that outright, they might think that I was only there because I had been called (which was true, admittedly, but only because that had given me a tangible excuse to drop by and not because I had felt obligated), so I refrained from giving voice to that particular question.

“Oh, I know,” Austin grinned in response.  His body moved a little jerkily, and Will yelped, before glowering at his brother.  Presumably, a foot had just made contact with a shin under the table, although why, I was not sure.

Then Will picked up the conversation, and I realised it was Austin insisting that he take point on the topic – perhaps the reason I had been called.  The fact that they seemed to have elected a spokesperson for the job, and that said spokesperson was their eldest brother and head counsellor, did not fill me with much confidence.  Dionysus’ smug expression and his insinuation that I wouldn’t be worth his time after seeing my children today flickered through my mind and I felt my smile waver slightly.

Will’s words turned the smile into a look of confusion.  “Dad, do you know what today is?” he asked me.  There was something hidden in his words, and my mind was too abuzz with sudden doomscrolling to be able to pick up on the exact nature of it.

I did, however, know the date.  One of those little things that comes with being the reason the sun rises every morning (well, one of the reasons; pesky astrophysics).  “June the seventeenth,” I answered, puzzled.  “Or Sunday, if you’re after the day of the week.  Why?”  What was so important about that?  Aside from it being the day the world lost the voice of Brian Hibbard (a true tragedy).

My children all gave me expectant looks, as though I had not given the answer they were after, and I wracked my brain to try and think of what other answer I could give. It wasn’t the solstice – that, and the boring yet compulsory council that went along with it, was in four days’ time.  Nor was it any of my children’s birthdays… was it?   I did a hurried mental inventory of all the birthdays of my children, just to be sure I wasn’t forgetting one (it would be just my luck, the way today has gone so far), and then their mortal parents’, too, just to be sure, but no, all birthdays were firmly stored in my mental calendar and June the seventeenth was completely empty.  No forgotten birthday.

Will reached over to a nearby shelf and picked up a small box.  It was messily wrapped in shiny gold paper and tied off with a sky-blue ribbon complete with smiley sun motifs.  Exactly my aesthetic, as my children knew well, but that didn’t stop my brain screeching to a halt as it was held out to me.

From the way it was wrapped, it had to be a present.  Only presents got wrapped like that, and as I looked closer I could see a golden gift tag blending in with the wrapping paper.

Was it my birthday? No, no it wasn’t.  Well, technically when translated into the Gregorian calendar it was only a couple of weeks away, but it wasn’t like I ever expected anything from my children, if they even knew when it was, (or anyone else, for that matter), so that was rather a moot point anyway.

Clearly, I was supposed to be accepting it, whatever it was for, so with a glance at all the bright, expectant faces of my children, I took the small box from Will.  It was a little heavier than it looked – not heavy,by any means, but weighty enough to be certain there was something inside, rather than an empty box (not that I would ever accuse my children of giving me fake gifts, but with Hermes as a brother I have developed something of a suspicious countenance when it comes to unexpected presents).  With one finger, I flipped up the tag to find Dad in beautiful penmanship (Jerry’s, if I was not mistaken), followed by lots of love from and all of my children’s names in their own handwritings.

I blinked at it, not comprehending what I was seeing.

Will came to my rescue. “Open it,” he coaxed, smiling brightly at me.  His siblings all crowded around the two of us, their faces remaining expectant, and I was left with no choice but to lightly tug at the ribbon.  It unravelled easily, coming away in my hands as the paper unfurled, no longer held in place.  The box that was revealed was plain, and if I didn’t miss my guess, was not being used in its original capacity, but rather as a useful method of simplifying the wrapping process.

I opened the box and could not stop my jaw from dropping in an astonished gape as I caught sight of the contents.

It was a mug – slightly misshapen in that way homemade crockery can be if not made by a professional – which by itself was an astounding gift.  No-one ever gave me mugs; technically, as a god, I didn’t need them, so I supposed that made sense.  Nectar came in vials or glasses, so it wasn’t like I had any real use for a mug when hot beverages tended not to cross my palate (unless, of course, I was out on a date in the mortal world, in which case the mugs were provided for me).

However, it was not just a mug.  It was golden, no doubt the same gold I could see decorating my children’s skin (and hair, in Yan’s case; it stood out strikingly against their naturally dark locks) prior to being glazed, but that was not what had my eyes flooding.

