#pjo thanatos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsarisfanfiction · 1 year ago

Text

Eclipse: Chapter 31

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades We really are in the final stages now - only one chapter to go after this one! A few things still need tying up or addressing, as I know some of you have noticed - here's the bow to wrap around Asclepius' plot thread! 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 30

APOLLO XXXI

Punishment assigned The fate of Asclepius Let the healer heal

Apollo could not believe that he’d walked away from Zeus’ temper without facing any consequences. Having Hades – and, surprisingly, Poseidon – as active buffers between him and his father had helped, but that itself was new and, if he was honest, rather daunting.

He did not remember the last time anyone stood up for him against Zeus – or against anyone, really – while he was a god. Meg and his children, to say nothing of the rest of the demigods, had supported him far more than he had deserved during his mortal tenure, but to receive such support from fellow gods? Not even Artemis had ever placed herself as a true buffer before.

Then there was the Fates’ interference. Apollo did not find himself overly surprised, in hindsight, that it was supposed to have been him and Hades that claimed the prophecy (not that that negated the fact that they had chosen to claim it, the Fates and free will worked in tandem despite their near-ultimate authority). While there were no doubt many different ways the prophecy could have unfolded, had they rejected it or the demigods claimed it first, there was one particular part that, with the knowledge of how it had come to pass, stuck out at Apollo.

Demigods did not bleed gold.

Gold passes through the shadow of death could have meant many things, but Apollo did not think it insignificant – or so easily altered – that the referenced gold had been ichor. Whose ichor it would have been, had Will and Nico taken the prophecy upon their own shoulders with a claim, Apollo would likely never know, but he suspected that it would still have been ichor.

He was, however, glad that the Fates had decreed that Bob would fight for Olympus – not that he was looking forwards to another war, or however it would come about, but because it meant that Bob would not fight against Olympus. It was a justification – they had been right to rescue to the titan, and not even Zeus could argue otherwise now that it had been so foretold. Apollo knew nothing about the implied war – there were snatches, of Bob bathed in ichor, and some of the gods besides, but nothing that he could see enough of to glean any information.

No indication of what the threat was, who they were defending Olympus from. Apollo wondered if the Fates were concealing it from him deliberately, or if his foresight simply hadn’t latched onto anything relevant. Given that at least Bob’s involvement stemmed from his own actions, however, he suspected the Fates were at play. They didn’t usually let him see his own future.

If they did, he would certainly have tried harder to avoid being turned mortal three times, no matter how educational the third had ended up being.

The Underworld was becoming something almost welcoming. Apollo had never thought he’d find the darkness, away from the sun, comforting, but after Tartarus – and with the knowledge that somehow Hades didn’t hate him – it felt more like a safe haven. Maybe it was because that was what it had been for Will, even for Asclepius for the time being. Maybe it was because it was outside of Zeus’ jurisdiction and Hades had proven he bore him no ill will.

In the distance, the other side of Hades�� palace but nearer than the cries of the punished souls of the damned, Elysium glowed and Apollo found himself thinking back on the precious gift of goodbyes his uncle had bestowed upon him. The chance to see so many of his dead children one last time, to talk with them and tell them in no uncertain terms that he did love them, because in Elysium they were safe from anything that might otherwise try to target Apollo’s loved ones – it was a boon Apollo could never repay. Though only shades, their touches had been warm, firm hugs where they’d been offered and gratefully received – and they’d been happy.

Was there anything better than safe, happy children?

Speaking of safe children, Apollo was well aware that he owed Will and Nico an apology. He did not regret his actions in stopping them from going to Tartarus, but he knew that he had hurt them nonetheless. Will’s desperate, confused call for him when he had awoken, while Apollo had been nothing but a helpless and distant observer, stayed strong in his memory, alongside Nico’s gaunt, tired countenance from being left alone with no company but his comatose boyfriend.

Still, Apollo remained a firm believer that comatose was better than dead, especially when it was a coma he knew would not unduly tax the sleeper. He hoped Nico at least agreed with that.

