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perseabeth · 5 months ago

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Milo’s Lyre

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and get your heart broken in the most beautiful way possible. I published another one shot about this fic titled “What If” you can read it too- I got this idea last night during my angst hour with @anotheroceanid, and after few tears, and of course her inspiration, I decided that you should cry with us too! - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character, all belong to the great author of the fic that made me cry more than my college curriculum enjoy ✨

Apollo no longer remembers how the dream began. He isn't even certain how he can dream at all. He once believed that gods were immune to such mortal experiences, but ever since his love vanished, dreams and nightmares have haunted him in every stolen moment he tries to delve into slumber. This dream, however, was different.

It was serene. Apollo sat upon a rock, a glittering sea stretching before him. His heart ached with a profound sorrow. The sea... How could he ever gaze upon the ocean again without seeing her eyes? How could he ever look at the waves and not remember the way they mirrored her gaze?

Sometimes, he would embark on frantic quests, searching for the sea that truly captured the color of her eyes, just to glimpse those sea-green eyes once more.

How long had it been? Seven years? For gods, time was an irrelevant concept, a fleeting notion in the face of immortality. Normally, seven years would pass as quickly as seven minutes. But these seven years... These years had stretched into millennia. He never knew time could crawl so slowly, could torture so mercilessly.

Apollo cradled his golden lyre, the instrument that once brought her such joy. He remembered the first time she heard him play, the radiant sparkle in her eyes, the breathtaking smile that stole his soul forever. His fingers, delicate and reverent, brushed against the strings, coaxing a serene melody from the lyre. Each note floated through the air like a whisper, and even the restless sea stilled its waves, entranced by the music.

Minutes passed in this harmonious reverie until Apollo felt a presence behind him—a presence so calm, so peaceful, carrying the unmistakable scent of the sea. Hope surged through him. Could it be his love? Could he finally see her in his dreams?

He turned his head slowly, afraid to wake from this fragile hope. As he did, his eyes met sea-green ones, and his heart melted, his soul awakening. Percy’s eyes… But something wasn’t right. The figure before him was a young boy, no older than six or seven, with golden curls that framed his face in a halo of sunlight. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Apollo's heart clenched as he took in the boy’s features. They reminded him of himself in one moment, and then of his love in the next, as if he were a perfect blend of them both.

Apollo's heart clenched. This boy… he looked like the son he might have had if Percy were still here. Shock rendered him speechless as he gazed into those familiar eyes. It was as if the child embodied the essence of their love, a living testament to a future that had been cruelly taken from them.

The boy stood cautiously, studying Apollo with a curious intensity. His golden locks tumbled over his forehead, and he wore a simple chiton that only enhanced his cherubic innocence.

“Can I see this, sir?” The boy’s voice was soft and melodic, yet firm and confident—far beyond his six years. His eyes darted to the lyre in Apollo’s hands, and Apollo finally realized what the boy wanted.

But Apollo was too shocked to speak. The boy stood silently, waiting for Apollo's response. When he finally understood, he nodded. “Of course.”

The boy took careful steps toward Apollo. As he stood before him, the sun god wondered who had raised this child. Most children snatched what they desired without hesitation; they didn’t wait politely for anything. Yet, this boy's sea-green eyes looked up at him with pure innocence and curiosity. He bent slightly to study the lyre, his hands kept respectfully to himself as if he were afraid to touch it.

Apollo realized the boy wouldn't touch the lyre unless he gave it to him.

“Here,” he extended the lyre to the boy. “You can hold it.

The boy hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no, it must be precious.” His voice was filled with a respectful reverence that belied his age, making Apollo's heart beats with admiration.

Apollo gave the young boy a gentle smile. “No, it will be fine here,” he said, pushing the lyre into the boy’s hands. The boy took it with utmost care, his eyes filling with wonder as he studied it. He looked at the lyre as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, his interest and amazement clear.

“Can I ask how you made it, sir? It is amazingly beautiful,” the boy asked, his curiosity shining with pure beauty and innocence.

Apollo smiled fondly, remembering how the lyre came into his possession. “My brother stole my cattle and gave this to me,” he chuckled.

The boy chuckled too, hiding his mouth with his small hands. “This reminds me of a story Mama tells me, about the sun god and the messenger of the gods.”