#1 DAD was picked out in red, in Jerry’s calligraphic penmanship.  On the other side of the mug, banishing any doubts about who the words could possibly be referring to, was APOLLO.

I had to set the mug down quickly before my suddenly shaking fingers dropped it.

“I- What- Why- How-” My usual eloquence mercilessly abandoned me, rapidly reducing me to a blubbering mess of a god.

My children, bless them all, were not at all perturbed by their godly parent’s transformation into a pathetic, teary mess.  Then again, it was hardly the first time they had seen me in such a state, so perhaps they were tragically used to it.

“Happy Father’s Day, Dad,” Will told me, closing the gap between us to wrap his arms around me tightly. I sobbed into his shoulder, unable to grasp any words to express the depth of my emotions at the gift, and felt the rest of my children move in until I was at the centre of a group hug.

When it comes to being a parent, I always fall woefully short of the mark.  This is something I have been aware of for centuries, certainly long before any of my current children were born, and reluctantly resigned myself to. I wish I could say I try my best, but quite frankly, how much I try behind the scenes does not translate across to the parenting my children receive.  A parent should give more than they take, but all I ever feel as though I’m doing is taking and it is to my children’s great credit that they do not confront me about it.

What I had done to deserve this mug, this honest, unabashed compliment of the highest accolade – higher than an Oscar, or any of the various music, poetry and archery trophies in my overflowing trophy cabinet (it’s more like an entire room in my palace, if I’m being pedantic) – I could not even begin to identify, but the fact remained that my children gave it to me, and my response was – understandably, in my opinion – to cry all over them.

I could say that the tears were the result of too much emotional turmoil in one day.  Certainly, I would be entirely justified in blaming the whiplash from the start of the day compared to my children’s unexpected gift for the rivers of tears racing down my cheeks and the stuffy, bloated feeling of the inside of my mouth.  The truth of the matter, however, is that I would have reacted the exact same way even if I had had the best day of my life leading up to that point.

My children are the kindest, most amazing people on the planet and I do not deserve them, although I am also far too selfish to ever let anyone else have them.  How they do not hate me is a question I have no answer for.

“I-” I tried, only for my voice to crack in a very un-godly manner.  I swallowed and made a second attempt.  “I’m not-”

“Youare,” Kayla interrupted me aggressively, even going so far as to squeeze my chest in a way rather reminiscent of the Heimlich Manoeuvre.  Had I had anything in my airways, it wouldn’t have stood a chance.  Were I mortal, it likely would have threatened the integrity of my ribs, too.  Coming from her, in particular, the sentiment was enough to render me speechless. After all, I was not Kayla’s only father, and surely Darren had a far greater claim to Number One Dad than I did – for starters, he was actually a consistent figure in her life, even though she now lived at camp all year round.

“We love you, Dad,” Austin told me firmly, leaving not a single sliver of room for doubt or untruth, and that was more than enough to provoke a fresh wave of messy, ugly crying from me as I clutched all of my children as tightly as I could manage.

“My beautiful children,” I wailed, sniffling unattractively.  “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

If possible, their hugs got tighter.

I did not manage to regain my composure for the rest of the day.  No doubt Dionysus had known exactly what my children had in store for me, because he was absolutely correct – I would have been a pathetic opponent, not least because after finally leaving my children, several hours later, I refused to put the mug down for anything at all.  Even when I eventually returned to my palace on Olympus, the precious ceramic (they had made the whole thing from scratch themselves, I’d learned; Gracie had shown me the failed attempts at spinning the clay) remained clutched firmly in my hands as I pondered where to keep it.

In the end, the answer was obvious, and I made my way into my trophy room, heading straight for the centre table, where the most prestigious of awards were displayed.  My Olympic wreath for beating Hermes in a footrace, one of my oldest and most gloat-worthy (he prizes himself on being fast; I have never been forgiven for that defeat, to my great amusement) accolades has held pride of place here for millennia.

I moved it to one side, and placed the mug there instead.

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

Only one more chapter to go after this one, and it’s honestly incredibly surreal that we’re nearly done. This chapter contains one of my favourite scenes from the entire fic, I have to admit - and guess what, I drew it!  The art is, once again, lurking at the end of the chapter.

