#Asclepius came back but he wasn’t Asclepius

[hyacinthusmemorial]

OP, the tags, the tags! Asclepius taking gold to heal is another important factor to me because it’s another warning for healers and healthcare. I mentioned that American Healthcare is a sinking ship in my original post, and the sole reason for that is greed—it’s all about gold. People will pay anything to feel better again, but most of those people don’t have the money. There’s a lot of money in healthcare—A LOT. Greedy corporations exploit that desire for healing.

Asclepius’s story covers the deep dark corners of healing and Apollo is the light that’s missing from his own son’s story. You don’t get into healthcare for the money. You do it for people. I personally find it more satisfying to give someone a cup of water when they’re thirsty than bringing a pulse back to someone who’s braindead. When you forget that part of healing, and you do it for the gold, that’s dangerous. I know nurses and doctors like that. They don’t care about people and therefore they won’t care FOR people. They’ll bring them back, sure, but the patient won’t be the person they were before. Those kinds of professionals will leave a patient in suffering rather than helping them, and I see it everyday, little vestiges of darkness.

I think there’s a very real reason that Apollo also represents light. Sunlight is vital to healing—Vitamin D plays a pivotal role in immune systems, and we know that people are more sick in the months where the days are shorter. Light, purification, the acceptance of fate are all such humongous parts of taking care of someone that go beyond just fixing the problem.

This is a little personal, but when my grandma was sick (she was a former nurse) she took the comfort care route, and I took care of her on her last day of life, and the very best thing was holding her hand and talking to her. I cleaned her up, I sat all night with her, and she whispered to me, “You have such healing hands. Always have.” She’s the one that taught me how to take care of people, and I think she’s the one who gave me the best lessons in healing. She knew that healing is about holding hands and listening.

It makes me think about Apollo teaching Asclepius how to heal. Did he teach him acceptance? About when to fight and why you fight? When the person is committed to fighting for health, you hold their shield. And when it’s a battle hard fought, you wait with them until Thanatos comes. Asclepius somewhere along the line decided that he wanted to fight off Thanatos. But what did Apollo teach him to do? I wrote about this in one of my stories, but I think Apollo talks to Thanatos about the person. Maybe they both sit there, have a chat, delay the inevitable for final goodbyes—because that happens all the time in healthcare too, a dying person will wait until they get their last I love you in. And I think that’s more powerful than resurrection.

I personally am of the opinion that Asclepius never became a god. I think he’s an immortalized figure, but he is not consciously doing anything. He’s just a star in the night sky—a reminder of what it means to fight death and ultimately you can’t. It comes for ALL men. His name is an aspect of Apollo, who honors his son by healing in his name. But I think it’s just one interpretation of the beautiful stories the Greeks gave us, and we have the awesome ability to see so many different aspects of it. The lessons this people and culture learned and taught are so powerful to me, and they keep circling back as important in the modern not just antiquity.

Good doctors and good nurses look fate in the eyes everyday, and you can ask any of them—they nearly all want Do Not Resuscitate orders for themselves. They’ll fight for others, but they know what Fate is. Its a great tragedy that our society is so removed from death, we sterilize it, clean it up, hide it—but the Greeks had intimate knowledge of what it meant to die and to live.

I’m in my deep thoughts now, but the story of Asclepius never stops making me think.

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[demigod-shenanigans]

Summary: “So, are you going to properly introduce us to your daughter anytime soon?” Leo teased, looking down at the newborn. “I mean, baby McLean is cute, but it’s a bit on the nose as far as names go.”

“You called her Em, right?” Jason asked, apparently eager to get a good grade in uncle. “What's that short for?”

“Technically, her name isn’t officially anything yet,” Piper told them, wiggling into a more comfortable sitting position. “But we’d like to name her Emilia, if Leo is okay with it.”

“Huh?” Leo looked from Piper to Reyna to the baby in utter confusion. “She’s your child. Why would you need my permission to name her anything?”

Piper quirked her eyebrows at him like the answer should be obvious. The gears in his head ground to an abrupt halt. His vision started swimming with tears.

“You want to name your kid after me?”

___

Or: Leo and Jason meet Piper and Reyna’s daughter.

Written for @lost-trio-week day 5: Parents

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: General Audiences

Gentle CW for mentions of childbirth and anxieties surrounding that topic. I personally think this warning might even be overkill, but as per usual with stuff like this, my rule is better safe than sorry.

This fic is once again dedicated to my friend @queenjunothegreat, because Em was originally her baby (shared custody next gen verse my beloved <3) and she was the one who came up with her name. They also came up with the fic title because I’m useless when it comes to titles lmaooo

Soft married Valgrace & Pipeyna. Also lost trio content, obviously, specific focus once again being Leo and Piper’s friendship (can you tell I care so so much about these idiots?)

———

Leo hated hospitals. A hospital was where he’d spent the first few days after his mom’s death, being treated for smoke inhalation, and it was where his first set of awful foster parents had picked him up. 

To say his memories of that time weren’t the fondest would have been the understatement of the century.

And sure, he knew in theory that this was different. New Rome Hospital had a really low death rate for anything that wasn’t battle-related injuries. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been a childbirth-related death here in a century. Realistically, he knew Piper was fine.

Still, the time the rather frazzled-looking Asclepius legacy that had greeted them was taking to figure out where she was and whether it was alright for her to have visitors made Leo’s anxious brain spiral in all kinds of unfun directions.

“Piper might still want to get back at us for the time we both died on her,” he told Jason, anxiously wringing his hands.

His husband raised an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t think she’d die out of spite ten years after the fact,” he commented, squeezing Leo’s hand. “Besides, Reyna said she was doing okay, and you know how she gets about Piper.”

And yeah, alright, that was a fair enough point, but Leo’s anxiety wasn’t exactly great at listening to reason. It never had been.

Nothing would calm him down until he’d seen with his own two eyes that Piper was doing okay.

“If we ever have a kid, we’re adopting,” he sighed into his husband’s shoulder. 

Jason laughed, nuzzling him gently before leaning down to kiss him.

Jason’s lips were a little scabbed from where he had anxiously chewed on them.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that, right?” Leo teased, grinning up at his husband. “Thank the gods I got rid of all the staplers, or you might have started chewing on those, too. We cannot have you set that kind of example for baby McLean.”

“Will you ever let that one go?” Jason groaned, rolling his eyes. “I was two.” 

“What kind of husband would I be if I did let it go, hm?” Leo asked, kissing him again.

Someone cleared their throat. A few years back, this might have made them jump apart like embarrassed children, but now, Leo pulled back slowly, eyes lingering on his husband a while longer.

He’d dragged Jason back out of the Underworld by the collar of his stupid school uniform when they’d been seventeen. He was allowed to be disgustingly in love in public. The people could deal.

The Asclepius legacy stood there again, staring down at his clipboard awkwardly. Leo was pretty sure the guy was younger than him—he looked barely older than twenty. 

“Room 201. I wouldn’t recommend staying long—mother and child are both exhausted and will need plenty of rest. And wash your hands before you-”

“Okay, yeah, we’re not complete idiots,” Leo interrupted him. He’d washed his hands four times since getting to the hospital, just because it had given him something to do. 

He was moving in an instant, dragging his husband along with him. Thankfully, his ankle had the decency not to be too much of an ass today.

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” Jason commented, voice tinged with amusement as he pulled him back the way they’d come. 

“Why do you know that?” Leo asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just how much time did you spend here as a kid?”