Apollo froze. The boy’s interest shifted back to the lyre, while Apollo tried to process the millions of questions racing through his mind. His mother told him stories? Apollo was about to ask more when the boy looked up and spoke in his soft, melodic voice. “If you don’t mind… can you,” the boy paused, choosing his words carefully, “can you teach me how to play it? The melody you played was beautiful.”

Apollo, still dumbfounded, watched the boy. “I think I figured out how to make it, but I want to play it for Mama. She seems sad lately, and she loves melodies so much. She sings me lullabies, but I don’t know any to sing for her. So maybe, maybe I can play her something nice that makes her smile.”

Questions swirled around Apollo’s mind. How could a child so young speak with such confidence and wisdom? But the most pressing question came to his lips. “Where is your mother?”

The boy, still focused on the lyre, answered, “On an island.”

“Where is the island?” Apollo asked.

The boy smiled as if Apollo had asked something silly, his smile bright and peaceful. “In the sea,” he said, then paused. “But Mama says the sea is dangerous.”

Apollo looked at the boy, confused. The boy’s answers seemed to reveal everything and nothing at the same time. Dangerous sea? He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Apollo's shoulders slumped. He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Perhaps his mind was creating illusions, offering a glimpse of a future he could never have, mixing him and Percy together to create the child Apollo had always dreamed Percy would carry.

Apollo looked into the boy’s eyes—Percy’s eyes—deciding that maybe, just maybe, he could live this dream for as long as it lasted. For as long as this dream allows him, he wants to imagine that this, indeed, is the child he created with his love. He held the boy’s hand, guiding him on where to place his fingers on the lyre. “Here, let me teach you” he said softly, positioning the small fingers with gentle precision on the lyre’s strings.

The boy was, in fact, the eighth wonder of the world, Apollo thought, as he looked at the young boy whose golden locks glowed in the sunlight.

Once—that was all the instruction the boy needed to create the most beautiful symphony Apollo had ever heard. The boy’s fingers danced over the strings with an innate skill, plucking and strumming as if he had been born for this. The melody flowed seamlessly, each note a shimmering thread weaving through the air, enchanting everything around them.

Apollo smiled fondly at the boy, who was also in amazement, his radiant smile outshining even the sun. The sea sparkled with the boy’s joy, and the sun, feeling almost humbled, began to set beyond the horizon, casting a golden portrait over the world.

Suddenly, the boy stopped and carefully extended the lyre back to Apollo. “I have to wake up now. Mama will wake up soon, and I can’t let her do things alone.”

Apollo’s brows knotted in confusion. “Where are we now?”

The boy smiled brightly. “We are dreaming, of course.”

Apollo took the lyre, looking at it before turning back to the boy. “You can have it.”

The young boy shook his head, making his golden locks jiggle. “It is a gift from your brother. It is precious.” He smiled, a smile that warmed Apollo’s soul, his beautiful sea-green eyes glowing with kindness. Apollo didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to see Percy’s eyes a little longer. Even if it was a hallucination, he wanted to remember those eyes longer.

The boy smiled at Apollo as he began to turn his head. “Thank you for helping me make Mama happy. Next time, when we meet, I’ll try to teach you something too.” And with that, the boy started walking away, slowly dissolving into the dream's fabric.

It didn't take long for Apollo to lose consciousness of the dream. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bed on Olympus, the morning light casting a gentle glow through his window.

Apollo sat on his bed, his chamber unchanged, Olympus glowing just as it always had. But his heart was heavy with a sorrow that even the gods would struggle to bear.

A sad smile graced Apollo’s lips—a smile that held an ocean of pain, a pain too deep for mortals to fathom. The Fates had always been cruel to him, but now even his own mind seemed to conspire in their cruelty, conjuring hallucinations to torment him.

A young boy, the eighth wonder of the world—a boy he could have had if Percy were still with him. If only she were here, somewhere beside him. He was certain she would have adored this boy, cherished him with all her heart. But he was not real.. And his Percy was not here.

Apollo rubbed his eyes, longing to wake up, to return to his duties, to mourn a girl whose disappearance remained a haunting mystery. And to mourn an imaginary son, whom he was certain he would never see again.

—————————

Gaea’s Island

Percy was puzzled by her son’s urgency that morning. After helping her with his brothers, he dashed outside, claiming to have something important to attend to.

She didn’t pry too much into Milo’s affairs, trusting that whatever he was up to, he knew how to avoid trouble, unlike her eldest, Hector. As long as it was Milo, she assured herself, he would be fine.