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 28

WILL (XXIX)
The Best Healers Are The Worst Patients

Logically, Will knew that he wasn’t injured any more.  He had been injured, and badly, but between Magnus and a Norse god who was apparently Frey, he knew that he was completely healed.  His brain, however, had yet to get the memo and was sending protesting signals whenever he moved too far or fast, so while Nico and Apollo’s clinginess was a little overwhelming – especially both of them simultaneously - he couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the help staying upright.

Not having to make his own way back to camp was definitely a bonus.  He sank comfortably into his dad’s power as it swelled around him, enveloping him in a warm, safe light before they re-emerged in the middle of the cabins.

Some more summer campers must have arrived, because there were far more faces staring at him than he’d expected to see, although none of his own summer-only siblings seemed to have reappeared yet.  His present siblings were sat around cabin seven’s table, eating what looked like lunch – was it really only lunchtime?  Will’s sense of time was completely skewed after running through Jotunheim, Valhalla and then nearly dying in Asgard.  Did any of those places operate on the same timezone as New York, anyway?

Pushing away the too-complicated thoughts on how timezones worked across multiple worlds, Will focused his attention on the five familiar faces, both glad to see them all again, and glad that none of them were manning the infirmary, because that meant that no-one needed help or observation right then, and as a healer he was always happy to have no patients.

The other campers were milling around as well; the Hermes contingent were bothering the Ares cabin as they tended to do, judging by the outraged yells coming from the cabin five table and the sniggers from cabin eleven’s.

The Olympian twins materialising in the centre, near the hearth, along with three campers certainly got everyone’s attention in a hurry.

“Will!”  Austin and Kayla were first to move as the eldest and longest-legged of his present younger siblings, shooting up from the benches and almost stumbling in their haste to get to him, before skidding to a halt as the god next to him registered.  “Dad?”

“It’s good to see you kids again,” Apollo grinned, holding out the arm that wasn’t still clinging to Will – and keeping him upright, although Nico on his other side was having a pretty good claim to that role, too – in an open invitation for a hug.

Gracie was the first one to slam into him, young enough not to have any hesitation, but the others followed suit almost immediately until there was a mass of cabin seven limbs in an awkward group hug.  Will had no way of getting out of it, even if he wanted to, and when he felt Nico try to pull away, he grabbed his boyfriend’s sleeve tightly.

The son of Hades sighed, but ceased attempting to escape.

“Welcome back, young heroes,” Chiron said, his approach betrayed by the clip-clop of his hooves on the stones.  “Lord Apollo, it is good to see you back again.  Lady Artemis.”  He dipped his head in the goddess’ direction.

“It’s good to be back,” Apollo replied, not extracting himself from the group hug. In fact, Will thought he tightened his grip on them all.

“Dad, are you-” Austin asked, a head above most of the youngest ones and crushed against Will’s chest.

“Back to my proper godly self?” Apollo finished.  “Absolutely, thanks to your brother here.”

That was not the way Will would have phrased it, not in the slightest, but with his father’s arm clenched around his shoulders and Nico grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly, he didn’t have much room to protest it, either.

“What happened?” Kayla demanded.  “Why are you all covered in blood?  Are you hurt?”

“Will needs the infirmary,” Nico inserted dryly, although there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern.

“I’mfine!” Will protested, trying to pull away from all the hands and arms as his sibling’s suddenly-panicked attention turned on him.  “I got healed, remember?”  He tried to tug his hand back from Nico to ruffle the hair of his younger siblings reassuringly, but Nico held on tight and his other option was dropping his bow and trying to escape his dad, which was even less possible.  “You, on the other hand-”

“Will?” Kayla interrupted, sounding absolutely terrified all of a sudden.  Austin’s skin had paled considerably as well, and Will wanted to curse when he realised where their minds were going.

Apollo cabin had lost two head counsellors – two big brothers – in two consecutive years. Will had been head counsellor for longer than Michael now; following the grisly pattern of his big brothers, it was past the time he was due to die, too.

And he nearly had.

“Hey,” he said, adopting the reassuring big brother voice he used to chase away nightmares in the middle of the night even while his own swirled around in his thoughts.  He tugged his hand away from Nico insistently and this time, his boyfriend let go and he was able to gather the two of them into his own hug.  “I’m fine.  I’m not leaving you.”