Jason ignored him and kept walking.

~~~~

Leo wanted to knock on that stupid blue door. Really, he did.

So he wasn’t sure why it was that, instead of knocking, he stuffed his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and just stared at the door like a total idiot.

His outfit wasn’t fancy, but it was clean, which was more than could be said for the clothes he’d worn in the workshop earlier that day. He wasn’t as bad as his husband, who Leo had had to talk out of wearing a suit to the hospital because he was worried about making a good first impression, but he was suddenly worried that maybe he still smelled of motor oil. 

The kid would not remember, obviously, but he thought if the first thing he did was upset Piper’s baby, that would still suck. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t like him.

Jason squeezed his shoulder. “Mi vida, you're gonna make a great uncle, you know that, right?”

“Duh. I’m incredible,” Leo announced, continuing to stare at the door. 

As always, his husband saw right through him—not that Leo was making it especially hard to do so right now.

“They’re gonna love you. I mean it.” Jason nudged him. “You’re great with the kids we help at the shelter.”

“I mean, I guess,” Leo mumbled, but his shoulders relaxed, just a fraction. “If all else fails, I suppose I can always bribe them with candy once they’re a little older.”

Jason laughed, and Leo finally managed to make himself knock.

It was Reyna who opened the door. She wasn’t even the one who’d had the baby, but she still looked as much of a fucking disaster as Leo had ever seen her. She had deep rings under her reddened eyes and was wearing what Leo was decently sure were rumpled pajamas. Her hair had come loose from its usual neat braid and exploded in messy waves around her shoulders.

“It turns out my daughter is really fond of my hair,” Reyna explained dryly, but there was a softness in her eyes that was usually reserved for Piper. “Come in.”

She moved back to her wife’s bedside in an instant. 

Piper looked… honestly, Leo had seen her look way worse. Her safety scissors bob didn’t look a lot more messy than usual, if he was being honest. Her skin was sweat-damp and she was obviously exhausted, but no one had stabbed her or tried to cook her into soup, which was definitely a plus.

Well, that and the way she was smiling down at the tiny bundle in her arms.

“Hey Pipes,” Leo said, raising his hand in a ridiculous wave as he moved to stand at her side.

“Hey.” Piper smiled up at them. “Glad you guys could make it. I’d wave back, but I’m holding a baby right now, so.”

The baby was small, but in the way Leo assumed newborns usually were. She had just the slightest hint of dark hair and equally dark eyes and was dressed in a small orange onesie.

She was looking right at him.

“She’s got your nose.” Leo paused. “Well, a very tiny copy of your nose. You’ve kept your own nose, as far as I can tell.”

“You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” Piper sighed, poking her daughter in the nose in question. “Your tío is a bit of an idiot, but you’re going to love him, too. Trust me.”

The baby cooed happily.

“Great.” Leo groaned dramatically. “I’m being bullied by a newborn.”

Piper laughed.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, though Leo knew the baby had about 95% of his husband’s attention right now.

Jason had been pulling faces at her literally since they’d walked in the door. 

He’d always been that way around kids, but babies were especially bad. They activated a protective, wildly affectionate parental instinct that Leo had to assume came from Jason’s wolf boy months because he definitely hadn’t gotten it from either of his parents.

It was endearing as hell, but had the unfortunate side effect that it had always made Leo think about a kid of their own, including back when he hadn’t felt even slightly ready for one.

“Exhausted. Content. A little embarrassed.” Piper burst into another fit of tired laughter. “I sort of yelled at my wife to get out. Twice. Which would have been fine, except I was apparently using charmspeak.”

“That you even told her to get out at all seems wildly unfair towards Reyna considering you guys didn’t even have sex,” Leo commented, raising an eyebrow at Piper. “This is, like, objectively not on her.”

Reyna snorted, which was always a massive win in Leo’s book. He’d had a hard time figuring out what sort of jokes made her laugh, and every time he managed, he felt immensely proud of himself.

“Nuh-uh,” Piper protested immediately. “Em may be a magic IVF baby, but she’s a magic IVF baby we both decided to have, so it’s still at least fifty percent Reyna’s fault.”

“That’s a responsibility I will gladly accept. She’s mine and she’s yours and I would not change that for anything in the world.” Reyna pressed a soft kiss to her wife’s forehead. Then she reached down towards her daughter. The baby happily grasped her fingers. 

Reyna’s usual serious expression had melted away into a smile that was so sweet Leo thought it’d give him a toothache. 

“Yeah, okay, we get it, you guys are adorable,” he commented, because he was a total hypocrite when it came to other people’s PDA. “But what I really want to know is how far out of the hospital you got before the charmspeak wore off.”

“The first time I realized by the end of the hallway. The second time I made it all the way out to the parking lot. How Piper had that kind of energy, I’ll never understand.” Reyna shook her head, a kind of quiet awe in her voice. “Though perhaps worse than me leaving for a few minutes was the fact that the second time it happened, it also affected the midwife.”

Jason abruptly stopped pulling faces at Em to look up at Piper with a horrified expression.

“That sounds terrifying. Are you okay?”

“It was scary as hell at the time.” Piper shrugged. “Looking back on it, it's mostly just funny.”

“You continue to be the strongest warrior I know,” Reyna told her fondly, leaning down to kiss her.

“Love, I was an absolute terror and you know it.” Piper beamed at her wife. “You are cute, though, so maybe I’ll allow it.”

“So, are you going to properly introduce us to your daughter anytime soon?” Leo teased, looking down at the newborn again. “I mean, baby McLean is cute, but it’s a bit on the nose as far as names go.”

“You called her Em, right?” Jason asked, apparently eager to get a good grade in uncle. He looked like he might genuinely explode if he didn’t get to hold the baby within the next three seconds, but also like he’d bravely bear that fate because he didn’t want to be rude. “What's that short for?”

“Technically, her name isn’t officially anything yet,” Piper told them, wiggling into a more comfortable sitting position. “But we’d like to name her Emilia, if Leo is okay with it.”

“Huh?” Leo looked from Piper to Reyna to the baby in utter confusion. “She’s your child. Why would you need my permission to name her anything?”

Piper quirked her eyebrows at him like the answer should be obvious.

The gears in his head ground to an abrupt halt. His vision started swimming with tears.

“You want to name your kid after me?” 

Leo hadn’t gone by Emilio since before he’d met Piper. He’d almost forgotten she knew his full name. 

“Only if you’re okay with it,” Piper told him, suddenly looking awkward. “I know why you don’t use the name for yourself, but I figured just naming her Lea might be confusing. Sorry, I probably should have asked you sooner. If you don’t want-”

“No, no, if you guys really want that, I’d be honored. But like- why?” he asked in utter disbelief. “Why me, out of all people?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” Piper said, smiling at him. “Because you’re brave and smart and the best person I know. Because you defied fate and found happiness despite all odds. Because I’ll be lucky if she grows up to be even a little bit like you.”

Leo turned to Reyna. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. “You’re okay with that?”

Reyna nodded, her expression solemn. “If names really do have power, yours is the greatest blessing we can give her.”

Leo was absolutely bawling his eyes out. His husband wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders and soothingly ran a hand up and down the length of his arm.

“She’s the luckiest kid in the universe,” Jason told him, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. 

Leo had thought himself a curse for most of his childhood. He’d gotten better about it in recent years, since he’d made peace with his mother’s death and led Jason back out of the Underworld, but the pain had never fully faded.

Piper and Reyna associating his name with joy—choosing it for their daughter to make sure she’d be happy —was hitting him on a level he couldn’t fully process. 

It had been one thing to know on a theoretical level that Piper wanted him to be her child’s godfather—minus the religious connotations. 

But this? To know his best friend not only trusted him with the smallest, most precious human being Leo had ever met, but that she trusted his name to keep her safe? He genuinely didn’t think he would ever recover from that.

“I love you guys,” he sniffled. “So much.”

He knew that was a deeply uncool reaction. Maybe he should have been all smug and braggy about the whole thing. Maybe he would be, later, once everything had properly sunken in.

But right now, he couldn’t stop crying.

”And we love you right back,” Piper said with a soft smile, leaning forward and holding her armful of curious baby out towards him. “You’re not getting out of holding your niece, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He sniffled. 

Leo had been terrified of holding Em basically since he knew she existed. He’d never been able to bring himself to hold Percy and Annabeth’s kid, despite all the times they’d babysat back in college. It had been easy enough to pass the job off to Jason, who loved holding babies.

That way, Leo could avoid any potential disasters. No way he could drop a baby he never even held, right?

He’d known that Piper wouldn’t let him get away with that when it came to her child, and that knowledge had scared the hell out of him for months. What if he screwed up? What if he did it wrong and somehow hurt the baby?

But Piper was holding Em out towards him, an expression of utter trust on her face, and Leo couldn’t do anything but reach out to take his tiny niece from her arms, trying to mirror the way Piper had held her.

Emilia stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. Her weight felt awkward in his arms.

“Gods, I’m totally messing this up, aren’t I?”

“You’re really not,” Piper reassured him. “Just make sure you’re supporting her head. Here, I’ll-” She tried to lean forward, but stopped, wincing.

“Hermosa, you’re supposed to be resting,” Reyna told her, voice firm and concerned. 

She was smiling at Leo, but she was also wringing her hands, watching him closely like maybe she was expecting him to drop her daughter. 

That made two of them.

Leo could easily picture her vaulting over the bed to catch her child if that happened, though that weirdly didn’t make him feel a lot better about the possibility.

“Don’t mind my lovely wife. Rey’s just nervous,” Piper whispered, patting his arm. “You’re the first person aside from us and the hospital staff who gets to hold Em.”

“If you’re trying to make me less nervous, reminding me that I’m messing up one of Emilia’s first experiences with being held was not the way to go,” Leo joked, trying to shift the baby in his arms. This was not very effective, seeing as he had no idea what he was doing.

“I can help, if you want,” Jason volunteered immediately. He waited for Leo to nod, then put his hands over Leo’s and carefully adjusted his hold on Em a bit. “Here. Just support her head a little more. You’re doing great, mi vida.”

Emilia’s weight felt a little less awkward in his arms now. Leo relaxed a fraction, smiling down at her.

“Thanks for the assist.” 

“Always.” Jason nuzzled Leo’s cheek. “You were barely even messing up. You just have a tendency to overthink things when you’re nervous.”

“Says the guy who almost came here in a suit,” Leo commented, but he didn’t look up. His entire focus was on the newborn in his arms. He was mesmerized.

“Hi, sobrinita.” He was still sniffling, but he hadn't made his niece cry yet, so he was counting that as a win. “Gods, you’re a literal baby and somehow I’m the one wailing at you. So much for decent first impressions, hm?”

Emilia cooed at him. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he agreed, nodding his head at his niece. Holding her grew easier with each passing moment. She was looking at him like he was the only person in the universe. 

Leo loved her immediately.

He couldn’t believe he’d been as anxious as he had about holding her. He couldn’t believe he’d almost made himself miss out on this.

 “Pipes, I hope you’re not expecting me to say no to her, ever, because I can tell you right now that it’s not gonna happen.”

Piper laughed. “Oh, please. Your job was never going to be responsible godfather. If that was what I was looking for, I’d have picked someone else.”

“We’re gonna get into so much trouble together,” he whispered to Em, grinning at her. 

This time, Emilia didn’t smile back at him. Instead she scrunched up her face and started crying.

Leo froze.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I did, I was just-”

“Babies cry. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Piper told him gently. “I can’t believe she’s been as quiet as she has since you two came in, honestly. This is the calmest she’s been since she was born.”

“Oh.” Leo had almost managed to stop crying, but that made him start up again. 

“She cried when I first held her, too,” Reyna told him. When he looked up at her, he could tell some of the tension had gone out of her shoulders, despite the fact that he’d just managed to upset her daughter. “I’m glad she’ll grow up knowing her emotions aren’t something to fear.”

Leo hadn’t even considered thinking about it like that, but it made sense that Reyna would. When he’d first met her, there would have been no way for him to tell if she’d cried—if she’d allowed herself to cry at all.

He looked at her red-rimmed eyes again, the expression on her face genuine and fond, and could immediately feel more tears running down his cheeks. He’d have walked over and hugged her this instant if it hadn’t been for the newborn in his arms.

“Yeah.” Leo sniffled. “Me too.”

He was pretty sure he hadn’t cried this many happy tears since Jason had started reciting his wedding vows in slightly awkward Spanish.

“Can I-” Jason asked, gesturing vaguely towards Emilia. When Leo and Piper both nodded, he took the baby into his own arms, rocking her gently. His expression immediately melted into the world’s softest smile.

Seeing them like this, Leo would have married him again in an instant.

“She’s probably overstimulated. This is the most people she’s ever met in her life,” Jason concluded once he’d managed to soothe her a little. 

“I get it. People are really overwhelming.” Leo wiped at his eyes. “I still can’t believe my stupid sewer rat face is, like, the fifth face this poor kid has ever seen. She did not need to be exposed to sewer rats this early in her life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your face,” Jason protested immediately. “I like your face.”

“You’re married to me. You’re supposed to say that,” Leo teased, but he still found himself smiling. “We should probably leave you guys for the day, hm? You three all look like you could use a nap.”

“As long as you promise you’ll be back soon,” Piper insisted, smiling up at them as Jason—very reluctantly—handed Emilia back to her. “Hi, sweetie. You’re a little sleepy, hm?”

Emilia yawned in agreement.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily.” Leo grinned at his best friend.

“Thanks for coming here as soon as you did. And, you know, for all the other sappy stuff I’m not going to say right now because I think we’ve all cried enough for one day.”

“Yeah. Gotta save some of that for tomorrow,” Leo agreed, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. Then he reached out, gently pressing his finger into his niece’s palm. “Bye bye, Emilia. Be nice to your moms, okay?” 

Her hand closed into a fist, holding his finger tightly. 

Leo let out a startled laugh.

“She’s got excellent reflexes,” Reyna said proudly.

“Yeah, well, I guess that means we’re not leaving yet. I’m really not sure how I’ll ever get out of this finger trap without the ability to turn into an iguana.”

Both Piper and Jason immediately cracked up. Reyna just looked confused. Leo made a mental note to tell her that particular story some other time.

“Anything we should bring you tomorrow?” Jason asked. He looked Reyna over. “Do you want some clothes that aren’t, uh-”

“…pajamas?” Reyna laughed. “Yes. That would be great. I checked the hospital bag about fourteen times to make sure we’d packed everything we might need, but it somehow did not occur to me that we’d be leaving in the middle of the night, nor that I’d need to pack any clothes for myself.”

“I want a large coffee and the least healthy pastry you can find,” Piper said immediately. “Reyna has everything else covered.”

Leo laughed. He reluctantly removed his finger from Em’s grasp, linking his hand with his husband’s as they left.

And, well, if he spent the rest of the evening baking horrendously sugary pastries, that was nobody’s business but his own.

———

Fic Notes:

-Fun fact! I edited this at 3 am last night and then I didn’t even post it because I couldn’t think of a title. It is now, once again, 3 am. My sleep schedule is doing great, thanks for asking.

-The concept of “names have power” is so interesting to toy with specifically in a context like this. Because like, objectively, Leo has had a lot of bad stuff happen to him. He’d never even considered thinking of his name as a blessing before this. But few demigod or legacies lead easy lives, and in the end the thing that outweighs anything else is that he’s managed to find happiness, despite the odds being stacked against him.

-Also, considering Reyna has a prophecy hanging over her head that’s specifically linked to family legacy, it just makes sense for her and Piper to choose Leo’s name. What better way to protect your child from a prophecy than giving her the name of someone who defied his fate?

-Would really like to eventually go into Reyna’s feelings on all this more, but that deserves a whole fic of its own.

-For anyone who’d like context on the Emilio thing, the very basic idea of that being Leo’s full name and him never using it is that his mom always used his full name and he’s terrified he’ll forget what it sounded like if other people use it, because no one ever says it quite like she did.

-Here’s a little fic Juno wrote about Piper finding out Leo’s full name for anyone who wants a little extra context!

-“But canonically his name is Leonidas.” As far as I’m aware, Rick actually confirmed his name is just Leo. Also, this is a fanfic, I can therefore do whatever I want :)

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, as always, extremely appreciated.

[baubled]

prompt: 'you're cute when you're angry'

[I think this probably isn't the tone you had in mind when you suggested this so apologies for that but I am pleased with the way it turned out. No warnings - not even language. Surprise]

Five months had passed since any kind of communication from Effie Trinket had landed in the lap of Haymitch Abernathy, and he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Their love affair - if you could call it that, he was beginning to think that Asclepius had been right to call it infatuation - had been tumultuous from the very start. But it had seemed so real. More real than anything he’d encountered in the Capitol - where everything was temporary, coated in the most expensive lies he’d ever seen. All those shining reflections just to distract from the blood running underneath. Before Effie he had come to expect only shallow meetings there. Had thought he needed to focus only on what he could wring out of the Capitolites with both hands and desperation in his chest. He’d passed it all up for her. Begun to rely on her finding him when he came to do whatever it was was required of a Victor three years after the victory. They’d met on rooftops, in alleyways and stairwells, and always she had seemed so light but so grounded.

He had bothered to write her a letter. A real, genuine letter. More than once. She’d sent back envelopes speckled with glitter and smelling like strawberries - so different from the reek of roses he had come to associate with the place she called home.

Years. They’d spent years meeting in as much secrecy as they could find. Years with lips pressed to the crook of a neck, his silhouette guarding her from view of any passing gossips, his fingers tangled in the ends of her blonde waves, her name breaching the privacy of his nightmares. It was the final nail in the coffin, really, to find that the screams of everyone in his dreams now contained a thread of her breathy voice.

And then. Nothing.

So imagine his surprise. That morning the train rolled into Twelve for the reaping of the 56th annual hunger games and he stopped his pacing and the way he held one hand inside of the other, picking at his cuticles like she’d done so many times when the anxiety of what they were doing gripped her enough on the inside to spill out in a dozen tiny ways. Imagine his surprise when the door to the train opened before the engine itself had come to a complete stop and Clep wasn’t there the way he had been every year since Haymitch himself was reaped.

He’d have recognized the point of that toe anywhere. He was intimately familiar with the way Effie Trinket could walk into a room and make everybody wonder how they’d existed there in her absence. Haymitch’s breath caught in his throat, his brow creasing quickly in confusion and wonder, but all of the questions that crowded his mind had no chance. She was a flourish of baby blues and creams, ribbons dangling from her wrists where the laces of her garment curled into bows, the crushed velvet bodice clung to her curves, covered her clear up to her chin as if she were defending herself from the outset. He realised, quickly, that she was. She did not make eye contact with him. Her boot touched the ground and she was off, a familiar binder tucked up under one arm and a peacekeeper struggling to keep up with her as she strode past Haymitch and out of the station with a fervor that he recognized.

It was the night before an exam but she was up too late with him, her hair down, the hem of her dress a little too high.

But the tulle spilling from the split at the back of that bodice brushed against the back of his hand as she hurried past him and it pulled him back from the memory, rooted him to the spot. He glanced down at his hand, rubbed his fingers together, and the pieces began to slide into place. When he finally glanced after her retreating frame he stuttered back to life, frowned more deeply - the beginning of what would become his most persistent wrinkles blossomed on his forehead - and went after her.

Despite the height difference, the pulse hammering through his veins, and his knowledge of his home she outpaced him. Or just plain slipped out of his grasp. She must’ve studied a map until it dissolved under her gaze with the way she navigated those coal-dusted streets and made straight for the town hall. Even in five inch heels she took the steps to the front door two at a time, threw herself into the hallway, and then slowed. He ignored the call of the peacekeeper who had fallen behind them both as he grabbed her wrist - too hard - and she spun to face him.

There had been cracks even three years ago and here, again, it was as though they could both feel them deepen, splintering out into the rest of their lives. Effie had too much makeup on. Something he had never thought before. And her hair…wasn’t hers. It was a wig, a good one compared to most of what the Capitol called fashionable, but he could tell from this close. It was Effie, but it wasn’t his Effie. There was a hardness to her now, and he recognized it for what it was immediately. Or at least he thought he did. She’d finally gotten what she’d worked so hard for, and a nothing from the Seam wasn’t going to put that at risk.

“I have time,” she had murmured to him once. It had reassured him then, in the bright morning when he was sure he’d ruined it all for them. It seemed like that time might finally have run out.

“You really not gonna say anything to me?” He asked, expression pleading, his body far too close to hers and that peacekeeper trying to gage whether or not his delicate new charge needed him to intervene. “Five months Trinket.”

He hadn’t meant to use her last name. It had just happened. But he watched it cut her open for just a second before she regained her composure and stitched the wound up again. Good as new.

She removed her wrist from his hold, held the binder in front of her abdomen with both hands and looked up at him through too long, too dark lashes. “We have many things to talk about, dear, but none of them in the hallway.”

“Hallway seems fine to me,” his voice was still low, but he knew her too well, knew the buttons he was pushing, “you wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

A deep breath pulled her already straightened shoulders straighter. Her head lilted a little to one side as she adjusted herself for this new bump in her perfectly planned road. It was the first time he could remember her using these tricks on him - it was the first time he could remember being the object of her disdain instead of her affection.