But Milo had been unusually preoccupied for days now. Whenever Percy found him, he would hastily hide something behind his back, claiming it was important. Percy didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was a surprise he didn’t want her to see. She smiled at the thought.

Then, she heard it—a beautiful melody that froze her in place. For a moment, she thought it was a dream, a hallucination conjured by her own longing. an image of a man with the most beautiful sky-blue eyes, creating serene melodies for her suddenly occupied her mind.. But the sound of footsteps snapped her back to reality. She followed the sound, Hector and Luke trailing behind her, until she suddenly stopped.

On the grass sat a young boy with golden locks, his sea-green eyes shining with joy as he looked up at her. Her Milo. In his hands, a wooden instrument created the most enchanting melody she had ever heard since she arrived to this island

It didn’t take long for Percy to realize what her son had made. Her heart swelled with oceans of emotions, pain, sorrow, pride and love as she beheld her precious Milo, crafting a lyre with his own small hands.

Percy approached Milo, her heart overflowing with a mixture of confusion and love. A single tear traced its way down her cheek as Hector and Luke stood nearby, mesmerized by the beautiful sound emanating from Milo's creation.

Milo looked up at her with a bright smile, but confusion clouded his features as he furrowed his brows. “You don’t like it, Mama? I made it for you.”

Without hesitation, Percy rushed forward, enveloping Milo in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love it… I love it so much.”

“Then why are you crying?” Milo asked, puzzled.

“They're tears of happiness, my love,” Percy whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Tears of happiness—tears of memories, pain, and pride. Tears of many things.

Milo pulled away, showing Percy the delicate wooden instrument he had crafted. “Here, let me show you more,” he said eagerly, his fingers deftly plucking at the strings.

As Milo played, Percy couldn’t help but notice how he resembled his father in that moment. Not a mere version, like Luke, but a reflection—a radiant embodiment of his father's spirit.

Then it struck her—how did Milo know about the lyre? It was Hermes who created it, nd given it to Apollo, later becoming Apollo's symbol. How could Milo know exactly what a lyre looked like? She had always believed that their father lived on in their souls, but she never imagined it would manifest in such a tangible way.

Puzzled, Percy looked at her son. “How did you learn to make this?”

Milo beamed at her, his eyes sparkling with the wisdom of the universe. “In my dream, of course, Mama.”

The answer did little to quell Percy’s bewilderment. She watched as her son proudly displayed his creation, insisting that she should smile because he had made it for her happiness. He even taught his brothers how to hold it so they could all bring joy to their mother.

She watched them take turns playing, each displaying a pure talent they hadn’t known they possessed

Her Milo, her precious children, and her precious lost love…

A few days later, the lyre disappeared from the island, as if it had never existed before.

#wthb fic #wthb Apollo #wthb percy #wthb Milo #perpollo #Bahia writing

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perseabeth · 6 months ago

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< What If >

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and cry very much too - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character. this is a version of “What if” things happened differently in the fic. enjoy ✨ and i’d love to thank the author again for the amazing fic that i’m becoming obsessed with

****

Percy paced back and forth in her cabin, a growing sense of unease gnawing at her. She felt lost, unsure of whom to turn to, and the lack of dreams last night only heightened her fear. Sleep eluded her; every time she closed her eyes, she was jolted awake by terrifying nightmares.

She had faced Kronos, defeated titans, and held the weight of the world on her shoulders in Atlas’ place. She had endured experiences far worse than any nightmare could conjure, living through horrors that would break most. So why was she so afraid now?

A soft knock on the door pulled Percy from her spiraling thoughts. A blonde-haired girl peeked in. "Seaweed brain?"

Percy lifted her gaze to meet her friend's. Annabeth's gray eyes were filled with concern, as if sensing something was wrong. "You missed breakfast... is everything okay?"

Percy tried to muster a small smile. No, nothing was okay. Morning sickness was wreaking havoc on her, and the nightmares of gods punishing her were relentless. "Yes, I'm okay. I just woke up late," she managed to say, though it was far from the truth.

Annabeth looked at her silently for a minute, her eyes seeming to penetrate Percy’s thoughts. Percy was always amazed at how Annabeth’s eyes mirrored Athena’s, reading a person like an open book. she gulped, hoping Annabeth would believe her words. After a moment, her friend nodded slowly. "Your training starts in 15 minutes. The class is almost ready."