“Your top’s more red than orange,” Kayla told his shoulder; to Will’s alarm, there were tears in her voice. “Will, you-”

“I’mhealed,” he promised her.  “I won’t say it wasn’t bad, but… god of healing?” he reminded all of his siblings, even if he wasn’t talking about the one they would think he meant.  “I’m okay, I promise.”  He shot a glare a Nico.  “Death Boy over there is overreacting, and needs to go to the infirmary himself, as does Meg.”

His boyfriend did, to his credit, grimace apologetically, apparently just remembering cabin seven’s recent track record, before defending himself.  “As you’re proving, when it comes to others you wouldn’t care how many gods of healing were involved, you’d still lock them up for ‘observation’ for a week.”

Apollo chuckled. “It’s not a bad idea,” he pointed out. Will had hoped his father would at least keep quiet, even if he’d have most liked it if Apollo had helped him reassure them, not worry them more.  Apparently, that was not happening.  “You’re physically and emotionally drained and need to rest.”

“I can sleep just fine in my own bed!” he protested, before a sea of worried eyes focused on him pleadingly and he faltered a little.  “Guys…”

“Please?” Yan asked, their eyes wide and threatening the same tears Kayla wasn’t even trying to hide. This particular little sibling was good at turning on the waterworks when they wanted to, and Will had been forced to learn by necessity how to resist them, but this time, with the rest of his cabin looking at him equally distressed, he realised he had no choice but to cave.

“One day,” he said firmly.

“Three,” Nico countered, but Will was having none of it.

“Who is the head healer here?” he pointed out, hoping Apollo wasn’t going to override him again. “One.”

“Two?” Jerry ventured, and Will shook his head at him fondly.

“One,” he repeated. “I’ve left you lot unsupervised long enough.”

That, at least, managed to get a watery laugh out of the eldest two, while the younger three pouted at him in betrayal.

“One with the right to extend it if it turns out you’re not as fine as you say,” Austin clarified, and Will sent him a glare with no actual heat in it.

“We’ll see about that,” he allowed, knowing whyhis brother wanted the reassurance but also not willing to completely hand over autonomy of his own care, otherwise they’d keep finding excuses to keep him in as long as possible.

His siblings seemed to realise that was as far as he was going to give, because their shoulders slumped, but they didn’t try and debate it further.

“And what about you, Dad?” Kayla said instead, her blue eyes fixing their father’s bloody and ruined HOTEL VALHALLA shirt with a suspicious look.  “That’s a lot of blood.”

“Blood, not ichor,” Apollo reassured her.  “I’m completely immortal again, Kayla, you don’t need to worry about me anymore.” Will looked up at him to see a slightly sad expression on his face.  “I’m sorry you ever had to.”

Kayla didn’t look convinced, but there was no real arguing with a god, even if that god was their dad.

“I sense now is not the time to hear your story,” Chiron inserted himself back into the conversation. “Will, I believe the three of you have beds in the infirmary with your names on it, and your siblings will not rest until you’re in yours.”  It was an amused observation, but Will suspected the old centaur had another reason for not wanting them to recite their quest in earshot of the entire camp.

There was no way Chiron hadn’t known that they had ended up mixing with the Norse pantheon, and if the disaster that had been the Greco-Roman reintroduction was anything to go by, he probably didn’t want that becoming common knowledge.

“Nor will I,” Nico added in. “Come on, let’s go.”  He ducked back under Will’s arm, yanking it back from Kayla and Austin in the process and slinging it over his own shoulder. Apollo, much to Will’s surprise, ceded his own grip to Austin, who clutched at Will as though he thought he was going to disappear.

“I’ll see you there,” the god promised.  “I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Will watched him walk a few steps away, shadowed closely by Artemis, although the goddess remained silent and ignored the gawking campers, and stop in front of Meg, who’d been drawn into cabin four’s group, her half-siblings huddled around her and talking a mile a minute.  As he did so, his appearance shimmered until he wore Lester’s face again – and remembered, to Will’s relief, to change his green HOTEL VALHALLA t-shirt, or what remained of it, into a plain white one.  The less blatantly Norse things they left on display, the better.

He didn’t hear what the two said to each other, mostly because his own cabin were nattering in his ear as he was half-carried towards the infirmary, but he did see Meg throw her arms around Apollo in a tight embrace.

There was no mistaking the fact that the past six months had forged a bond between the two of them that defied explanation, and Will wasn’t going to pry into it.

