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fearlessinger · 2 years

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So, a little less than a month year ago (this is all my fault, I take sole responsibility for this loooong delay), I got roped into reading The Trials Of Apollo by @flightfoot’s amazing meta. I loved it more than I could have ever anticipated, and I’ve been gushing about it non stop to her on discord. We had a lot of fun reviewing the series and taking it apart to overanalyze bit by bit, marveling at the way it keeps growing layers and dimensions the longer one looks at it. Finally, we took out a google doc. The following is result n.3 of our combined excited ramblings, and... well it sort of turned into a full on dissertation. Whoops.

"You must make your own choice."

Reconstructing Apollo’s Journey within Riordan’s Narrative

Much too self aware to be egotistical (read on ao3)

This is as much a story about redemption as it is a story about surviving abuse. It could not have been any other way, because for Apollo these two things are, in almost every way that matters, one and the same. Yet Apollo claims for himself only one of these two story arcs. He takes the redemption, as he rightfully should. He leaves the survival to Meg. She’s the one who should not be held responsible for what she’s done on Nero’s orders. She’s the one who didn’t – couldn’t – know better. She’s the one who could not have tried harder. She’s the one who has a chance of getting free.

‘I don’t blame you for anything. [...] The fact that you left me alone in the Grove of Dodona, that you lied about your stepfather –’

‘Stop.’

I waited for her faithful servant Peaches the karpos to fall from the heavens and tear my scalp off. It didn’t happen.

‘What I mean,’ I tried again, ‘is that I am sorry for everything you have been through. None of it was your fault. You should not blame yourself. That fiend Nero played with your emotions, twisted your thoughts –’

‘Stop.’

‘Perhaps I could put my feelings into a song.’

‘Stop.’

‘Or I could tell you a story about a similar thing that once happened to me.’ (TDP 163-164)

I could tell you a story about a similar thing that once happened to me, Apollo says. But he doesn’t. Not to her, and not to anyone else. Not even to us, the readers, the only people to whom he eventually finds the courage to admit what he’s known all along: that he’s been a victim for at least as long as he’s been a villain.

In the centre, behind a marble altar, rose a massive golden statue of Dad himself: Jupiter Optimus Maximus, draped in a purple silk toga big enough to be a ship’s sail. He looked stern, wise and paternal, though he was only one of those in real life.

Seeing him tower above me, lightning bolt raised, I had to fight the urge to cower and plead. I knew it was only a statue, but if you’ve ever been traumatized by someone, you’ll understand. It doesn’t take much to trigger those old fears: a look, a sound, a familiar situation. Or a fifty-foot-tall golden statue of your abuser – that does the trick. (TTT 94-95)

It is a costly admission for him. It takes him 3 books to get there. Oh, he’s joked about it before. He’s complained. Apollo LOVES complaining. Never let it be said that he missed a chance to loudly and dramatically whine about a minor inconvenience. He’ll happily tell anyone who’ll listen how hard and cruel and unfair his life is... so long as there’s no chance of being taken seriously.

Apollo tells his most convincing lies simply by making the truth sound laughable.

Zeus seemed to consider egotism a trait the boy had inherited from me. Which is ridiculous. I am much too self-aware to be egotistical. (THO 31)

But he is, indeed, much too self aware not to know what he’s doing. Which is why his rather unconventional redemption arc involves so little actual soul searching. He never has to look very far. Once he finally resolves to stop lying for good, he doesn’t have to look at all.

It’s precisely the act of finally recognizing his wrongdoings for what they are, and resolving to take responsibility for them, that at long last allows him to acknowledge the evil that has been done to him.

He only ever voices the first of those two confessions in front of his companions. He knows he has no right to make excuses for himself, no right to ask for sympathy. He sees the similarities between himself and Meg, but he knows he is not like her. Despite the child-like body he’s been forced into by his father, he is an adult. He does not get to claim ignorance, or impotence, even though he’s tempted to, even though, by some standards at least, he could. It doesn’t matter. His shortcomings may not be entirely his fault, but his surrender is.

Because that’s what he had done. He had surrendered.

The Apollo we meet at the very beginning of this story, before he is cast out of Olympus and trapped in the dreadfully normal mortal flesh prison that is the body of Lester Papadopoulos, is a fully grown man, father and grandfather and great grandfather hundreds of times over, still living at home with his abusive dad and his wicked stepmom. He is fine with it. More than fine, in fact! As he tells us repeatedly, he can’t wait to get back to that life. So what if that life kinda sucks? What if he has to live it according to his father’s dictates rather than his own? What then? There are no better options. None that he’s been able to find, and he has been looking. He has been looking for a really, really long time. So maybe, as pathetic as the notion is, this is the best he can do.

The Apollo we meet at the beginning of this story is fully determined to believe it. After so many attempts, after so many failures, he has found an incredibly shitty but incredibly solid way to cope. And he has settled. He has decided to settle. Even though, deep down, he still feels that this is far from what he should be able and willing to aspire to. He has surrendered. He's found comfort in surrendering. An incredibly shitty kind of comfort! But comfort all the same.

The Apollo we meet at the beginning of this story is the empty husk of a person who's given up on everything that ever mattered to him. He’s a pretender. A showman. An aged comedian with a stale act and an astounding inability to read his audience. He shamelessly tells us of his humiliation and his blunders, brags about how little he thinks of us without a trace of embarrassment, painfully confident that even at his worst he deserves our attention. How could he not? He’s the lead actor on the world’s stage, the main character of Life.

And yet, he’s very clearly not the character he’s supposed to be: “the handsomest, most talented, most popular god in the pantheon,” he helpfully reminds us, and as ridiculous as that sounds, especially coming out of his own mouth, he may as well be quoting the introductory section of his own Wikipedia page.

The Brilliant Apollo, the crown prince of Olympus who far outshone all his siblings, who amassed talents and domains beyond those of any of his brethren, to whom so many heroes owed their success or demise, whom so many emperors and kings wanted to emulate, and who, yes, may have been kind of an asshole at times, but a competent asshole who got things done.

This guy? He is, at best, a parody of his fabled namesake. He’s a small, petty, ineffectual loser desperate to be liked but unwilling to do any of the work that would make that possible. He can’t wait to get someone, anyone, to fight his battles for him. He’s all too happy to take credit for others’ accomplishments to make up for the fact that he has none of his own.

It’s very easy to laugh at him. He seems like he had it coming. The more he keeps lamenting the injustice of his punishment, the more he convinces us that he deserved it. Sometimes he almost seems like he himself might be conscious of this:

I stared at my battered face in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps teenage angst had permeated the clothes, because I felt more like a sulky high-schooler than ever. I thought how unfair it was that I was being punished, how lame my father was, how no one else in the history of time had ever experienced problems like mine. (THO 30)

But immediately he rushes to disabuse us of that notion:

Of course, all that was empirically true. No exaggeration was required. (THO 30)

I’m not joking, he insists while delivering his lines like he expects there to be canned laughter at the end of them:

If I didn’t know how much Percy Jackson adored me, I would have sworn he was about to punch me in my already-broken nose. (THO 26)

And he shows us enough of his real vulnerability that it’s easy to believe him.

I took a deep breath. Then I did my usual motivational speech in the mirror: ‘You are gorgeous and people love you!’ I went out to face the world. (THO 31)

After all, what kind of depth can a person who unironically does that have?

‘I’m fat!’

‘You’re average. Average people don’t have eight-pack abs. C’mon.’

I wanted to protest that I was not average nor a person, but with growing despair I realized the term now fitted me perfectly. (THO 20)

He’s convinced he’s so much better than us, he takes our sympathy for granted. He trusts we will believe his obvious lies because he’s too taken with himself not to realize how transparent they are. And even if we don’t, even if he isn’t, does it really matter? Are we not entertained?

If there’s one thing Apollo is confident he can do – the only thing Apollo’s still confident he can do – is put on a show.