Percy gave a slight smile and nodded. "I'll be there." Yet Annabeth lingered at the door, as if waiting for Percy to confide in her. Realizing she wouldn't get any more information, Annabeth gave a final nod and closed the door behind her.

Percy hated lying to her friends and hiding anything from them. Since the war, they had all promised to be open with each other, to support one another through the healing process. But what could she say? That she was pregnant? Carrying a god’s child? No, not even one—three. Three small lives growing inside her, and she had no idea who to turn to.

She did have an idea. She wanted to turn to everyone around her, but her dreams held her back. Demigod dreams weren’t mere dreams; they were messages, visions, and warnings. And here she was, sleep-deprived because she dreamt of her children being killed while their father watched, emotionless.

The day passed rather quickly, as if Kronos had cursed time to hasten her doom. Everything was normal; life at camp went on as usual. Campers were enjoying themselves, chatting, sneaking drinks, and partying as if there were no worries for tomorrow.

It was ironic how carefree they all seemed. They had won a war and were free, savoring the remnants of their mortal lives. Yet, Percy was once again carrying the weight of the world. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed something strange about her. Then the news would spread like Greek fire, reaching the gods, who would learn of the prophecy. Percy and her children would be doomed.

Unconsciously, she wrapped a hand around her belly, as if trying to shield them from the inevitable. Just then, Percy noticed a pair of lingering gray eyes. "Still not feeling well?" Annabeth's voice pulled her from the ocean of her thoughts. Percy quickly removed her hand from her belly, afraid the gesture might reveal too much. "Yes, don't worry. I think I had too many cookies," Percy muttered, attempting a smile to reassure Annabeth. But she knew her friend wouldn’t buy it. Annabeth nodded silently.

The thing about a daughter of Athena was that she knew when something was wrong. But she waited for you to confide in her before uncovering the truth herself. That’s what Annabeth was offering Percy—time to reveal what was going on before she forced it out of her.

—————

The Olympus council raged with energy—too much energy for Percy’s mortal form to bear. She had been here multiple times before, she reminded herself, but nothing had prepared her for this moment.

She tried to catch her father’s eyes, but he immediately looked away, as if unable to bear the sight of her, ashamed. Her heart sank, and her soul felt like it was shattering. She needed someone to hold onto, but there were too many eyes on her, filled with anger and power. Desperately, she searched for other eyes, gentler eyes that had once looked at her with all the love in the world. Eyes that had held her tight, swearing to protect her from everything.

Percy sought his eyes—sky blue, like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. Her heart yearned for him, remembering how he had looked sitting leisurely on his golden throne, just like the first time she had seen him there. Yet, she couldn’t find those sky-blue eyes. Instead, she was met with golden eyes, burning with rage and a promise of pain.

"Well?" Her uncle's voice thundered through the room, the echo making Percy shrink. She had never been afraid of gods, never. She would have kicked the door of Olympus open and marched in like the hero she was. But today wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about harming her. It was about harming those precious to her—her children, hidden within her belly, shielded from the room's volatile energy.

"Apollo, what do you say about this, since you are, after all, the father?" Zeus’ voice was like thunder, each word more terrifying than the last. His tone dripped with sneer, as if the whole situation was beneath him.

Percy’s eyes remained on her lover, whose gaze had become a foreign land. Apollo did not speak; he just stared at her, as if silently threatening her, blaming her for their predicament. Then, with a cold, emotionless voice, he sealed her doom. "I will have none of this," he stated, turning his gaze back to his father. "They might be mine, but I will not claim them, and they will face the wrath of the gods like anyone else who dares to overstep their position."

Fog and mist clouded Percy’s vision. Tears welled up, blurring her sight. Perhaps her tears were merciful, blocking his face from her so she wouldn’t remember him like this—so emotionless, so heartless, promising punishment. This was the true Apollo, the one she had read about in books, the one who punished Cassandra and skinned a satyr alive. This wasn’t her Apollo. This wasn’t the gentle touch of the sun that had held her warmly. This voice wasn’t the sweet, melodic one that had whispered love to her. These eyes weren’t the beautiful ones she had always admired.

Zeus’ voice cut through the room again, sharp and authoritative. "Then the children should be punished and thrown into Tartarus, and they will take with them anyone who stands in the way." Zeus looked at her, a silent warning in his eyes—'You will go with them if you object.' He continued, "All in favor?"

Percy looked around in horror, her gaze landing on her father, pleading silently for mercy. But all she got in return was, "I agree."

