#Except for Leo in my mind because that's a strange one-way flip where he's constantly vying for her attention and affection

[eternally6pm]

On a scale of 1 to Bordering on Inappropriate, how much does Camilla love Xander?

[flightfoot]

Tower of Nero quotes

So since I’m planning on writing some analyses for Tower of Nero, I decided to assemble my usual catalogue of quotes, so I won’t have to constantly flip through looking for them and typing them up hopefully. This is based on the kinds of analyses and things I want to talk about or just found interesting, but hey, I figure other people may find this useful as well.

Beware of spoilers, because no duh.

It was a silly thing to say, but some stubborn part of me insisted that Percy Jackson must be here somewhere, waiting to do dangerous tasks for me. That was his job!

But no. That was the old Apollo’s way of thinking - the Apollo I’d been the last time I was in this apartment. Percy was entitled to his own life. He was trying to have one, and - oh, the bitter truth! - it had nothing to do with me. (TON 37)

“Paul...” I ventured. “Aren’t you worried about having us here? We might endanger your family.”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “I was at the Battle of Manhattan. I’ve heard about some of the horrible things Sally went through - fighting the Minotaur, being imprisoned in the Underworld. And Percy’s adventures?” He shook his head in respect. “Percy has put himself on the line for us, for his friends, for the world, plenty of times. So, can I risk giving you a place to catch your breath, some fresh clothes, and a hot meal? Yeah, how could I not?” (TON 40-41)

What was it about kindness? In my time as Lester Papadopoulos, I had learned to stand up under horrendous verbal abuse and constant life-threatening violence, but the smallest act of generosity could ninja-kick me right in the heart and break me into a blubbering mess of emotions.

Damn you, Paul and Sally, and your cute baby too!

How could I repay them for providing me with this temporary refuge? I felt like I owed them the same thing I owed Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood, the Waystation and the Cistern, Piper and Frank and Hazel and Leo and, yes, especially Jason Grace. I owed them everything.

How could I not? (TON 41)

Sally Jackson crossed her arms. In spite of the grim matters we were discussing, she smiled. “You’ve grown up.”

I assumed she was talking about Meg. Over the last few months, my young friend had indeed gotten taller and- Wait. Was Sally referring to me?

My first thought: Preposterous! I was four thousand years old. I didn’t grow up.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “The last time you were here, you were so lost. So... well, if you don’t mind me saying-”

“Pathetic,” I blurted out. “Whiny, entitled, selfish. I felt terribly sorry for myself.”

Meg nodded along with my words as if listening to her favorite song. “You still feel sorry for yourself.”

“But now,” Sally said, sitting back again, “you’re more... human, I suppose.”

There was that word again: human, which not long ago I would’ve considered a terrible insult. Now, every time I heard it, I thought of Jason Grace’s admonition: Remember what it’s like to be human.

He hadn’t meant all the terrible things about being human, of which there were plenty. He meant the best things: standing up for a just cause, putting others first, having stubborn faith that you could make a difference, even if it meant you had to die to protect your friends and what you believed it. These were not the kinds of feelings gods had... well, ever.

Sally Jackson meant the term in the same way Jason had - as something worth aspiring to. (TON 45-46)

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to oppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything. (TON 57)

I already felt disconnected from reality. I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t know who I was, who I was supposed to be, or even who I wanted to be. I was getting emotional whiplash from my exhilarating surges of godlike power, my depressing crashes back into mortal frailty, and my adrenaline-charged bouts of terror. In such a condition, approaching Dionysus was asking for trouble. Just being near him could widen the cracks in anyone’s psyche. (TON 76-77)

Dionysus eyed me with a mixture of shock and horror, much the same way I looked at myself in the mirror these days. (TON 77)

In retaliation, Dionysus decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair, or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared. (TON 78)

“Dad!” Will shot to his feet. He ran down the steps and tackled me in a hug.

That’s when I lost it. I wept openly.

My beautiful son, with his kind eyes, his healer’s hands, his sun-warm demeanour. Somehow, he had inherited all my best qualities and none of the worst. (TON 80)

“I figured you’d come back to camp eventually,” he said. “I hoped you would, anyway. I wanted you to feel at home.”