And he does. He makes us wince and cringe at his awfulness, marvel at his obliviousness and ineptitude, see through his obviously fake brags so clearly and so often in the span of the first handful of chapters, that by the time he finally, actually, has to do something we are fully ready to believe it’s an accident he happens to do the decent thing. He’s so quick to declare any good deed of his was not his intended result, and simultaneously pat himself on the back for doing the bare minimum, that for a ridiculously long while the idea that he can actually be relied upon to do what’s right, that this is in fact a pattern of behavior and intent for him, keeps seeming just implausible enough to be disbelieved.

“You saved me,” Meg interrupted. “I was going to die. Maybe that’s why you got your voice back.”

I was reluctant to admit it, but she might have been right. The last time I’d experienced a burst of godly power, in the woods of Camp Half-Blood, my children Kayla and Austin had been in imminent danger of burning alive. Concern for others was a logical trigger for my powers. I was, after all, selfless, caring, and an all-around nice guy. Nevertheless, I found it irritating that my own well-being wasn’t sufficient to give me godly strength. My life was important too! (TDP 204)

I’m a good person, he says in the tone of someone who knows that statement to be false and is trying to delude himself into thinking it isn’t. And yet he prefaces it with “I’m reluctant to admit it.” If Meg hadn’t voiced the idea in the first place, Apollo would not even have considered it, even though it is, in fact, the obvious explanation. But that can’t be, because Apollo is not selfless, caring, or nice. To really drive that point home, with his very next breath he rushes to recenter the conversation on himself. “Why can’t I also be powerful for MY sake?” he whines.

Apollo wants to believe he’s a good person. But he is not a person. He’s a god. And gods don’t want, can’t want to be good. Gods are perfect. They don’t doubt. They don’t feel guilt or remorse. They don’t change.

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 got 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 favourite 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 have 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’d 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 in. These were not the kind of feelings that gods had … well, ever. (TON 45-46)

“These were not the kind of feelings that gods had” he thinks, still, at the beginning of the very last book. And yet, here he is, having them. He’s had them his entire life. He’s had them since he set out to slay Python the first time, a newborn god brimming with power and a good dose of cockiness too, eager to prove himself, to be of use, to make a difference.

“I was the worst of the gods,” he says, dropping all pretenses as he sings of his failures to the myrmekes. Because I loved too much. Because I felt guilty. Because I kept trying to do more. Because I kept changing my mind.

These are unforgivable sins for a god. That’s what Apollo and all of his divine siblings have been taught. That’s what they’ve all, in time, learned to believe. Good people don’t survive on Olympus.

And Apollo is, above all, a survivor.

So Apollo doesn’t want to believe he’s a good person.

This is incredibly uncharacteristic of me, he makes sure to specify every time he does something kind, every time he finds himself unable to hide his shame or guilt or doubt, to hide how much he cares, well past the point where we start realizing that it is, in fact, perfectly characteristic of him.

I’m totally gonna throw my companions to the wolves any second now, he says while moving to stand between them and the danger. I’m tired of listening to mortals talking about themselves, he says, having just finished needling them with questions about their circumstances and their feelings and the wellbeing of both them and their loved ones. I did the right thing so I could call myself right, which makes it a selfish thing, actually. I did the right thing but I was thinking about not doing it for a moment there, so really, it doesn’t count. I did the right thing but look, I had no choice, I was coerced, they offered me a musical instrument, that’s practically blackmail!

For someone who appears so eager to boast about his legendary past, he doesn’t seem to be able to recall any of the actual good things he’s done. He won’t even admit to having killed Python the first time until he’s very nearly forced to. Even then, what looms big in his mind is not his success but the fact that he struggled to achieve it. And what is even the most impressive achievement worth, if it’s not effortless? Gods shouldn’t struggle. Only the weak do.

‘Apollo,’ she said, ‘those shots were fantastic. A little more practice and –’

‘I’m the god of archery!’ I wailed. ‘I don’t practice!’ (THO 141)

So Apollo lies. He lies about being better than he is. Stronger. Immovable. In control. He lies about being worse than he is. Ignorant. Unfeeling. Cruel.

He’s as determined to misread Percy’s annoyance toward him as adoration as he is to misread Chiron’s faith in him as an insult.

It occurred to me that I’d seen that keen look in Chiron’s eyes before – when he’d assessed Achilles’s sword technique and Ajax’s skill with a spear. It was the look of a seasoned coach scouting new talent. I’d never dreamed the centaur would look at me that way, as if I had something to prove to him, as if my mettle were untested. I felt so … so objectified. (THO 104)

Chiron’s not the one who thinks Apollo has anything to prove. In fact, Chiron has the highest possible expectations of him. Chiron, who owes Apollo everything he knows, everything he has, still believes Apollo capable of great deeds like the ones recounted in his Wikipedia page, the ones we all know from the storybooks.

“Wikipedia,” says Apollo, “is always getting stuff wrong about me.” And as for the storybooks? They’ll make “good tinder for a fire.”

Apollo knows the truth. He isn’t a hero. He isn’t great. He isn’t even good. A good person would not have to worry about forgetting his children’s names. A good person would not stand by as little kids get enlisted to fight their parents’ wars. A good person would not let them die. A good person would not take out his anger on people he knows to be without fault, no matter how rightful that anger is, or how unreachable the real target of it is.

And if he’s a bad person, then he has no reason to try and push back against a status quo where kids are seen as fodder for the gods to use and discard as they see fit. No reason to risk his neck by challenging his father’s rules. No reason to risk anything by trying to do better. If he’s a bad person, then he can claim all the actions and, even more, the millennia of inaction he so regrets were his choice rather than his failure, or worse, something that he had no real say in at all.

I turned my face to the sky. ‘If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!’

To my surprise, the skies remained silent. Lightning did not vaporize me. (THO 252)

There’s a long stretch of book 1, immediately after Kayla and Austin get kidnapped, in which all of the bullshit abruptly disappears and we get Apollo’s almost completely unfiltered, genuine pov. It is a noticeable enough shift that it’s impossible to miss even on first reading, but at the time it happens, we don’t know enough about who Apollo really is as a person to know how to interpret it. “It’s all my fault,” Apollo states, even though it clearly isn’t. He takes the blame for his enemies targeting his children. He takes the blame for Meg being captured by the ants.

And it was easy, in light of what we knew about him at the time, to view this as more proof of Apollo’s egotism. Of course he’d think that. He thinks everything is about him. But look: Zeus did not in fact vaporize him. Apollo’s just being his usual overly dramatic narcissistic self. He’s cracked enough jokes about being fried by his father’s lightning that we know not to take that seriously. He’s just being a comedian.

Granted, not a very original or funny one. He keeps recycling the same tired punchlines. For example, he keeps making a production of anticipating cartoonishly violent responses from people whenever he says something he knows they’ll dislike. That routine got old fast, but he seems to be really fixated on it for some reason.

It takes us a long while to realize what the reason is.

But it’s not actually for his own sake that Apollo fears the most.

“How could I have been so foolish?” he berates himself. “Whenever I angered the other gods, those closest to me were struck down.”

It’s only in this moment that he finally allows himself to call Kayla and Austin “my children” out loud. He’d explained his reluctance to do so before:

My eyes watered. Not so long ago – like this morning, for instance – the idea of these young demigods being able to help me would have struck me as ridiculous. Now their kindness moved me more than a hundred sacrificial bulls. I couldn’t recall the last time someone had cared about me enough to curse my enemies with rhyming couplets.

‘Thank you,’ I managed. I could not add my children. It didn’t seem right. These demigods were my protectors and my family, but for the present I could not think of myself as their father. A father should do more – a father should give more to his children than he takes. (THO 115)

And then, of course, he’d instantly rushed to cover up the shame of having shown some decency. “This was a novel idea for me,” he’d said, lying through his teeth and at the same time wholeheartedly believing his own lie, as all the best liars do.

Sometimes a decent, moral notion just springs up in your brain fully formed and perfectly articulated like that. You never know when it might happen! It’s not weird. It must be the mortality, actually. That pesky mortal conscience side effect that people get together with their ability to die. It’s totally a thing.

But the second Kayla and Austin are in danger, his hesitation suddenly evaporates. They are his children. They are his responsibility. “I should’ve done more to protect them,” he says.“I should have anticipated that my enemies would target them to hurt me.”