All hands were raised, not one sparing her or her children. Cold, merciless eyes looked upon her, not with pity but with disgust, as if she had committed an unforgivable sin.

Percy’s tears could no longer be held back. She fell to her knees, perhaps because her legs could no longer support her, or perhaps because she wanted to beg. She didn't know. All she knew was that she was crying, her sobs echoing throughout the room, her trembling voice barely holding together.

"Please don’t. Please, please. I’m begging you. Please don’t harm them. Please. I’ll take them away. I’ll raise them far from here, but please don’t harm them."

She wasn’t sure if she was making any sense, wasn’t sure what she was even begging for. All she knew was that her heart was shattering, her soul was dying. She felt an immense, unbearable pain, and she was screaming.

——

Percy jolted awake, the room cloaked in darkness, but the light of the fountain was enough for her to recognize her surroundings. She was in her cabin. Safe and sound. She was safe, and her children were safe.

Tears filled her sea-green eyes once more, her heart shattering anew. For the first time, her cabin, her mini-heaven, felt suffocating. The events of her dream rushed back to her, and Percy could no longer hold back her tears. She needed to get out, needed to breathe. Air was scarce in the cabin, and she needed more.

With shaky legs, she stood and rushed to the door, trying to find air, trying to calm her sobs, but she couldn’t. She burst through the door and into the night. She didn’t remember where she walked or where her legs carried her. All she knew was that she found herself in the middle of a path lined with trees, the only light guiding her being the moon’s gentle glow.

She tried to control her sobs, tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. She was safe. They were safe, she reminded herself.

A sudden movement behind her froze the blood in her veins. She sensed him—felt his presence. His energy was always so warm, so peaceful, that she could always feel him. But this time, this peaceful energy brought her only fear. She didn’t dare look behind her, didn’t dare see if those eyes had turned golden again. She didn’t dare to hear that cold, merciless voice. So Percy stood there, wrapping her arms around herself, protecting herself, protecting them from the coldness she had just begun to feel.

"My love?" His gentle voice was like a sweet whisper, so lovely and filled with emotion. It carried love and concern, just as she was used to, before her nightmares.

"Percy, my love, why are you here?" he asked again, his voice almost a whisper, as if afraid of startling her. That’s when she broke down again. Hearing his voice like that only reminded her of her nightmare, her visions, and what his voice might sound like when all was exposed.

Percy didn't remember how it happened, but she found herself enveloped in warm arms. She remembered his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he held her, shielding her from the coldness of the night. It was ironic how the person she feared was the one giving her peace and comfort now, the only one capable of calming her tears. She sensed the fear and worry in his voice as he held her, felt his concern through the gentle touch of his hand soothing her hair.

If only he knew what he would become in the future...

She stayed there for what felt like minutes, maybe hours. She didn't even realize when he had picked her up and led her to a rock, where he sat with her wrapped in his arms, still caressing her hair and calming her down. She didn’t dare speak or look at him, afraid her eyes and voice would betray her

After what seemed like forever, she finally dared to look at him, to meet his gaze. He allowed her to lift her head, and she saw his eyes—beautiful, clear sky-blue even under the moonlight. His eyes were filled with love and gentleness, just as she remembered, now mingled with concern. Percy’s sea-green eyes locked with his, afraid that if she looked away, his eyes would turn to gold again. Her lover didn’t speak, only looked at her, always considerate, always patient, waiting for her to find peace before finding her voice.

“What’s wrong, love?” he muttered, his voice carrying the gentleness of the world. He brushed away the hair blocking her face, soothing her racing heart. He waited for an answer, but she shook her head, still unable to find her voice.

She felt terrible lying to him; she couldn’t look into his eyes and deceive him, so she averted her gaze, studying her surroundings. Only now did she notice they were in the middle of the forest. Suddenly, a warm hand gently held her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes again. “Percy… what’s wrong?”

She knew this tone—the tone of demanding answers, answers he would get no matter how long he has to keep her wrapped in his arms. A voice inside her head, a tiny voice, told her she could trust him, find peace in him, that he would protect her as he promised. But that voice was immediately drowned by the ocean of nightmares that filled her nights.

Percy shook her head again, trying to find her voice, now raspy from screaming and crying. “J-just a nightmare,” she muttered, still unable to look away as he gently fixed her chin with his warm fingers, holding her gaze.

