December 22, 1992; Miami, Florida
Leto stares at her youngest child, face a mix between disbelief and horror; the shock of what her son has just told her is still flowing through her body.
Apollo was dressed in a white tank top and blue jeans. His hair was disheveled, like he'd been running his hand through it—a nervous habit he'd picked up in his younger days. His blue eyes were wide and worried, and his jaw was clenched, like he was nervous. Those details were secondary to Leto, however.
It's what he's holding that arrests her attention.
A small bundle is being held protectively in his arms, wrapped in a light blue blanket. Little fingers poke out from the folds, and Leto can partially make out a face.
"Gods," she breathes.
"I need your help, Mom," Apollo says, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
"What can I do?" she asks.
"Watch him, take care of him, I don't know." He looks down at the baby, then back at her. "I can't be around him full-time. People will get suspicious if I'm spending most of my time in the mortal world."
"Why not give him to an orphanage?"
"Because it's too dangerous!"
A small murmur from the baby freezes them, but all it does is shift slightly and go back to sleep.
Releasing a breath, Apollo says, "Orion's still out there, and Niobe too for all I know. If they get their hands on him, they'll turn him into a weapon."
"…And Artemis?" she asks quietly. "What about her?"
Apollo breathes heavily. "She'll kill him."
"She would not!" she hisses, aghast that he would suggest a thing so vile.
"You don't think so? I know my sister, Mother, and I've seen her do unspeakable things to men. Especially if they've wronged her."
"How could he wrong her? He's a baby."
"Yes, he's her baby. You know her vow, Mother—never to have children, or have relations with men."
"So?"
"So how do you think she'll react when she finds out her worst enemy created a child using her essence? I've seen her turn men into rodents for looking at her the wrong way. What do you think her reaction will be to…this?" He adjusts the baby in his arms.
Leto let out a breath. "She'll kill him."
"She'll kill him," he repeats, sadly. "Look, I don't like this either, but…it's either be turned into a weapon or death. Mother, he…he didn't do anything wrong. Doesn't he deserve a good life? A happy life?"
Leto sighs and walks over to him, gently pulling the baby from her son's arms. He scrunches up his face but doesn't make a sound, preferring instead to remain asleep. Leto's lips tug upward at the image.
"Okay," she murmurs. She looks up and says it louder, but not loud enough to disturb the baby. "Okay. I'll help you."
Apollo sighs and smiles, wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you, Mom."
"Mmm. We can't keep him here, though." Her condo is too publicly known to keep a baby. Both Artemis and Hermes make frequent visits (for lunch and gossip magazine deliveries, respectively), not to mention several of the mortal women she's befriended during her stay here. No, this place would not do.
"I know. I've got a place set up in New York. It's secluded, so no one should stumble upon us unless they know who's there."
"I don't know about this, Apollo. I still think we should tell Artemis. Maybe you or I could talk to her beforehand, to explain—"
"We can't, Mother. Niobe wanted Artemis to meet him. It's part of her plan. I'm sorry."
Niobe closes her eyes and opens them again. The thought of keeping such a secret from her eldest is maddening, but she supposes Apollo is right, however wrong it might seem.
"Does he have a name?" she asks, looking down at him. A few tufts of black hair are sticking out from his pink head, and his eyes are open; he must have woken up while they spoke. His eyes are like liquid gold, identical to his mother's. The sight almost makes Leto lose her breath. She'd been needlessly heckling her daughter for grandchildren for millennia, and Artemis had refused each time. Leto had accepted it after two centuries, and only kept doing so to annoy her daughter, but now…
Now the sight of one is precious enough to get her to go through with Apollo's deception.
"Niobe wanted to call him Diomedes," Apollo says.
She scoffs. "Diomedes? Seriously?" The name had a rich history and sounded valiant when rolled off the tongue, but hopelessly old fashioned.
"I like Hunter," she says, poking her grandson's chin with a finger. He cooed and reached for her face. She smiled.
"Hunter? Really? Isn't that a bit…I don't know…on the nose?"
"Maybe, but I think it's fitting. How about you? Don't tell me he doesn't look like a Hunter to you?" She tilted the baby toward him, letting him look at his face.
Something moves behind her son's eyes, and he sighs and says, "Fine. Hunter it is."
She giggles and brings the baby closer to her face. "Hello, Hunter. I'm Leto, your grandmother."
December 25, 1992; Brasher Falls State Forest, New York
It has been three days since she agreed to watch over her grandson, and it has been three days since she slept through the night.