“Clep retired,” the nickname rolled from her lips before she could stop it, and she glanced around nervously, but Haymitch just waited for her to come out with the rest of it, “I’m Twelve’s new Escort.”

“You’re kiddin' me.”

“I am not kidding you, Haymitch.”

“Dream come true, huh?” He spat the words, and they landed with impact. Five months. No phone calls, no letters, nothing soft to rest his shredded heart on and then there she was. Dressed to the nines and completely changed and not even willing to tell him why. She was as pulled closed as that damn dress she was wearing. Her posture didn’t change, but her expression did. This time for more than just a moment her eyes went soft. They sparkled with tears but she didn’t let them fall. But it was the sharp inhalation - the way he knew it was anything but a dream and the way she wasn’t willing to share with him whatever hell she’d been put through back in the Capitol to be put on that train - that told him they were over.

Effie swallowed the breath down, rearranged her expression to one of determination, and Haymitch took a step back toward the door.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, Bauble. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Haymitch-“

“Nah, I think I get it,” his hands were up in surrender, and his mouth was aching for the burn of alcohol. “I’ll see you on stage, sweetheart.”

It was easy to move around the peacekeeper and back out into the open air. Harder to drink away the image of her standing there, hoping he’d come back.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 10

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades This chapter is probably going to raise more questions than it answers but I promise this is going somewhere! I love TOA but there's something that bothered me a bit so I'm addressing that in this fic, too (provided I can pull this off...) I have 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 9

HADES X An Unexpected and Unwelcome Encounter

There was no difference between this side of the Cocytus to the other.  Hades knew he had continued travelling in the correct direction because the fiery brightness of the Phlegethon had now gone even from his periphery, left far behind him much like the nephew he was supposed to have been travelling with, until Apollo decided to run after another of his considerable army of children instead of focusing on their objection, but the landscape looked much the same.

He continued shedding droplets of the Cocytus from his form as he traipsed across Tartarus, fuming that he’d been caught so easily, almost as easily as the previous time despite being certain his guard had been up against the river’s tricks.  It did not, he was uncomfortably aware, bode well for the next rivers; as he recalled, the rivers had tended to get more dangerous, the further into the Pit – the further away from the Underworld – he and his brothers had travelled.

Somewhere ahead of him was the Lethe, powerful enough to wash away the memories of even a titan – a discovery which had inadvertently put him in his current situation.  Had Iapetus never fallen into the Lethe and had his memories wiped, he would never have somehow befriended Nico, and Hades’ son would never have considered jumping into the Pit to save him.

With Poseidon in their midst, it had been far easier to ensure none of the liquid had dripped onto them, just in case, and back then they hadn’t even known for certain that the Lethe could affect a god.  True, titans were not gods, gods were technically more powerful, but if it could wipe Iapetus’ memories, then Hades did not trust that down in Tartarus, it could not wipe his.

However, before he had that hurdle to overcome, there was another river to cross.

He was fully dry long before the next one came into sight, a handful of foolish monsters erased from existence when they got close enough for his blade to lash out and eliminate them – nothing of any power had challenged him yet, which was a relief but also a concern, because if they were not here then they were elsewhere, likely closer to the prison.

Or harassing Apollo, part of his mind pointed out.

He ignored it.

It was possible, he reminded himself, that he could get in and out of Tartarus with nothing worse than the rivers to face, except he knew that was a lie – even if Iapetus was firstly still intact and secondly willing to go with them, there was the matter of the voice summoning his son, and Hades’ suspicions regarding that voice’s identity had not been swayed yet.  Bringing Iapetus back to the Underworld, to reassure his son that the titan was safe and not the owner of the voice, would not be good enough – Nico was too kind-hearted to trust that there wasn’t, somehow, someone still in need of help.  Nor had Hades earned enough of his son’s goodwill that Nico would believe him if he said otherwise in the first place.

The voice needed to be silenced, proven to be a trap with no real victim, and Hades knew no-one else was going to do it.

Not with Apollo gallivanting off on some completely different and unnecessary mission that was doomed to end in failure.  There was no way that Asclepius could leave Tartarus – Zeus would send him straight back down, and spit in Apollo’s face in the process.

The younger god was wasting his time.

On the horizon, a glimmer of water – dark, dark water – became visible, the river rushing fast and furiously through steeply carved gorges in the membrane of Tartarus, rough with rapids in a way it didn’t quite have up above, in the Underworld, but that suited its nature particularly well.

Hades slowed on approach, considering how best to tackle this particular crossing.  Of all the Underworld rivers, this was the one he had the most to do with, an almost professional working relationship with, and while he was the stronger of the gods – at least, within his own domain, down in Tartarus was another consideration entirely – this was not one he cared to anger unnecessarily.  If he did so, he ran the risk of losing one of the more powerful guardians of his domain, and Charon would be insufferable, because no matter how much the money-loving boatman grumbled about his job and pay, Hades knew that the part of the job he enjoyed was ferrying the souls across themselves.

Reaching the bank of the river, or more accurately, the lip of the gorge through which it ran, he halted in surprise.  Floating on the inky-black surface, idly fidgeting with some of the clouds of pollution that streaked through the water, was a woman.

Neither Cocytus nor Phlegethon had bothered to show him a physical embodiment of themselves, content to remain purely in river form, but it appeared that Styx had other plans.  The goddess was as beautiful as always, with her shifting colours – always dark, the colour of a starless night, of ink, of a deep purple that echoed in the blade Hades carried – and her pitch black eyes bored straight through his essence, seeing past his physical form and into who he was, himself.

The gods had given this particular daughter of Oceanus a great deal of power over them when they had chosen her as the keeper of their oaths.  Before her, Hades felt stripped bare, exposed, in a way that very few beings could elicit.

He was, however, likely the god most used to the sensation; while Styx did not appear to him often, she was the boundary to his domain, the first or last guardian, and her appearances in the Underworld were not zero.

“Hades,” she said, not bothering to straighten from her recline along the surface of her river, except along was not correct, because she was part of it, water rushing into her form and then out of it again with the fury that betrayed it as the river of hatred.  For a lesser being, the sight might have been considered dizzying.

Hades met her eyes without hesitation.  “Styx,” he replied.  Neither of them used honorifics with the other – they never had done, Styx older than he, but Hades in technicality her master, at least in the Underworld.

In Tartarus, the dynamic was not the same, was shifted slightly to the left, and Hades did not know where, exactly, they stood, but he knew he had no authority over her.  Not here.

“This is an unexpected encounter,” he continued.  Neither of them made a move to get on the other’s level – Styx remained as one with her river, and Hades remained separate on the bank.  “You did not show yourself the last time I was here.”

“I did not concern myself with you and your brothers back then,” Styx commented.  A hand more viscous than solid brushed a waterfall of hair back from her face carelessly.  “You had not begun to use me as your oath keeper, so you were insignificant and beneath my notice.”  She chuckled, a discordant sound with the grating undertone of pebbles grinding pebbles beneath the melody of water over stones.  “Do you regret forcing yourselves into my awareness?”

Hades didn’t blink.  “I am not my brothers’ spokesperson,” he said plainly.  “Do not ask me what inane thoughts pass through their ridiculous minds.  I have not understood either of them in millennia.”

Styx drifted a little closer to him; her eyes had yet to blink.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she noted, and Hades narrowed his eyes at her for her impudence, but knew it would be foolish not to humour her.

“We have not had any serious disagreements,” he acknowledged, and she rewarded him with a smile.  It was beautiful the same way it was horrific, a maw of darkness and broken promises rimmed with sharp teeth waiting to close on the souls of those foolish enough to try and enter her waters uninvited – and even the invited were not safe.

“Oath Keeper,” Styx agreed.  “You alone of the gods have always kept your word.  More than that,” she continued, “you have more than once been the instrument of my retribution.”  A musing hum that sounded more like a grating saw than music rustled along the water.  “Until you stopped.”

Hades regarded her warily, unsure where she was taking the conversation but aware he would not be able to cross until she was satisfied.

“Zeus breaks promises as though they were never made,” she said, as though Hades wasn’t well aware that Thalia was not the first child of Zeus to be born after the Oath was made.  Zeus had barely been able to restrain himself for a year before he was spreading his seed again – Hades had hunted down each child in betrayed anger as soon as he became aware of their existence, and Thalia had simply been his first failure, the first one to make it to Camp Half-Blood.

Of course Styx was the reason he had always, somehow, found out about the children, early enough to destroy before they knew how to fight back.  He had never thought to question it at the time, but it made a large amount of sense.

“His son is much the same,” Styx continued, and Hades frowned.  He had many nephews thanks to his youngest brother, some mortal, many not.  “Promises made with little thought, forgetting that to break them is to invite consequences.”  Her sharp, jagged teeth came together in a snarl.  “The fool thought that I would kill him, unfurl his fingers from where they clung so desperately to the edge of Tartarus as he dangled over Chaos.”

She scoffed, but Hades barely noticed, because suddenly the near-infinite seeming pool of nebulous nephews across the millennia had condensed down to a single possibility, a god who had been to the edge of Chaos and lived to tell the tale – barely, if Styx was to be believed.

Styx was the embodiment of hatred, not lies.

Hades did not like how uncomfortable he felt at the realisation that Apollo had almost, almost, been unmade.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, wondering what oaths Apollo had made and broken – the younger god played the fool, but he was not one and Hades had never known him to go so far with his façade that he would intentionally bring the wrath of Styx’s vengeance upon him.

Styx scoffed again.

“Because I know you gods,” she said, black eyes once again piercing uncomfortably through Hades and staring straight into his essence.  “I know how to take you apart, piece by piece.  How else can I select the punishment that will hurt the most when one of you invariably breaks the oath and has to pay?”  Her mouth twisted into a snarl that looked half furious, half amused.  “I know, Hades.  I know who you love, how you love, why you love.  Should you ever break an oath, rest assured that you will regret it.”  She shifted in the current again, disappearing almost entirely before remerging, closer to the bank where Hades stood.  “Erasing Apollo’s existence would not have resolved anything.  It would have been a mercy, right then, to let him go rather than force him to keep fighting, keep suffering.”

Hades struggled to believe that – a god’s existence was precious.  He remembered Hera’s wails as she dangled over Chaos in a gilded cage, punishment for defying Zeus.  They had reached up to the Underworld – she had never been the quiet sister – and echoed through his palace near-constantly.  The edge of Chaos had been one of the few places he and his brothers had not dared tread during their inspection of Tartarus, the mere thought of being unravelled back into nothing enough to strike terror into all of them.

That the fall would not have been enough to destroy Apollo, would not have made him suffer enough to satisfy Styx… what would have done?

The goddess fell silent, watching him with her piercing eyes, as Hades grasped at straws, trying to decipher her meaning.  He knew the answer, part of him whispered, but no matter how frantically he tried to find it, tried to pick apart what he knew of his nephew to find what would hurt him more than Chaos, no answer came.

After an eternity, Styx turned away from him and began to dissolve back into the water again.  “It’s a pity the two of you came down here,” she said, almost idly, but the goddess of hatred did not do idle.  “I was looking forwards to tearing the boy apart.”  Realisation struck Hades rather like one of his brother’s blasted thunderbolts.  “But we make a good team,” she continued, body no longer separable from the water that made her.  “I got another one instead, thanks to you.”

Her form dissipated, leaving nothing but the furious river lashing past him, and Hades stared into the inky, swirling depths in something rather akin to horror.

And fury.

It throbbed through him, a rage sinking into his essence because he had been used.

Styx was one thing – his brother’s broken oath had infuriated him regardless, so he had no qualms about eliminating the children that should never have been born in the first place.  As the boundary of his domain, it was equally no hardship if he kept her happy on occasion by assisting in her punishments, although he would’ve liked to have been aware that she was using him to do so.  He was confident he would not have minded in the slightest when it came to Zeus’ illicit children.

But, despite her words, Styx had not instigated Apollo’s punishment.  She had taken an opportunity, but she had not created it – that dubious honour fell to one person Hades refused to obey like a mindless puppet, and the fact that Zeus had managed to twist his own fury into something that furthered his own agenda had his essence roiling.

Apollo had said it himself – why had he not been punished for the use of the Physician’s Cure, if he had been the one to authorise it, and Hades had always known that he had been involved thanks to the blasted daisy ingredient.  Hades had glossed over that, considering his nephew’s mortal tenure punishment enough for that (something he was at least deserving of being punished for, unlike most of the paranoid reasons Zeus had bluffed his way through), and focused his ire on the one who had made it.

His nephew had always been closer to his children than most of the gods.  Soft in the way most gods could never allow themselves to be, unafraid of falling in love over and over again, no matter how many tragedies trailed in his wake (and there were a lot of those – Hades had many, many tragedies of Apollo in his domain).  It still felt strange, alien, even, that there was something that could hurt a god more than his own destruction, but if there was a god for which that held true, of course it would be Apollo.

Zeus, damn his brother, knew that.  He had not agreed to Hades’ demands to punish Asclepius for Hades’ sake, but as a way to control Apollo further.  Even the first time, Hades could see now, had been a carrot and stick situation – kill Apollo’s son but then revive him, ensuring Apollo’s loyalty whilst pretending to appease Hades’ rage.

This second occasion, casting a god down into Tartarus for eternity?  While Hades still liked it, delighted, even, in the idea that the irritating god would not trifle with death ever again, there was a sour taste to the punishment now, because it had not been a punishment for Asclepius at all, not in the mind of his brother.  Zeus had taken Hades’ rage and used it as justification not to punish the young god’s transgression, but to hurt his own son further.

Had Apollo been on Olympus when news of his son’s fate reached his ears, Hades wondered how he would have reacted, if it would have been extreme enough that Zeus would have called it unacceptable and declared that he once again had no choice but to teach his son a lesson?

He stared into the swirls of the River Styx, clouded with the pollution of broken promises, and wondered why Styx had given him this information.  What she gained from it.

He didn’t know, but he knew one thing – Asclepius’ punishment could not be nullified, his own pride and fury would not allow it, but he would not let it be Apollo’s punishment before the real perpetrator’s.

His feet had turned him around, his back to the Styx and the disconcerting distant bubble of harsh noise that might almost be the goddess laughing, before he’d realised what they were doing, and Hades wondered why they had.  The prison was the other way, across the river, and another river besides.  His whole reason for being in Tartarus in the first place was now behind him.

Except that wasn’t quite true; he’d entered Tartarus not just to find and stop the voice baiting his son, but also because he’d known Apollo would struggle so far from the Overworld, from light and life and healing and all those other things his nephew thrived on.

The nephew he’d let storm away from him, to save a son because apparently Apollo placed his sons above himself (and that, too, should have been obvious – why else had Apollo elected to claim the sunshine of the prophecy for himself, rather than let William stumble through hell?).

Hades let out a bark of frustration – even when he wasn’t in his vicinity, Apollo apparently was still capable of being annoying, distracting, and the centre of attention – and stormed back the way he came.

Still steaming from Zeus’ manipulation, from the way he was suddenly aware he was not as in control as he thought he was, from Apollo’s kind-hearted idiocy – and really, what had his nephew done to get on Styx’ bad side; Apollo was supposed to be smarter than that, the imbecile – he barely noticed Cocytus’ attempts to drown him in despair, or Phlegethon’s attempts to sear his form to pieces.  He certainly did not notice how long it might have taken him to retrace his steps, nor care, for the first time since arriving in the Pit.

What he did notice was, homing in on a sudden beacon of light that flickered and wavered at the edges as though darkness was trying to snuff it out and was not entirely failing, was two gods covered liberally in ichor, surrounded by a hoard of monsters that Apollo should have been able to obliterate in seconds but was apparently struggling against.

His nephew was in a state – ichor stained his armour and his bare skin where it peaked out behind the protection.  His throat was deformed, almost as though something had tried to eat him.  (Hades had once been eaten alive, but that had been swallowed whole and infinitely bad enough.  To be torn apart by teeth – what sort of hell would that have been?  Although maybe that would have stopped him from being aware the whole time, from living and growing in a stomach with four siblings when there wasn’t even space for one-)

Hades steadfastly refused to look at the other god, one he still hated, still wanted to see punished for what he’d done, for his disrespect of the natural order of things, of Hades’ domain.

Uninjured, apparently unlike his mess of a nephew, he made short work of the remaining assailants, and stepped forwards, towards Apollo.

He barely got his sword up in time to block the arrow.

“Don’t even try, Hades,” Apollo snarled, but his quiver was empty and it took him more than a split second to materialise another arrow in his hand.  Hades was the stronger of the two anyway, although perhaps not by so much as he had once assumed; not that that mattered then.  In Apollo’s current state, there was no way the younger god could hope to defeat him in a fight.

“Are you so weak you cannot even drive off a simple hoard of lowlifes?” he replied, although he stayed where he was – just because he could deflect Apollo’s arrows in the archer’s current state did not mean he wanted to.  “Where is my thanks for saving your hides?”

The new arrow was drawn back, and Hades rolled his eyes.  “Put that down,” he ordered.  “If I intended on harming your son at this time, I would not have gone through the effort of saving him first.”

Apollo’s eyes, still Phlegethon-orange, bored into him not too dissimilarly to the way Styx’s had, and Hades recalled that one of his nephew’s many domains was truth.  He did not know exactly how that manifested, especially between gods, but after a moment, the bow was hesitantly lowered.

“You came back,” Apollo said, his voice low and rough.  Hades was certain that his journey through Tartarus had not been as uneventful as Hades’ own, and wondered which of the Pit’s more powerful inhabitants he had fallen foul of – and no doubt defeated, to still be standing, and with his son, who would have been torn apart long before Apollo himself.  The near-rasp of the god of music’s voice did nothing but further cement that certainty.  “Why?”

Why, indeed.

Chapter 11>>

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

           Kang Jiseok, a 36 year old son of Isis.            He is a Pediatrician at Asclepius General Hospital.

IN CHARACTER

FC NAME/GROUP: Kwon Jiyong/G-Dragon (BigBang)

CHARACTER NAME: Kang Jiseok

AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 36 (08/18/88)

PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, South Korea

OCCUPATION: Pediatrician at Asclepius General Hospital

HEIGHT: 5’7”

WEIGHT: 127lbs

DEFINING FEATURES: Numerous tattoos in random places over his whole body, and pierced ears

PERSONALITY: His personality is often reflected in his style choices and array of hair colours he rotates through. Upon meeting Jiseok many would think him a bright, and cheerful man; warm-hearted and kind and on occasion even a bit silly. And that would be true…to a point. Judgmental and eager to outshine others, Jiseok looks for and creates opportunities that put the shortcomings and flaws of others on display, all while maintaining an innocent facade.

HISTORY:

Jiseok’s first memory was fighting to be seen among the other children on visitation day. Unfortunately for him, no one wanted the sour-faced little boy who shied away from physical touch, but eagerly wanted to inform prospective parents of the other children’s flaws. When he wasn’t vying for attention that never came his way, Jiseok was relegated to helping look after the younger children at the orphanage. He didn’t hate it, but he couldn’t help feeling resentful as he watched them each be adopted one after another while he was still stuck there.

Slowly, from those around him, Jiseok picked up on the desirable traits future parents were looking for and began to practice them over and over. It wasn’t like he had to be sincere. Fake it ‘til you make it they always say, and fake it Jiseok did; right into a peaceful little two story home with a caring, doting mother and a…well, a father.

For years Jiseok was relatively happy. He could never please his father whose expectations were, as Jiseok saw it, outlandish and outdated, but no matter what Jiseok did his mother was proud. She made it so that Jiseok wanted to become a good person. She never put any pressure on him, and allowed him to live his life his own way. When he struggled, she was there to support him and Jiseok found himself eager to be like her. People liked her.

Even as he was nearing graduation and felt lost as to the course of his future she never wavered in her support, even as his relationship with his father grew strained.

But then she was just gone.

It was a simple car accident on her way home from work; a trip she had made a thousand times before. Doctor’s fought to save her for hours but inevitably she just couldn’t pull through and Jiseok’s whole life shattered. The one person who would normally be there to help him put all the pieces back together was gone and he had never felt more alone.

The next few years were a muddled mess for Jiseok. He came to blows with his father and was kicked out of his home. He started on the path to medical school because he knew it was what his mother had wanted, while working some of the worst jobs imaginable in order to get the funds. He found his soulmate, they got a small apartment together, and although they barely made ends meet Jiseok was finally starting to feel like himself again. He let himself feel happiness and like he had found his place in the world, but then like all things that too fell apart and he was left to start over again.

Once again life became a blur. He threw himself into his schooling, graduated top of his class and started his residency. It was only when working on a young patient one day that his powers manifested for the first time. Of course he began using them quietly, but more frequently; testing their potential and their limitations. Suddenly everything made sense: he was destined for a cursed life because he possessed such abilities.