The dark shadows surrounding Nico’s bedroom door peeled away at a gesture from Hades, and the door swung open soundlessly. There was no hesitation this time, no caution that one side of the door might offer a threat to the other (Asclepius might disagree, and Apollo was still worried about whatever punishment Hades intended on bestowing upon his immortal son, but for the demigods, at least, it held true).

Nico and Will were sat on the bed together, curled up in each other’s embrace with their backs against the headboard. Neither was sleeping; the posture looked more defensive than relaxed, more comforting-

Oh.

It was Nico doing most of the comforting, Will mostly ensconced within the son of Hades’ embrace despite one arm slung around his boyfriend’s shoulders almost as an afterthought, and while they were far more intimately tangled now, Apollo’s mind instantly jumped to two demigods dealing with a desperate, mortal god.

We were worried, Nico had told him then. Will especially.

Will was a healer, and also a worrier when he couldn’t heal. He’d been near frantic when Austin and Kayla had disappeared, for all that he’d followed his duty over his heart, and so terrified by Apollo’s mortal state that when he wasn’t hiding it behind smiles and laughter at the absurdity of it all, he was reliant on Nico to communicate for him.

This looked a little bit like that, again, except this time when Will caught sight of him there was no hesitation, no uncertainty.

“Dad!” he cried, pulling out of Nico’s grip clumsily as the other demigod let him go without complaint, and then Apollo found himself with an arm full of teenage boy as Will threw himself at him in a full-body tackle. It was only because he was a god that Apollo was able to absorb the impact without staggering a step backwards – the mortal Lester would never have stood a chance. “You’re back!” Delight warred with relief, and Apollo noticed that his son had started to glow faintly, either out of conscious delight or a subconscious reaction. Whichever it was, Apollo would treasure it forever.

Tell Will he’s not allowed to come here until his hair’s white with age, Lee had mentioned, almost offhanded except Michael had nodded with fierce agreement in his eyes. Apollo had no intentions of telling his son that he had been to Elysium, much less that he had spoken with his deceased siblings, but the sentiments were ones he could pass along one day regardless.

“I am,” he said, pushing down the words of the dead for the moment. There would be better times to say it, when they weren’t all coming down from the emotional high of, well, everything to do with Tartarus and Olympus.

Nico seemed less appeased, his dark eyes raking over both of them and then the empty space behind them before locking onto Apollo like a heat-seeking missile (horrible things, normally, when driving the sun chariot which was by definition the hottest thing in existence, but from these demigods, Apollo found he didn’t mind at all). “Where’s Bob?” he asked, an undercurrent tone that told Apollo there would be trouble if Nico was ever given cause to believe the titan had ended up on the wrong side of Zeus’ temper and found himself the unlucky recipient of a one-way ticket back into Tartarus. “What happened?”

“Bob is fine,” Hades assured his son, stepping into the middle of the room but going no further. “My brother was not impressed with his rescue, but he is suffering Bob’s continued presence with grace, albeit bad grace.”

“Bob has gone to reconnect with Percy and Annabeth,” Apollo interceded, sensing the potential for the conversation to alarm Nico. “He will remain in the Overworld, where my father can see him at all times.”

“I bet he wasn’t happy,” Will mumbled against Apollo’s chest, and he gently stoked blond locks.

“My brother has forgotten how to be happy,” Hades commented. “Only how to be paranoid. Regardless, this situation is resolved as far as Olympus is concerned, and Bob is permitted to roam freely, so long as he does not try to hide his movements from the gods.”

“From my uncle, you mean,” Nico muttered. No-one disputed his words.

“You and William are free to go, now,” Hades continued, “should you so wish.”

“We are?” Nico seemed surprised at the sudden change, although Apollo suspected there was a note of bitterness in there, too. “Two months of house arrest and now we’re just… free to go?”

“The situation is resolved,” Hades repeated. “There is no need for you to remain here unless you wish to.” His uncle, Apollo knew, would rather Nico stayed, but they all knew he wouldn’t. Not as long as he had Will.