It was enough to start me crying again. Gods, I was an emotional wreck. Will hadn’t inherited his thoughtfulness from me. That was all his mother, Naomi, bless her kind heart. (TON 87-88)

“You’ve grown up!” Kayla gripped my shoulders with her archery-strong hands. The June sunlight made her freckles more pronounced. The green tinted tips of her orange hair made me think of Halloween-pumpkin candy. “You’re two inches taller at least! Isn’t he, Austin?” (TON 88)

I wanted to tell them that they were all so young. Their lifespans were a blink of an eye compared to my four millennia. I should be wrapping them all in warm blankets and giving them cookies rather than expecting them to be heroes, slay monsters, and buy me clothes. (TON 90)

“Nico has been having... I guess you’d call it post-traumatic stress disorder. He gets flashbacks. He has waking dreams. Dionysus has been trying to help him make sense of it all. The worst part is the voices.” (TON 93)

I frowned at Dionysus. “You could always, oh, I don’t know, decide to help.”

He scoffed. “You know as well as I do, Apollo, that quests like this are demigod business. As for advising, guiding, helping... that’s really more Chiron’s job.” (TON 99)

I wondered, bitterly, if there was anyone I hadn’t neglected, hurt, or overlooked during my time as a mortal - strike that - during my four thousand years of existence, period. I could only be grateful that my shoes were not sentient. Or my underwear. Gods, I would never be able to stop apologizing. (TON 110)

“I betrayed you once,” she said. “Right here in these woods.” She didn’t sound sad or ashamed about it, the way she once might have. She spoke with a sort of dreamy disbelief, as if trying to recall the person she’d been six months ago. That was a problem I could relate to. (TON 114)

“I have to go back,” Meg insisted. “I have to see if I’m strong enough.”

Peaches cuddled up next to her as if he had no such concerns.

Meg patted his leafy wings. “Maybe I’ve gotten stronger. But when I go back to the palace, will it be enough? Can I remember to be who I am now and not... who I was then?”

I didn’t think she expected an answer. But it occurred to me that perhaps I should be asking myself that same question.

Since Jason Grace’s death, I’d spent sleepless nights wondering if I could keep my promise to him. Assuming I made it back to Mount Olympus, could I remember what it was like to be human, or would I slip back into being the self-centered god I used to be?

Change is a fragile thing. It requires time and distance. Survivors of abuse, like Meg, have to get away from their abusers. Going back to that toxic environment was the worst thing she could do. And former arrogant gods like me couldn’t hang around other arrogant gods and expect to stay unsullied.

But I supposed Meg was right. Going back was the only way to see how strong we’d gotten, even if it meant risking everything. (TON 114-115)

“So now you believe the Trogs exist?” Nico asked.

“I am learning to believe in all sorts of things that can kill me!” (TON 136)

If my trials as a mortal had done anything, they had shown me how many times I’d abandoned, forgotten, and failed my Oracle over the centuries. I could not abandon Rachel in the same way. I’d neglected the basic truth that they did not serve me; I was supposed to serve them. (TON 158)

Nico smirked. “Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.”

“Could you not make a big deal about it?” Will asked. (TON 163)

“Rachel, I’m scared,” I admitted. “It was one thing thinking about putting myself in danger. But the entire camp? Everyone?”

Strangely, this comment seemed to please her.

She took my hand. “I know, Apollo. And the fact that you’re worried about other people? That’s beautiful. But you’ll have to trust me.” (TON 175)

When he’d told me to remember being human, he’d meant building on pain and tragedy, overcoming it, learning from it. That was something gods never did. We just complained.

To be human is to move forward, adapt, to believe in your ability to make things better. That is the only way to make the pain and sacrifice mean something. 

I met Rachel’s gaze.”I trust you. I’ll make things right. Or I will die trying.”

The strange thing was, I meant it. A world in which the future was controlled by a giant reptile, where hope was suffocated, where heroes sacrificed their lives for nothing, and pain and hardship could not yield a better life... that seemed much worse than a world without Apollo. (TON 176-177)

Not one deserved to be snuffed out by Nero’s cruelty. The revelation stunned me. I had become a human-life hoarder! (TON 182)

“I’m so sorry”, I managed at last. 