Word of the ‘miracle pediatrician’ must have eventually made its way to Mount Phoenix because Jiseok found himself presented with a career opportunity that seemed almost too good to pass up. With nothing left to lose, Jiseok’s more than ready for a new start.

PANTHEON: Egyptian

CHILD OF: Isis

POWERS: 

Healing (injuries) - The person must have life remaining in them, however it does take more out of him if they are close to death. His specialty is children as they hardly affect him at all, however to heal a grown adult it can take him to the brink of exhaustion.

Protection Spell - A power that only works on children. By imparting a small amount of his energy to them through touch, the affected party remains safe from any form of physical harm for an extended period of time.

STRENGTHS: Jiseok is very driven and an expert problem solver when he wants to be. Anyone will tell you that he is one of the politest and most sincere people they’ve ever met, while the cheerful and fun persona he exerts daily helps to assuage any fears his patients might have.

WEAKNESSES: Although he wouldn’t like to admit it, Jiseok is a perfectionist. He can grow too focused on getting something just right to the point that he shuts everything else out, missing the bigger picture. Although he does well in social settings, Jiseok has a hard time making lasting connections with others, purposefully keeping them at arm’s length. Jiseok is quick to get defensive when his actions or intentions are questioned; often outraged and appalled, even if the criticism is warranted.

[blue-drink]

One-shot based on the prompt

Note: I have not read Lore Olympus, so I’m filling up the blanks with mythology knowledge and headcanons/things made up in the moment.

I changed Zeus asking Asclepius to sew Dionysus to his leg, to him doing it himself because it didn’t make sense with the “I cannot go to him, because he would tell Apollo.”

Prompt: “I beg someone write a fic where Zeus gets his baby back because oh my fucking gods i hate this so much”

.......................................................................................................................

“What?” She questioned.

“This is my child.” Her daughter answered.

“Persephone, where did you get that child?”

“He is mine! I told you!”

Demeter took a deep breath, “you are 19. And you have only known your ‘boyfriend’ for a few months. You expect me to believe that”

“Okay, okay, fine!” The goddess gave up. “I... Took him from his parent”

“What?! Persephone! I taught you better than that!” The mother exclaimed. “Who did you even take him from?! WHY did you take him?!”

“I had to, okay?! Zeus would be a horrible father to him!”

Demeter froze. “Zeus. You... Took a child from the LITERAL KING OF THE GODS?! You just took him?!”

This was baffling. “In which world would you think it is a good idea to kidnap a child?! Much less from one of the most important gods out there?!”

“And what was I supposed to do? Let him abandon this godling with NYMPHS?”

“What’s your problem with nymphs?! And if you were so worried, there are better ways! You could have volunteered to take the kid in, something that wasn’t literal kidnapping!”

“I didn’t kidnap him!” The spring goddess defended herself.

“And what do you call that then? You took a child from his father; you have no right to do so, you are not in charge of taking children from families, and you definitely did NOT do the investigation required for it!!”

“FINE!” She exclaimed. “If you are not going to support me in this, I’m leaving! Say goodbye to your grandson, you are never seeing him again!”

The young goddess turned to take the baby in her arms, and towards the door, only to see the exit be blocked with vines.

“... Mother, let me leave.”

“Not with that child, I won't. You have committed a horrible crime, I’m calling Zeus.”

The pink goddess imminently turned back towards the older, “Mother! Please, do not!” She exclaimed, opening her arms and letting the child fall.

Demeter acted quickly; a flower bed appeared under the baby, cushioning his fall. Even then, it didn’t stop him from waking up and start to cry out.

“Look what you did!” The mother exclaimed, raising the child to her own arms and undoing the vines on the doorway. “Leave. Now.”

At that moment, the daughter turned once more to the door and ran away.

Demeter stayed there a few seconds; staring at the door, wondering where she went wrong with her daughter. Then, a vine closed the door, and she made a bee-line for the kitchen to make the small boy a feeding bottle.

Once the child was sleeping once more, she fetched her phone from her pocket and dialed her brother-in-law.

{Ring!}{Ring!}{Ri—} «Hello?» His voice came softer than usual.

“Hello, Zeus. It seems my daughter took something yours, you can pick him up from my house.” She stated, matter-of-factly.

«What are you— Wait! You have him?»

“Yes, he is sleeping at the moment. I’m not sure how she took him from you in the first place, so I expect some answers.”

A short silence.

“You there?”

«I— Yes, it’s just— Can you, please promise me you aren’t joking. Please— Tell me this isn’t a trick to make fun of me»

She raised an eyebrow, “You really think me capable of making fun of you for losing your child? What kind of hypocrite do you think I am?”

«It’s not—» A sob sounded in the line. «It’s not like that, I know that you wouldn’t. But— My head refuses to listen to reason, so please— I, kind of need it.»

She softened her voice, “Of course, I promise. He is right here, you can come pick him up.”

«And she, isn’t there, is she?»

“No, I kicked her out.”

A small chuckle, «I knew there was a reason I liked you, ruthless as always. I will—» A cough. «I will be there in shortly. Thank you.»

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

“No— thank you so much.” He answered, laying on the couch with his child on his chest, tears running down his checks.

Demeter took the old chair on the opposite side, “If you are ready, I think I deserve some answers.”

“Yes— Yes, of course.” He sat up, still holding his son close to his chest. “Where do I begin?”

“Maybe by who is the child’s mother?” She prompted.

“Right. Well. A couple years ago, I fell in love with a princess, from Thebes, her name was Semele and I fell a little too much.”

“With a little too much, you mean...?”

“Yes, that’s why I put so much effort on avoiding Hera knowing about it. It wouldn’t matter anyway anymore, Semele is gone. As I said, she was a princess, a mortal; there were complications, and it ended her life.”

He took a moment to breathe, and looked down at his son. “I could barely save this small thing,” he hugged him impossibly closer, “by sewing him to my leg.”

The goddess looked at the father with his son, “I guess that answers that, but how did Persephone kidnap him?”

He quivered at the name, “like— Like I said, I could barely sew him to my leg, so I doubted I would be able to cut though my own skin alone.”

“I considered going to Asclepius for help, but I wanted to keep it quiet. If Asclepius knows, so does Apollo. If Apollo knows, so does everyone on Olympus.”

“I could have gone to my daughter Eileithyia, but—” He sighed. “To be honest, I couldn’t even begin to warp my head around any of my children seeing me like that.”

“The reason I asked her for help... There are multiple reasons, actually. First, because of her growing up in a farm, with animals, she would not be too afraid to cut and see some gore.”

“Fair enough, I guess. The other reasons?”

“Because she is staying on the underworld a lot more, it would be difficult for the rumors to reach Olympus. The dead do not speak.”

“Lastly; she is really good with healing magic, I was hoping she would be kind enough to heal me a little after I literally gave birth. But it appears she isn’t.”

“Wait, what?” She asked, bewildered.

“What you just heard. I was exhausted from having my leg opened, and you know, bleeding everywhere; and she just took my child and stared at him. Said something of him looking like Hades? Honestly, I was too exhausted to really think about it.”

Demeter just stared at him, “Really, at what point did I go wrong with her? I taught her better than all this shit.”

He put his hands on either side of the baby’s head at the swear, but didn’t comment on it. “Not sure. And I’m not really sure about what happened after, I was just too tired. I think I just kinda of passed out, but was still awake somehow?”

“Next thing I know; I’m back at Olympus, on my bed and without my son. It took me a few hours to fully figure out that she took him.”

She just took a deep breath before speaking up once again, “Thank you for telling me this. Would you like some water?”

“I— Yes, thank you. And if you could make another bottle for my little one?”

She got up with a small smile, “Of course. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The goddess filled a bottle and put it to warm up, then filled a glass with water and took it to the god, “Here you go, the bottle will be ready in a moment.” She said before going back in the kitchen for it.

“I cannot possibly thank you enough for this,” he said while feeding his child, “you have reunited me with my son, what could I possibly award you for this kindness?”

Demeter sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “you don’t have to do anything for me, I couldn’t just stand by such injustice.”

“Even so.” He insisted.

The goddess apparently changed the topic, “She told me you were going to leave him to some nymphs to raise him, tell me about them.”

“I— Well, they are descendants from the nymphs that took care of me when I was but a newborn, I think one of my first babysitters still lives there. I have been visiting every couple years, they have a goat sanctuary in honor of Amalthea, one of my nurses, and they are very gentle souls. I just know they would— They will take good care of him.”

“Alright then, let’s go.” She suddenly said, getting up.

“Wait, what?”

“You said you wanted to do something to reward me for helping you meet your son. Well, you can start by letting me meet them. Let’s go.”

The more I think about Lore Olympus! Dionysus the angrier I get

BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN PERSEPHONIE STOLE A FUCKING BABY FROM THE KING OF THE GODS WHO LITTERALLY JUST GAVE BIRTH

MY MAN IS NOT IN THE HEADSPACE TO DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT OH MY GODS

YOURE NOT EVEN GONNA LET HIM HOLD THE FUCKING BABY???

Stfu about the 'he'll just abandon him', mate he sewed the fucking thing in his thigh to save it do you THINK hes gonna abandon him after all that???

I beg someone write a fic where Zeus gets his baby back because oh my fucking gods i hate it so much

[the-ghost-king]

wait Apollo isn’t originally greek? thats so interesting 👀👀

Where ever did you hear that? /ij

Definitely putting all of this under a read more, it’s a long one!

Cw: Greek statues, they're naked :/

But yeah, Apollo was actually an inherited god, it’s likely that because of this as well he was a blending of multiple different gods to some extent. It’s also good to note that Apollo’s name is unknown, meaning that nobody really knows what exactly Apollo means, which is pretty weird all things considered about the Greeks who placed such importance on the god’s forenames (ie, phoebeus, acestor, age’tor, etc). 

"Though Apollo was the most Hellenic of all gods, he derived mostly from a type of god that originated in Anatolia and spread to Egypt by way of Syria and Palestine." (X)

There’s a couple of different things which point to Apollo being a Anatolian god (or being of, coming from him) named Appaliunas, and it is said they were on opposite sides of a war most beloved of their people during the fight. It’s important to note that it’s believed Appaliunas means “father light” and that he shows some level of importance over drafting peace treaties (which Apollo has some reputation in as the bringer of civilized order). We don't know too much about their connections however, because the documents are incomplete.

This theory also makes sense, because the name Leto (Apollo’s mother) is Lydian in origin, and there’s decent connections to her having been worshiped on the coast's of Asia Minor. And it is known the Greeks have adopted Anatolian gods into their religion before, see Cybele (sometimes called Cybele-Rhea), and the origin of Kore (later Persephone). There's stuff which points also to an Anatolian goddess called "Artimu" (Artemis) who is often confused to Cybele for some reason, and again this bears connections to the Lydians which worshipped Leto. There's information which points to Hekate being a goddess from Anatolia as well, which shows significance considering she is Apollo and Artemis's cousin (leading to my personal question of was Phoebe Anatolian in origin?). Apollo's divine number being 7 shows Babylonian or at least Mesopotamian Origin.

The Geographical location of these two places also bears similarities, they are close to one another, and it's known the Greeks had decent travel capabilities over water. There's also the fact that both of these lands border Troy, which is shown to have significant values in Greek culture and mythology, as well as the Greek belief that the Anatolian gods were present at Troy as well as the Greek gods.

(It's also notable the similarities in naming traditions, Alaksandu for one such example, does not sound too far off from the later Latin name Alexander, which came from the Greek name Aléxandros).

The other possible origin given for Apollo is Aplu (Apulu), a Hurrian god (of people who lived in Anatolia, Syria, and Northern Mesopotamia). Aplu and Apollo bear semblance to one another in more than name, Aplu was the god of plague (bringer of the plague more specifically) and he bears a large amount of resemblance to Apollo Parno'pius/Smitheus and Aplu's main story provides reasoning as to why Apollo may also be the god of healing and Medicine.

The story of Aplu involves the idea that the individual which brings the plague, must also be the one to banish it. This makes Aplu both bringer of plague(s) but also, protector from plague(s). From this we learn Aplu's name means "son of" (please note here Apollo's iconographic connections to "youth" and "sonship" among the Greeks, as the god of kouros), but the connection of "the son of" was a title granted also to the god Nergal (worshiped by many different people(s) across Mesopotamia) who is at least in part someone who holds power over the sun, and holds connection to Shamash (Utu).

Aplu is also often depicted naked (ya know) but wearing a laurel leaf, and part of a cloak... It's funny how these images are Apollo though:

Aplu is also symbolized by a staff and laurel a twig(s), while we know Apollo to be associated closely with the laurel because of Daphne, and Apollo having iconography related to staffs involves him giving his away to Hermes- which perhaps has to do with the caduceus being interpreted as the symbol for medicine, or the connection of Apollo to Asclepius and the rod of Asclepius.

Aplu isn't isolated necessarily either, there is also the Etruscan goddess Aritimi (Artume, Artames, or Artumes) and she oversees animals, human assemblies, and is considered a hunting deity. As well as scrolling through this list, you'll note more than one Greek/Roman mythological figure.

There's also a ton of stuff from Etruscan mythology (Hurrian mythology is just a subsect of Etruscan mythology) which overlaps with Greek mythology, some sources even state Etruscan -> Greek -> Roman mythology (I wont comment on that because I don't know well enough).

There's some other places Apollo's name might have come from, but those are probably the two most likely under the assumption that Apollo is a collective of many gods.

These are the specifics of the Anatolian god's Apollo may be born of/from, but there's a variety of things which point to him and mythology around him being of other origins as well (Minoan, Dorian, and Proto-Indo-European... yeah)

You may have heard one of Apollo's sacred animals is dolphins, Apollo Delphinios/Delphidios, this is because of a Minoan god named Paiawon (Paion) who was worshiped on Crete and also originated in Delphi. In the second part of Homeric hymn to Apollo, Apollo would transform his shape into that of a dolphin and carry the new priests to Delphi for the transfer of religious practices:

"Phoebus Apollo pondered in his heart what men he should bring in to be his ministers in sacrifice and to serve him in rocky Pytho. And while he considered this, he became aware of a swift ship upon the wine-like sea in which were many men and goodly, Cretans... Phoebus Apollo met them: in the open sea he sprang upon their swift ship, like a dolphin in shape, and lay there, a great and awesome monster, and none of them gave heed so as to understand but they sought to cast the dolphin overboard. But he kept shaking the black ship every way and making the timbers quiver. So they sat silent in their craft for fear, and... so they kept sailing on; for a rushing south wind hurried on the swift ship from behind... They wished to put their ship to shore, and land and comprehend the great marvel and see with their eyes whether the [dolphin] would remain upon the deck of the hollow ship, or spring back into the briny deep where fishes shoal. But the well-built ship would not obey the helm, but went on its way all along Peloponnesus and the lord, far-working Apollo, guided it easily with the breath of the breeze..." (X)

Apollo Delphinios was largely only worshiped by people of Crete and surrounding islands, but this is also largely where Paiawon was worshiped as well. There's also many things from early Grecian history which simply state Apollo to be Paiawon or of Paiawon, or at least doesn't bother to specify which god is being talked about.

In the earlier parts of Greek history, seventh-sixth century, there was distinctions made between the pair:

"and in Solon's opinion it is Apollo who makes a man a μάντις (soothsayer) but healers do the work of Paion" (X)

The whole thing with Apollo being descended from Paiawon however, is that Paiawon may not be Minoan but Mycenaean in origin, which means even if Apollo is originated in Minoan culture one of the gods who has influenced that origin wasn't even necessarily Minoan but taken in. Others believe Paiawon was Minoan or Aegean in origin but very far in the past, since his songs used a meter of pre-Greek origin.

You'll also not the commonalities between Paion (a spelling of Paiawon) and Paean (also spelled Paian), Apollo's original name according to Homer. It could mean a variety of things but "who heals illnesses through magic" and "pre-greek" are the most common translations of the word Paean, but it is also associated with music (most specifically a song sung by Thetlas who cured the Spartans) and is said to denote hymns for Apollo.

"PAEAN, that is, "the healing," is according to Homer the designation of the physician of the Olympian gods, who heals, for example, the wounded Ares and Hades. After the time of Homer and Hesiod, the word Paian becomes a surname of Asclepius, the god who had the power of healing. The name was, however, used also in the more general sense of deliverer from any evil or calamity, and was thus applied to Apollo and Thanatos, or Death, who are conceived as delivering men from the pains and sorrows of life... From Apollo himself the name Paean was transferred to the song dedicated to him, that is, to hymns chanted to Apollo for the purpose of averting an evil, and to warlike songs, which were sung before or during a battle." (X)

In regards to the possibility of Apollo having been of Minoan origin, one must consider not only his origins but the origins of the gods and goddesses around him and how they may have developed over time.

In this case Britomartis (Diktynna) is of particular interest, she was the Minoan "mistress of animals", she was a goddess (or sometimes nymph, or oread) of the mountains and the hunt. There's points to the name meaning "sweet maiden" or other similar things, but it is debatable.

Eventually Britomartis would become the goddess of nets in Hellenic myths, and would simply be closely identified with the goddess of Artemis. However, to the Minoans Britomartis wandered alongside a bow-wielding male hunter who's name has been lost, it is likely that aspects of this hunter were absorbed into Apollo; when the introduction of worshiping Artemis was brought to the island of Crete where Britomartis was also worshiped they were compared and quickly said to be of one another.

It is also said in some variations the myths of Britomartis that she was taken to the mainland in the nets of men after fleeing Minos, this seems like a euphemism for her as a goddess of worship being brought by fisherman to mainland and taken into their culture and worship, more so than it sounds like a goddess's story. Perhaps this led to her becoming Artemis, although most myths seem to agree Artemis gave Britomartis immortality... So who knows, but it's a point of particular interest for me.

Also I know I mentioned proto-indo-european origins for Apollo and I could analyze gods and goddesses relating to Apollo being a Minoan god like Aphaea, but I am not going to lie I am rather sick mostly of sourcing everything and I don't like to talk about stuff without stuff to back me up because I don't want to come across like I'm pulling information or ideas out of thin air because that's how misinformation spreads... But yeah, here's a somewhat simplified piece on Apollo's possible origins as a pre-Hellenistic god, and I hope you enjoy because I know you sent the ask a bit ago <3

[namelessarcher]

How about Asclepius & Master hc's where his master tries to hide their injuries from him, but he notices because his master nearly passes out and he has to catch them to stop them from falling

Words cannot begin to capture the anger and eagerness that Asclepius is experiencing all at the same time. He’s infuriated that you went through an entire day's worth of missions and didn’t bring it up to him, yet at the same time he wonders if your injury is anything new. His desire to learn more and eagerness to see if there was something new and undiscovered almost overshadows his fear that he might lose you - almost.

He reacts quickly, immediately barking out demands to anyone nearby to set up a room while he gets you to rest on the floor. He lays you down gingerly and starts searching for any visible injuries. And while some Servants may disagree with Asclepius’ methods, they all know that you are in good hands as he goes over every expanse of your skin to make sure there are no open injuries. He finally finds the injury located on your upper right arm. It’s a tiny, barely visible injection site - most likely from some sort of insect or a small machine. Likely, it’s poison. He doesn’t know how you ended up getting poisoned, especially since he had been by your side the entire time during your most recent mission since he had only came along as back up.

He knows that it’s risky to move you, especially since the poison has been circulating for a while and god knows what kind of effects it will have, but you have to get to the medical rooms as soon as you can in order to make sure that he has the correct tools to extract the poison if possible. At times like these, he’s grateful that you have a strong immunity to poison, but at the same time he was intrigued, what kind of poison did the enemies use to render you so weak and fatigued? Your vitals were still stable, but your breathing was weak and shallow.

He ends up forcing everyone out of the infirmary in order to ensure that he could focus on your condition without any distractions. He did ask Mash to stay behind - but she wasn’t allowed inside the room, only outside - and only for him to ask her to grab more supplies if needed. He worked in absolute silence while treating you, and it worried Mash since the glint in his eyes showed that he was more curious about what kind of poison it was rather than your recovery. Although when it comes to poison, analyzing the poison and crafting an antidote for it - so perhaps it checks out.

It takes Asclepius a few days longer than he had wanted to figure out your situation, but he cannot explain just how much joy it brought him that he had successfully created an antidote and he also discovered what kind of poison it was that was running its course through you. He was irritated that it took him so long to bring you back to full health, but he is grateful that he was given the chance to analyze and learn from the experience and also help you. He doesn’t ever admit that he was worried for you, but the few Servants that knew him could tell that he was worried when he began demanding for Servants to go out of their way to find certain materials and supplies in order to stall the poison.

[korissideblog]

Boohoo it’s the Aito Rin Bestyship fic <3

[Rin is from the lovely @kamiart <3 everybody give it up for @kamiart <33]

Rin, finally energized after a full day’s rest, wandered into the communal kitchen, a bit surprised to see a familiar shadow in the darkness. She approached quietly and waved to her friend’s back. “Hey Takao kun!” Rin said, only to be met with a girlish scream as the boy turned and brandished a knife in her direction.

It would honestly be scarier if the knife wasn’t dulled to a round edge, as well as covered in peanut butter.

“Oh, hey Rin-Rin!” Aito chirped, as though nothing had happened. “I’m just making a midnight snack, what’s up?”

“Ah, I’m just walking around a bit.” Rin responded, clasping her hands behind her back. “It’s kinda tough being one of the few nocturnal students… I mostly just train and do homework”