Apollo studied her for a few minutes before gently stroking her hair again with his other hand. “A nightmare that made you run to the woods in the middle of the night?” he asked, still gentle and patient.

Percy simply nodded and muttered, “A bad nightmare.”

His gaze never left hers, studying her while his hands continued to soothe her. “What was it about?”

Percy gulped. She knew he would ask. He was always curious about every detail of her life, always there listening to her nightmares. He wouldn’t let this one go.

She looked at him, still holding his gaze, as if trying to show him she was being honest. “About the war.”

Apollo simply nodded before Percy felt the gentle touch of his lips on her forehead, kissing away her worries. His warmth spread throughout her body, comforting her, enveloping her in peace. For a fleeting moment, Percy wanted to believe that all was perfect in the world.

He whispered, his lips still on her forehead, "My love, have I ever told you how terrible of a liar you are?"

Percy's heart sank as nightmares rushed back to her—the memory of his cold voice, his golden angry eyes, and his indifferent gaze. She could feel her heartbeat in her hands, only for him to look at her again, his beautiful blue eyes meeting hers, guiding her through the darkness.

His eyes held nothing but pure gentleness, a hint of teasing, and a lot of love. His fingers started brushing her cheeks gently as he spoke again, his voice as gentle as a feather, "You are a terrible liar, and I love that you try to lie to the god of truth." He kissed her nose affectionately.

Speechless and unsure of what to say or how to react, Percy was overwhelmed. her silence didn’t seem to bother him as he continued to brush her cheeks and pepper her face with sweet, gentle kisses. "Now tell me, what’s wrong?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern and love.

Percy couldn’t do anything but shake her head as she attempted to free herself from his embrace, only to find him holding her tighter. He remained silent, patient, silently facing their battle as she struggled against him.

She heard him sigh, and for a split second, fear gripped her—fear of him running out of patience, fear of meeting those golden eyes again. But the more she protested, the gentler his hold became. She looked into his eyes again, his lips curving into a small smile. “You aren’t going anywhere, my love, until you tell me,” he stated, his voice filled with warmth.

She shook her head as silent tears started rolling down her cheeks. “I-I can’t,” she whispered.

He shook his head, as if her answer wasn’t what he was seeking, before kissing her tears away, wiping them away with his lips. “Yes, you can, and you will, Percy,” he sighed before continuing. “I know you well enough to know that nothing, absolutely nothing, could make you run into the middle of the night like that unless it was something terrifying.” He kissed her forehead again, as if aware of the calming effect his gentle kisses had on her. And he wasn’t wrong. The more he did it, the more she felt at peace in his arms, despite all the nightmares.

He gently continued, still holding her gaze. “You looked at our dear grandfather eye-to-eye and stood your ground. I know my Percy. Nothing can scare her. So tell me, my love.”

She wanted to, oh how she wanted to tell him everything, to spill everything and hold him close. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew how he would react, and she knew what they would face.

Percy shook her head again, tears streaming down her face as she forcefully freed herself from his grasp. She couldn’t bear to look at his hurt expression, the pain in his eyes as she distanced herself from him, as if she were afraid of him. And who could she lie to? She was afraid of him.

She kept shaking her head, trying to make him understand. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he had to understand. She struggled to find her voice again. "I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!" she repeated, tears flowing freely. The night’s coldness enveloped her once more, while her body begged her to return to the warmth of his arms. Percy tried to look at him, hoping he would spare her from explaining anything, but she was once again met with his beautiful blue eyes, tinged with pain and uncertainty. His voice broke her, destroying all the self-will she had been trying to gather, as he whispered, "Don’t you trust me?"

She does! She wanted to scream at him that she does, that he was foolish to even doubt it. But does she? Percy questioned herself as she looked at him again. does she trust him? If she did, she wouldn’t feel afraid of him. If she did, she wouldn’t believe he would harm her or their children.

The longer she took to answer, the more pain showed in his eyes as his gaze locked onto hers. Then he spoke again, almost in a whisper, his voice showing hints of pain. "What did I do?"

Silence enveloped them, the night alive with the symphony of the forest. The rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional chirping of crickets provided a backdrop to their conversation, amplifying the tension between them.

She kept looking at him, observing how he tried his best to understand what he had done wrong. Knowing him, he was probably going through a mental list of things he thought he might have done.

But how could she tell him?

“You didn’t do anything,” she finally said, her voice quivering.

“Then why?” he pressed.