“Is it safe?” the Italian demigod pressed, but before Hades or Apollo could conjure an answer – what was the correct answer, when the prophecy was fulfilled and the quest was over but demigods were always inherently in danger simply due to their parentage – Asclepius shifted.

His godly son had been remaining on the periphery as much as possible, perhaps seeking to lessen Hades’ punishment or even be forgotten about entirely, although given his willingness to respect how wronged Hades felt by his actions, Apollo doubted those were the reasons. More likely, he had simply had nothing of note to say until then.

“Will needs sunlight,” he observed. “I have done what I can to sustain him down here, but I can only conjure a bastardisation of our father’s light.”

“I’m fine,” Will muttered into Apollo’s chest, but Apollo shook his head, stilling one hand atop blond waves.

“Asclepius is correct,” he said slowly. “Sunlight is important for all mortals-” he sent Nico a pointed look “-but especially my own children.” Will was both powerful enough to mitigate the need with his own innate light, and so powerful he needed it in a way that most of Apollo’s other children could get away without. It was no coincidence that Will had a subconscious habit of searching out the nearest patch of sunlight whenever he could, and being deprived of it for two months, it appeared, was doing his son no favours.

The coma, and the godly-conjured mortal foods supplemented with perhaps more ambrosia and nectar than was ordinarily advisable had not helped, either. Will was still healthy, yes, but Apollo could sense a slow fatigue settling in, likely so gradual that even Will’s own vitakinesis was failing to flag it as a concern. His son needed to return to the Overworld, and the sooner, the better.

From the expression on his face, Nico needed no further convincing, but Will was continuing his impersonation of a limpet with no signs of letting go, and Apollo sighed fondly.

“Will,” he began, stopping when the arms around him squeezed tighter. It was hardly a hinderance to a god, for all that Apollo’s memories of a mortal body and easily broken ribs were starting to flag up points of concern, but it was deliberate.

“Dad, are you safe?” Will asked his chest, the words coming out muffled. “You’re not… going to be punished?” Even muffled, the painful fear in his voice was unmistakable, and Apollo’s heart ached.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he tried to assure his son, but the tension in the teenager’s frame wasn’t easing at all. Part of Apollo began to regret how much he – and later, Asclepius – had impressed upon the demigods the reality of danger they had been in from Zeus. It was clear that Will had not only taken it seriously, but had also extrapolated it to the next, logical step.

In hindsight, it was the obvious mental step for his son to make – had Apollo not just spent the past six months mortal, at the merciless behest of his father, the same god he and Hades had again defied? Will had lived with half a year of not knowing where Apollo was, or what state he was in, and then another six months fretting over a mortal and very susceptible to the threat of death Apollo. He knew, now, in a way Apollo sincerely wished he’d never had the chance to realise, that Zeus was dangerous.

The worst thing was that Apollo couldn’t, completely honestly, say that Zeus would not turn around once recovered from being corrected by the Fates and decide to punish him for going on the quest regardless.

“Your father will not be punished,” Hades said, a confidence in his words that Apollo just could not feel. “It transpired that Bob’s release from Tartarus was the will of the Fates themselves. Not even my brother can argue with that.”

Zeus could. Apollo was certain of that, but Hades’ words did what his own had failed to do and drained the tension from Will’s rigid frame until it was Apollo’s embrace keeping his son on his feet, rather than a righteous anger embroiled with fear.

Adjusting his grip accordingly, Apollo looked for Nico. The other demigod was stood barely an arm’s length away, watching Will’s reactions with frustration – not with Will, not in the slightest, but at the combination of factors that had led to Will’s current situation – and worry. Apollo was reminded of the distraught demigod he’d presented the comatose body of Will to, and the gaunt, greasy-haired appearance he’d gained before Asclepius had woken his boyfriend, and the guilt bubbled up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, mostly to the son of Hades, but also to Will. Both demigods startled, Nico staring at him while Will’s head tilted up against his chest in confusion. Apollo squeezed his son tighter, a brief action so as not to crush him, but enforcing his regret. “I do not regret taking your place for one moment, and would do it again in a heartbeat,” he began, “but the manner in which I did so hurt you – both of you – and that was never my intention.”

