Chapter Text
I smiled softly as I steadily flew across the skies, the full moon was out tonight meaning my chariot glowed with bright silver radiance, far stronger than usual, illuminating the dark landscape below in a soft, lulling light.
Full moons are my favourite. The amount of people who stop and simply enjoy the view I work hard to give them during the short span of time the full moon lasts makes the time spent away from my hunters worth it. And while I’m not a huge fan of the ‘romantic’ aspect that most associate with moonlit walks, I know many also come and watch me simply to help process things going on- take a break from the chaos of modern life, I quite like that people find such comfort in my presence, especially once I realised that my brother does too.
I gazed down at Apollo from my chariot, his currently golden eyes glimmering beautifully in the silver moonlight. Sitting down and leaning back against a tree in a small clearing in the center of a dense wood, on the outskirts of Camp Half-Blood, tense and unhappy looking, eyes glazed over in thought.
I frowned when I noticed his form, shifting and changing near constantly- as if he couldn’t decide on one. Going from long, flowy hair -clearly gold, even in the silver light- and light, milky skin, to shorter hair with tight curls, so dark it passed for black in the dark wood -though a ray of moonlight revealed it to be a dark red- with tawny skin and a slightly bulkier figure, he took on a new shape and colour every few seconds, the only consistent feature being his gleaming, golden eyes and his pinched, distressed expression as he practically glared at the skies.
I wished to comfort him, but I had a strong feeling my presence was not welcome, at least not yet. He had clearly come out here to cool off and calm down, escape whatever had caused his distress. I would give him time to relax and then I would join him, perhaps pry into what was wrong, for now I would just observe and hope it wasn’t as bad as I feared. He got triggered so quickly ever since his trials… I don’t blame him.
Anyhow he clearly came out here to escape, I’d allow him that if that’s what he needs.
I tried to drag my eyes away from him, promising myself I’d return later in the night.
...
I heaved a sigh as I turned back towards my brother, unable to keep my eyes off him. I split off a bit of my essence and materialised in the woods just ahead and to the side of him, dragging the darkness in towards me to properly conceal myself from him.
Apollo sighed tiredly, his breath hitched and his eyes shimmered. He practically growled as he slouched back against the tree behind him, bringing his legs up and curling into a ball, hunching over to hide his face.
My frown deepened as I picked up the slightly muffled, choked sobs, he was clearly trying to stop himself from crying (he was failing miserably), it felt like someone had picked up my heart and was slowly tearing it into tiny shards.
It reminded me far too much of his time as a mortal, when he was preparing to leave Camp, he’d stalked up to Thalia’s tree, put his back to it, and slid to the ground. Staring into space until the early hours of the morning, before the sun rose but just after my chariot had fallen, he finally startled as the oracle walked up to him, shocking him out of his trance. I’d always wondered what he’d been thinking about. What had called him out there that night.
At the time however, my worries were elsewhere. He’d looked shaken… almost- well, for lack of a better word, traumatised. He was shaky, tired (though he never once looked close to sleep), and pale, he almost looked ill as he curled in on himself. By morning he looked fine, acted usual, nobody bat an eye. I saw beneath the surface however. Perhaps for the first time I asked myself, was Apollo ever truly fine? Or was Apollo an act to cover the broken innards buried below.
And that was before his true trials, before majority of the pain, literal torture, near death experiences, the actual deaths of those who’d made it close to his heart, the ghoul poison, and his snake-related trauma repackaged and received all over again.
I sucked in a breath as I realised my mistake, I tried desperately to reel my thoughts in to no avail, I don’t want to remember my brother’s heart wrenching sobs, cries and screams, screams of pain, fear, sadness, and rage-
or the sound of his smooth, soothing voice carrying the weight of his heartache and guilt, his anger and pain sharp as a knife, as burning as the sun he embodied- all channeled into the sorrowful tune that captured the attention of all its listeners and seemed to tug at their heartstrings- even long after its completion it reverberated around my and many others minds, messing with our emotions like Apollo would tune an instrument- carefully twisting our emotions ‘til it matches the songs tone, I sobbed and yelled and tugged at my hair for ages afterwards, unable to shake the guilt and self-loathing that had emanated from the song like a twisted curse. I found it hard to believe that, even as a mortal, my brother could put such power into a song.
More memories dragged their way up to the surface. I remembered the determined look in his eyes as he grabbed an arrow out of his quiver on that stupid ship and put it’s sharp end right over his heart, growling with hatred and a horrid but clear truth that he’d stab himself in the chest if the rancid emperor did not free his friends.
I remembered the feeling of my stomach free falling and my world tipping upside down when he actually did. He’d plunged the arrow deep within his chest the second that pathetic man challenged him, suggesting the idea that Apollo could never do such a thing. But I knew Apollon, I knew that he’d throw himself to tartarus for those he cares about at the drop of a hat. I remembered Hyacinthus, and the many others that came before and after. I’d felt like throwing up, and now, at the memory, I realised I still did.