“Why what?”

“Why are you looking at me like you aren’t sure whether you are safe with me or not?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on her, waiting for any reaction.

Percy couldn’t handle this anymore. She couldn’t tell him anything, yet she couldn’t not tell him anything. He stood there, hurt, thinking she didn’t trust him, yet he was so far from the truth.

Apollo slowly stood and stepped a little closer to her. Blame it on her nightmare or her lack of sleep, but she couldn’t help but take a step backward, earning her a quizzical look from him.

“St-stay away,” she muttered, hoping to stop him. She realized too late that her words had indeed stopped him, but not in the way she wished, as he stood frozen, looking at her with pained eyes. For the first time in her life, Percy witnessed fear in Apollo’s eyes.

She had hurt him, deeply. But who could blame her? If anyone with a healthy mind saw these visions every day, they would react the same way.

She tried to speak again, hoping to remove that pained look from his face. “I-I didn’t mean it that—“ But before she could finish, he spoke again.

“You are scared of me… What did I do?”

That’s when Percy broke down again. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was nightmares, maybe it was a terrible mix of both, but she couldn’t bear to see that look on his face. She started sobbing, holding her face in her palms. She felt him hesitate, unsure whether to step closer or stay where he was, knowing she was scared.

Percy kept sobbing as she muttered, "It’s not you... You will harm us... In the future, you will harm us... I can’t let that happen... They don’t deserve this!"

Apollo’s voice cut through her sobbing state as he simply questioned, “Us? They?”

Here’s a few things about Percy: sometimes words don’t go through her brain before speaking them out, which has gotten her into trouble with gods, titans, and monsters alike. When she is in distress, this tendency becomes even worse, and following order becomes harder for her. And in that special moment, Percy was in her most vulnerable state as she couldn’t control her sobs. Gaea had warned her to be careful with every word she says, but it’s not Percy’s fault that Gaea trusted her with such a mission. And it was too late when Percy realized what she had done as she looked at her confused lover. It was too late to withdraw her words; her tears still blurred her vision as he stood in front of her. “I-I mean us, me and you,” she stammered.

Apollo shook his head, didn’t he just tell her how terrible of a liar she is? “You just said ‘they’? Who are they, Percy?”

She wanted to run, to escape now, never look back because she just realized that she had messed up everything. Her tears were uncontrollable at this point, but she couldn’t let herself drown in them. She needed to stay awake to face him, but with what? What could she say?

In a blink of an eye, she felt warm palms cupping her cheeks, caressing them softly as his eyes poured into hers. “Who are you talking about?” he whispered gently, as if he was aware that whatever topic they were approaching was something destroying her.

Was it worth lying at this moment? Percy questioned herself. Maybe Gaea had promised to save her from all, but was it a real solution? Was she able to run from the twelve Olympian gods forever? Was she really able to postpone whatever destiny her children might face? She is a child of prophecy, and she knows how hard it is to escape prophecies. Was any of it really worth it?

She could feel a voice in her head telling her to confide in him, and another screaming and shouting at her, telling her that these nightmares would come true, and she was only making them come quicker. She could feel invisible hands holding her throat, preventing her from talking, a pressure almost preventing her from breathing. But one thing, one small thing, was holding her like an archer holding a ship amidst a dark storm: his eyes. Those gentle eyes that looked at her with all the love and concern possible. Eyes promising her that he would protect her no matter what. And in that second, she trusted those eyes, for they had never broken a promise.

“Our children,” she whispered, maybe even afraid that he would hear. But she knew that he heard, because the frozen state he was in proved that he did, in fact, hear.

His frozen state only fed her fears more; his eyes never left hers, but he was oddly silent, and that didn’t help her at all in this situation. She regretted blurting it out; she regretted not controlling herself, and she was about to regret confiding in his eyes when the silence was broken with his voice.

“You are—” he began, but couldn’t finish. He waited for her to finish, waited for her to spill the words so she could confirm them.

Tears rolled from Percy’s eyes again. That was it, that was the moment she had dreaded. But when was she a coward running away? Never, and she never would. Percy nodded, still holding his gaze, as she finished his own sentence. “—pregnant.”

And again, frozen, he was back again to that state where his eyes widened, looking at her, searching her eyes for any hint of a lie. She had to break this silence; she had to speak. She led armies, so she could lead a conversation, even with tears rolling down her eyes.