Will shook his head, burying his face back in Apollo’s chest once more. “I know you were protecting us,” he mumbled. “It would have been nice to know what you were going to do, and maybe if you’d planned it better, but it’s okay, Dad.”

It was Apollo’s turn to shake his head, until a glare from Nico stopped him. “It hurt,” the son of Hades said bluntly, never one to soften the blow, “but it kept Will alive. I can’t blame you for how you did it when it worked. Just don’t do it again.”

His words were firm, but there was no anger in his voice, just raw honesty. Apollo’s shake of the head became a nod instead, accepting Nico’s proclamation.

“I can do that,” he agreed gently. “Now, go. Take Will back to the Overworld.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” his son mumbled, a performative squeeze driving his point home, but as much as Apollo was grateful for the chance to embrace his son, he was well aware that his son needed to leave, sooner rather than later.

If it was not for Asclepius, Apollo would have taken him personally, but he was conscious that Hades was keeping one eye on the younger god and that his much-stretched patience regarding the creation and use of the Physician’s Cure was wearing thin. Perhaps he, too, just wanted to place the events of the quest behind them now.

“I will come and find you,” he promised. “There are some affairs I need to get in order, first, but I will not be long.”

Will still didn’t seem convinced, but Nico stepped forwards and put his hand on his boyfriend��s shoulder. “Come on, Will,” he coaxed. “Let’s get back to Camp; they’ll be wondering where we are.”

There were unshed tears in Will’s eyes as he eventually let himself be detached from Apollo, and Apollo couldn’t help but give him another quick embrace. “I will see you again very soon,” he promised.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Will replied, a spark of his stubbornness showing. “Today.” His tone brooked no arguments, and Apollo had none to give – nor did he want to. They still had things to talk about, but he knew Hades would not wait much longer to sentence Asclepius.

He watched as Will sank back into Nico’s hold, the son of Hades wrapping an arm around him fully, before they melted into the shadows and disappeared.

Hades wasted no time in turning around and walking out of his son’s room. There was no command, or other gesture, but it was clear that Apollo and Asclepius were expected to follow. Considering Nico was no longer present, it made sense to leave his room in peace, and Apollo trailed behind his uncle willingly, glancing sideways as Asclepius fell into step beside him.

His son seemed completely calm, despite the fact that Hades was leading them towards the throne room, where he would no doubt pass his judgement and inflict Asclepius’ new punishment. Apollo wished he could be even half as calm as Asclepius, but despite the fact he and Hades had a far deeper, less antagonistic relationship than he’d thought possible, he also knew that Hades was still furious and offended by the repeated use of the Physician’s Cure. The only concession Apollo had managed to wrangle was that Asclepius would not be returned to Tartarus, and in the face of Hades’ anger, that didn’t seem like anywhere near enough of a concession to keep his son safe.

“I broke my oath,” Asclepius reminded him suddenly, his voice low although not so low that Hades would not hear it clearly. The older god kept walking, however, seemingly willing to allow them conversation for the time being. “The consequences are mine to bear, Father. Not yours,” he insisted, “nor do I believe Lord Hades would inflict them upon you regardless.”

“With my nephew, punishing the child also punishes the father,” Hades said, not looking back as they entered the throne room and the god of the dead swept to the dais of his throne, gaining stature until he was once again a twenty foot god on a throne to match. “Which leaves me with a quandary, as Asclepius is not being punished for your actions, Apollo, but I have no doubt you will blame yourself regardless.”

He sounded irritated at that fact, as though Apollo taking the rightful blame for giving Asclepius the ability to break his oath was foolish.

“That being said,” Hades continued, tall and proud on his throne. Usually, Apollo would be of a height to match, but Asclepius had remained human-sized, and it was his son’s side that Apollo needed to be, leaving them both looking up at the Lord of the Underworld. Hades still had the Helm of Darkness on his head, still wore the battle armour from Tartarus, much like Apollo did, and it made him look even more foreboding than usual – a stark contrast to the god that had been by Apollo’s side in the last throne room. “The punishment should fit the crime.”