“Oh yeah, I totally get that!” Aito laughed, nodding as she turned to continue making her open-faced sandwich. “My sleep schedule gives me 2 or 3 hours awake in the middle of the night- but I'm not usually studying.” he said with a mischievous grin. Aito was about to shove the sandwich into her mouth, but paused, before looking back at Rin. “uh… Haru usually says I should share. Want some?” Aito asked, holding out the sandwich to Rin.

“O-oh! Well- thanks but- I got my own snack.” Rin explained, holding up a couple bags of chips from the vending machine. “Uh, actually, you wanna come with me? I’m on a study break and… wanted to go look at the stars for a bit…”

Aito’s ears perked up as his tail wagged, nodding quickly “of course Rin! I’d love to hang out with you!” she giggled, shoving the sandwich into her mouth before walking to one of the windows and cracking it a bit. He was sitting on the window sill, about to pull himself up when Rin actually understood what he was doing and ran up to stop him.

“Takao kun! You don’t… there’s a stairway up there, you know.” she said. Aito stared for a second, eyes empty as he thought about what she was saying, before he took the sandwich out of his mouth and nodded.

“Yeah I knew that… I just- uh- usually go this way. we can go up the stairs if you want.” she said, slipping out of the window and standing still. “Uhh… yeah I super know where it is too… do you wanna lead the way though? Uh- so I can focus on eating?” he continued, as if making the reasoning up on the spot. Rin covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed at Aito, and led the way to the staircase at the end of the hall.

The two laid on their backs on top of a blanket stolen from the common room, staring up at the night sky.

“Ophiuchus and Serpens!” Aito said, pointing up to a particular grouping of stars. “Ophiuchus- greek word meaning ‘snake bender,’ from the story of Asclepius! Asclepius- son of Apollo and Coronis- was the medicine god, one so well trained that he could bring people back from the dead!” Aito traced the figure of the man with her finger. “It frightened Hades, and he asked Zeus to kill the god for him- which he totally did- but then he gave Ascelepius that constellation!” he said, leaning back again and trying to spot another constellation his mother taught him.

"Tsuki no Usagi” Rin mumbled, pointing to the moon. “Śakra once came to earth disguised as a beggar. He asked for food from a fox, a monkey, and a rabbit. The fox brought the beggar fish, the monkey brought fruits, but the rabbit only had grass to offer.” Rin continued, closing her eyes as she told the story. “The rabbit asked the man to make a fire, and once it was made, the rabbit jumped into the flames. To honor the rabbit’s generosity, Śakra brought him up to the moon with him.” Aito nodded, appreciating the story and about to add to it when Rin sat up. "...You know, I come up here a lot… when I'm just feeling lonely, or bored.

"When I see the moon, and hear all the crickets, the trees, the wind...I don't know why, but, it just makes me feel at ease- y'know? Like...like I'm not always alone in the world. Every single day, every night...we're just surrounded by so much life, and activity- and I guess, it just makes me feel less lonely…” Rin giggled, folding her legs up to her chest and holding them, still looking at the night sky, seemingly lost in thought.

Aito, ever the master with words, immediately blanked on what to say to that. He wasn’t very poetic like Rin, so instead he tackled the girl, hoping to lighten the mood with some playful wrestling.

Aito immediately found himself on the ground, having been flipped over Rin’s shoulder and pinned to the roof like it was nothing. Aito almost believed that one of Rin’s many defenders had shown up just to ruin his fun, till the person kneeling on his back flinched away, immediately apologizing in Rin’s voice.

“Sorry Takao kun!!!” she cried, falling back on her butt as she scooted away from him. “I-I didn’t mean that! I’m so sorry- are you hurt?!” she continued to ramble as Aito stared at her in shock.

He took a second to move, sitting up on his knees and punching the air. “THAT WAS SO COOL RIN-RIN!!!” she shouted, nearly at the top of her lungs. “I didn’t know how strong you were!! You can really move when you’re all charged up!!!” she rambled, her tail wagging wildly. “I’ve beat you a whole bunch of times in training fights! Ohhh next time though we gotta do it at night! AUGH! I really didn’t know how powerful you were!”

Rin flinched away from the girl’s excitement, only laughing along when she realized that he wasn’t upset with her. “I-I mean… we really dont know alot about each other…” Rin said, a bit less energetic than Aito.

Aito paused for a moment, steadying as he realized what Rin had said. “I’d like to change that!” Aito blurted out, as if there was nothing filtering his mind from his mouth.

Aito took a second to actually think, sitting back down as he looked over at Rin. “I… uh… when I was a kid, I didn’t really do the whole… friends thing…” he admitted, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he spoke. “I was just… I was so scared all the time. I don't remember what I was scared of… but it was enough to keep me alone for so long. Ever since I can remember, it’s just been me and mamá. I didn’t need anybody else… or at least I thought so…”Aito lowered his head a bit, like a dog who was caught doing something it shouldn’t have. “But now that I'm here, with all these friends and… I mean… sometimes I wonder what I missed out on… being so afraid for so long.” Aito mumbled, before lifting his head to look at Rin, staring rather expectantly.

Rin realized what he wanted, and looked away nervously. She really wasn’t as open of a book as Aito was, and just didn’t feel ready to talk about her life before UA.

But Aito had been so honest and vulnerable… and Rin couldn’t just ignore that.

“I-I was… I was kinda the same, I guess.” She shrugged, sitting cross legged across from the demon boy. “Before UA, I was… I was really alone. I didn’t have anybody looking out for me… so I really wasn’t ready to trust someone enough… to be friends with them.” Rin explained, her hair falling gently infront of her eyes as she lowered her head. “I guess… I guess I was just afraid… kinda like you?” The two sat together in pensive silence, till Rin lifted her head again. “But I'm not afraid anymore.” She said, confidently. “I have so many friends now… and I'm so happy that I do.”

Aito smiled weakly, holding himself with his arms as if cold. “I don’t… really know what friendship… is supposed to feel like.” She admitted, pausing when Rin rested her hand onto his shoulder.

“I think we get to decide that… for ourselves.”

And now, at this very second, on the roof of the UA dorm building, with the shining stars glittering in an inky void of black, space surrounding them so completely, that they could almost understand the sickening infinity of the universe, the two completely ignored it all. For they could only understand the sickening infinity of friendship two people could have, tapping the border between “kind acquaintances” and genuine friendship.

Aito is the one who broke it, moving from their frozen state and returning to their blanket, patting the spot next to him. Rin returned as well, laying down as Aito did the same.

Carefully, Aito traced a couple of stars out of the night sky, seemingly random until she opened her mouth. “A bunny… with horns.” She mumbled, her hand falling back down to rest on her stomach. “It’s us… that can be our constellation.” She said, surely.

“I like that…” Rin chuckled, watching as Aito repeated the motion, as if drawing it into the night sky itself. “Should we make up a story for it, or-“ Rin blinked as she realized that Aito was drifting off to sleep next to her. He attempted to wake the boy, but gave up in her efforts when he sleepily pushed her hands away. Rin wasn’t sure what to do, till Aito reached out and grabbed her arm, wrapping his arms around it and cuddling close. She’s been told by many people that Aito was a cuddler, but almost didn’t believe it till the boy had proven them right himself. Rin giggled quietly to herself, before patting Aito on the head. “I know you don’t like being alone… so I’ll keep you company tonight…” she said, returning her gaze to the sky. It was definitely a beautiful night out, and Rin was happy that she got to see it… especially with her friend, Aito.

Aito awoke with the sun, mostly because it was shining on his face. He huffed a bit as he found himself on the uncomfortable rooftop, but stopped his usual stretch prematurely when he realized that Rin was napping right beside him. Aito considered leaving her to her nap, but realized that she might be upset if she missed class. She wasn’t sure why he cared if Rin was upset, but he did. Carefully he removed himself from the cuddle they had been sleeping in, and pulled the blanket around Rin. He made sure she was nice and secure before lifting her into his arms. He almost launched her before he realized that she was much lighter than she appeared, but luckily got back on balance quickly. Aito gently carried his friend Rin down the stairs and back to the dorms, hoping to give her time to wake up as he did so.

[acrosstimeandspace]

wrapped up together

a little cozy winter drabble

The winter storms outside aren’t felt in Chaldea’s walls. The building’s systems kept the temperature of most of the building at a truly comfortable temperature. And the odd snowstorm here and there never gave any feeling to a particular season.

But knowing that December was rolling in always sent the ever cuddly Fae into an even more affectionate mood. The only downfall in the past was the fact being that their usual cuddle partner wasn’t around for them to give him that affection. Instead of nights that weren’t long enough spent wrapped up in Daybit’s arms — his head sometimes snuggled into their neck where he could blow cold air teasingly to kill tickle them — they gave their affection away with hugs around and doting on their children.

And though they loved the winters they spent doting on friends and family, it never really eased that ache in their chest. That quiet, painful thumping whenever they let their mind wander for too long, that brought on a loneliness that no one’s arms could soothe.

Now though, things were different. Daybit, their daylight, was back, was here. So as the first night of December rolled on they couldn’t help but be excited to bound back to their shared quarters. And as if he was equally excited, their boyfriend laid splayed out on the bed like a starfish in the coziest pajamas he had — long plaid pajama bottoms and a cotton t-shirt.

The sound of the door must’ve caught his attention, because Daybit’s head quickly turned towards them, a small smile on his lips. His blond hair was messed up, and from the look freshly blow dried as it was just too fluffy for them to resist running their fingers through his hair as they reached him.

He nuzzled up to their touch, letting out a pleased hum as they gently scratched his scalp. “Be my weighted blanket, please?”

“Pajamas first, Daylight.”

Daybit nodded his head, purple eyes opening to look up at them as they pulled their hand away. He turned his body to face them as they went and collected their pajamas, before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

“How was your day?” He called out to them. “I heard Asclepius has you do a check up.”

“Mhm! Yeah, just because of that scratch I got during that minute Singularity fix last week. He wanted to make sure I was taking proper care of it.”

“And are you?” Daybit’s voice was teasing and knowing, and he smiled as he remembered all the times Fae had similar conversations with the healers in Askr.

They popped their head out from the bathroom door, tongue stuck out as they blew a raspberry at him. He gasped in mock offense, rolling back onto his back dramatically.

“It’s not even there anymore, actually! I’m all healed up!”

“Good, I’m proud that you’re taking care of yourself, Fae.”

“I always do…”

He looked at them with a blank face now, and they sighed, “Okay fiiiiinnne! I am actually taking care of myself now.”

“And?”

“And I’m making sure to get proper rest and food, and to let the people I care about know how I’m feeling.”

“And how are you feeling?”

“In need of Daybit cuddles.”

Fae finally came out from the bathroom, in a camisole and shorts, as they strolled up to their boyfriend and looked down at him with the biggest, begging eyes they could muster. He smiled at them as he gestured for them to lay down, which they did, on top of him. He let out a satisfied sigh as he wrapped his arms around them, nuzzling the top of their head as they wrapped their own arms under him.

“I’m no doctor, but I think that the most relaxing thing to do at the end of the day is to hold someone you love.” Daybit murmured.

“Mhmm, I can feel my sleepiness melt away.”

Fae scooted up to place their face in the crook of his neck as he so often did to them, placing a soft kiss there as they settled back down.

“I love you, my daylight.”

“I love you too, starlight.”

[zazzander]

Some Lar!Octavian content no one asked for

Fandom: Heroes of Olympus

Timeframe: Set during / immediately after Trials of Apollo

Characters: Vesta/Hestia, Octavian

Octavian held his hand to the hearth flame within the amphitheatre. The sensation was strange. A buzzing feeling branching out along his hand. The fire reach deep within his fingers but failed to truly touch them.

It reminded him of his death. He had been burning. Yet he hadn’t felt it.

It was late. And Camp Half-Blood was asleep. But he was a ghost and ghost don’t sleep.

Despite the lateness, the fire in the amphitheatre burned brightly. It’s glow had attracted him, though he could not have said why. He had been avoiding people not that they could see him. He could choose to be visible. He could choose to interact with the world.

And he choose to remain unnoticed.

He knew that wasn’t what Jason had intended when he suggested Octavian look around Camp Half-Blood. He had wanted Octavian to meet people.

But Octavian hated people. Especially ones he didn’t know.

People were trouble.

He blinked and saw something through the flames. He frowned, and realised it was a young girl. No more than ten.

He circled the fire, until he could see her fully. She watched him. Her eyes reflected the flames of the hearth. Her hair swirled around her head, black and shifting, like a dark smoke. He recognised her as Vesta… but different.

“Hestia.”

She gave him a soft smile.

He didn’t know what to do with that. He had not expected to encounter a goddess here. Especially not Hestia.

“Is this the Greek’s flame? They keep it out in the open.” He frowned, “Is it like ours? The one that sustains everything?”

“Who knows?” she said with a shrug.

“Isn’t your fire?”

“In a way. In another way, I am the fire. Do I sustain it – or does it sustain me? Do you know your nature?”

“Not really.”

He was a Lar, that much he could determine. But usually Lares couldn’t leave the limited of their domain, whether that be a house, a street, or a building. Some few were strong enough to represent broader concepts – the legion, for example. The legion had dozens of Lares.

But how he could be at Camp Half-Blood… that he hadn’t determined. He could imagine it was related to his promise to Jason. But how Jason knew, Octavian would never know.  

“A little…” he said, at least. “But you’re a god.”

She nodded, slowly. Her form shifted a slightly. She was still a young girl, no more than ten, but she wore a white hoodie now. Her eyes harder though no less wise.

Vesta.

He had never met her.

Back home, Vesta is the only goddess to have her temple within the boundary of New Rome. Sometimes female members of the legion will choose to join her cult after their service to Camp Jupiter. It is a thirty-year commitment. But in many ways her cult is more sacred than any other in New Rome, more so than even Jupiter. A priest is a priest, regardless of their god. But a Vestal is something more. They are Rome’s last line of defence against the chaos of the world.

The Vestals and their flame was the reason why Camp Jupiter has a city, why they have families year-round, why they are structured like a military and not a summer camp like Camp Half-Blood. All to protect them.

“A Lar is closer than a god than a mortal,” she said. “Though not the same. Similar. Many gods were born as demigods before they ascended: Dionysus, Asclepius, Aristaeus are just three. Is it so strange than we all know ourselves, but do not? Many of my brethren act within their nature without a thought of why.”

“Those gods you listed aren’t like me. They were great in their mortal life that’s why they ascended. And the Lares of New Rome. They’re all leaders, or skilled creators, people with wisdom to share. I’m not any of those things. I failed. I tried to be like them. I couldn’t do it.”

“Do you want to sit?”

“Sorry?”

“Sit with me. We will tend the fire together.”

He sighed, settling on the ground beside her. He didn’t look at her, instead followed her gaze to the flame. It was so strange to see it outside, unguarded. Was Hestia the only one to tend it?

He felt disgust and hatred climb up his throat like bile. It was much like these Greeks to disregard their minor gods. They had no true connection to their past. They were boats unmoored.

Before he could say anything, Vesta said, “Do you dislike it?”

“Dislike what?”

“Being as you are now?”

Octavian isn’t respond immediately. He felt like he owed Vesta a thought-out response, though he had no idea why she would want to know. He was dead. And he had become a Lar.

“No. I don’t dislike it,” he said. “In many ways its more comfortable. I have no blood, so my anaemia isn’t an issue. I don’t have to eat, so the fact I found eating difficult doesn’t matter. My insomnia can’t bother me since I don’t sleep anymore…

“And, more than that. I’m dead. And that’s… liberating. I have no more duties. And my ambitions can longer be achieved. I can move around as I wish, and no one can judge me. No one can even see me – but for that child of Hades.”

“Would you go back? If you could?”

“Back to living?”

She nodded.

“I don't know. I… I miss one thing. I miss being able to hug my sisters. I hated being touched so much in life, I avoided it, now… I miss it. But would I trade that for everything else? I don't know.”

They sat in silence for a long time. Vesta tended to her flame. Octavian watched her, observing.

“I remember,” he said, “just before I died. When the Parthenos came down, there was this feeling of warmth. Of calm. Was that your influence?”

“It was.”

“Do you hate me? For bringing an army here – for trying to kill your other half?”

She shook her head, “I find hate to be a painful emotion. It feasts on your happiness, hurting you more than it hurts any other.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So much of life, so much of decisions had been driven by hate. Hate for Kronos. Hate for the Greeks. Hate for the gods.

And it had ruined him.

It had killed him.

“I’m sorry.”

She did not reply.

“When I was alive, I had so many dreams,” he said, finding that he wanted to tell her everything. To explain to her why. “So many goals. I wanted to fix so much. I didn’t want kids to have to fight any more. I wanted to force everyone into change – including the gods. I know everyone thinks I’m just a power-hungry monster, but I didn’t see any other way. Things had to be fixed. They still do.”

He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“But in the end? I didn't do anything. I saved no one and fixed nothing. I'm at best a footnote in history, at worst a crazed villain.”

“One of my followers once wrote, ‘well behaved women seldom make history’. It is a line that is often used to prove to women that they must act out. That they must misbehave to make the pages of a history book. And that is a helpful take away for some, but it is not the original intent. My followers, those who tend the hearth, those who protect the warm and closeness needed for a family to thrive. Or an empire to thrive. Those people? There are no sagas about them. No sonnets or epics to speak of. They are not remembered.”

She looked at him then.

“That doesn’t mean their existence had no value. Heroes don't win without the efforts of the unspoken.”

He stood, suddenly uncomfortable. “That’s not me. That never will be. Those people you’re talking about accepted that they were… I didn’t. I don’t. I just can’t do anything about it.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Here?”

“Should you not have returned to Camp Jupiter? To New Rome?”

“I… It’s in ruins now. The emperors attacked it. They didn’t win, true. But it still hurts to see it. And… I couldn’t prevent it,” he sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all done.”

“That is not true. Life is never done.”

“I’m not alive.”

“Am I not alive then? Is this fire not alive? Life is more than just the domain of humans and demigods, young one.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you are young. And you are wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“About being unable to fix things. And about no longer having a duty. The hearth is my domain. What is yours?” 

[clarenecessities]

As my followers may have picked up from my long, spiraling rants, I’ve undertaken a new research project, courtesy of the death grip She-Ra has on my brain. And guess what? It’s finally at Disseminate Information Stage! So I’m going to lay out all of the gods, demigods, and godbeasts of the Masters of the Universe. With sources!

This table is more of a cheat sheet. We’re gonna tackle this god by god, with a section on Actual Lore & a meta section to help you decide how valid you think they are, because frankly some canons are more canon than others.

Asklepia, Benevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: Asklepia is one of two snake goddesses, the benevolent twin sister of Serpentia. We know very little about her abilities, but the Snake Clan (a clan of human warriors) were said to worship her, and they were famed for their architecture and healing. She had the ability to curse and deform people--to what extent is uncertain, but she’s known to have condemned a fallen priest named Ka, whose disfigured likeness now adorns Snake Mountain.

Behind the Scenes: First appearing in the 1987 comic “Il Nero Cristallo Del Potere“, Asklepia remained nameless for over 30 years, until Masters of the Universe Classics (MOTUC) released a few choice bios. For the unfamiliar, MOTUC seeks to reconcile the often contradictory canons into one overarching narrative, which is great in theory, but in practice is kind of like putting ice cream on a hot dog. And calling it a Chilly Dog ® as if that makes it taste better. But I digress. In 2019 they released a bio for the Staff of Ka which finally put a name to the less-evil Snake Goddess, in an obvious nod to Asclepius and the asklepian (that staff+snake icon people put on medical stuff).

Sharella, the Green Goddess and/or “Avatar” of Asklepia

Lore: Contradictory

Long Version: Okay I’ve put avatar in quotes because it is... contentious. Basically, and you’ll see here why I felt the need to make this post instead of relying blindly on the wikis, Sharella was introduced (in the ‘87 licensing guide) as a tribal leader who had joint custody of Gray, the original name of He-Ro’s alter ego, while he was growing up. This was further developed by Emiliano Santalucia’s concept work, wherein she was the leader of the Green Tiger Tribe (GTT) specifically. While the comic concept was not run through licensing & is thus not “canon”, the idea of her leading the GTT persisted. This teeny tiny image of her from Tytus and Megator’s 1987 Italian box art was all we had until 2008, when one of He-Man’s accessories described her as the “warrior woman ally” of Queen Veena, “who had been changed into the immortal green-skinned avatar of the Goddess Asklepia”. In 2009, MOTUC released a figure for The Goddess, apparently forgetting they’d done that shit the year before because the packaging did say “K’yrulla” was her real name. They had to cover it up with a sticker. 

So who’s The Goddess? Way back in the days before Mattel solidified any of the lore around MOTU, there were mini-comics released with the toys. Initially, the Goddess served a similar function to the Sorceress in the cartoon, and was in fact sometimes called the Sorceress. She facilitated He-Man’s transformations, gave him missions, was generally magical and mysterious, etc. If you know who the Sorceress is, and you can picture Teela, but green? That’s about it.

Back to Sharella, though. The Third Ultimate Battleground rolled around in 2015, and for the first time since some packaging in the 80s, we saw Sharella in action! She was shot through the heart with a poison arrow. Yeah. But don’t worry, she received a blood transfusion from Moss Man (who we’ll get to later), and was transformed into the Green Goddess! She’s immortal now. How Asklepia figures in here is sort of unclear, which is weird since this is still part of the MOTUC line, but whatever. Whatever! Queen Grayskull (the aforementioned Veena) received a bio in 2015 as well, which described Sharella as her apprentice who became “The Goddess”.

Horokoth, Aspect of the Mother Goddess

Lore: DC went a little batshit (pun intended) with the lore for the Eternity War. Here the Goddess is three combined aspects, “Serpos” (Serpentia) for the Snake Men, Zoar for the human “Eternians”, and a third, invented deity called Horokoth, who represents the Horde. Horokoth is “the coming destroyer. The darkness at the end of days.” and is represented by a bat.