“Will, why is there a bloody hole in the back of this t-shirt as well?” Kayla demanded suddenly, drawing his attention back to his immediate surroundings and the fact that his younger sister had positioned herself as his effective rear-guard, thereby giving her a perfect view of what had been the exit wound.  “Did you get impaled?”

“I’mfine,” he reassured her again, for what was no doubt not the last time.  Nico made a quiet noise of disagreement, and Will cuffed him around the head before he could freak out his siblings more than he already had.  “There was a god of healing with us.”

“Thankfully,” Nico muttered under his breath.  Will pretended not to hear him.

It didn’t take the cabin seven plus Nico procession long to get to the infirmary, even with Will stumbling more than he cared to admit, his weight almost entirely being carried by the combined forces of Nico and Austin by the time they got there.  He couldn’t really fight his escorts when they arrived and he was deposited straight on one of the beds.

“Right, let’s get you out of this.”  In his absence, Kayla and Austin shared the role of running the infirmary, and it was Kayla who was taking charge now as she planted herself firmly in front of him and started loosening the straps of the quiver.  “How many arrows did you get through?” she asked idly as she worked.

“No idea,” he admitted. “Lots.”  She laughed, sounding utterly unsurprised, and he ducked his head down as the last straps came undone and she pulled it away.

“Good thing you took it with you, then,” she pointed out, setting it to one side.  “Now, let’s have a look at this ‘fine’ injury site.”

Austin clearly took that as his cue to deploy a pair of fabric scissors on Will’s long-suffering t-shirt, refusing to let him even start to claim he could take it off normally. The only reason Will didn’t complain was because the clothing was ruined already.

That, and the palpable relief that settled over all of his siblings when his torso was bared and there was no sign of injury, not even a scar.  Austin probed at the area, much the same way Will himself had probed at Lester’s healed wound, back when they’d first arrived in Jotunheim, and must have come to the same conclusion, because he stepped back after a few moments.

“There’s no sign of damage,” he proclaimed to the rest of the cabin, which was exactly what Will had been telling them all along, but he couldn’t really blame Austin and the rest for wanting to double-check.

“Can we rethink my stay, then?” he asked pointedly, only to receive several withering looks in response. That was a no, then.

“I will personally sit on you if you try and leave before they clear you,” Nico told him.  Will got the feeling this was some sort of payback for all the times he’d forced Nico in for observation, although in his defence, Nico had needed it.  And honestly, after the shadow travelling Will knew he’d done in Angrboda’s home, he wanted to keep an eye on him again, anyway.

“I wasn’t planning on you leaving, either,” he said, and his boyfriend’s dark eyes narrowed.

“Will, I’m not the one that got kebabbed by a spear.”

“No,” Will agreed, “but you did shadow travel several times, and you know my rules on that.” He frowned.  “And can you not terrify my siblings?”

“You did that fine all by yourself,” Nico retorted, “Camp Half-Blood t-shirts are meant to be orange, not red.”  He pointed at the ruined fabric Austin had tossed into the designated ‘unsalvageable clothes’ bin.  It did look rather horrifying, if Will was honest although he had, unfortunately, seen worse.

“What happened to your bow?” That was Kayla again, blessedly changing the subject as she inspected the golden bow he had yet to let go of without touching it.  “This is one of Dad’s, isn’t it?”

“It’s Will’s now,” Apollo corrected, walking in through the door.  Meg hadn’t followed, and Will made a mental note to chase her up as soon as he got the chance, too.  His dad looked like himself again, the Lester appearance gone.  Artemis ghosted in behind him, clearly not interested in letting her twin out of her sight at least until he returned to Olympus. Considering the past seven months, Will couldn’t blame her.  “His broke, so I gave him a new one.”

“I thought it was just for the quest,” Will blinked, finally putting it down on the bed next to him.  “There are plenty of bows here for me to choose from. I’m not a good enough archer to warrant that one.”  It had made sense, on the quest, for Apollo to make sure he was still armed after losing his own bow; after all, even healers needed something to protect themselves with.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want the bow – it was a gift from his dad, of course he wanted it – but he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

Kayla huffed, and for a moment he feared she was upset – after all, if any of them diddeserve one of their dad’s bows, it was the best archer in camp.  But it wasn’t one of her sulky huffs, it was an amusedone. “That just means you need all the help you can get,” she teased, flashing the same grin she’d worn when giving him the refilling quiver.