Apollo’s heart leapt up – the crime was reviving the dead, poetic justice would have some form of reversal in place, and what if Zeus wasn’t the only god who knew how to strip another’s immortality? Hades was certainly powerful enough, if he so chose.

It also didn’t escape him that Asclepius’ Tartarus punishment had not fit the crime at all, despite being dispensed by the god of justice and order himself, and after Hades’ near flippant responses to Zeus on Olympus, that seemed pointed.

His uncle’s next words dismissed the fear of mortality, but replaced it with a different dread, a tired dread, because Apollo had feared it all along. “If you wish to heal the dead, then you shall do so,” Hades proclaimed, the dark flames of his eyes focused solely on Asclepius. “The Fields of Punishment are full of souls that need constant repair. You shall reside there for as long as I deem it necessary, keeping any soul that needs it from complete destruction.”

Wasn’t that the Phlegethon’s job? Apollo could not see the fiery river being pleased at being passed over for Asclepius. He could, however, see how it was a punishment to fit the crime, and knew that Hades would suffer no further protests from him.

He looked at his son, and was surprised to find him smiling. It was a small thing, but there was a light to his eyes that seemed completely illogical for someone sentenced to the Fields of Punishment. Then Asclepius bowed, not waiting for Apollo’s reaction.

“Thank you for your mercy, Lord Hades,” he said. The god waved an imperious hand in his direction, dismissive.

“Talk to your father,” he said. “Thanatos shall retrieve you shortly. I have duties to attend to.” Shadows crawled up the throne, and then he was gone.

Immediately, Apollo turned to Asclepius. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling tears start to well in his eyes. “I couldn’t do more-”

“Father,” Asclepius interrupted him, raising his hand. Stymied, Apollo’s mouth shut with a clack. His son was still smiling, brighter even than before. “This is hardly a punishment.”

“You are being sent to the Fields of Punishment,” Apollo reminded him. “It is there in the name, Asclepius.”

His son conceded the point with a nod of his head, but did not lower his hand. “I am a physician, Father,” he said. “But despite my ascension as a god of medicine at the behest of Grandfather, all too often I have sat helpless, unable to heal. We are forbidden from interfering with mortal lives, and the prayers for my aid have vastly reduced as time has marched onwards. You, the mortals remember, and name things for as it pleases them. But I… It has been a long, long time since I have felt free, Father. What use is a god of medicine who is forbidden to heal?”

Disbelief began to well as Apollo started to realise what his son was getting at.

“Hades’ punishment allows you to be needed again,” he said, and suddenly the light in his son’s eyes made sense.

“The souls of the damned are no longer mortal,” Asclepius agreed. “It is a punishment, yes, in that it is not my choice when or where or whom I heal, and that I am locked away from the mortals – and from your light, Father – but it is a greater mercy than I could have ever looked for.”

It was a kindness, in its own twisted way, Apollo realised. Asclepius was finally free of Zeus’ influence, as much as he ever could be, was protected from Zeus by the Underworld – and his father’s own ignorance at the change of his fate – and could heal without restraints. No wonder Asclepius saw it as a mercy.

Apollo reached out, resting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m still sorry you have to be punished at all,” he said. Asclepius gave him a small, lopsided smile, and despite the four thousand years between them, Apollo could see hints of Will in the expression, as though he needed a reminder that they were both his children, both kind hearted healers who thrived on helping people.

“I broke my oath,” Asclepius reminded him, not for the first time. “There will always be consequences.”

Dark glittering eyes crossed Apollo’s mind, the rage of the Styx as he made and broke oaths in rashness not easily forgotten, for all that she seemed to have finally considered herself satisfied that his lesson was fully learned at last.

His shoulders slumped. “I know,” he breathed. “I am still sorry I put you in a position where you could break your oath.”

“It was necessary,” Asclepius told him firmly. “I did not inherit your prophetic domains, nor any degree of foresight, but I do not believe the Fates would have permitted it were it not necessary.”