Behind the Scenes: That last link has a clearer picture of her, it just didn’t crop well. Also, I confess I couldn’t bring myself to read Eternity War. As thrilling as the prospect of a cohesive narrative is, if I wanted to see Adora slit her brother’s throat there’s the edgier side of deviantArt to peruse. Therefore I know little of Horokoth outside of a few still images of Hordak. The bat was almost certainly selected for the Horde’s vespertilian emblem.

Hordeous, God-Beast of Horokoth

Lore: A “primordial”, bat-like godbeast of Horokoth, created in response to the god Saz’s feline races. Their face was “forever infused“ on the surface of Horde World by Horde Lord (Hordak and Horde Prime’s father in the MOTUC canon) to grant their family power and immortality.

Behind the Scenes: Yes they’ve used some words wrong, but they’ve got the spirit, right? Hordeous was (allegedly, this is secondhand) an invention of the MOTUC crew in answer to Horokoth. Now, the Horde Supreme bio predates Horokoth’s introduction by about 3 years, but obviously the comics were in production already. There’s an undated sketch of Horokoth Hordak from an undated interview (thanks for nothing you useless website) but in that same gallery there’s an orko sketch labeled 2012 so. We’re good right? That makes sense, timeline-wise. Anyway the comics slam dunked Horde Prime out of existence and combined him with Horde Lord so it’s contradictory anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Serpentia, Malevolent Snake Goddess

Lore: The evil counterpart of Asklepia, Serpentia is the goddess of the Snake Men. The priest Ka of the Snake Clan forsook Asklepia in her favor, destroying Asklepia’s sacred orb and stealing the Serpent Ring (an artefact capable of transforming humans into Snake Men) from the Ophidian Spire with King Hsss. In DC’s triune interpretation of the Goddess, Serpentia (here ‘Serpos’) is blood, passion, and desire. A primal and primordial force appearing to the Snake Men in their own image.

Behind the Scenes: Okay yes I’ve reused the Asklepia pic but in my defense they are twins and this is the easiest one to crop. So here’s the thing about Serpentia: we only got a name for her in 2019. We knew there was a snake goddess, and she was pretty evil, or at least hostile towards mammalian life (see: the source of the pic I chose for her). Where Asklepia references the asklepian, ‘Serpentia’ is a much more heavy-handed snake reference, even though Anguis was right there. Those Masters Mondays came through for us, though, with the shield and staff of Ka, Ssssylph, and of course MOTUC’s Dark Despot Skeletor, which is. something. Though only recently named, Serpentia has been a shadow over Eternia since the Snake Men’s introduction in 1985 (or, depending on how much of the presented backstory you accept, even sooner in the form of Skeletor’s lair, Snake Mountain).

Serpos/Sarcedon, God-Beast of Snake Mountain

Lore: Contradictory, but the gist of it is he’s a very large snake with elemental magic and a grudge, that was turned to stone and became Snake Mountain.

Long Version: Snake Mountain was conceived of towards the end of 1982, but wasn’t revealed to the public until September of 1983, with the debut of the Filmation cartoon. For another year, the snake coiled around its summit was simply a carving, its mouth hollowed out for Skeletor to stand in and loom. But in 1984 the Snake Mountain toy was released, completely discarding the Filmation design in favor of the hewn face of the figure we now call Ka. Instead of a snake carving winding its way up the peak, the Mattel toy featured a ‘striking serpent’, alive and attached to the mountain itself. From there, it was an easy leap to make to ‘this carving comes alive’. So easy, in fact, that they did it twice!

First attempted in 1985 in the newspaper storyline “Vengeance of the Viper King”, the snake was here called Sarcedon, the World Destroyer. At the dawn of time, he was said to crush Eternia within his deadly coils. He burrowed deep into the ground, causing fearsome storms that nearly destroyed the planet. Only a fearless hero (implied to be He-Ro) could defeat and imprison Sarcedon. Using a macguffin called a Mirror of History, He-Man forced Sarcedon to behold his own reflection in a reference to the Medusa myth that kind of missed the point of it being reflective. Sarcedon was sent back in time, Snake Mountain was restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

That was the last of it until the MYP cartoon in 2004. Serpos as a name was actually first invoked by Mer-Man in a 1982 minicomic, but like it probably wasn’t about the snake. Anyway in the MYP cartoon the Snake Men get this thing called the Medallion of Serpos that lets them un-petrify the snake around Snake Mountain, grow two more heads, and unleash his godly wrath. He breathes fire, trashes Eternos, beats up He-Man, then turns his attention on Castle Grayskull to consume the Orb of Power (containing the strength and wisdom of the Elders, who had first trapped him in stone). He-Man cuts off Serpos’s extra heads with a sword upgrade, the Elders are somehow magically restored to life, and they re-petrify him. Snake Mountain is restored, the good guys win, blah blah blah.

Zoar, the Fighting Falcon

Lore: Contradictory, but it sure is a bird!

Long Version: While Sharella’s backstory is fraught because of the comics couldn’t decide what they wanted her to be, Zoar was similarly tangled up by the toyline. Initially male, he went through several color schemes, some prettier than others. Though there was a vague association with the Sorceress before the cartoon (recall that pre-Filmation, the Sorceress was just the Goddess), Filmation made them literally inseperable by designating Zoar as the Sorceress’s falcon form, to which she was confined when leaving Castle Grayskull.

Some of the comics and Golden books showed Zoar as being flipping enormous & ridden into battle as a steed by Teela and Man-at-Arms. Pre-Filmation, Zoar was always referred to as male, but post-Filmation, always female, as an incarnation of the Sorceress.

The Eternity Wars comics describe Zoar as the third aspect of the Goddess, the ‘Great Preserver’ whose light would shine through the universe for eternity. They pull off a sort of tripartite priestess thing where it’s Serpos/Zoar/Horokoth represented by Teela-Na (the Sorceress)/Teela/Evil-Lyn.

MOTUC, of course, had to reconcile all of these contradictory canons. How’d they do it? “In the folklore of Eternia, the golden falcon symbolized the godhead Zoar, a powerful deity of Preternia. As a god, Zoar could appear in both male and female guises and while the blue-tipped female falcon was associated with the Sorceress of Grayskull, the golden falcon represented Zoar's masculine nature.” So Zoar is genderfluid now, and the Sorceress is merely borrowing their form when transforming into a falcon. This bio also established that Zoar had anointed the first Sorceress, Veena (Queen Grayskull), which explains why she has wings for no apparent reason.

Also it’s not offically MOTUC but the scultors of the line, Four Horsemen, made a single anthro Zoar for Power-Con 2013. In case you need that for some reason.

Glorybird, Emissary of Zoar

Lore: Many millennia ago, there were three siblings, who were very poor and mistreated by their stepmother, but had hearts filled with kindness and love. Zoar, recognizing their resilience and desire to help people, sent an emissary named Glorybird. Glorybird bestowed upon each sibling a divine gift, but as they used their new powers to fight for good, their stepmother revealed herself to be a Celestial Witch & attempted to sacrifice them to Zoar’s “greatest enemy”, Horokoth.  

Backstory: Okay, so the Star Sisters (and Glorybird) were in exactly one episode of She-Ra, primarily to set them up as new toy designs. While prototypes were made for these, the figures weren’t actually produced until MOTUC released figures for them in 2012. Though they were referenced in Princess Prom, and we saw a brief cameo in a background, Glorybird was absent until the introduction of the Star Siblings in Season Five.

That’s right! This bird is a god, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Saz, God of All Felines

Lore: One of the “Gods of the Multiverse” (he is the only member named explicitly), Saz was a blue-furred, feline deity responsible for the creation of all cats, humanoid or otherwise. He transformed himself into an enormous cat-beast to defeat Serpos and Hordeous, whose progenitors created them in envy of his children. Though Serpos was defeated, Hordeous escaped into the cosmos, and Saz himself vanished mysteriously.

Behind the Scenes: “By the whiskers of Saz!” is a fun pseudo-swear made by various cat races throughout MOTU, first in He-Man’s “The Cat and the Spider” and later in She-Ra’s “Magicats”. That was the only real mention of him until... okay, so MOTUC bios aren’t always attached to the product. Starting in 2018, they did this thing called Masters Mondays where they put unposted bios on the org forums. So while we’ve had the sword since 2010, we didn’t get the background on it until March of 2020. And then a couple weeks later, the Cat Mask of Catra bio referred to him as a “mystical being” instead of a god, but the mask was from 2011 so. He may not have been a god yet. It really depends on when the bios were actually written.

Saz wielded a blade probably best described as a falchion, whose quillon & langet formed a vaguely triangular shape around a deep red gem. I want to be clear that while it looks totally rad, this sword would be very impractical and have poor structural integrity were it not made by a literal god. Do not make swords like this. Also it’s almost certainly riffing on the Sword of Omens from Thundercats (affectionate).

Sabe-Or, Son of Saz

Lore: A green-furred, orange-striped paladin, Sabe-Or is one of the only named Ancients. He inherited his father’s blade upon Saz’s mysterious disappearance, and lived for centuries more. Upon his death, he transferred his “heroic essence” into a group of Eternian tigers, forever transforming them into the Green Tiger Tribe, whence both Granger (steed of King Grayskull), and Cringer, steed of Prince Adam.

Behind the Scenes: So “Battle Cat Man” is a concept that’s existed since they decided to make their hero ride a wicked tiger into battle. If you show a kid a superhero, and a supertiger, apparently the natural inclination of most children in the 80s was to combine the two. There are so many custom action figures. So, so many. Sabe-Or is visually a clear reference to this concept, and canonically seems to be the closest we’re going to get outside of the Thundercats crossover, unless you count Cowarros from 4H’s Mythic Legions line (I do, because it means Purrrplor is also canon and I fucking love calling him that).

Moss Man, Ancient Eternian Nature God

Lore: An ally of King Grayskull, Moss Man was something of an Eternian cryptid in the centuries leading up to He-Man Times. He has control over all plant life, the ability to meld with plants, and apparently can imbue sentience to said plants.

Behind the Scenes: Moss Man wasn’t featured in many episodes, because he’s a little... incredibly over-powered. He’s literally Bigfoot from 5000 years ago with magic powers. And like, since I don’t think the writers appreciate how long 5000 years is, you know what happened 5000 years ago? Stonehenge. This bitch is Stonehenge-old. But sure, you can trace a direct line of descent from his contemporary. smh. Anyway according to MOTUC his real name is Kreann’Ot N’Norosh so make of that what you will. Also his toys were pine-scented. I just love that.

Evil Seed, Rebellious Creation of Moss Man

Lore: Created by Moss Man to help fight in the Great Wars, Evil Seed betrayed his master and turned to evil (who could have foreseen this...), finding joy in corrupting all forms of plant life for his own amusement. Moss Man imprisoned him in enchanted chains, keeping him restrained for many millennia.

Behind the Scenes: According to MOTUC, his real name is Sero Malustro, clumsy New Latin for “(to) plant evil-burnt“. Why his name is New Latin and Moss Man’s is... whatever that is, I have no idea. As you can see from the image I included, he originally had an artichoke head, which was upgraded for the Mike Young Productions (MYP) cartoon. Personally I think the artichoke rules.

Volcana, the Fire Goddess

Lore: Canonically, she’s a fire goddess, and the mother of the Volcano Magus. Together, they are a rising force that seeks to conquer Etheria in the wake of Hordak’s defeat.

Backstory: Volcana has taken a long a twisted journey, but was first revealed to fans at Power-Con 2016 in a panel revealing previously unseen concepts and characters. After the first wave of She-Ra toys, a second wave was planned with a snow focus, to bring more attention the Filmation-neglected Frosta. This began with the introduction of a fire villain, an “evil lady that glows with heat” who would attempt to melt Castle Chill. That concept actually refers to a character named Amber (not Ember, as one might assume) who was reworked into a benevolent counterpart, Volcana’s twin sister.

Volcana was later fleshed out to be a Fire Goddess with flame-red hair, x-ray vision, and arms sculpted with flames. Her cape flew up with flame detail that rose up to control the volcano (of Volcanica, a proposed toyset that seems to have been reworked into the Crystal Falls). She was emphasized by Mattel to not start fires, which, honestly, is probably why they scrapped the character. He-Man couldn’t use his sword as a sword; a woman made of fire was basically doomed.

Now, though, we’re several decades in and lines made for collecters that are largely in their 30s and 40s can say whatever they want! So she’s canon, even if Amber isn’t. Yes there’s only one mention of her. Amber technically was mentioned in an unproduced episode titled “Amber Waves of Flame”, but as it was unproduced, it’s noncanonical.

Volcano Magus, Sinister Son of Volcana

Lore: Living within a dormant volcano, the Volcano Magus of the German audio plays was the source of most of Catra’s power and all of her evil intent. He supplied her with magic for spells and schemes with which to assail the Crystal Castle, but neither she nor Clawdeen were aware of the dark influence he held over them.

In the MOTUC canon, he’s specified as the son of Volcana, a demigod from the “Region of Volcanoes” who craved the nature magic of the Whispering Woods. When he learned the Twiggets were inextricably linked to that magic, he used his powers to petrify the former Rebels (this was after the Horde's defeat) and kidnap three Twiggets to drain the magic from their souls. Twiggets, for the uninitiated, are like purple tree-elf things. According to MOTUC, Razz is a Twigget, though the ‘real’ name they assigned her doesn’t fit their naming convention. She is purple, I guess.

Kowl, who avoided petrification, read Razz's spellbooks to find a way to save his friends, and learned of an Entrapment Gem that she hid in a shoe, for some reason. He confronted the Volcano Magus, spoke in the ancient tongue of the First Ones, and sucked him into the Gem.

Backstory: Admittedly this stuff is second hand, as I don’t speak German & they only have transcriptions/translations for the He-Man tapes anyway, but if anybody can find me an audio file I will do my best to verify. The MOTUC stuff at least I can confirm 100% because it’s from 2019 & I do speak English, for better or worse.

Oak, the Jackal God

Lore: Oak was the terrible Jackal God worshiped by the denizens of Zhar, an ancient civilization that once existed in a remote, forested region of Eternia. Long ago, Oak was imprisoned within a statue which could be found within the Temple of the Jackal. When Skeletor removed the statue from the temple, Oak broke free of the enchantment which imprisoned him and wreaked havoc on Eternia. Although the Jackal God was immensely powerful, he could be weakened by the elements of nature and was ultimately foiled by a rainstorm conjured by the combined powers of He-Man's sword and the magic of the temple's guardian priest.

Backstory: I have lifted this from a He-Man guide word for word as I cannot for the life of me find a copy of the Brazilian Editora Abril comic he came from, O Templo Do Chacal (1986). The description is like, suspiciously similar to the plot of the He-Man episode The Cat and the Spider, except the Grimalkin was never described as a god. The rest of it--statue, Skeletor, storm defeat--plays out almost the same. True pity I can’t find the original source, but I do trust this guidebook. You may be interested in Ceres from the UK comics--another dog-slash-statue who frankly might as well be a god himself, but as he’s not called one in canon he’s not going on the list.

The Bitter Rose Goddess

Lore: As Man-at-Arms told the legend, “Every day, a woman climbed Rose Mountain to look for her husband to return from the war. Alas, he never came back. Her tears poured from her cheek and entered the ground. One day she disappeared, but where she stood was a single, solitary rose. It’s the only thing that grows on Rose Mountain.”

The Insect People, who lived at the base of Rose Mountain, believed that the Bitter Rose is all that held the mountain together (and when it was picked, they were proved right). After the flower was restored, it transformed into the Bitter Rose Goddess herself, who explained that she had been a prisoner of her love's sorrow, so bitter that she refused to allow anything else to grow on Rose Mountain. She blessed the surrounding area, blanketing the jagged peaks with roses, and disappeared.

Backstory: She’s kind of... barely a god. She showed up in one episode and no other media & has objectively less power than like, every single demon they ever brought in. I almost didn’t put her on this list.

Mask-Ra, Goddess of Masks

Lore: A goddess who created the magical Masks of Power.

Backstory: Mask-Ra was first mentioned in 2019 and like, look, I’m gonna be real. I don’t respect her. She’s an invention of MOTUC (unless they were drawing on this concept art of Maska-Ra, which I doubt bc he was a Man-E-Faces precursor) and they retconned her into having created Catra’s mask, which is kind of redundant given the entire episode Magicats. This mask did not need two bios. There are no other mentions of her in any canon.

Potential other Masks of Power: The Deemos and Tyrella masks from the He-Man episode “Masks of Power”, lizard and canine masks from the mini-comic “Masks of Power”, Lord Masque’s Demon Mask from the He-Man episode “House of Shokoti, Part 1″, and whatever the hell Red Shadow has going on.

Procrustus, Giant Guardian of Magic

Lore: During the creation of the various dimensions (5 in MOTUC canon but demonstratably higher everywhere else), the gods installed the four-armed, immortal giant Procrustus to guard their secrets at the heart of Eternia. There lay the Starseed, from which the entire dimension was created. It still held immeasurable power, and could be used to conquer entire universes. Hordak, in an attempt to access the Starseed, cracked Eternia in two with the Spell of Separation. Though he was (mostly) thwarted, from then on Procrustus was forced to hold the two halves of Eternia together from within, lest the planet break apart and the Starseed be exposed.

Backstory: First appearing in the mini-comic “The Magic Stealer!”, Procrustus is a lot more tangible than most gods. We know where he is, at all times, and he seems confined to one size. His powers appear to be largely physical, as he had to burrow out of the ground to investigate in the mini-comic instead of teleporting or like, magicking the dirt away. This was his only appearance until MOTUC released a figure for him in 2012. He also showed up in the Subternia map the next year, holding Eternia together.

Standor, Cosmic Creator of Power

Lore: “Before time began, the great Gods of the multiverse convened in the Hall of Power to create all that was and all that will ever be. Head architect of this great task was Standor. A cosmic being of unlimited imagination, Standor helped lead his fellow deities by fueling their energies with raw creative force.”

Backstory: Released for Comikaze 2013 to celebrate the partnership of Mattel and Pow! Entertainment, Standor is literally just Stan Lee But a God. The prototype was called Standar--idk why they changed it, but I think it’s because it’s too easy to confuse with “Standard”. They made a bio for his sunglasses. I don’t want to talk about it.

Bash-Or, Slain Mystic God-Beast

Lore: Very little is known of Bash-Or, the Ram. His last remnant was sealed within the Ram Stone by the ancient sorceror kings of Zalesia, imbuing it with his divine power to overcome any barrier, magical or otherwise.

Backstory: Bash-Or was revealed in the bio for the Ram Stone, September of 2020, but his spirit (previously referred to as ‘the Spirit of the Ram Stone’) was twice utilized by Skeletor in the MYP cartoon, to great effect, before the stone was destroyed.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 5

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Wrong Answer

Readers who have read novels such as transmigration, quick transmigration, and system plotlines, know that if the fate of the character in the story must be changed, it should be prevented before the character's tragic fate has occurred. However, Song Qingshi interpreted this as the event having already occurred, and was meant to save the character who had already suffered a tragic fate. This train of thought meant that his decision was a thousand miles off.

In the original book, Yue Wuhuan only appeared three times:

The first time was when the shou protagonist had just been sold to Golden Phoenix Manor. When he saw the unbearable scene of Yue Wuhuan being played with by the guests, his three views shattered.

The second time was when the protagonist's naive illusion of the future was destroyed and he was forced to accept his identity because of the ridicule and humiliating remarks of Yue Wuhuan.

The third time, Yue Wuhuan was taken out by Jin FeiRen on the Langgan stage to treat the guests and was accidentally torn to pieces by the demon tiger. Jin FeiRen concealed the actual explanation of the demon tiger's madness and treated it as a deliberately arranged game for the banquet. With this extreme fear, he shattered the last trace of the protagonist's dignity, making him completely surrender and become a plaything.

In short, Yue Wuhuan was a small supporting role with little substance, leaving the plot early, using his degeneracy to offset the beauty of the protagonist. His beauty was only like that of a beautiful flower that was about to wither. How can it be compared with the pure and clean flower bud that had not yet bloomed in the dawn?

This was a super simple multiple-choice question that every reader could figure out!

If the system was a living thing and watching over the exam being taken, it would be so angry that it would have come out and beaten that foolish Song Qingshi to death.

Scholar-Tyrant Song didn't know that he had drifted so far from the original goal, but he was still eagerly confident, trying to do his best and vowing to get a perfect score!

On the way back to the Valley of the Medicine King, Song Qingshi had recalled all the memories of his original body and integrated it with its massive knowledge of medicine and alchemy. There were rare and exotic herbs and miraculous medicines in the cultivation world. However, similar to traditional Chinese medicine, even if the medicine worked wonders, the science behind the effects of these medicines was still a mystery.

Modern medicine conducts systematic research on traditional Chinese medicine to find out the monarch-minister-auxiliary relationship within its components, extracted the useful ingredients in each concoction, and then developed medicine that was easier to take and had even better results.

A female scientist won the Nobel Prize for this, benefiting the world. Song Qingshi focused on modern medicine, leaped away from the traditional path of immortality, and quickly found new ideas for solving problems for many areas that the original body had failed to properly study. He used the Tiangong Pavilion to make modern scientific instrument substitutes, and then analyze the effective ingredients in the immortal medicines, purify them, research them, and even artificially synthesize them. . .

In Song Qingshi's mind, there were countless experimental schemes in an endless stream, and there were tens of thousands of books and inexhaustible medicinal materials in the Medicine King's Valley, as well as abundant research funds.

He was overjoyed, like a mouse that fell into a vat of rice. He wanted to kiss the system if he could.

Song Qingshi fully understood why the original body lived here, staying in such a cultivation paradise. He could live here for the rest of his life!

He could immerse himself in the ocean of intense studying and research every day. He could dedicate his life and soul to his favourite medical god. No one could send him back!

Song Qingshi looked at Yue Wuhuan in his arms. The more he looked at him, the more he loved him.

This was the big treasure that had given him everything! He would do everything he could to save him, just like his parents used to treat him before; indulged, spoiled, loved, and giving him all the good things he needed so that he can live a happy life like a prince in a fairy tale!