Hunter's screams wake her from a peaceful slumber, and she rolls out of bed. One of the blankets catches on her leg and she nearly falls flat on her face before righting herself. She tries to rub the sleep from her eyes, but it is no use, and she arrives in the nursery exhausted.
The cabin Apollo has made for them is cozy and small: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms adjacent to one another. A fire is roaring in the fireplace, and a torrential snowstorm is raging outside.
Idly, she wonders if it has something to do with the tantrum that is being thrown in her grandson's bedroom. No, she decides. It can't be that. Artemis has no great ability to control the weather, and Niobe and Orion are likely incapable of such feats. Coincidence, then. Still, it is no small feat that the baby in the bassinette is howling loud enough to put the wind to shame.
Hunter's tiny hands are balled up into fists, his feet kicking wildly. She gathers him in her arms, cooing lightly to shush him. "Hush, little one, hush," she says softly. He looks up at her with his beautiful golden eyes, and for a moment she is certain he will fall back to sleep.
The Fates have other ideas for her.
He begins screaming four seconds later, with enough fury to make even Zeus take pause. It is confusing and irritating. As Titaness of Motherhood, childrearing has always been easy for her. She knew the needs and wants of her nieces and nephews when she met them; to say nothing of Apollo and Artemis, who were open books to her.
But Hunter is a mystery.
Perhaps it is because he is mortal, and thus is not able to clearly understand what he wants; or perhaps because he is part giant, and cries for reasons she cannot discern. He does not need his diaper changed, and he is not hungry, because he turns away the bottle of formula she offers.
He falls asleep after thirty minutes of endless crying, and Leto puts him back down gently, fearful she will wake him in some way. She leaves quickly, closing the door softly behind her. She throws herself on her bed, forgetting completely about the blanket on the floor.
When she is woken by Hunter's screams just before dawn, it is too soon.
She carries him to the kitchen, pulling one of the formulae bottles she has from the refrigerator. She holds it out for him, hoping—praying—that he will eat; he has done little of that in the past few days, and she is terrified he will waste away.
His lips close around the nipple and he begins to suck eagerly. She is just beginning to feel hopeful when he spits it out and presses his face into her chest, letting out a shriek of indignation.
She sits down at the kitchen table, and begins to cry as well.
Three days later, Apollo returns, nudging the cabin door open gently with his foot. Hunter is laying on his belly on the couch, sleeping. Thankfully no pillows are around, so there's no chance of suffocation.
"Hey, kiddo," he says, because nephew sounds too foreign for him. He puts the bag of groceries in his hand—a part of his weekly care packages he delivers to the house—and his honey-glazed tart, courtesy of Aphrodite, who is currently celebrating the birth of a baby girl named Silena, onto the couch next to the baby.
Curious, he looks around. Leto is nowhere in sight, which is odd for her; she is usually a stone's throw away from Hunter, ready to jump into action at the faintest hint of discomfort.
Instead, he finds her pacing in the kitchen biting her finger with her eyes darting around, anxious.
"What's wrong?" he asks, confused; Leto has never acted like this, always calm and collected.
She jumps, then looks ashamed. "He still won't eat," she says.
Apollo blinks, confused. "Anything?" Aren't babies supposed to eat whatever's put in front of them?
She shakes her head. "No. He'll swallow a bit of milk, but a few hours later he'll be puking it back up." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don't know what to do."
Apollo can only imagine what she is going through. As the Titan of Motherhood, it must be maddening to be uncertain about the care of a child, especially her own grandson. He supposes that if he couldn't master a musical instrument or drive his sun chariot properly, he might go mad too.
"How long can a baby survive without food?" The question scares him, but he needs to know how serious this is.
"A few days, maybe a week. It depends." She nods her head toward the living room doorway. "He isn't exactly an average baby, Apollo."
"I know." He runs a hand through his golden hair. "Look, I've got a few more bags outside; why don't you help me bring those in, and I'll help you figure this out."
Leto breathes heavily, then nods. "Yes. Yes, that sounds good. Come on, let's go." She moves to the doorway, but stops suddenly, for the sight before her takes her breath away.
"Mom?" Apollo asks, looking over her shoulder. "What's—? Hey!" He takes a step forward, but Leto grabs the neck of his shirt and pulls him back, ignoring the choked sound me makes.
"What's—?" he starts, but is quickly shushed when Leto hisses through her teeth, pointing into the living room.
Hunter is awake, and somehow has managed to drag himself to Apollo's treat. One hand is in his mouth, and he is sucking intently on his fingers.
"What," she asks softly, afraid that the tiniest sound will spook him, "was on that dessert?"