The Fates. Apollo had no more knowledge than any other about what the three ladies intended, or about the threads they wove. They rarely moved in blatant ways, preferring to spin their yarns in silence as mortals and immortals alike followed along, sometimes blindly and sometimes willingly. The future was fluid, changing with every decision that was made, but sometimes, there were points that would come to pass no matter how much they were fought against. Apollo had seen some occur before, hindsight clearing the haze of hidden knowledge, and had no doubt that there were more still to come, for all that he did not know what they were, or when they would come about.

“The designs of the Fates are unknown even to me,” he said, a little ruefully, and Asclepius let out a short bark of laughter. It was a sound Apollo had not heard in four millennia, since his son was still a mortal learning the ways of the world, and hearing it brought tears to his eyes.

“Not even you know everything, Father,” his son said. “Sometimes you have to join the rest of us in blissful ignorance of what’s coming next. Like this.”

Apollo had hardly a moment to wonder what Asclepius meant before he found himself in a tight embrace, his son’s chosen form just a little bit taller than his and Asclepius’ face pressed into his hair.

“Thank you, Father,” was whispered into his hair, as he wound his arms around his son in turn. “For raising me, teaching me, and caring about me. I was truly a blessed demigod, and now a god. Even though we have barely seen each other in four millennia, I have never once doubted that you love me, and now we are reunited I am even more certain than ever of your love.”

“Of course I love you,” Apollo replied, the words instant and needing no thought at all. The welling tears overflowed, soaking into the shoulder of Asclepius’ long, white doctor’s coat. “How could I not?”

A voice cleared their throat, interrupting before he could say any more, or Asclepius could reply. Apollo raised his head to see Thanatos standing behind them, his dark wings folded neatly behind him. Gone was the pale, afraid god that had pulled them out of Tartarus; the god of death looked self-assured again, confident within his own realm.

“Asclepius,” the god said, glancing down at the sleek black iPad in one hand. His scythe was nowhere to be seen. “It is time.”

Apollo didn’t want to let his son go, not again after finally reuniting with him once more. There was so much more to be said, a flow of conversation still completely untouched, buried beneath the awkwardness of reuniting with a child who had matured four millennia since last they talked. Four millennia, at least, of conversation, and the future besides.

But Asclepius nodded, and slipped out of Apollo’s hold.

“Goodbye, Father,” he said. “I love you; may it not be four millennia more before we see each other next.”

Apollo whole-heartedly agreed with the sentiment, and Thanatos sighed. “Lord Hades did not say anything about banning Lord Apollo from visiting, if he can withstand the pain of the Fields of Punishment long enough.” The words were flat and dry, but strange – if Hades did not say something, it was usually an unspoken expectation. He hadn’t said that Apollo could visit, which was as good as saying that he couldn’t.

Except for the way Thanatos had worded it, his tone dry but his words sarcastic in a way that sounded a lot like his uncle.

Confused, Apollo watched as Thanatos put a hand on his son’s back, and steered him away. Behind him, the familiar dark streaked with lights and greys of his uncle’s essence coalesced.

“Not today,” Hades said as the other two gods left the throne room. “But I will, on occasion, permit you to visit. This is not your punishment, and I am not my brother.” His uncle was mortal-sized again, still a touch taller than Apollo, but making no attempt to loom above him. The Helm of Darkness had gone, set aside wherever his uncle kept it when it was not on his head, and the battle armour had been shed, leaving Hades once more in his usual attire of the robes of the tormented dead.

Apollo wiped away the tears, aware that he could simply will them away, but preferring the mortality of the action. “Thank you, uncle,” he said, heartfelt. It wasn’t just for Asclepius, it was for Tartarus, and Will, and everything – almost everything, he had not forgotten their initial argument over Asclepius – that had happened since Hades had proclaimed that he would accompany Apollo in Nico’s stead.

Apollo was well aware that he would never have succeeded in saving the demigods alone.

Chapter 32>>

#trials of apollo #trials of apollo fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #pjo apollo #pjo hades #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo asclepius #pjo thanatos #tsari writes fanfiction #eclipse

31 notes · View notes