Song 'a father's love is like a mountain' Qingshi was full of ambition. He suppressed his excitement and immediately placed Yue Wuhuan in the side hall of his bedroom. He did everything by himself. First, he poured the elixir carefully with the crane-mouthed pot to re-invigorate the breath of life. Then he changed into white clothes, put on a homemade mask, and found a pair of extremely thin animal leather gloves. After he finished disinfecting the wounds, gently cut off the blood-soaked gauze and feather skirt on Yue Wuhuan's body with scissors, rinsed the wounds, and then sutured them with very fine silkworm thread. Then, he cut off the shackles and treated his ankle wounds.

Song Qingshi's movements were extremely gentle and quick, barely touching any skin, but Yue Wuhuan's body was extremely sensitive. He twitched slightly and groaned a few times before falling asleep again. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to take some blood samples for analysis, and also performed a full-body scan of him with his mental probe. He was a good-tempered person, but after seeing the disastrously ruined dantian and meridians in Yue Wuhuan's body, he couldn't help but curse darkly at those beasts. He scolded them repeatedly, thinking about how he was going to explain this situation to him once he woke up.

Song Qingshi was not good at communicating with strangers. He was able to make do when discussing his interests, but his thoughts often went blank when forced into small talk. For example, when everyone watched the popular men's group selection variety show together and argued over who was the male god?

He answered sincerely that it was Asclepius, the god of medicine. . .

Song Qing hasn't understood why everyone said he killed the conversation.

He thought hard for a long time and remembered that when his Lou Gerhig's hadn't been as advanced, he worked in a hospital for an internship. His senior brother knew that Song Qinshi was afraid of social interaction and would end up a stuttering mess when he tried to have conversations with his patients. He taught Song Qingshi: "Push down all of your feelings and act like a medical machine. First write down their case in detail and their treatment plan, recite it with a smile, and then end with a comforting sentence." Song Qingshi took this secret technique, practiced many times in front of the teacher, and, finally, he could talk to patients without fear.

A hospital is a place for treatment, just like how the Medicine King's Valley is a place for treatment. What's the difference?

After Song Qingshi had this epiphany, he replaced Yue Wuhuan’s bed sheets and bedding with the white ones commonly used in hospitals. He ordered the valley servant to make several sets of patient clothes, put them on by himself, and then tied roots on his wrist to represent the hospital information band. With a red wristband and a sign on the bed with "Special Care" and the instructions for how to care for him, Song Qingshi instantly felt calm in this makeshift hospital environment.

He wasn't comfortable with the type of care that the valley servantswere giving and took on nursing himself. He was careful and not afraid of getting tired. He wiped down Yue Wuhuan's body and washed his face, fed him medicine and water, and even replaced the bedding to deal with all kinds of filth.

When Yue Wuhuan woke up three days later, he was confused. He didn't know where he was. He stared at the white veil on the top of the bed in a daze for a long time. He finally realized that he was still alive and he hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

He closed his eyes, faintly recalling the slight fragrance of medicine lingering from his dream and the hands that had gently released all the restraints for him. He took a deep breath. He didn't want to wake up and face the never-ending nightmare.

After who know's how long, Yue Wuhuan threw his eyes open, remembering where he had smelled the fragrance of the medicine. He slowly turned his head and looked at the round table next to him, but saw that Medicine Master Xianzun was attentively making changes to the cursive writings on the table. He was frowning, his expression serious, as if thinking about something bad. There was also a familiar spirit bead in the silver plate next to him, and it became obvious that he had been given to another guest to be played with.

Yue Wuhuan’s phoenix eyes shrank. The rumors of the perverse and evil deeds of the Medicine Master Xianzun appeared in his mind, but he was not afraid. Whether he was willing or unwilling meant nothing under the control of the spirit bead. Besides, his broken body was no longer worthy of being cherished. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and struggled to get out of bed, but a sharp pain came from his shoulder, which made him dizzy and he fell right back down. Song Qingshi never had any distractions when he was researching. He heard the movement and found that the patient was awake. He was afraid that Yue Wuhuan might have moved his body and reopened the wound. He quickly reprimanded him with a stern tone: "You, go to bed right away! You are not allowed to get off for ten days!"

This stern technique was a secret taught by the head nurse of the hospital. It had a good effect on treating patients who didn't follow the doctor's advice.

"Ten days?" Yue Wuhuan was stunned. He couldn't help but look at Song Qingshi up and down. The more he looked, the more he felt that his appearance was deceiving. He had been with guests for many years, and he was used to seeing many lustful scenes, but he never would've guessed that this person had such prowess in the bed. . .

Seeing that he hadn't gotten back on the bed, Song Qingshi put down his pen, walked over and picked him up with his own hands.

Yue Wuhuan remained unmoved, stretched out his hand and gently hugged his neck. Hot fingertips touched his cool skin, as smooth as cool jade, and the clear and clean scent of medicine wrapped around him gently like if he was in a dream. Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but shake for a moment. He chasticized his heart for still not knowing how to behave, then resumed his usual posture, and breathed out ambiguously: "I hope that Xianxun will take pity. . ."

"Don't worry, I will." Song Qingshi put him back on the bed carefully, then pulled the blanket up. He wrapped him up tightly, and solemnly told him, "The valley is wet and cold. You have a mortal body so be careful of the cold and stay under the blanket. Keep your hands and feet tucked in and don’t kick off the sheets."

Yue Wuhuan had never seen this trick in bed before and was at a bit of a loss.

"You;re a patient now. Let me tell you about your situation." Song Qingshi turned back to the table, picked up a stack of paper covered with words. He nervously pushed the non-existent glasses on the bridge of his nose, and read with a smile, formulating his tone. "The patient is Yue Wuhuan. There are three lacerations from the right shoulder to the chest, which are 18 cm, 14 cm and 12 cm long. The right shoulder bone is fractured, and the suprascapular artery has been ruptured. The right elbow has a skin contusion. The left and right wrists have skin tissue bruises, the left and right knees are bruised along with the left and right ankle tissue. The buttocks skin has soft tissue lacerations. There are signs of drug abuse in the body and potentially drug addiction. Do you understand?"

Yue Wuhuan only felt that his stiff smile must look increasingly forced. The more he thought about it, the crazier everything seemed. All he could do was nod his head and pretendto understand.

"Very good." Song Qingshi felt that what he said was both detailed and easy to understand, and began to recite the preliminary treatment plan. "Your dantian and meridians have been destroyed, and your body is seriously damaged. Your body is too fragile right now to use stronger medicine, so you cannot take Rejuvenation Pill, Gather Breathe and Disperse Pill, All Creation Pill or the Bone Growth Pill. You need to be treated with mortal medicine first, and then treated with the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath. Then you'll take the Rising Dragon Pill and Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill."

Yue Wuhuan finally understood what he was saying. These pills were common immortal medicines, and he had also taken it when he was seriously injured.

The All Creation Pill and Rising Dragon Pill were worth thousands, and he had heard that the poster of Jape Pearl Tower's Lord had used it for his own treasure.

He didn't know what the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath was, but the Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill was the treasure of the immortal world. It is made of ten thousand year-old blood lotuses. There were only nine in the world and only few know where their locations. He only knew that the master of Xuanji Palace had used it and ascended to Fen Shen; the lord of Fluttering Snow Fortress turned against his Daoist companion and killed him and his wife to win the treasure; one appeared in the Qizhen Pavilion auction, and it was won by the owner of the East Sea Langya Pavilion with hundreds of thousands of high-grade spirit stones. For some reason, Jin FeiRen wasn't able to participate in the auction. He always brought it up as one of the greatest regrets in his life.

If it were described in mortal terms, it would be like saving a beggar on the side of the road and saying that you would give him precious delicacies, golden houses, jade horses, and billions in wealth. FInally, you tell him you'll give him the fade seal of the country and all lands under the heavens. Only an idiot would believe these claims.

Yue Wuhuan laughed but his heart was cold. He basically confirmed that Song Qingshi was just toying with him.

He had also encountered many such sweet talkers, pretending to show compassion for some and pity for others. All he wanted, though, was to coax his slaves to play this game with him. He only lusted after his dirty body, in the end.

Song Qingshi finished off with some final closing words: "Don't worry, as long as you follow the doctor's advice and cooperate with the treatment, you'll be cured."

"Okay," Yue Wuhuan's phoenix eyes showed a bit of flattery, and he replied in a sultry voice: "This slave depend on Xianzun for everything. . ."

"I almost forgot." Song Qingshi looked into his eyes and suddenly remembered something. He put on the animal skin gloves again, picked up a luminous bead the size of a goose egg and placed it in a strange, long, tube-shape lampshade. Then he sat on the side of the bed, leaned over and looked at Yue Wuhuan. He gave him a serious warning: "This may be a little uncomfortable, please bear with me."

Yue Wuhuan smiled self-deprecatingly. He let the phoenix eyes show waves of desire, and he relaxed his body, waiting to be played with.

Song Qingshi stretched out his hand and opened his eyes, illuminating the inside of the eyes with the luminous bead. He carefully observed for a while, then whispered: "The problem of the lacrimal secretion system is not visible on the outside, so I still have to do a colored dye inspection..."

Yue Wuhuan: "???"

[fuwafuwamedb]

A Lostbelt Lost One (Hakuno, Gudako, Mash, Gilgamesh, Goredolf)

Part 1,  2 , 3 , 4 5 , 6

There was no helping it when they found the woman. Gudako had felt her stomach churn, her eyes looking at the woman and her rounded stomach. Turning her away wasn’t possible. Abandoning her wasn’t an option either. She was one who would survive the singularity, but floating in space?

“Gudako,” Mash murmured.

“I know,” Gudako rubbed at her face a little, “let’s see if we can get someone to help us carry her.” 

There was no helping it as they hoisted her carefully onto Mash’s shield. They headed towards the leaving point, covering her with a blanket as they arrived.

She felt so bad, hauling the woman down the hall of their newfound Chaldea. Goredolf himself was quiet for once, opting not to speak as they headed through the corridors together. Sherlock and Nemo opened the door to a spare room, letting them carry the woman into the chamber and settle her in.

It was only after Goredolf himself tucked her in and they were at the door that he spoke.

“Given the circumstances and the fact that she is a former master, I would suggest that we discuss her situation with her only after she has completed the process of birth. She will be very stressed and doesn’t need to have the added pressures of explaining her situation, especially if it is traumatic.”

Given the fact she’d all but been blasted for her, Gudako couldn’t help but nod. 

“We don’t even know her name though,” Mash argued. “Don’t you think it would be wise to push her a little bit-”

Goredolf shook his head. “You children are young. You don’t understand the matters of what a normal adult must endure. Let her rest. I will check in from time to time to ensure that the woman is addressed and cared for. Send that nurse and doctor servant over to check on her as well.” 

It made sense. Asclepius and Nightingale would be able to help her best. 

Still…

Gudako found herself frowning, even as they bid the duo servants to go help Goredolf.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know, Mash. I just… It’s weird how fast she came to our rescue. She didn’t even question what we were doing. She dealt the last blow to the tree in the singularity and saved us at the risk of the world falling apart and her life being forfeit. She must have heard the people of that lost belt warning her.”

“Do you think she’s a threat?”

“No,” Gudako sighed, “I don’t think so. She’s just… She’s not that much older than us.”

“We’ll wait for her to wake up and ask her about herself,” Mash bid, rubbing at her arm. “It’s not like we need to make any decisions now.”

That was true. 

Gudako frowned though, heading to the mess hall to eat. The other servants were quiet, their voices lower than normal.

“I heard another master was found.”

“Hmm?” Gudako looked up as she grabbed a plate, finding a red-tattooed chest in front of herself. “Ah, Gilgamesh. Yeah.” 

There were others listening. They all seemed to be hanging on her words now. 

“The girl was found and helped us beat the singularity. She’s a friend, although it looks like she’s got a bad health problem. Goredolf says don’t go around her chambers for now. Let her recover and then once she’s healthy again, you all can go say hello.”

“I have no desire to deal with another master. Who is her servant?”

“She doesn’t have one,” Mash replied, pulling at her arm as the king interrogated them. “The girl’s servantless. Something must have happened.”

Gilgamesh snorted, brushing a hand through his hair. “If she is servant-less, then she’ll no doubt serve as support. Just don’t expect much from this, Gudako. It would be a waste to have come this far only to have some other master defeat you in your own homeland.”

Thanks, Gil. Gudako gave the man a look as he headed off, speaking once more to Ozymandias as the volume in the room rose back up. It seemed the intrigue others had was gone. She could see some of the others settling in as she grabbed some veggies and went to sit off to the side.

“Do you think we should tell the others about-”

“Shhh,” Gudako shook her head. “Let’s not. We don’t know if they survived. Best not to get the whole place buzzing.”

 The last thing they needed was to talk about a new master around and the fact that she was in such a condition. There would be too many questions. The woman would be overwhelmed and upset. Goredolf would probably get upset on her behalf too. The man had been a little anal about things already.

Still, she couldn’t even imagine.

“It might not be too bad,” Mash replied, smiling weakly. “If things work out, we could have things be a little calmer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Ozymandias and a few others have always said that babies are calming-”

“Shhhh,” Gudako glanced at the others in the room.

“Sorry, I’m just pointing out that it could be fine. We can probably make the environment around here a little lighter.”

“After Atlantis?”

“Well, maybe not absolutely peaceful, but calmer.” Mash frowned, looking at her drink. “We’ve been running for so long and doing so much that I can’t help but wish for things to relax. I miss when things were the way they were before.”

When Romani was around.

The words didn’t need to be said, she understood the feeling. Gudako sighed a little, nodding to her friend for that. They were all going through a lot. There had been so much pain and so much loss. Words couldn’t express the depths of what they’d gone through. 

A baby being around Chaldea was too much though. They were talking about precarious times and special situations where their backs were against the wall again and again and they didn’t always come out on top unscathed. The two would be vulnerable unless the master summoned a servant and, at this point, what would that servant be able to do? 

Protect them?

The woman was barely holding on right now. If she summoned a servant, they would end up being just as weak and be open to ridicule from the other servants, making things all the more difficult. There was no telling how loyal a servant would be and, even if they were loyal to her, they wouldn’t be much use in battle. They could die off easily enough.

Fighting with them for the Chaldeans and humanity?

That would go well until they got to the end of a lostbelt. Once that was done and those people were killed, she could see an absolute shitshow going down. The moral ethics would become a topic and she could see things falling south.

Then explaining Romani when they finally found him-

Gudako shook her head.

“Let’s wait to make any decisions until she wakes up.”

Mash’s sound of agreement came in a quiet manner. The other servants seemed to be enjoying themselves around them, happy that the latest trouble was handled. 

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 11

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades And they're back together again, at last! Only took four chapters... I have 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 10

APOLLO XI

Together again  Let the arguments commence Find a compromise

Apollo had not been expecting Hades to come back, and the fact that he had did not put him at ease.  To begin with, having his uncle with him had been somewhat of a reassurance – Hades was more powerful than he was, and having the back-up of another god of his calibre was definitely not a bad thing.

Then, he had learned about Asclepius, and there was no reason why Hades would be with him here, now, which boded well in any way, shape or form for his son.  If Hades had come back, it was definitely not to help Asclepius, and his uncle’s power might have been a reassurance when they were working together, but now it was at least as intimidating as Orion had been.

To make matters worse, Apollo could tell that unlike him, Hades had not had a difficult encounter with something almost capable of destroying him – his uncle looked fresh and untouched, almost as he had when they had arrived.

Golden ichor was still slipping down Apollo’s own throat, where Orion’s bite wound hadn’t quite healed yet.  Hades knocking away his arrow had been the uncomfortable confirmation – he was in no condition to fight his uncle.

That did not mean he would not try, depending on Hades’ answer.

“Why?” his uncle repeated, and Apollo watched in some surprise as he hooked his blade back into its sheath; it did not mean anything in terms of how dangerous Hades was, but it was still a universally recognised symbol of non-threatening behaviour.  Combined with the sincerity behind his original words, that if he wanted Asclepius dead he would not have helped them first, the action painted a picture that contradicted with what Apollo knew his uncle thought of his son.  “Because I came to a… realisation.”

Apollo couldn’t tell if it had been hesitation or a deliberate pause before the strangely-emphasised final word, but immediately chalked it up to the latter – Hades was not one to hesitate, but he was certainly capable of dramatics.

“What sort of realisation?” he asked suspiciously; behind him, Asclepius shifted his weight awkwardly and Apollo wanted to hiss at him to stay still.  Hades had yet to look at him, or otherwise acknowledge his presence directly, and Apollo dearly wanted to keep it that way.

“It does not matter,” Hades said brusquely, brushing him off, and Apollo growled, because it certainly involved his son and therefore definitely mattered to him.

“What sort of realisation?” he repeated, more forcefully, and the dark flickering flames of his uncle’s eyes glared at him.

“Do not push me, nephew,” he snapped, “or I might change my mind about not smiting that god cowering behind you where he stands.”

At the threat to his son, Apollo bristled, but it was not an idle threat and he knew it; Hades did not make idle threats.  “What do you want?” he asked instead, and felt Asclepius step up closer behind him, moving a little out to the side before Apollo put out a hand to stop him.

He could not stop Hades, but he could still shield his son.

“I want to do what we came down here to do,” his uncle said.  “Which had nothing to do with this son of yours, and everything to do with the occupant of this place summoning my son, and by extension, another one of your myriad of children.”

Was he expecting Apollo to prioritise one son above another?  Apollo narrowed his eyes at him.  “I am not abandoning Asclepius.”

The noise Hades made could almost be considered a sigh.  “Unfortunately, I am aware of that,” he said.  “Which is why I suggest a compromise.”  The word sounded like it pained him to say, and it certainly wasn’t something Apollo had ever anticipated coming out of his uncle’s mouth, but while he wasn’t sure he was going to like whatever it was his uncle was about to suggest, if it kept Asclepius safe – from Tartarus, and from Orion, who would not be held by his bowstrings forever – then he was going to be backed into accepting it.

“What sort of compromise?” he asked warily, grasping the front of Asclepius’ chiton without looking as he sensed his son trying to step up next to him again.

A weak but determined hand tugged at his in turn, Asclepius apparently unappreciative of Apollo’s attempts to keep himself between his uncle and his son, but he didn’t relent.

When Hades’ dark eyes turned away from his to bore directly into Asclepius instead, he doubled his efforts to push his son back again, and was rewarded by a slight stumble as the less powerful god was forced to succumb to Apollo’s greater strength.

“A change in your punishment,” the god of the dead said, apparently choosing to directly address Asclepius, rather than continue conversing directly with Apollo.  Apollo didn’t like that in the slightest, nor did he like the fact that Hades had started prowling around so that he was no longer between the two of them.  He promptly repositioned himself, and got an irate look from his uncle.  “Don’t be childish,” Hades chided him.  “I am not about to attack him; you can stop attempting to be a pathetic guard.  Rest assured, you do not inspire any confidence that you could stop me, regardless.  Instead of this ridiculous behaviour, perhaps you should focus on cleaning yourself up.”

“I can look how I want,” Apollo snapped back, the barb at his appearance stinging more than he wanted to admit.

Hades didn’t reply, instead returning his attention to Asclepius, who was gently pushing against Apollo’s restraining arm.  Reluctantly, Apollo let him go.

“Asclepius, you are not forgiven for your actions of contempt against me and my domains,” Hades began, “and- Apollo I am not talking to you,” he snapped when Apollo went to protest again that it was his call to make the Physician’s Cure for Leo.  “I am aware of your involvement, but it is not your punishment I am amending, so I suggest you stay quiet before I change my mind.”

Furious, but unwilling to push Hades too far, Apollo’s mouth closed with a clack.  His essence was simmering with anger, and he forced it to channel itself into fixing his appearance – yes, it grated that he was effectively doing as his uncle had told him, but it was that or do something rather more rash, and dangerous for his son.

“You swore that you would not make that Cure again,” Hades continued, “an oath you broke, and will face consequences for.”

Apollo couldn’t help himself.  “He already has!” he raged, gesturing at their surroundings, and his son’s ichor-stained chiton.  “What do you call this, if not consequences?”

“Father.”  A soft hand rested on his shoulder, and Asclepius came to stand next to him.  “Please, let him speak.”

“Asclepius-”  Apollo turned his head to look at his son and his voice died in his throat at the look of acceptance on the younger god’s face.

“Lord Hades is correct,” Asclepius told him.  “I did break my oath.”

“But-”

“You provided me the means with which to do so,” his son acknowledged, “but it was still my choice to make it once more, and thus, my punishment to bear.”

Apollo wanted to argue against it, but serious blue eyes silenced him far more effectively than any of Hades’ threats, and he wilted.

“You called this a compromise,” he reminded his uncle, aware it was a surrender and hating himself for it as he once again turned to face the older god.  “What is this compromise?”

“If you stopped interrupting me, you would know by now,” Hades pointed out disapprovingly.  “Clearly,” he continued, his eyes leaving Apollo to focus on Asclepius again, and Apollo had to fight not to put himself back between the two, “leaving you down here, while something I, personally, have no qualms about, is going to cause a severe distraction for your father, as he’s already proven.”

The look Apollo got was not an impressed one, although unless Apollo was imagining it, the dark eyes lingered specifically on the last of the ichor as it evaporated away.