“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.”

“You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”

Jason tilted his head. “I mean... sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”

He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos... even a god. (TON 218-219)

As a god of healing, I knew something about psychology and mental health, though I’ll admit I did not always best practices to myself. (TON 225)

I knew my anxiety about my own weakness was getting mixed up with my anxiety about Meg. Even if I somehow made my way back to Mount Olympus, I didn’t trust myself to hold onto the important things I’d learned as a mortal. That made me doubt Meg’s ability to stay strong in her old toxic home.

The similarities between Nero’s household and my family on Mount Olympus made me increasingly uneasy. The idea that we gods were just as manipulative, just as abusive as the worst Roman emperor... Surely that couldn’t be true. 

Oh, wait. Yes, it could. Ugh. I hated clarity. (TON 225-226)

I found myself back in the caverns of Delphi, volcanic gasses layering the air, the dark shape of Python moving heavily in the background.

“So, I have you again,” he gloated. “You shall perish-”

“I don’t have time for you right now.” My voice surprised me almost as mush as it did the reptile.

“What?”

“Gotta go.” I lashed the reins of my dream.

“How dare you! You cannot-”

I rocketed into reverse like I was tied to a rubber band. (TON 233)

We both knew that, under most circumstances, Meg was fully capable of rescuing herself. But with Nero... I suspected Lu, like me, wanted Meg to be strong enough to save herself. We couldn’t make the hard choices for her. Yet it was excruciating to stand by while Meg’s sense of independence was tested. (TON 244)

But now, after knowing Lu, I wondered how many of these Germani really wanted to serve Nero, and how many had been conscripted into his service with no choice. Enough people had died. My grudge was with only one person, Nero, and one reptile, Python. (TON 250)

“Well, no, not Mr. D,” Nico said. “You know how it is. Gods don’t fight demigod battles. Present company excepted.” (TON 263)

Austin and I had gotten to know each other - not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messed-up lives. (TON 273)

My heart broke. Meg looked elegant, older, and quite beautiful. She also looked utterly, completely no longer herself. Nero had tried to strip way everything she had been, every choice she’d made, and replace her with someone else - a proper young lady of the Imperial Household. (TON 285-286)

I tried to contain my horror. “Meg,” I said. “There’s only one person you need to listen to here: yourself. Trust yourself.”

I meant it, despite all my doubts and fears, despite all my complaints over the months about Meg being my master. She had chosen me, but I had also chosen her. I did trust her - not in spite of her past with Nero, but because of it. I had seen her struggle. I’d admired her hard-won progress. I had to believe in her for my own sake. She was - gods help me - my role model. (TON 293)

“I didn’t kill my father,” she said, her voice small and hard. “I didn’t cut off Lu’s hands or enslave those dryads or twist us all up inside.” She swept a hand towards the other demigods of the household. “You did that, Nero. I hate you.” (TON 295)

“Lu has immortality,” I said, “because you’re immortal. The two of you have been connected for centuries.” 

Nero’s eye twitched. “But that’s my eternal life! You can’t trade my life for my life!” (TON 309)

Python had always been the real power behind the throne - a bigger puppet master than Nero’s mother ever had been. Like most bullies, Nero had been shaped and manipulated by an even stronger abuser. (TON 310)

Nero hissed. “Ungrateful child. The Beast-”

“The Beast is dead.” Meg tapped the side of her head. “I killed it.” (TON 311)

Rachel pulled out a blue plastic hairbrush and threw it at the nearest barbarian, beaning him in the eye and making him howl. 

Sorry I underestimated you, Rachel, I thought distantly. You’re actually kind of a hairbrush ninja. (TON 313)

"You - cannot - take - it - Lester!” Nero said through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might.