Nero wanted Meg to depend entirely on him. She wasn’t allowed to have her own possessions, her own friends. Everything in her life had to be tainted with Nero’s poison.

If he got his hands on me, no doubt he would use me the same way. Whatever horrible tortures he had planned for Lester Papadopoulos, they wouldn’t be as bad as the way he tortured Meg. He would make her feel responsible for my pain and death. (TDP 194-195)

Apollo immediately understands Nero’s game. He knows how this works, because he’s living within a scaled up version of it. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t a child. That he’s a god. Zeus is a god too, and he’s more powerful than him. There is no questioning his edicts. There is no escaping them either. No matter how much distance Apollo can put between himself and his father, he’ll still have the same amount of privacy and freedom as a kid whose parents won't let close the door to his own bedroom. Zeus just has to take one step forward to be instantly breathing down his subjects’ neck. It doesn't matter that he doesn't always do it. What matters is that he can, if he wants to.

All the gods live in fear of the day Zeus will decide that he wants to. They’d do anything to redirect his wrath from themselves. They have no one save their own family, high on top of the Empire State Building, walled off from the rest of the world, forbidden from having any kind of meaningful interaction, from building any kind of lasting connection with the mortals down below, and they are ready to throw one another into the jaws of the Beast at a moment’s notice.

“If I gave up on everyone who has tried to kill me,” Apollo tells Meg, trying to make her understand why he’s willing to put his faith in Lytierses, “I would have no allies left on the Olympian Council.”

Apollo doesn’t hold it against them. It’s just how it is.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.’

‘What could you have done?’

‘I mean at the Parthenon. I tried to talk sense into Zeus. I told him he was wrong to punish you. He wouldn’t listen.’

[...]

My first thought was to scream, ARE YOU INSANE?

Then more appropriate words came to me. ‘Thank you.’ (TBM 216)

The tragedy of Jason Grace isn’t that his death is unfair, though it is. It’s not even that his death was preventable, because it wasn’t. It’s that his death, ultimately, was not necessary.

This right here is the turning point for Apollo. Not Jason’s death, but Jason’s willingness to stand up to Zeus for him, even though Jason barely knew him, even though it provided Jason nothing, when nobody else, not even Artemis, would. It’s Jason’s willingness to do for Apollo what Apollo had long lost the courage to do for anyone, including himself.

But Jason has no way of knowing that, and all Apollo can give him is his word. That’s when Jason’s fate is sealed. The moment he decides that Apollo’s promise is worth more than his life. The moment he chooses to sacrifice his last few precious seconds to remind Apollo of it once more, one final time, to stake everything he has on this crazy gamble, believing – or at least hoping, even against all hope – that Apollo will follow through.

“It’s all my fault,” Apollo says. But Meg disagrees.

‘Jason made a choice,’ she said. ‘Same as you. Heroes have to be ready to sacrifice themselves.’

I felt unsettled … and not just because Meg had used such a long sentence. I didn’t like her definition of heroism. I’d always thought of a hero as someone who stood on a parade float, waved at the crowd, tossed candy and basked in the adulation of the commoners. But sacrificing yourself? No. That would not be one of my bullet points for a hero-recruitment brochure.

Also, Meg seemed to be calling me a hero, putting me in the same category as Jason Grace. That didn’t feel right. I made a much better god than a hero. (TBM 316-317)

I’ve always hated thinking of heroes as expendable, Apollo admits, finally, after almost 3 books spent lying to both us and himself about it, and by the time he does, it doesn’t even feel like a revelation anymore. He’d told us, didn’t he? He’d shown us. He is the worst of the gods. But still, a much better god than a hero. Because heroes are willing to risk it all for what they believe is right. And Apollo? He just really, really doesn’t want to die. “I was,” he says, “a coward that way.”

And yet, by the time he says this, we’ve witnessed Apollo’s willingness to risk and sacrifice himself for his children, for the people he keeps insisting he finds so annoying and yet he’s always so eager to start calling friends, multiple times already.

But he’s never actually wanted to die. He just can’t bring himself to. He is a survivor. And survivors can’t be heroes. Good people don’t survive. Only the bad ones do. That’s what his experience has taught him, again and again and again, even though the notion goes against everything he feels, deep down, is right.

When he meets his children in person for the first time and they are far more concerned about the prospect of losing their talents than of losing their father, he is relieved. He wants them to be selfish, just like he is. He wants them to survive.

But as it turns out, his children aren’t selfish. They care so much, so deeply and fiercely, about so much more than just themselves. They grow attached so quickly. They are eager to help. They are just like him, in all the ways he never would have wanted them to be.

Looking at them, he can’t help but feel ashamed.

Apollo has done many, many bad things in his long life, and not all of them to survive. If there was any justice in this world, he would not be the one still here, still standing, still alive, instead of all the far more deserving people he’s buried.

But still, he does not want to die. Not even now, at his absolute lowest, not even now that he’s lost everything he’s ever had, up to and including his own name.

So he can’t think of himself as a hero. He does not want to.

“I had stabbed myself in the chest fully expecting that Medea would heal me,” he says, to explain why that does not count as a proper self sacrifice.

In his mind, intent seems to matter as much as actions do. The truth is, for a god? It probably does. For a god, wanting to do something might as well be the same as having already done it. Apollo is not a god anymore, and yet, still, he desperately wants to survive. He keeps surviving despite all odds. He keeps surviving stuff that by all rights should have killed an average mortal human a hundred times over.

But what good is it to survive, if it benefits no one? What good is the power of a god, the power to do anything you think of the moment it crosses your mind, if it can’t be used to do what’s right?

She fixed her eyes on me. Her lips quivered. I could tell she wanted a way out – some eloquent argument that would mollify her stepfather and allow her to follow her conscience. But I was no longer a silver-tongued god. I could not out-talk an orator like Nero. And I would not play the Beast’s blame game.

Instead, I took a page from Meg’s book, which was always short and to the point.

‘He’s evil,’ I said. ‘You’re good. You must make your own choice.’ (THO 290)

Apollo immediately understands what Meg is silently asking of him. He recognizes that she is looking for an excuse, a stratagem, a ruse that will let her do the right thing without setting off her abuser, because it’s what HE always does too.

He does it even now, even within the confines of his own head, arguably the only place that’s out of the reach of his father’s all seeing gaze.

His whole life and sense of self have been consumed by the hopeless search for the exact combination of words and behaviors that will let him act according to his own morals without putting into question Zeus’ judgement, without challenging Zeus’ rules, and by his increasingly despicable attempts to fool himself into thinking that that isn’t true.

But it is true. Deep down Apollo knows it is. Even when he manages to score a point, to win a round... he is still always playing his father’s game.

This is the awful reality he has resigned himself to. It’s the best he can do. He is convinced of it. He has accepted it.

But he can’t accept that the same is true for Meg. So he gives her the advice he refuses to take for himself.

“He’s evil. You’re good. You must make your own choice.”

He’s able to state it in such simple, clear terms for her. He’s light years away from being willing and able to believe that it applies to him too.

He doesn’t want that kind of responsibility. He can’t trust himself with it. He can’t even bring himself to admit to the choice that he’s making in this very moment, has to make up a half hearted excuse about suddenly lacking the ability to spin a yarn, for reasons, despite the fact that he’s been bullshitting us for almost an entire novel.

But he can believe in Meg, because she is not like him. She is strong. She is good. She deserves a chance to do better.

“You, Meg, are powerful,” he tells her on their first morning together at camp. “You will do well,” he tells Lityerses as they part ways. “We can trust him,” he says, introducing Crest to the residents of the Cistern. Despite all of his protestations to the contrary, against his own better judgement, he can’t help seizing every chance he gets to lift up the people around him, to put his faith in them, to give them his trust, even and especially when nobody else will.

“I believe in second chances”, he says, “and thirds, and fourths.” But not for himself. Never for himself. He knows himself too well. He is not strong, nor good, nor deserving.