Another memory resurfaced, this one arguably worse than the last. I saw Apollo, lying half-dead against the wall, unable to move more than an inch at a time, his rapidly greying skin covered with a web of deep but vibrant purple veins, if not for his hair, eyes and terrifyingly shallow breathing I would believe that he was a tinted marble statue -pretty in a morbid way-
I could see the poison slowly creeping up towards his brain, he was talking deliriously to an arrow, tears speckled his shockingly blue eyes. The worst part of it all was none of that however, no matter how bad it all was. No no. It was the resigned look in his eyes, he was obviously concussed and severely injured- even beyond the steadily climbing ghoul poison, and he had given up hope. He did not believe that he could be saved, even as he fought his slip into unconsciousness he clearly had no faith there was a point to it anyway. He knew he was going to die, and instead of being stubborn ‘til the end, he accepted his fate, and resigned himself to the death he was given. I was so, so glad I’d managed to get there in time to save him, if I didn’t I may well have given up as well.
I dragged my brain back to reality, refusing to entertain anymore of those thoughts, not when my brother was already struggling. He needed someone in his corner to steady him, not to break down with him ( and probably end up dragging him down with me), I took a deep breath and focused on the sights and smells around me, too quiet to bother with sounds (and Apollo’s quiet hitches and breaks in his incredibly uneven breathing weren’t helping me calm down),
smell, smell, smell, three things I smell. I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I inhaled the scent of pines, of… of strawberries and distant.. woodsmoke. I smiled, the smell reminding me of better times, of stalking through the woods with my hunters as we searched for creatures of all kinds, the half moon smiling down at us as we ran through the shimmering fields.
I took another breath, and as I exhaled once more I finally opened my eyes.
Apollo had lifted his head, he gazed up at the stars, his eyes empty and glazed over as he looked up to the heavens -unseeing, despondent- My eyes widened. shit
Jason, skewered on the ground, unseeing eyes gazing down at him in shock, taking blame for what was destiny.
No. No stop. I can- I can’t do this again, not now. You can wait to deal with this in the comfort of your palace, or take out your rage on a random creature you find out on your solo hunts -maybe turn a few men to jackalopes- ok.
I looked up at Apollo, taking in the rest of his appearance -carefully avoiding his eyes- He looked… exhausted, worn out, completely done. He had stopped shifting now, settling on his Lester-Apollo form.
He only ever took an obvious version of this form off of Olympus, on Olympus -after his trials- he always seemed jumpy and quiet, he shied away from socialising more than strictly necessary and even then he usually chose to do so silently, with gestures and expressions, rather than speaking (Unless speech was demanded of him, such as times he spoke up rashly in council -why Apollo???- or when someone addressed him directly), he always looked as godly as he’d been before his trials (though there were minor forms of rebellion in his outfit and form, scars, imperfections, uneven or mismatched clothes, small things that would be considered ‘below’ the king or a god in general to mention)
However, when off of Olympus, he often appeared a perfect mix of god and mortal, just perfect enough to be unnatural, just imperfect enough to pass for just slightly unusual -like a demigod- I tended to ignore that thought but, it’s the truth. My brow furrowed as I observed his current form. It was still more than mortal, obviously, but it was about as close to mortal as Apollo could have gone without literally being Lester once more.
It was weird to see him like this. I felt like I was intruding, which, really I was but- I noticed the glittering tear tracks carving paths down his cheeks- but, Apollo needs comfort from somewhere. He may be a rebellious idiot who doesn’t know when to start or stop talking, who suffers nightmares so bad I often help sooth his mind at night so he gets any sleep at all, he may be troublesome and a hopeless romantic but… he is my traumatised rebellious idiot of a brother and… I don’t want him any other way.
I rematerialised behind him, just far enough away to stop him from panicking, I sent out the soothing, hazy aura that surrounds my chariot during my journey through the skies, to calm him, to make him aware of my presence. I slowly, quietly, approached.
I frowned again as I noticed him shift into a closer-to-godly-looking-form upon my approach, though I wiped the expression off of my face as he turned towards me. A tired, small but genuine smile on his face. I smiled back softly as I moved to sit beside him.
Neither of us spoke, we did not need to, we did not want to. If he wished to talk or explain he’d come to me during the daylight hours, I’d do the same for him. We merely took comfort in each other's presence ‘til the sun began to show it’s earliest rays.
I smiled softly as Apollo rested his head on my shoulder, his eyes drooping down, his breathing steady as he fell asleep. I stayed like that until I could no longer, whisking him back up to his palace.
”Rest well, dear brother.”