“I am Apollo,” I said, tugging the opposite direction. “And I - revoke - your - divinity!” (TON 317)

“Hasn’t he proved himself already?” Artemis demanded. My heart ached, seeing my sister again. “He’s suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear Father, he’s learned it!” (TON 319)

“This has gone on long enough. Too much loss. Too much pain. But if my husband insists on seeing it through, the least you all can do is not talk about Apollo as if he’s already dead!” (TON 320)

Then I was back in my mortal form, looking up not at the Olympians, but at the faces of my friends (TON 320)

I alternated drinking my nectar and Mountain Dew, which was sort of like alternating between premium gasoline and regular gasoline. (TON 323)

Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones, and discarded blades that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she’d put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like my Meg. (TON 323)

I considered that perhaps courage was a self-perpetuating cycle, like abuse. Nero had hoped to create miniature, tortured versions of himself because that made him feel stronger. Meg had found the strength to oppose him because she saw how much her foster siblings needed her to succeed, to show them another way.

There were no guarantees. The imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness. Then again, there had been no guarantees for Meg, either. There were still no guarantees that I would come back from the caverns of Delphi. All any of us could do was try, and hope that in the end, the virtuous cycle would break the vicious one. (TON 324)

Even if I survived, I would not be the same. The best I could hope for was to emerge from Delphi with my godhood restored, which was what I had wanted and dreamed about for the past half a year. So why did I feel so reluctant about leaving behind the broken, battered form of Lester Papadopolous?

“Just come back to me dummy, that’s an order.” Meg gave me a gentle hug, conscious of my injuries. Then she got to her feet and ran off to check on the imperial demigods - her former family, and possibly her family yet to be. (TON 327)

“We all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded, wondering how the centaur had become so wise over the centuries, and why that same wisdom had escaped me until I had been Lesterized. (TON 328)

I felt a tingly sensation of power building just under my skin - perhaps my divine self, trying to reassert itself in the proximity of my old arch-enemy. I hoped it was that and not just my mortal body combusting (TON 332)

Deep breath. This was for Meg. This was for Jason. This was for everyone who had fought and sacrificed to drag my sorry mortal butt from quest to quest for the last six months, just to get me this chance at redemption (TON 333)

And yet, along with humility, I’d learned something else: getting humiliated is the beginning, not the end. Sometimes you need a second shot, and a third, and a fourth. (TON 335)

“YOU CAN’T HIDE!” Python bellowed. “YOU ARE NO GOD!”

This pronouncement hit me like a bucket of ice water. It didn’t carry the weight of prophecy, but it was true nonetheless. At the moment, I wasn’t sure what I was. I certainly wasn’t my old godly self. I wasn’t exactly Lester Papadopolous either. My flesh steamed. Pulses of light flickered under my skin, like the sun trying to break through storm clouds. When had that started?

I was between states, morphing as rapidly as Python himself. I was no god. I would never be the same old Apollo again. But in this moment, I had the chance to decide what I would become, even if that new existence only lasted a few seconds.

The realization burned away my delirium.

“I won’t hide,” I muttered. “I won’t cower. That’s not who I will be.” (TON 339-340)

I had done my best. Surely, Zeus would see that and be proud. Maybe he would send down a lightning bolt, blast Python into tiny pieces, and save me!

As soon as I thought this, I realized how foolish it was. Zeus didn’t work that way. He would not save me anymore than Nero had saved Meg. I had to let go of that fantasy. I had to save myself. (TON 341)

The prophecy came true. Apollo fell, and Python fell with me. (TON 346)

The river sapped my memories, my emotions, my will. It pried open the burning cracks in my Lester Papadopoulos shell, making me feel raw and unmade like a molting dragonfly. (TON 348)

I held onto my purpose. I remembered Meg McCaffrey’s last order: Come back to me, my dummy. Her face remained clear in my mind. She had been abandoned so many times, used so cruelly. I would not be another cause of grief for her. I knew who I was. I was her dummy. (TON 348)

Wow, Apollo, you marvel. How did you survive? 

I didn’t.

But at that point I was no longer Lester Papadopoulos. I was not Apollo. I was not sure who or what I was (TON 349)

“Have you learned?” she asked.

If I hadn’t felt so weak, I might have laughed. I had learned, all right. I was still learning. 