#trials of apollo #toa #toa spoilers #ton spoilers #rrverse

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thatonerandomfangirlwhoreads · 4 years

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Tower Of Nero Spoilers/Rant!! (Part 6)

Okay, so... at the end of the book Apollo (NOT Lester), decides to visit all the demigods of the Great Prophecy + Camp Half Blood. So this is how those visits went (WARNING!! Percabeth, Solangelo and Frazel cuteness overload). Apollo visits all these people in the form of ...you guessed it, Lester Papadopoulos.

Camp Half Blood Reunion

Apollo goes to the big house and has a little chat with Chiron about a “cat” (Bast) and a “severed head” (Mimir) and common problems amongst different pantheons. This may be an opening for a stand-alone book *squeak*!!

Apollo meets Mr. D (whose character was fitfully redeemed, when he decided to give Nico therapy for his PTSD), plays pinochle with Mr. D and loses all the games.

He sits by the campfire with Nico, Will and Rachel. Will and Nico are sitting side-by-side, Will has one arm around Nico, who is twirling a marshmallow on a stick. Rachel informs Apollo that she is going to Paris to study art, while her parents house is being rebuilt. They discuss the voice that has been calling out to Nico and Nico says that it’s a Titan who’s stuck in Tartarus (aka Bob the Titan, aka Iapetus). Rachel has regained her prophetic powers after the defeat of Python and issues them a Prophecy, which only Nico and Will can hear, but not Apollo. That is definitely a set-up for a stand-alone Solangelo adventure in Tartarus. Yippee!!

Waystation Reunion

The Hunters of Artemis were at the Waystation and their mission to catch the Teumessian Fox. This too may be a set-up for a stand-alone.

We see some great Thalia and Reyna chemistry, where they both playfully compliment each other on being great hunters.

Josephine is teaching little Georgina all about mechanics in her machine shop. Apollo still isn’t clear about whether Georgie is her daughter or not.

Lityerses is overseeing an “elephant visitation program,” where Livia(from Waystation) and Hannibal(from Camp Jupiter) are on some kind of date. Uncle Rick has been reading fanfics and headcanons. It’s official.

Leo, meanwhile, has been indulging in some community service where he teaches homeless kids about shop skills at a local shelter and the kids like him. It’s been hinted that some of the kids are demigods.

Leo calls Josephine “mom,” who just scoffs but looks pleased all the same. She probably thinks Leo is the son she never had and Leo had said in The Dark Prophecy, that Josephine reminds him of his mom.

Calypso is loving regular mortal stuff, and has adjusted to her new life very well. Apollo doesn’t actually get to meet Calypso, because she’s been away all summer to a band camp where she is a counselor. Leo appears to be lovesick for Calypso.

It was also really cute to see Reyna and Leo getting on with each other too (It was surprising because Leo did destroy half of the Senate House when she was Praetor). Reyna was giving him advice on flirting with Calypso and asked him not to call her mamacita, and that he has to have more respect. She explains this strange action to Apollo, saying that Leo grew up without a mom so he never learnt these things, but now he has two great foster moms and a big sister(referring to herself) who isn’t afraid to smack him.

Camp Jupiter Reunion

Apollo visits Camp Jupiter, where he meets Hazel and Frank, who are both praetors after The Tyrant’s Tomb. Apollo says they are the most efficient and respected pair of praetors to ever run the Twelfth Legion.

Hazel and Frank give Apollo a tour of the Camp where they’ve installed more barracks, expanded the thermal baths and are constructing a victory arch on the main road to New Rome to commemorate the defeat of the emperors, Caligula and Commodus.

The victory arch is going to be completely plated with gold, more specifically, Hazel’s gold. As far as they can tell, Hazel’s curse is finally broken and her gold and jewels are finally safe to use or sell, as they please. They did an augury in Pluto’s shrine and it came up favorable.

Hazel hastened to add that they were not going to abuse this power, but were only going to use it to improve camp and honor the gods.

Hazel says that they won’t spend the money to buy yachts, private airplanes or big gold necklaces with ‘H+F 4Ever’ diamond pendants. Frank pouts in reply to this. This is definitely Frazel cuteness.

Lavinia Asimov fulfilled her promise to teach the entire Fifth Cohort how to tap-dance. The unit is now feared and respected in the war games for their ability to form a testudo shield wall while doing the three-beat shuffle.

The Jason Grace temple-expansion plan was still moving forward, with new shrines being added every week.

Also...Percy and Annabeth had arrived and taken up residence in New Rome, giving them two months to adjust to their new environs before the fall semester of their freshman year in college.

Annabeth, of course, is going to study architecture and Percy is unsure of his major. Annabeth is taking UC Berkeley’s Environmental design course and dual-enroll in New Rome University.

They reached the touchy subject of Jason’s death. Percy is unable to speak about this topic and Annabeth admits that she cried herself sick.

At the end of this conversation, Apollo uses his godly magic to teleport a plate of Sally Jackson’s blue cookies right into his hands and gives it to Percy.

Piper’s Reunion

When Lester arrives at Piper’s Tahlequah home, he sees two silhouettes on the edge of the roof and one leans over to kiss the other. Apollo gets flustered and switches form to adult Apollo, complete with toga and all. Both of them turn around.

One of the silhouettes, (a girl with short, dark hair and a rhinestone stud on her nose) asks Piper who this dude is and whether her dad has a boyfriend. The girl’s name, we discover, is Shel (Probably short for Shelby, I’m just guessing) and so far is assumed to be fully mortal.

Piper tells Apollo that she’s doing fine and that her dad too, has found some peace. She learns of Jason’s funeral and assures Apollo that he did right by him and will continue to as long as he remembers what it’s like to be human. Then she points at Shel and leaves.

Aeithales Reunion

Apollo was greeted by the Meliai, Meg’s personal troupe of seven super dryads. They took him for an intruder and marched him up to Meg.

Apollo found Meg digging dirt and showing her 11 foster siblings from the Imperial Household, how to transplant cacti.

Peaches was also in the scene, talking to another young female karpos, who is native to the area.

Meg hugs Apollo and they go for a little walk.

Herophile the Sybil lives in a trailer when she isn’t working in town as a Tarot card reader or crystal healer.

Lugeselwa was in the living room, putting together a rocking chair. She had been fitted with new mechanical arms, compliments of the Hephaestus Cabin.

Apollo offers Meg the reward he had promised to give her when he became a god again. Meg asks for a unicorn, which he conjures out of thin air. They promise to be friends forever and when Meg asks him whether he’ll come back, he replies, “The sun always comes back.”

A/N: Phew!! That was long. Very sorry about that. It took me 3 days to write. If you had the patience to read it, hope you enjoyed it.

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austinwehaveaproblem · 3 years

Conversation

Katie: I'm gonna put Peaches down.

Meg: What?!?! You can't do that!! I love him, besides you aren't even a vet! Are there demigod vets?

Katie: Meg I am holding your karpos. Your karpos is heavy. I am putting your karpos down on the ground.

Meg: Oh-

#chb chronicles #meg mccaffrey #katie gardner #toa

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pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid · 3 years

Note

Thank you for answering my weird request with the bubbles, and you thinking it was awesome. Now, can I request part 2 of PJ, HoO characters trapped in floating soap bubbles? Than you so much :D (also, for those wondering why I’m asking, because I’ve watch a ML episode, and thought the scenerio was funny) Again, thank you.

You're welcome anon! You’re really sweet.💜✨ (And seriously the scenario is really funny😂)

Okay here we go Part 2!!!

Rachel: Has no clue how she ended up in a soap bubble. She tired using her plastic blue hair brush, but it seems less effective than it did with Kronos. She soon gave up and took out a marker and started doodling. Soon the whole bubble was filled with doodles.

Grover: It took him to realise that he was stuck inside a soap bubble. Had a sort of panic attack. Fainted.

Luke: Is a bit happy. Though the bubble isn’t the spacious, he still feels relaxed in it. He just lies there and tries collecting his thoughts. Eventually he falls into peaceful slumber, until Travis and Conner start playing some heavy metal music as a prank.

Calypso: Is really calm. She doesn’t panic, she simply tries finding ways to burst it. but she starts getting a bit frustrated later, when all her attempts to escape keep failing. Just when she was about to rapid fire cusses, Leo comes to her rescue. Then she doesn’t bother to get out because it’s really funny to see leo constantly fail.