“So, for the time being,” Hades said, lightly emphasising the last two words, “I will suspend your sentence.”  The god of the dead stepped forwards.  “That is not to say that you will walk free; as you are doubtless aware – both of you,” he stressed, “- my brother will not permit you to return to the Overworld, and to attempt to do so would be to only increase your punishment.”

Zeus would be furious if he caught wind of even a change to Asclepius’ punishment that he had not authorised; Apollo was already well aware of that, had known that he would need to find somewhere safe to house Asclepius while he petitioned for a change in his sentence.  Hearing the reminder from his uncle did not reassure him in the slightest.

A glance at his son showed resignation on Asclepius’ face.

“Therefore,” Hades said, “you will be imprisoned within my palace until your father and I finish with our business down here.  Upon our completion and return, I will determine a new punishment for you that suits my wishes, as the one directly offended by your broken oath.”

“Not back here,” Apollo insisted immediately.  “Not back here.”

“That suits my wishes,” Hades repeated, but Apollo wouldn’t back down.  Not on this.

“No,” he repeated.  “This was too far.  This is not a punishment, this is a torture, and I will not stand for it.”

“Father,” Asclepius said.  “Please.”

“No.”  Apollo couldn’t be pacified on this, not even by his son.  “No, Asclepius.  Hades promised a compromise, and sending you back down here once we’re done with our quest is not a compromise.”  He glared at the older god.  “Not back here,” he repeated.  “If your steadfast position is that he must still be punished, then mine is that he does not come back here.”

Hades met his glare evenly and said nothing for several long moments.  Apollo had to resist the urge to shelter his son once more; Asclepius would not let him, his son apparently resigned to his fate in continued punishment, and it would do them no favours.

Eventually, the older god nodded.  “Very well,” he said flatly.  “Asclepius’ punishment shall not involve a return to this Pit.  However, that is the only concession to your wishes that I will make.”

It wasn’t good enough, but Apollo was well aware that nothing short of total acquittal was good enough, and that was beyond anything Hades would be willing to allow.  More importantly, it kept Asclepius safer – if Hades was changing his punishment, then it had to be kept secret from Zeus, which meant that his son would be imprisoned somewhere in the Underworld.

It was far from perfect, but it kept Asclepius safe from both Zeus and Orion, which was far more than could be said for Tartarus.

“I understand,” he said after a moment, his shoulders slumping slightly because it still felt like a defeat, for all that it was a small victory, and hoped he had not just sentenced his son to an eternity of torment in the Fields of Punishment.

Next to him, Asclepius gave a small bow.  “I appreciate your mercy, Lord Hades,” he said.

“Say that after your respite is over and your new punishment begins,” the older god told him, before whirling where he stood and beginning to stride away, back up the incline of Tartarus.  “Come.  You are worse than useless to us down here.  I do not doubt your father will be completely distracted until you are out of this Pit.”

“Not completely,” Apollo grumbled, but he chivvied his son to walk ahead of him, pressing a hand against his back and sending some more of his power into the weaker god as they moved.  His son looked wrong as an old man, and he could tell it was still an appearance of necessity rather than preference.

“Father, save your strength,” his son protested.  “I will be able to rest and regain my strength in Lord Hades’ palace while I wait for you to finish your... quest?”  The question was clear, and Apollo realised that his son did not know why he and Hades had entered Tartarus in the first place.

Then again, he also hadn’t learnt of Phoebe’s death before being cast down; how cut off had Zeus kept him from current events?

“There is a voice calling Hades’ son down here,” he explained, hearing his uncle make a disparaging noise from ahead of them.  “He and his boyfriend – one of your much younger siblings,” he added with a small smile as he thought of Will, and how Asclepius would like his brother.  The smile then faded as he remembered that he’d left his mortal son in a coma, so the pair of them still would not get to interact, “then received a prophecy dictating that they would come here.”

“At which point your foolish father decided that he would rather try to control one of his so-called uncontrollable prophecies and insisted on taking William’s place,” Hades interjected.

“William being..?” Asclepius inquired, and Apollo had to smile again.

“Will is my son,” he said.  “Like you, he inherited healing abilities over most of my domains.  I couldn’t let him come down here.  He and his boyfriend, Nico, are also currently sheltering in Hades’ palace.”

“One could argue that being confined with my son when he is determined to get out is a punishment in and of itself,” Hades commented, his tone almost light.  “Apollo is wrong; they are not sheltering in my palace, they are confined to it, much like you shall be, and rest assured that either of them get out while you are there, your punishment shall increase a hundredfold.”

“Father doesn’t know Hades and I took their places,” Apollo clarified hurriedly, and Asclepius made a noise of acknowledgement.

“They are being hidden and protected, I take it?”

“You will be another guard,” Hades stated plainly, and that was hardly resting, but Apollo couldn’t complain because having a god he implicitly trusted to directly watch over the two demigods was nothing short of a tremendous relief.  “Nothing gets in, and they do not get out.”

“I understand,” Asclepius promised.

“Nico is a master of shadow travel,” Apollo had to say, because that was by far the easiest way for the son of Hades to get out if given the opportunity, even though he doubted Nico would even try as long as Will remained unconscious.  Hades scoffed.

“My son cannot shadow travel out of my palace without my permission,” he said.  “However, he does know his way about the palace impressively well for a living child.”  The better than Asclepius does went unspoken but Apollo heard it clearly; he trusted that his son did, too.  “Do not let him leave his room.”

Asclepius murmured another acknowledgement and then the trio of gods fell into silence.  At the front, Hades seemed content not to speak any further, while Apollo stewed in the awkwardness of what to say to the son he had barely seen in millennia.  It was a topic difficult to address at the best of times, let alone in the depths of Tartarus – and with his uncle in ready earshot.  Anything he thought to say quickly fell away unspoken, words unwilling to be aired where anyone – and anything – could hear him.

Three gods were at least as much of a spectacle as two had been, drawing monsters like moths to a flame, although nothing dared get close enough to challenge them.  Perhaps Hades’ sword, glowing a dark purple and broadcasting an aura of obliteration, was warning them away, or perhaps they had enough common sense not to challenge a trio of gods.

Apollo’s quiver was full once more; when not under immediate attack it took very little time to manifest a new bunch of arrows, all bristling together at his hip and waiting to leap into his hand with barely a thought.  The last of the ichor had finally dissolved from his form, too, his injuries sealed up and his form flawless once more.  It had taken longer than it should, and Apollo wasn’t certain if that was because of the general ambience of Tartarus, or if something had affected his essence when he had let it out, unrestrained and exposed, during the earlier fight, but it had still healed, and that would do for the moment.

After some distance, and at about the time Tartarus started trying to tear up their feet in earnest once more, Asclepius had forcibly pulled away from Apollo’s attempts to bolster him.  Now, he had lost the look of an elderly man entirely, and appeared closer to Hermes’ preferred appearance of modern times, with mostly dark hair speckled lightly with early greys and the beginnings of crows’ feet crinkling in the corners of his eyes.  Mortals who did not know them might have taken Asclepius to be Apollo’s father, rather than the other way around, but at least he would no longer be mistaken for his grandfather.  His chiton was still torn where Orion’s arrows had found him time and time and time again, but a snapped word from Hades had Asclepius dissolving the ichor staining the fabric – with far more effort than it had taken Apollo – and leaving all three of them looking like a force to be reckoned with.

With that in mind, it was no wonder the watching monsters were keeping their distance, although the Phlegethon lay before them, and Apollo knew he and Asclepius, at least, would temporarily lose the calm and unaffected look as they once again crossed the fire river.

Hades didn’t even falter, wading through the flames as though they did not exist.  Apollo had known his uncle would be less affected than him, but seeing him emerge the other side completely intact, as though it hadn’t even been there, reminded him how much more powerful the Big Three were.

Asclepius chose to grow and jump the river, and Apollo elected to do the same; having his form stripped back to ichor and little else in front of Hades did not appeal to him at all.  It did not spare either of them from the entirety of the river’s wrath, however.  Searing cold flames reached up hungrily, licking at his feet and calves like a starving beast, flaying him until drops of gold trickled down into the torrent of fire.

Asclepius was worse off; while Apollo’s wounds were only flesh-deep on his form, easily melded back together and the ichor vanished before it could land on the glassy fragments that made up the floor of Tartarus so far up, his son’s ichor dripped liberally down from where his feet and lower legs had all but been obliterated.

But his son was a god of healing, superior even to Apollo in the art, and in the brief time it took for Apollo’s own form to become flawless once more, Asclepius’ feet and legs entirely reformed, if still stained with ichor.

Hades waited for them to heal without comment, dark eyes flickering over both of them only briefly before instead scanning their surroundings, presence leaking out just enough for Apollo to feel it, but hopefully not enough to agitate the denizen of the Pit himself.  It was enough to prevent any monsters from attempting to make an opportunity out of an apparent weakness – not that Apollo’s aim with his bow was at all affected by simple flesh wounds to his legs, but not all monsters could be trusted to think critically (or even think at all).

Having crossed the river, they were on the final stretch back to the exit to the Underworld.  It was still not a quick journey, time and the shards of glass beneath their feet stretching on what felt like indefinitely, but with almost suspiciously little difficulty, the three of them arrived at the edge of the cliff where the air felt different, a little less oppressive than the cloudy miasma that covered most of the Pit, and Apollo could recognise it as the same place where he and Hades had landed, however long ago that had been.

“Asclepius.”  Hades broke the silence as he strode across to Apollo’s son, full of purpose.  A pale hand clamped onto the youngest god’s shoulder and inky flames flared.  Apollo darted forwards, a protest on his lips, but Hades pulled his hand back a moment later and Asclepius appeared unharmed.

That didn’t stop Apollo from thoroughly checking his son’s shoulder, finding a residue of Hades’ essence implanted into his form.  There was something dark in there, a promise of destruction, of death, and he snarled at his uncle.

“That will guide you directly to my palace,” Hades said, seemingly unconcerned by Apollo’s reaction.  “Do not attempt to go elsewhere; it will not end well for you.”  He then glanced deliberately at Apollo, who glared at him furiously, before returning his gaze to Asclepius.  “It will also mask your sensation of life from the rest of my realm.  Do not speak to anyone except the two living demigods inside my palace, or Thanatos if he crosses your path.  If possible, do not interact with anyone else at all.”

“I thought you intended to escort me straight to your door,” Asclepius observed, but even Apollo had to shake his head at that, as much as he hated it.  If he could, he would have loved to guide his son out of Tartarus and into safety, but that meant losing even more time, increasing the risk of Zeus working out exactly where he had disappeared to.

And if he was honest, it had been difficult enough bringing himself to return to Tartarus after his final bout with Python.

If he left Tartarus now, he could not guarantee that he would be able to return.

His only consolation when convincing himself the first time had been that at least the serpent himself would not be there, but he had not expected Orion to revive so rapidly.  With his bane, the giant his equal and opposite and unkillable waiting…

No, if Apollo left now, he would not return.

Hades was the one to say the words.  “Our task down here is not finished,” he said succinctly.  “We will join you when we are done, and not before.  Now: climb.”

For the first time, Asclepius showed some hesitation.  Perhaps it was the daunting climb out of the Pit designed to keep everything in, perhaps it was fear that despite Hades’ assurances, Zeus would find out and descend upon him.

Apollo didn’t know, but he didn’t – couldn’t – hesitate.  In the blink of an eye, his arms were wrapped tightly around his son, pulling him in close and holding him as though their existences depended upon it.

He heard Hades make a noise of derision, but ignored him.

“I am so sorry, my son,” he whispered into Asclepius’ ear, closing his eyes as his son’s arms came up to wrap around him in turn.  “You did not deserve any of this.”  Not Tartarus, not his former punishment, not his death and forced ascension, and if some tears leaked from his eyes onto his son’s shoulder then it was only right.  “I love you.”

He hadn’t been able to say those words to his son in four millennia.  Asclepius’ arms tightened around him.

“And I you, father,” his son whispered in response, provoking a quiet sob as his throat tightened and his heart fluttered.

Then his son let go, pulling away from Apollo’s embrace.  He resisted, for a moment, before realising that Asclepius was right, that he had to go, and releasing him with a supreme reluctance, hands skimming his son as the younger god slipped away.

“Lord Hades willing, we will see each other again soon,” his son said, before offering the god in question another bow.

“Climb,” was Hades’ only response, turning away from both of them, and leaving Apollo to watch alone as Asclepius reached for the cliff face to begin his ascent.

Chapter 12>>

[godsofhumanity]

Do you have any headcanons/opinions on the Titans’ other siblings (elder cyclops, hecatoncheires, giants, etc.)

hellllllll yeahhhhhh ❤

THE CYCLOPES (Brontes, Steropes, Arges)

ok so in terms of the age order of Gaia's first few groups of children, i think that the Titans came first, then the Cyclopes, and then the Hecatoncheires.

i've already said this before, but i like the idea the Ouranos was the first being ever created by any primordial ever, and i think that Gaia also didn't know exactly how she did it (after all, there was no one to teach the primordials, right?)

and so, Ouranos comes out and he's completely super-powered and he's effectively on par with the other primordials.

but then Gaia and Ouranos create the Titans, and i think that when that happened, Gaia was creating them with the intention of creating helpers for herself- beings to take care of the Earth.. and this meant that the Titans didn't really need to be super-charged the way Ouranos was.

and we know that Ouranos named the Titans "titans" because they were "puny"- they were always trying to "over-reach" to Ouranos' level.

BUT! i think when Gaia creates the Cyclopes, she was doing it with the intention of creating bigger, stronger children. i mean, i think she definitely loved her Titan kids, but she wanted to create something even bigger than before.

i think Gaia was very proud of Ouranos as a creation, and she wanted to see if she could do it again- so i like the imagery of her moulding the Earth into these little clay figures, and then she breathes life into them and they grow rapidly in size.

and i think that when they were "born", the clouds gathered and rumbled, and there was lightning everywhere... and that's how the Cyclopes were named- Brontes ("thunder"), Steropes ("lightning") and Arges ("bright").

Hesiod describes the Cyclopes as having "violent hearts" and i like to interpret this as meaning that the Cyclopes have a lot of emotion. they feel a lot- just like their mother.

i think that when Ouranos became aware of the Cyclopes' presence, and he chucked them into Tartarus, that scarred them deeply. and when Cronus freed them, only to imprison them a short while later again, they were filled with an immense distrust of the gods (understandably!).

still, the fact that the Cyclopes were willing to forge the lightning bolt for Zeus during the Titanomachy indicates to me that they weren't cold-hearted, and that they could be reasoned with.

i also think that the Cyclopes are highly intelligent beings. they're very skilled with metal-work obviously,, and i like the idea that after all the shit they've been through, Zeus really does honour them and treat them well.

in the Asclepius myth, the Cyclopes are killed by Apollo in a rage, but i like the version where Zeus brings them back :D

also, i like the idea that the Cyclopes taught Hephaestus how to forge stuff and how to be a blacksmith. i think that they are really supportive of Hephaestus and the four of them have a really close relationship.

i think that Hephaestus addresses them sometimes as "Lord Brontes" etc. etc. just as a sign of respect. the Cyclopes are a proud race, and i think that they appreciate being addressed like that- after all, they are older, and wiser and just as worthy of such a title as any of the other gods are.

in terms of individual personalities, i think Brontes is the self-designated leader. he's the oldest, and he's the most sensible. i think he likes to sing/hum while he works :)))

Steropes is more serious than his brothers. he's the middle child and i think sometimes he can be really scary,, but he appreciates those with confidence (not to be confused with: arrogance), and i think he tells awesome jokes.

Arges is the youngest. i think he can be a little quiet, but he's very light-hearted and friendly ^-^

about Polyphemus- i think he and the other Cyclopes are kinda disregarded by Brontes, Steropes, and Arges. they are not brothers and don't really have any obligations to each other as far as they are concerned.

THE HECATONCHEIRES (Cottus, Briareus, Gyges)

after Gaia made the Cyclopes, she created the Hecatoncheires, also called the "Hundred-Handers".

when she made the Cyclopes, i think she made them just to have a little fun. but when Gaia made the Hecatoncheires, i think she made them with the intention of creating beings powerful enough to destroy Ouranos.

Ouranos pretty much got rid of the Cyclopes as soon as they were born- and i think this was a real wake-up call for Gaia concerning the true nature of her husband.

and Gaia is a super maternal being- there could be no greater pain for her than having her children separated from her like that. so she was super pissed at Ouranos when she created the Hecatoncheires.

and i think she channelled all that anger into them. where she had earlier taken time to create clay forms for the Cyclopes, i think Gaia just straight up placed her hands on the Earth and summoned all the rage within her- and that manifested into three great, strong, hulking creatures- the Hecatoncheires.

because Gaia made them with the intention of deposing Ouranos, i think that the Hecatoncheires are more violent and angry than their Cyclopean or Titan siblings.

i don't think that they're particularly intelligent- they're not dumb, but they're not geniuses- but they ARE extremely skilled fighters.

as with the Cyclopes, i think the Hecatoncheires matured to adulthood as soon as they were born. and like 5 minutes later, Ouranos came and they battled.

during his fight against the Cyclopes, i don't think Ouranos broke a sweat- but during the fight against the Hecatoncheires, i think they were the first creatures to ever make Ouranos bleed.

and that was pretty frightening for Ouranos. i think that the Hecatoncheires probably could have won, but since they were technically still just children, and lacked proper fighting experience, they were eventually defeated like the Cyclopes and sent to Tartarus, much to Gaia's despair.

also, i like the idea that the Titans witnessed the defeat of the Hecatoncheires- i think it helps us understand why the Titans were so reluctant to fight Ouranos.. i mean, if the Hecatoncheires barely scratched him, what hope did they have? at the same time though, i like the idea that Cronus saw Ouranos bleed- he knew that his father wasn't invincible and that's where he got the courage to fight him from.

compared to the other "giants", mythographers often say that the Titans were "large", but that idea just doesn't gel with me. i think that they were a normal size for regular gods, but significantly smaller than the Cyclopes and the Hecatoncheires.

anyways, similar to the way the Cyclopes had a lot of trust issues, i think the Hecatoncheires definitely were a little doubtful about Zeus.

there's later versions of the Titanomachy that suggest that the Hecatoncheires fought on the Titans' side, but i reject this version. if Cronus locked up the Cyclopes, then i definitely think he'd have locked up the Hecatoncheires also. it doesn't make sense why he'd imprison one and not the other.

there's another version as well that suggests that the Hecatoncheires were not monstrous at all- they appeared as regular men but were called "hundred-handers" because they lived in a city called Hecatoncheiria ("hundred-arm"), and they rescued the citizens of a city called Olympia. again, i reject this because what's not awesome about having 100 hands?????????

we don't really hear too much about them in later myths, but i think that they went into retirement and are living their best life :)

Briareus, in particular, is mentioned as being given a wife by Poseidon- Cymopolea (who was Poseidon's daughter). and i think that they are very happy together and are in love <3

i'm not sure about the rest of the Hecatoncheires. maybe they had wives as well ^-^

TYPHON

Typhon is best known for his rule as the final challenger for authority over the cosmos, and as such, i think he was born much much much after the rest of Gaia's children- during Zeus' rule in fact.

however, i think he was "created" by Gaia during the Castration of Ouranos.

what i mean by this is that Typhon was born from two eggs, and i think these eggs were created around the time that the Titans first began to fight against Ouranos. but he only hatched during Zeus' rule.

regarding his parentage- some say that he's Gaia's child, some say that he's Cronus', and some say that he was Hera's child alone. well,,, i like the idea that all three of them had some role in the birth of Typhon.

in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, it's suggested that Hera was furious with Zeus for giving birth to Athena by herself, and so she prayed for a son stronger than Zeus and thus became pregnant with Typhon. in the Iliad, Gaia gets pissed at Zeus for destroying her Giant children, and decides to slander Zeus to Hera, who, in her anger, goes to Cronus for advice on destroying Zeus. in this myth, Cronus gives Hera two """""""""special"""""""" eggs and tells her to bury them so that Typhon can be born.

now,, i really like both of these versions so my hc is that Gaia is the primary progenitor- she created Typhon- but Cronus and Hera both gave Typhon part of their power in order to strengthen him and make him pretty undefeatable.

so what i'm saying is that all three of them had a role in Typhon's birth. i think Hera was angry at Zeus about Athena, so she goes to Cronus and he tells her about Typhon.

this version of events makes sense to me because i think it really emphasises just how angry and hurt Hera was by Zeus- i mean,, you know things are bad when you're resorting to conspiring with your estranged father who tried to murder you as a child.

also, this isn't "canon" i don't think, but my hc is that Typhon was created by Gaia as a back-up in case the Titans were really unable to defeat Ouranos. this would explain how Cronus knew about Typhon, and also why Typhon never ended up fighting Ouranos.

Typhon usually ends up being thrown into Tartarus or gets Mt Etna thrown on top of him by Zeus. tbh, i like the Mt Etna version.

in Greek mythology, gods never die. so i imagine that after a few hundred years of being crushed by Mt Etna, Typhon regathers his strength and that's when he meets Echidna,, and they fall in love, and i think Typhon still likes to make trouble for Zeus through his monster children, but i don't think that Typhon attempts to usurp Zeus again- he's lost interest.

in terms of personality, i think Typhon is pretty violent, but he also has a super short attention span. he has pride, but i don't think it's his weakness.

also, i like Apollodorus' description of Typhon as appearing humanoid from the waist-up, but like a serpent from the waist-down.

THE GIANTS

okay tbh i don't have really have any hc's for the giants. their myth is so vague and sparse and there really isn't anything solid about them T-T sorryyyyyy