His siblings laughed for the first time since bundling him into the infirmary, much to Will’s relief.

“Skill has nothing to do with whether or not you should have it,” Apollo corrected, “and I don’t take back my gifts.”  Will knew that, he did, but it felt surreal that he really did have one of Apollo’s own golden bows for life.  “That bow’s yours now, Will, and there’s no-one else I want to have it.”  Apollo walked over to where he was sitting and put a hand on his shoulder, crouching down until they were at the same level. “You did well on this quest.  I’m proud of you.”

Will felt his cheeks heat up a little.  “Thanks, Dad.”

“And don’t you go scaring me like that again,” Apollo added, pulling him into a gentle hug.  “I didn’t give you that bow for you to take it as an excuse to stand on the front lines and get yourself hurt,” he murmured in his ear, too quiet for his siblings to overhear – although Nico was likely another matter entirely.  “I’ll admit it didn’t work so well with gods in the mix, but the point of it is keep you safe while you save others, understand?”  Will blinked, a little startled.  “Let it be a reminder that you need to stay safe, too.  You’re a great healer, Will, one of the best I’ve had the privilege of fathering in centuries, but you can’t heal others if you’re dead.”

His embrace tightened, a steady warmth pressing against Will’s skin and curling around him protectively, one warm hand resting on the back of his head.  After a heartbeat, Will returned it slowly, fists bunching in the back of his dad’s t-shirt and mind blanking a little at the fact that this was real.  He, a demigod, was actually getting to hug his godly parent.  It had been initiated by his godly parent.  Not keeping him upright, not a group hug, but a proper, parent-child hug, like he didn’t even remember ever getting from his mortal mom.

“I’m sorry the quest – that I – needed so much from you,” his dad continued, still too quietly for anyone else to hear.  “I’m sorry it hurt you so much.  You didn’t deserve that.  You didn’t deserve any of that.”  Moisture beaded in the corner of Will’s eyes and he trembled as the fabric his face pressed into grew damp, tightening his hold on his dad.  Apollo’s hand buried itself deeper into his hair, pulling Will closer to him until there felt like there wasn’t even room for air between their torsos, and for just a few moments, he could forget about the rest of the world and sob quietly into his dad’s white t-shirt.

They stayed like that for a while, Will’s face buried in his dad’s shoulder and hands fisted tightly around fabric as he committed the feeling to memory, before he remembered that they had an audience of his younger siblings silently watching him break down and forced himself to take a few deep breaths, trying to get himself back under control.  As his tears stopped, Apollo let out a quiet sigh and drew back fractionally. Reluctantly, Will loosened his own hold in preparation for when he pulled back entirely.

Apollo didn’t immediately, although he raised his head and let his voice carry through the infirmary, words no longer just for Will’s ears only.  “I’ll still be watching over you once I’m back on Olympus.  All of you,” he clarified, head shifting in a way that told Will he was looking at the rest of cabin seven.

“Apollo,” Artemis spoke for the first time, her tone warning.  “We need to go.”

The god sighed again but slowly stood back up after giving Will one last squeeze, slipping out of his reluctantly loosening grip.  Warm hands lingered on Will’s shoulders for an extra second before Apollo let go entirely, and even once they were gone, he could feel the phantom heat leaving an invisible imprint of his father’s touch.

“I know,” Apollo said reluctantly, then turned to Nico.  “Keep looking out for him,” he requested, “and yourself, too.  You’re a good kid, Nico di Angelo.”  He gave him a grin.

Nico nodded in response. “Don’t go turning mortal anymore,” he said.  “I don’t think Will could take it if his dad vanishes again.”

Apollo laughed softly. “It’s not on my to-do list,” he said. “Three times is quite enough.”

“You’d think once was enough,” Artemis rolled her eyes, before her voice regained its urgency. “Apollo.”

“I know, I know.” Apollo reluctantly turned away, reaching out to give the rest of cabin seven brief hugs that Will suspected left the same warmth lingering in their wake, before heading for the door.  He only looked back once he reached the threshold. “I’ll try and see you all again soon.”

He stepped outside, and a bright golden light flashed from beyond the doorway, followed almost immediately by silver.

Chiron walked in a moment later, accompanied by a quietened Meg, and sighed heavily, fixing Will and Nico with a tired look.  “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”  The centaur turned his attention to the rest of cabin seven.  “Would you leave us for the time being?  Your brother will not be leaving that bed under my watch, I can promise you.”