Meg: Doesn’t give a shit, she doesn’t care at all she’s having fun, but unfortunately Lester and Peaches give a shit”

“DoN’t worrY Meg I’Ll GeT you Out *ugly crying*”

“You look ugly, ew”

“MMeeGGG!!!! *more ugly crying*”

followed by sad baby Karpos noises: “Peaches! *sob*”

Lester: Panics. cries. cries louder. Keeps on ugly crying. Then Meg feels sorry for him so she stays beside him until he calms down. He eventually calms down. (ahh so cute lol)

Octavian: Much to his dismay, Camp Jupiter thought it would be a good day to play some football with a gigantic soup bubble. He did not appreciate being kicked around. It wasn’t a good day for him...

Reyna: Wakes up. Finds out she’s trapped in a bubble. Bursts the bubble. Walks away like nothing happened.

Okay...I ran out of brain cells (OwO). This was fun!!😆

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athenasgal · 4 years

Text

My thoughts on the first eight chapters of the hidden oracle that I managed to read last night:

-the begining is completely normal, I don't empathize with Apollo or Lester in any way

-i feel like rick wants Apollo to be the new Percy with this narration style and writing in first person. But honestly, Apollo is no Percy Jackson

-why does he have to dress meg like -that-

-whatever, I don't like or dislike her, she's meg

-the only thing that I remembered from the first time I read this same book: "why?"

-seriously, that's the only thing I remember

-sally pregnant? No thanks. Apart from the fact that Apollo describes her as 'abour forty' and she obviously is in a high risk pregnancy, she already has a beautiful son she doesn't need another one

-percy is the same beautiful amazing creature he always is

-obviously this will be another 5 book series I mean Apollo is already mentioning his oldest enemy (why rick why)

-the fact that Percy and Annabeth are going to new Rome university?????????? Um, no

-maybe they have an excellent architecture program

-percy says that Apollo has been gone for six months but the war ended in August??? And it's January??

-the poor blue Prius I hope nothing bad happens to it

-percy gets a cold, poor baby

-meg can control frozen peaches, cool

-there Is a karpoi (karpos?) named peaches

-in chapter 9 Percy separates from meg and Apollo so this is where i loose interest in the book

#moni's not so interesting life #moniqueue #percy jackson #mgm things #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #toa #trials of apollo #the hidden oracle

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toa-incorrect-quotes · 5 years

Text

Apollo: one day you could be a mother

Meg: one day? I AM a mother.

Apollo: Peaches is a KARPOS, Meg.

Meg: HE’S MY BLOOD.

#trials of apollo #apollo pjo #meg mccaffrey #lester papadopoulos

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the-ender-system · 2 years

Note

yeah, we got the entire trilogy for the holidays, my current fav character is peaches, the karpos who sometimes helps meg.

-q

Ooh, interesting. I’m envious that you have the trilogy, haha.

- Technoblade

0 notes

mjaytona · 6 years

Photo

A fanart of Peach the Karpos. 😊 #digitalart #trialsofapollo #fanart #art

#digitalart #trialsofapollo #fanart #art

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garecc · 6 years

Text

The Hidden Oracle+1

Chapter 9

This is not okay. / 'Pollo suddenly collapsed. / I'm begging, send help.

Apollo sighed as we walked, I spared a glance in his direction. He was shivering, I grimaced. “My coat isn't as wet as yours, and you're clearly shivering. Lets trade.”

“No.” He said immediately.

“No? Apollo your cold. I don't mind-”

“Artemis. Keep your coat. I don't need it, your cold too. Don't deny it, I can tell when your lying.”

“But-”

“Artemis.”

“Okay.. Okay fine…”

“It should be easy to get to camp right..?” Apollo asked walking towards the border.

“I doubt it. Seems like a straight path ahead, but woods are easy to get lost in. It’ll be anything but easy ‘pollo”

“Hmm... Say, Meg,” He turned to our young master.

“Yeah..?”

“I didn't get a chance to ask. It your name short for Margaret or Meghan?”

“Margaret McCaffery, but don't call me Margaret” Meg stated.

“Alright, then Meg.” He turns to me “Artie, did she agree to be a hunter?” Apollo asked.

“What..? Apollo, I can't accept hunters as a mortal.." I frowned. Could I? Its unlikely but maybe I could.. "probably cant. I didn't ask, and I'm going to wait until this is all over”

“Wait, hold up. You're telling me you didn't ask the homeless maiden to join your girl's club?” He asked incredulously.

“...Yes?”

“Slow down. Join your girl's club? What are you talking about?” Meg inquired.

“My hunters. I explained them earlier did I not?”

“Yeah but… I didn't know I could join.”

“You can't. Not right now anyway.” Meg pouted.

“Anyway,” Apollo cut in. “We can see camp from here.”

I glanced up, expecting to see the vague outlines of the buildings, but the sight in front of us was breathtaking. The camp was about 3 square miles in size, full of meadows, woods and strawberry fields. On one edge it boarded long island, and the other borders were rolling hills. Below us was a dense woods.

I always forget the beauty of this place. Beyond the woods, you could see the buildings, the cluster of twenty cabins. (You could see Apollo’s shining from here. I always ask myself why the entire building had to be gold. Yeah, it's pretty, but hard to look at sometimes) The Hearth glowed warmly from this distance. The amphitheater, The arena, the dining pavilion, and even the canoe lake were visible from here. It looked beautiful. With seeing the camp came a dull sense of comfort. We were so close to safety. The big house loomed in the distance, Chiron would be in there. We were so close, yet so far.

In the far distance, my sister's statue glistened in its full glory. The Athena Parthenos. After thousands of years it was finally where it belonged. Athena had always been my favorite sister, the hours we spent debating the best strategy for hunting certain monsters are some of my fondest memories with any of my sisters, I could feel the power from the statue from here.

Apollo probably wished the statue was of himself, but he’s like that. I looked at him again, my eyes lingering on the red marks around his nose and mouth. I caused those. I hurt him. He noticed that I was staring. “Artie. I'm fine ” He insisted. He really was shivering a lot.

“I hurt you,” I said miserably.

He looked up at me, frowning. “You protected me.” He countered, he sounded completely sure of himself. I envy his confidence sometimes.

“Not well enough!” I took a step back, If I had protected him we should have never been in that situation in the first place. If I had protected him we would still be gods on Olympus and none of this would have happened. Nothing he said would change that.

“But you did protect me. I would have breathed in that smog and died if not for you. Alright? You did fine”

Before I could argue, Meg spoke. “How come I’ve never heard about this place? Do you need tickets?”

“It's a secret haven for demigods” I responded, forcing my voice to stay steady. Apollo glanced at me sideways. Our conversation certainly wasn't over yet. “The magical borders keep mortals and monsters out. It's safe here. Humans would only see farmland, and if they come in they will find themselves wondering out-”

“I ordered a pizza one time!” Apollo blurted out. I stared at him for a long moment before I found myself laughing. Actually laughing. I had forgotten how pleasent laughing is.

“Did you now brother? Tell us the story of the time you ordered a Pizza.”

Apollo stared at me before he smiled brightly. The first actual smile I had seen from him all day. It was good to know he was still capable of it in these dire circumstances.

“Well, it was… what? 8 years ago? I was at the camp, I had gotten quite the offering to heal this girl. And after I had finished, these two Hermes kids, looked like they might be twins but they certainly weren't, they asked what would happen if they ordered a pizza. And as it turns out, no one ever tried that before. So bam! I take out my phone and dial for pizza. They seem a bit iffy about sending the guy all this way, but I'm a god, I convinced them. So then this mortal guy, ends up so lost, appearing randomly on edges of camp, He kept trying to get in but the wards didn't know how to handle it, so it was hilarious. Anyway, yeah. I could probably go into more detail but that's the jist of it.” As he spoke his voice gained back some enthusiasm. I smiled.

Before anyone could speak, Peaches took a mouthful of dirt. Then spit it back up. Yes, peach demon. Dirt tastes bad. How surprising.

“He doesn’t like the taste of this place,” Meg said.

“No kidding. It's dirt.” I stated pointedly stepping around the prechewed soil. Apollo snickered.