“triplet.. But there’s a prophecy… Dangerous… Gods will be angry… You will be angry… A lot of danger… Tartarus… I need to prote—” But before she managed to finish her incoherent speech, which she was sure made no sense, she felt warm lips on hers.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and tender, like a feather brushing against her lips. It was a kiss filled with happiness, reassurance and love, a silent promise. In that moment, all her fears melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and warmth. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, letting herself be enveloped by his love.

Maybe she wished to believe that it was a normal pregnancy announcement; maybe his kiss did make her feel like that. And for moments, she wanted to believe that. He broke the kiss only to replace it with another tender kiss, and another, and another.

She tried to whisper between kisses, reminding him of their situation: “Prophecy.” But it only gained her an inaudible mumble as he kissed her one last time. Maybe he didn’t hear her incoherent speech; maybe he was also wishing to live in his own world for a few minutes.

He looked at her again, and if she thought that she already found his most beautiful gaze, she was wrong. Because at this moment, there she found the most beautiful gaze. He looked at her with eyes full of love, happiness, pure happiness he barely showed, besides when she confessed her love for the first time. But now, it was a new type of happiness, a new type of hope. His hands never left her cheeks as he kept caressing them with even more tenderness. He whispered, “I love you... so much,” before kissing her again softly and mumbling, “Thank you.”

She hated to break that moment for them; she hated to ruin this happiness. But she had to. She had to tell him the full truth since he already knew the worst part of it. “Prophecy,” she mumbled again. That’s when she caught his attention, and he spoke, “What prophecy are you talking about my love ? I heard of nothing.”

She took a deep breath before she spilled everything to him, from the moment she discovered her pregnancy to the prophecy, to the nightmares, and even Gaea's secret mission in 'helping her'. She could feel Gaea’s rage; don’t ask her how, but she could feel it.

Only after saying everything did she finally dare to look at Apollo, who was now holding her waist with his brows knotted in confusion. He was silent for a few minutes, her anxiety at its peak as she waited for any word from him, anything.

Maybe after telling him everything, he would agree with her plan with Gaea? Maybe he would agree with how dangerous her children are? Maybe he would say that the prophecy could be wrong? She didn’t know. But she did know one thing: his face showed pure curiosity and not anger.

After what seemed like hours, he finally spoke softly, "No." She looked at him in confusion.

"No..." he repeated again, Percy still not understanding what he was trying to say, when he cupped her cheeks and forced her to look at him. "I don’t care what this prophecy says. I’ll have a talk with Rachel for hiding this. But I don’t care what it means."

Percy whispered, afraid of raising her voice, "You are the god of prophecy, you can't say that."

He shook his head, his blue eyes still filled with determination. "If me being the god of prophecy means I’ll let harm come to my children, then I’ll let Delphi crumble to pieces."

"No harm will come to them. I will not allow any harm to come to them, and I don’t care if the price to pay was Olympus itself," Percy tried to shake her head, as if she was warning him that he was saying nonsense, but he fixed her face and made her look at him. "Nothing, and absolutely nothing, will harm you or our children, love," he stated. "I swear it on the River Styx." A sudden thunder broke the silence of the forest.

An oath... he just made an oath while holding her as if he didn’t just make the most sacred oath. Percy tried to reason with him, "But Gaea—"

Apollo shook his head again. "I’ll not let anyone take care of you. I don’t trust anyone with you, and especially not a primordial goddess that was supposed to be sleeping."

"But Olympus—"

"I’ll deal with them. Leave them to me."

"But—" She tried to protest when his lips found hers again in a gentle kiss, silencing her. "Stop with buts. Nothing will happen, and you have the word of a god. I will never allow anything to happen to you... all of you." That’s when his eyes were suddenly filled with happiness and gentleness again. He suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

As he mumbled in her neck, in a soft, gentle tone, "Gods, Percy..." and "Thank you," she didn’t understand what he was thankful for, but she was sure of one thing: for the first time in weeks, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders, just like when Atlas took the weight of the Earth from her again. Yet this time, she felt utter peace. Complete peace.

For the first time in weeks, she felt her heart filled with happiness. She was in his arms, the arms of the one who made a sacred oath to protect her and her children. Not just her, but also them. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

It was worth having this nightmare so she could find him here tonight. Maybe the Fates really took pity on her... just maybe, there is hope.

#when the horizon bloom #WTHB perpollo #WTHB percy #fic #wthb fic #WTHB #bahia writes

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