None of them looked happy about it, but Chiron was not one to be disobeyed, so after a brief hesitation, they filed out.  Kayla stooped down to pick up the quiver, but left the bow where Will had set it down. It occurred to him that he should probably check with Apollo next time he saw him whether the bow would still immolate people, and if so, what the criteria was.

It was only once Chiron was certain they were out of earshot that the centaur nudged the door closed with a hind hoof and returned his focus to Will and his two quest companions. “Apollo was trapped in Valhalla?” It was less of a question and more of a statement, but Will nodded anyway before giving a rundown of everything that had happened, Nico and Meg interrupting him at various points to clarify something or correct him.

By the end of the tale, the centaur looked openly worried.  “Odin means to open up communications between the two pantheons?” he asked.  “I cannot see that ending well.  I fear this child, Magnus, will run afoul of Zeus’ temper sooner rather than later.”

“Did you know Annabeth had an einherji cousin?” Nico asked suddenly.  Chiron shook his head.

“She did not tell me that, no.”  His tail swished from side to side.  “But I cannot see Athena being ignorant of that fact, and certainly not if Frey is aware of Annabeth’s parentage.  In fact, Odin may be looking to use that connection to smooth things over.”  He frowned.  “Even amongst those counted wise, Odin has few peers.  Whatever it is he’s truly planning, it is beyond my comprehension.”

Will leaned forwards. “You’ll let Magnus in when he comes, right?” he asked.  “I think there’s a lot we could learn from him.”

“You just want to talk healing with him,” Nico called him out, and Will felt his cheeks heat up slightly, although didn’t back down.

“And what’s wrong with that?” he demanded.  “The amount of trouble our lot get into, the more healing knowledge we can get, the better!”

“Should Magnus arrive, I see no reason to turn him away unless Olympus requires it,” Chiron reassured him.  “Thanks to his relationship with Annabeth, he is no doubt better versed in the Greek ways than any of you are in the Norse, so I do not think he will make too many waves, but I must bow to the will of the gods – our gods – in this matter.”

It was as good an answer as Will could have hoped for, he supposed, and he slumped back against the pillows.  Chiron chuckled.

“It seems that I should let you three rest now,” he said.  “Will, perhaps your siblings can be persuaded to let you out this evening for the burning of the shrouds if you behave yourself now.”

Patient or not, Will was still head healer.  There was no way he was missing that.

It took some persuading, outright arguing, and eventually Nico siding with him – but only on the caveat that they come straight back afterwards – but he got his way.  It was the symbolic end of their quest, and after napping all afternoon (if he and Nico had ended up curled up together in the same bed, well, his siblings didn’t seem to care as long as it meant they stayed put) he was definitely strong enough to sit by the fire for the ceremony, although he wished Apollo was still with them.  It had been his quest, too, although Will could admit the idea of burning a shroud for his dad filled him with a very specific brand of terror.

He’d spent enough time fearing Apollo’s death since January.  Now that his dad was, finally, a god again, that was a fear that he was all too pleased to bury.

Cabin seven shrouds were normally plain gold, but his was neatly embroidered around the edge with healing prayers in golden thread, barely visible unless someone looked closely. None of his siblings admitted to being behind it, but Jerry was by far the best of them with a needle in the infirmary, so Will had a strong suspicion that even if it hadn’t been his idea, his had been the fingers used.

Meg’s siblings had gone all out on hers, with soft greens and browns decorated with peach and grain motifs.  The girl in question had been all too happy to throw it on the fire and watch it burn, the flames reflecting off of her glasses and turning the rhinestones a deep orange.

As the only inhabitant of cabin thirteen, Nico had no siblings in the camp to create his own, but to Will’s pride, cabin seven had taken that task upon themselves despite also having his to make.  It was black, the same deep, light-absorbing black of his sword, with a deep purple trim and bones picked out in white embroidery.  Nico didn’t cry when he saw it, but his grip on Will’s arm – because he refused to let go for an instant as though he thought Will would make a break for it if he did – tightened, and he looked at the ground rather than watch it burn.

Their quest was over. Apollo was back on Olympus, a god again, and everything was finally put to rights for perhaps the first time since Percy Jackson had been claimed, all those years ago.

Chapter 30>>>