“Maybe at camp, we can get him some plant fertilizer to eat. I’ll try to convince the demigods to allow him in, They let in a hellhound dog, what's the difference between that and a dirt munching peach toddler? but it would be helpful if he doesn’t bite their heads off” Apollo studied Peaches, the fruit being clung to Meg as it muttered something about peaches.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” Meg started chewing her nails. A bad habit. “Those woods…Percy said they were wild and enchanted and stuff.”

“No kidding.” I deadpanned. “My hunters complained about it.” Trying to get them into camp was a nightmare. But, in all honesty, being in the forest felt more natural than the city. “Come on, the woods aren't that bad!” I was already beginning to recognize where animals had recently been. Apollo looked apprehensive, I smiled at him. He has always felt out of place- No… that's too strong of a statement. Uneasy? Yeah, I’ll go with that. Apollo has always felt uneasy in forests, being surrounded by trees brings back some painful memories for him. Painful memories that shouldn't be poked at.

He stumbled over roots and plants. I laughed under my breath. This is what I lived to do. Make my way through dense forests, hunting with my maidens, living life in the wilderness. I hardly struggled with making my way forward. But Meg and Apollo? My young master and brother could hardly make their way forward through the greenery.

“Artie! How do you walk through this.. This mess so easily? It's like walking through spaghetti!”

“Do you want to know how?” Both nodded, eager to learn my secrets.

“Practice. Hundreds of years of practice.” Apollo groaned and Meg looked annoyed.

Apollo was looking around like he expected the Dryads to lunge out of the trees and strangle him. He got this pained look in his eyes and I knew what he was thinking about. I slowed down to match my pace with his.

He looked at me, I smiled weakly, wanting to reach out and just pull away the thoughts of Daphne. Gods... I still want to strangle Eros for what he did to my brother. Daphne’s death absolutely destroyed him. For hundreds of years, he seemed like he was always on the edge of tears. Then came Hyacinthus and he was happy and then Zepheros came and killed him.

I would have torn him limb from limb if not for the fact he was under Eros’s protection. I couldn't have him hurting Apollo any more than he already has.

It took years for him to even become a semblance of happy again. And here we were, nearly 3000 years later and he still nearly breaks into tears whenever they are mentioned.

I attempted to meet his gaze but he shifted his eyes away “You okay?” I asked quietly, hoping he would respond.

He stared at the ground, stumble walking over roots and brush. “I’ll be fine Artie..” He murmured, still not looking up.

“Okay. Just.. tell me if you want to rest a bit okay?” Code for: If being surrounded by dryads gets top overwhelming we can take a break.

Meg watched out whole exchange wordlessly.

We hiked for what felt like hours, and my mortal body was starting to get hungry. Normally, Apollo could navigate by the sun and me the moon, but the canopy was so thick we couldn't see the sky.

I realized we had passed the same boulder 3 times. Not even I can hike flawlessly it seems.

“Don't you have any hiking skills? Reading Tracks-”

“Yes. Yes, that is literally what I do. But this forest is enchanted… And as it seems, not even I can navigate it flawlessly.”

“Maybe Peaches can help.” Yes. What a wonderful idea. Ask the demon peach baby for directions. Meg turned to her karpos. “Hey, can you find us a way out of the woods?”

For the past few miles, Peches had gotten quite nervous. Muttering peachy warnings under his breath. His face flushed bright green. He made a scared barking squawk sound, then dissolved in a swirl of leaves.

Meg shot to her feet. “Where’d he go?”

It was nowhere in sight. Megs summon must have only had so much time. Or He’d sensed danger and abandoned us. The latter was more likely. Though meg had grown attached to the peach demon, I didn't want to hurt her. (But we god's got attached to humans, so I had no room to judge.)

“Perhaps he went scouting,” Apollo suggested. “Perhaps we should—”

My brother's hands flew to his forehead and he stumbled back, his eyes widening. He looked like someone had slapped him,

“Apollo?” I stepped forward uncertainty. “What's wrong?” He made a gasping sound, he whimpered stumbling over to me.

“Assist me, sister, we cannot remain here.” My eyes just about bugged out from my head. He only reverted to old English when something was seriously wrong. Or when he was trying to be sophisticated or really angry. But I doubted the two latter

“What's going on?” I demanded.

“Just- let's go!” He grabbed my wrist, dragging me forward. We fled blindly until we reached a significantly clear stream over a bed gravel.

“Apollo, we can't go through the water, we’ll freeze-” That fact did not deter him. He waded shin-deep into the ice cold stream before he fell to his knees. A pitiful yell bubbling through his lips.

I didn't have much of a choice now did I? I ran in after him, the water was so cold it felt like needles biting into my skin. Meg was not far behind. “Brother, you need to get up-”

“You didn't…? You didn't hear it..?” I felt my stomach drop to my feet, hear what?

This eerily reminded of a memory I still had from thousands of years ago. When Apollo first became the god of prophecy, the first prophecies he delivered made him physically sick, he didn't know how to channel them into tangible ideas and words. But of course, that was thousands of years ago. But it did remind me of that.

“Hear what!” Meg asked.

Apollo didn’t respond. Instead, he cried out in pain and collapsed face first into the stream.

So it looks like I'm carrying him. “Help me lift him.” Meg and I pulled him from the stream and I stumble-dragged him across the water. We set him on the ground. Apollo was shivering violently. I pulled his sodden coat off and threw mine over him. Good thing we didnt swap earlier.

“What did you hear. Don't go crazy on us.” My voice was serious. He laughed hysterically, I felt my own heartbeat start to pick up as goosebumps crawled up my arms. Why was this happening? He was fine! A few broken ribs, but this isn't warranted! I felt my blood run cold as I came to a shocking realization. What if the Nosoi had poisoned him? That was the only answer I could think of.

“I.. I heard..”

Before he could finish his face screwed up in pain, a violent shudder running through him. He audibly whimpered. Steam started rising from his clothes and I wanted to scream and cry and curse at Zeus. If the Nosoi DID poison him, there was a good chance he would get worse very quickly. His eyes glazed over and his mouth hung ajar.

All I could hear was the blood screaming in my ears. I found myself shaking him awake, telling him to get up. I couldn't lose him. I need him. I can’t do this alone.

I was blind to my panic.

I wouldn't watch him die.

I wouldn't watch my baby brother die.

Meg shoved me and slapped him. Hard. “GET UP!” She yelled. That seemed to break through his trance, he sat up, and immediately started retching. He vomited, I dragged him to his feet after a moment. He made a weak sound of protest. “Meg, help me carry him.” She rushed to his other side. He murmured something under his breath. I didn't catch what. He was pale, and his shivering only grew more violent as we stumbled along. He suddenly started giggling, it sounded wrong. Unnatural even.

“Keep it together brother. Please. We’ll get to camp soon, okay?” He didn't respond, instead, his head lolled to the side as he passed in and out of consciousness. My palms were sweaty, my steps misplaced, and I was terrified we were too far to get him to camp quick enough.

“We need to get him to camp, right now,” I told Meg. From the steam rising from his clothes and the heat burning through his clothes, I assumed he was running a high fever of 106 or so. Dangerously high. He only woke up to laugh hysterically, as we stumbled forward he finally went completely limp in our arms, his eyes rolling back into his head. My heartbeat steadily rose, but I had to stay calm. I had to get him to safety.

As we were running, my foot got caught in a dip in the ground, I stumbled forward, my ankle twisting, pain shot up my leg for a moment, It took a lot to ignore it, but we had to get him to safety. I bore most of his weight. Finally, finally we reached the edge of camp. We exited the woods by a campfire where a group of teens were making smores, as soon as they saw us they went for there weapons. “DEMIGODS!” I screamed, not even bothering to mask the panic in my voice. “I AM ARTEMIS. WE ARE IN DIRE NEED OF ASSISTANCE”

[FIRST]

[PREVIOUS]

[NEXT]

#the hidden oracle #the hidden oracle+1 #the hidden oracle plus one #trials of apollo #lester papadopoulos #i just took a break of posting theese to scream non-stop #I AM NOT THROWIN AWAY MY SHOTKDASDKFH

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percywhyamilikethisjackson · 7 years

Text

Commodus: “We’ve got a special surprise for you - straight from New York, someone you know!”