At that moment, I realized I’d been thinking of the Styx the wrong way all these months. She hadn’t put destruction in my path. I’d caused it myself. She hadn’t gotten me into trouble. I was the trouble. She had merely called out my recklessness. (TON 353)

Why couldn’t I let go, then? I kept clinging to the edge with stubborn determination. My wayward pinky found its grip again. I had promised Meg I would return to her. I hadn’t sworn it as an oath, but that didn’t matter. If I said I would do it, I had to follow through.

Perhaps that was what Styx had been trying to teach me: it wasn’t about how loudly you swore your oath, or what sacred words you used. It was about whether or not you meant it. And whether your promise was worth making.

Hold on, I told myself, to both the rock and the lesson.

My arms seemed to become more substantial. My body felt more real. The lines of light wove together until my form was a mesh of solid gold.

Was it just a last hopeful hallucination, or did I just pull myself up? (TON 354)

I rose with a sob and hugged her tight. All my pain was gone. I felt perfect. I felt... I almost thought, like myself again, but I wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.

I was a god again. For so long, my deepest desire was to be restored. But instead of feeling elated, I wept on my sister’s shoulder. I felt like if I let go of Artemis, I would fall back into Chaos. Huge parts of my identity would shake loose, and I would never be able to find all the puzzle pieces. (TON 355)

My chest was bronze and perfectly sculpted. My muscular arms bore no scars or fiery lines glowing beneath the surface. I was gorgeous, which made me feel melancholy. I had worked hard for those scars and bruises. All the suffering my friends and I had been through... (TON 355)

I felt awkward and uncomfortable in this form, as if I’d been given a Rolls-Royce to drive but no car insurance to go with it. I’d felt so much more comfortable in my economy-compact Lester. (TON 357)

I remembered my dream of the throne room - the other Olympians gambling on my success or failure. I wondered how much money they’d lost.

What could I possibly say to them? I no longer felt like one of them. I wasn’t one of them. (TON 358)

My poor Hyacinthus. Had I really created these flowers to commemorate him, or to wallow in my own grief and guilt? I found myself questioning many things I had done over the centuries. Strangely enough, this uneasiness felt somewhat reassuring.

I studied my smooth tan arms, wishing again that I had retained a few scars. Lester Papadopoulos had earned his cuts, bruises, broken ribs, blistered feet, acne... Well perhaps not the acne. No one deserves that. But the rest had felt more like symbols of victory than laurels, And better commemorations of loss than hyacinths. (TON 358-359)

I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked (TON 359)

As much as we pretended to be a council of twelve, in truth we were a tyranny. Zeus was less a benevolent father and more an iron-fisted leader with the biggest weapons and the ability to strip us of our immortality if we offended him. (TON 366)

My father coughed into his fist. “ I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.”

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

“But you must understand,” Zeus continued, “only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way... regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud.”

Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let’s be honest: some fathers don’t deserve that. Some fathers aren’t capable of it.

I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.

But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.

You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different than him. Better. More... human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible. (TON 367-368)

I still didn’t feel like my old self. I didn’t want to feel like my old self. (TON 371)

When I’d first met Meg, she’d assured me that Lester’s appearance was perfectly normal. At the time, the notion had horrified me. Now I found it reassuring. (TON 371)

Ugly weeping would not have been appropriate for a major Olympian god, so that’s exactly what I did. (TON 372)

To be honest, though, I could no longer consider my time on Earth a punishment. Terrible, tragic, nearly impossible... yes. But calling it a punishment gave Zeus too much credit. It had been a journey - an important one I made for myself, with the help of my friends. I hoped... I believed that the grief and pain had shaped me into a better person. I had forged a more perfect Lester from the dregs of Apollo. I would not trade those experiences for anything. And if I had been told I had to be Lester for another hundred years... Well, I could think of worse things. At least I wouldn’t be expected to show up at the Olympian solstice meetings. (TON 373)

She laid her hand on my arm. “You haven’t forgotten. I can tell.”

She meant about being human, about honoring the sacrifices that had been made. 

“No,” I said. “I won’t forget. The memory is part of me now.” (TON 390)

It would have been inconceivable to the old Apollo, but the idea of aging in this lovely desert tree house, watching Meg grow into a strong and powerful woman... that didn’t sound bad at all. (TON 394)

Call on me. I will be there for you. (TON 396)