Me: OH MY GOD ITS PERCY. THEY’RE GOING TO TRY AND KILL HIM WHY CANT YOU JUST LEAVE MY CHILD ALONE

Commodus: *brings out Peaches the karpos*

Me: *sad and disappointed* oh

#the trails of apollo #ttoa #the dark prophecy #tdp #apollo #lester papadopoulos #meg #meg mccaffrey #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy #pjo #i feel so bad for not having finished tdp yet

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garecc · 6 years

Text

The Hidden Oracle+1

Chapter 8

Apollo doesn't die! / did I make things worse? Who knows! / I am so useless.

Apollo was dying.

My brother was dying.

My little brother was dying, right in front of me.

I will confess something, we gods fear death. We fear nonexistence. But I fear one thing above that, I fear losing my brother. I fear him dying or fading or somehow ending up trapped and away from me. I fear being truly alone. If he were gone… I don't even want to think about that.

I don't really remember much of the next few seconds. I remember that suddenly I felt like everything went numb, my eyes widened and the scream that had torn It'self from my throat moment ago still rang in my ears. I launched myself forward.

I remember screaming his name as he tried not to breath and rolled around, he tried in vain to rid himself of the plague cloud.

I remember feeling like ice was filling my veins and feeling so cold suddenly I wanted to scream and cry and I just felt scared.

I couldn't let him die.

I remember pressing my hands to his nose and mouth. I wouldn't let him breathe it in. I wouldn't let it kill him. I wouldn't allow it.

I remember smothering him, suffocating him, I remember seeing the glittery cloud going for me, but I couldn't let it hurt him. I wouldn't allow it.

Out of the corner of my wide eyes I saw meg running, she yelled something but it was lost amongst my panic. Everything seemed far away, Apollo didn't struggle against my hands. I saw it in his eyes he knew was I was doing.

The glittery smoke was surrounding my nose and mouth, I refused to breath. I refused the growing urge to pull the poisonous air into my lungs. I will keep him safe. Even if it kills me. Even at the expense of my own life, as long as he’s safe it's alright.

My eyesight began to dim.

Apollo’s eyes were wide.

Somewhere to our left, water erupted from the field, Percy dragged himself towards it and dunked his head in the water.

My ears began to ring, and Apollo’s face was beginning to go blue.

Percy staggered to his feet to his feet. He ripped out the source of the water—an irrigation pipe—and turned the water on us.

I hate being unexpectedly douched in water, and Apollo does too. (I Wake him up with water to the face whenever we go camping) But as the water disrupted the smoke, I didn't mind. I let go of Apollo’s face and dragged him away. I gasped for air, Apollo started wheezing again. Our nosoi friends reformed a bit away, their yellow eyes shown with hatred.

Meg yelled again, this time I understood. “GET DOWN” I practically tacked Apollo down. He made a sound between a wheeze and a pained yelp.

In our four thousand six hundred and twelve years, me and Apollo have seen many things. I can't say for certain with Apollo, but neither of us have seen an uprising of fruit.

Percy hit the ground as every peach in the garden rose off the ground, they shot around. If we had been standing, or even sitting we would have been killed. Meg simply stood there unhurt as frozen dead fruit flew around her.

The nosoi collapsed, riddled with holes. Every piece of fruit dropped to the ground.

I took a shaky breath and turned to Apollo.

He looked dazed. He smiled weakly at me, I helped up into a sitting position. I then pulled him into a hug. Desperately trying to get some comfort out of him being okay. I knew I would wake up in the middle of the night for years to come reliving that experience. I tried to keep myself from crying, but the tears in my eyes spilled over. He gently rubbed my back, I didn't realize I was sobbing until Apollo started speaking.

“Hey… It’s okay now.. I’m okay.. We’re both okay…”

I didn't want to pull away. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't know what to say. So I stayed there head buried in his shoulder, tears streaming from my eyes.

Percy’s voice broke through my despair. Apollo glanced in his direction. Or at least, I think he did. I couldn't really see anything.

“Whah jus happened?” he sounded like he had a cold. So water diluted the effects. At least he wasn't dead, that was a good sign.

“I don’t know,” I heard Apollo say. “Meg, is it safe?” I pulled away from Apollo, feeling worthless. I had been useless this entire fight? What had I done? Smothered my brother. I wiped furiously at my eyes, I felt Apollo put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m okay Artie. See?” he smiled, albeit a bit weakly. I laughed a bit hysterically, my heart was still racing in my chest. I held back sobs. Apollo was looking at me concern shining in his eyes.

He shouldn't need to be concerned about me.

He’s hurt. He shouldn't have to deal with me being all emotional.

I should be strong.

I have to be strong for him.

Meg was staring around the orchard in amazement at the mess of fruit, mangled corpses, and broken tree limbs. “I- I’m not sure.”

“How’d you do thah?” Percy snuffled.

Meg looked horrified. “I didn’t! I just knew it would happen.”

One of the Nosoi began to stir. It got up, wobbling on It's hole filled legs.

“But you did doooo it,” the spirit growled. “Yooou are strong, child.”

The other two corpses rose, they swayed to their feet and I could feel my already rapid heartbeat pick up. My breath caught in my throat. Apollo gripped my shoulder tightly.

“Not strong enough,” said the second nosos. “We will finish you now.”

Please no.

They should be dead!

Why aren't they dead?

The third spirit bared his rotting teeth. “Your guardian would be sooooo disappointed.”

Guardian ? She had a guardian? What kind of guardian lets a 12-year-old live in an Alley? When I’m a god again I’ll kill them.

Meg looked sick. Her face paled, Her arms trembled. She stomped her foot and yelled, “NO!”

More peaches flew into the air. Instead of peach blasting the Nosoi, they blended together into a fruit tornado, until suddenly standing in front of Meg was a creature not unlike like a pudgy human toddler wearing only a linen diaper. Protruding from his back were wings made of leafy branches. His babyish face might have been cute except for the glowing green eyes and pointy fangs. The creature snarled and snapped at the air.

“Oh, no.” Percy groaned. “I hate these things.”

The three nosoi also did not look pleased. I shuddered as they edged away from the snarling baby.

“Wh-what is it?” Meg asked.

Apollo stared at her in disbelief. Probably thinking what I was thinking. She was the cause of this fruit carnage, no doubt there. Meg looked as shocked as we were. Alas, if Meg didn’t know how she had summoned this creature, she probably wouldn't know how to make it go away, I didn't particularly like Karpoi (I have lost a few hunters to them over the years..) but they, while annoying, are bearable. A single arrow kills them. Usually. But if you have the unfortunate luck of hitting their arms or legs, no, a single arrow only enrages them, alerts them to your position, and ends with either death or maiming. But if you hit their head or chest…. BAM! a pile of grain (or fruit in this case) is where the creature last stood.

“It’s a grain spirit,” Apollo said, I could hear the veiled panic in his voice. This one time Demeter sent a swarm of them after him… That was a mess for all parties involved. “I’ve never seen a peach karpoi before, but if it’s as vicious as other types…”

“we’re dead” I muttered quietly, I honestly just wanted to sit in a dark room and calm down. Or even just take a five-minute break to sort my thoughts and get that sickening image of my own hands cutting off my brothers air supply out of my head. But I didn't see that happening anytime soon. The demon peach baby turned toward the nosoi. For a moment, I suddenly felt like my heart was going to explode from my chest it was beating so fast. I feared it would make some alliance. The middle corpse, peachhead, inched backward. “Do not interfere,” he warned the karpos. “We will not allooow—”

The karpoi launched himself at the nosoi and bit his head off.

I felt relieved, and I heard Apollo sigh next to me.

But when I say it bit his head off, I am not exaggerating. The karpos’s fanged mouth unhinged, expanding to an unbelievable circumference, then closed around the cadaver’s head, and chomped it off in one bite.

In a mere moment, the nosos had been torn to shreds and devoured. As I said a while back, pacifism is sweet my friend, but watching your foes torn limb from limb is satisfying. I may have said that differently, but no matter.

The other two nosoi retreated, but the karpos crouched and sprang. He landed on the second corpse and proceeded to rip it shreds.

The last spirit dissolved into glittering smoke and tried to fly away, but the peach baby spread his leafy wings and launched himself after them, He opened his mouth and inhaled the sickness, snapping and swallowing the smoke was gone.

He landed in front of Meg and burped. His green eyes shone with… pride? He didn’t appear to be sick, which is not very surprising considering human diseases don’t infect fruit trees. Instead, even after eating three whole nosoi, the little fellow looked hungry.

He howled and beat his small chest. “Peaches!”

Percy slowly raised his sword. His nose was still red and runny, and his face was puffy. “Meg, don move,” he snuffled. “I’m gonna—”

“No!” she said. “Don’t hurt him.”

Meg put her hand tentatively on the creature’s head. “You saved us,” she told the karpos. “Thank you.”

I looked away, waiting for her scream as it ripped her hand off her arm. But to our surprise, the peach karpoi did not bite off Meg’s hand. Instead, he hugged Meg’s leg and glared at us as if daring us to approach.

Odd.

“Peaches,” he growled.

“He likes you,” Percy noted. “Um…why?”

“I don’t know,” Meg said. “Honestly, I didn’t summon him!”

It was blatantly obvious on who summoned him. I also have a clue on about parentage, but if it is her, then she’s top-level stuff for her demigod parentage..

“Well, whatever the case,” Apollo said, “we owe the karpos our lives. This brings to mind an expression I coined ages ago: A peach a day keeps the plague spirIt's away!”

Even I managed a weak smile at that, Apollo glanced at me, I forced myself to smile wider. I could tell he saw right through it. His eyes seemed to take in my bloodshot eyes. “You okay?”

He whispered so only I hear. I nodded once. He smiled weakly, it was genuine.

Percy sneezed. “I thought it was apples and doctors.”

The karpos hissed.

“Or peaches,” Percy said. “Peaches work too.”

“Peaches,” agreed the karpos.

Percy wiped his nose. “Not criticizing, but why is he grooting?”

Meg frowned. “Grooting?”

“Yeah, like thah character in the movie…only saying one thing over and over.”

Me and Apollo shared a look of confusion. “We haven't seen it.” He said. “But this karpos does seem to have a very…targeted vocabulary.”

I laughed hysterically, I just wanted to get to camp and get to my cabin and.. And then what?

“Maybe Peaches is his name.” Meg stroked the karpos’s curly brown hair, which elicited a demonic purring from the creature’s throat. “That’s what I’ll call him.”

“Whoa, you are not adopting thah—” Percy sneezed with such force, another irrigation pipe exploded behind him, sending up a row of tiny geysers. “Ugh. Sick.”

“You’re lucky,” Apollo said. “Your trick with the water diluted the spirit’s power. Instead of getting a deadly illness, you got a head cold.”

“I hate head colds.” His green irises looked like they were sinking in a sea of bloodshot. “None of you got sick?”

Meg shook her head.

“I have a good constitution!” Apollo stated, the forced positivity leaked out of his tone. Neither of us were okay.

“I.. I made sure he didn’t breath any” I muttered weakly.

“Its okay.” He murmured quietly. “I'm fine, you didn't hurt me.”

“And the fact thah I hosed the smoke off of you,” Percy said, possibly trying to ease the tension..

“Well, yes,” Apollo said, glancing at me then to Percy.

Percy stared at us as if waiting for something. Me and Apollo shared an awkward look, confused. After a long awkward moment, it occurred to me that he was probably looking for gratitude.

“Oh! Thank you,” I said, keeping my voice steady and repressing the nervousness.

Apprehension dawned in his eyes. “Ah.. Thank you”

He nodded. “No problem.”

Apollo relaxed a bit next to me. Good.

“Can we go now?” Meg asked.

“An excellent idea,” Apollo started, his voice sounded forced, but more genuine than I expected.. “Though I’m afraid Percy is in no condition—”

“I can drive you the rest of the way,” he said. “If we can get my car out from between those trees…” He glanced in that direction and his expression turned even more miserable. “Aw, Hades no….”

I shifted uncomfortably. Drawing the attention of our uncle wasn't the best idea, then I saw what “Great,” Percy muttered. “If they tow the Prius, I’m dead. My mom and Paul need thah car.”

“Go talk to the officers,” Apollo said. “You won’t be any use to us anyway in your current state.”

“He means your sick. You probably can't fight in your state.” I said quietly, edging towards my brother.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” Meg said. “You said the camp is right over those hills?”

“Right, but…” Percy scowled, I assumed he was struggling to think straight over the ailment inflicted by the nosoi. “Most people enter camp from the east, where Half-Blood Hill is. The western border is wilder—hills and woods, all heavily enchanted. If you’re not careful, you can get lost….” He sneezed again. “I’m still not even sure if you two can get in if you’re fully mortal.”

“We’ll get in.” I could hear the fake confidence in his voice. But we did have to get in. We had no other alternative. If we couldn't get in….. We had already been attacked once by monsters, and once by mortals. There is no other way for us to stay alive.

The police car’s doors opened.

“Go,” Apollo urged Percy. ��We’ll find our way through the woods. You explain to the police that you’re sick and you lost control of the car. They’ll go easy on you.”

“Good luck,” I said, smiling weakly.

Percy laughed. “Yeah. Cops love me almost as much as teachers do.” He glanced at Meg. “You sure you’re okay with the baby fruit demon?”

Peaches growled.

“All good,” Meg promised. “Go home. Rest. Get lots of fluids.”

Percy’s mouth twitched. “You’re telling a son of Poseidon to get lots of fluids? Okay, just try to survive until the weekend, will you? I’ll come to camp and check on you guys if I can. Be careful and—CHOOOO!”

Another pipe burst in the ground.

Muttering unhappily, he touched the cap of his pen to his sword, turning it back into a simple ballpoint. A wise precaution before approaching law enforcement. The mist would probably make it a gun or something. He trudged down the hill, sneezing and sniffling.

“Officer?” he called. “Sorry, I’m up here. Can you tell me where Manhattan is?”

Meg turned to us “Ready?”

Me and Apollo were both soaked to the bone. In winter weather, I could feel my rapid heartbeat slowing, leaving me open to the wind and cold. I started shivering, and I know Apollo was cold too. I am the moon goddess. I shouldn't be able to get cold. This was the worst day in the existence of days. Me and Apollo were mortal, injured, and I felt like I was on the verge of crying. Again. Apollo had a grimace of pain decorating his acne-ridden face. We were stuck with a… Insane? Terrifying? Misguided? Unknowing? I don't know how to describe her, girl as our master, and a freaking peach demon. I was not ready to traverse those woods, and I'm the goddess of hunting. The idea of entering those cursed woods terrified me. I knew the moment we entered, something bad would happen. But we also desperately needed to reach camp. I might even encounter some friendly faces there. Or perhaps I might find a way to contact my hunters. “Yeah. I'm ready.” I lied. “Apollo?”

“Sure,” He said, glancing at me. I could tell he saw directly through my lie. “Let’s go.”

Peaches the karpos made a sound between a yak grunting and a wilting plants scream. He gestured for us to follow, then scampered toward the hills. I didn't want to follow it, I didn't trust that… creature in any way shape or form. Meg skipped after him, swinging from tree branches (Splinters. How did she now get splinters?)and cartwheeling through the frozen mud as she somehow managed to act joyous after such a near-death experience. By the way she was acting I might have mistaken our previous affair to be a pleasant picnic rather than a life or death battle. Apollo turned to the sky “Are you sure, Zeus? It’s not too late to tell us this was an elaborate prank and recall us to Olympus. we’ve learned our lesson. I promise.”

“Father, please” I added.

No response. Not even a crackle of thunder. With a sigh, I jogged after Meg and her homicidal new minion.

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#the hidden oracle #the hidden oracle+1 #The hidden oracle plus one #lester papadopoulos #apollo #artemis #toa #fanfic #my fanfic #yes im aware they are twins but Artie was born after him and they are in a constant fight over who is older Artemis considers him younger

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