"Honey," he says, face lighting up in understanding.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." She moves into the kitchen quickly, pulling out the necessary ingredients to make honeyed milk."
Apollo, meanwhile, moves over to the couch and gently picks Hunter up, careful to support his head. The baby wiggles his arms before staring intently up at Apollo, and the sun god takes a moment to be mesmerized by the child. Silently, he hopes his sister, wherever she is, will forgive him from hiding such a monstrous secret from her.
Promise me, Apollo.
He shakes Niobe's words from his head. Later, he says to himself. When he's ready. And some part of him (the dark part of him that justifies his viler actions like his spread of plague and the rape of Cyrene and Dryope, and the ones he doesn't think about) whispers that he'll never be ready; that Artemis will kill him and feed his body to her wolves.
Artemis would never, he thinks back.
Then why hide him? that other side of him thinks.
He is not ready to meet her.
When will he? When he's an old man? A corpse, maybe?
When he's a man.
Oh, yes, because dear old Arty has such a great track record with men.
Shut up. He's her son.
He's the son of her enemy. He was made to destroy her. She'll kill him and not lose an ounce of sleep.
You're wrong. She'll—
He is cut off when Leto enters, holding a baby bottle of honeyed milk. "Let me see him," she says, and he gives the baby over quickly. She gives him the nipple, and he begins to gulp the white liquid down with surprising gusto, kicking gently against her arms. When he has drained it all, he lets out a loud burp and reaches for Leto's face. She giggles and spins around, holding the baby close while he coos adorably, and Apollo lets his doubts fade (for now) as he takes in the sight before him.
November 8, 1993; New York City, New York
The sky is dark and overcast, with a light wind that sends a chill down Leto's back. Central Park is mostly deserted—it is a Monday, after all—and Leto takes great pleasure in that. It allows her to clear her mind and take in the crisp air. Do not mistake her—she absolutely adores children, and takes immense satisfaction in their laughter, but even she needs a break now and then.
Hunter is sitting a few feet away, playing with his stuffed animal. It had been a present from Apollo—a little cotton bear with the name "Hunter" written on the bottom of the left foot. It is cold, but he is bundled up in enough warm clothing that he doesn't notice. He has been uncharacteristically whiney these last few weeks, something she suspects he gets from his mother. Artemis always hated staying in one place for two long, and it is only so long before a baby gets bored in a four-room home.
So, she took an opportunity to do some shopping and get Hunter out of the house. Apollo could not join them, as his attention is divided between his duties on Olympus and a bartender named Samantha Yew. She takes a moment to be exasperated by her son's lack of attention to his nephew, as the boy has become a deal more troublesome since his uncle stopped showing up—something she will have to deal with later.
As she looks at him, Leto cannot help but wonder where the time has gone. It seems like only yesterday that Apollo had barged into her home with the newborn still in his arms. Now, he is able to (mostly) walk, and is beginning to take great offense to affection. He throws fits when Leto kisses him, and she hates it.
Nearby, she senses danger. A quick scan of the area reveals a man walking toward them, dressed in a large coat. A telekhine, she suspects, based on the smell. As he gets closer he notices Leto, and his eyes go wide when he realizes she is not mortal. Her eyes dart to Hunter, then back to him as she conveys a very simple message: if you even think about touching him, your end will be a slow one.
He turns and beats a hasty retreat.
She turns back to Hunter, but his attention is arrested by the white flakes that have begin to fall from the sky. He opens his mitten-covered hand to catch one, then shrieks when it melts. Leto slides down from her bench to sit next to him.
"That's called snow," she explains. "Hunter, can you say snow?" They have been trying to get him to speak for some time now, but Hunter has remained stubbornly silent.
"Come on, Hunter," she says again. "After me—snow. You can do it. Snow." When he doesn't respond, she gives up and begins gathering up her bags because the snow will ruin them and—
"Snow."
She stops, blinks, turns around. Hunter is holding a tiny snowflake in his hand, looking down at it as though Zeus himself had put it there. He holds it out for her. "Snow! Snow snow snow!"
She laughs and sits down again. "That's right, honey. That's snow!" She kisses his forehead, then sighs when he lets out a cry of indignation. Boys, is all she thinks.
When they make it home, she calls Apollo and tells him what has happened. He doesn't leave Hunter's side for a week. (And when Hunter says "Apollo" at the end of it, she knows why.)
It isn't for another three weeks—and with some coaxing from Apollo—that he manages to say "Leto," but he still manages to melt her heart anyway.
December 6, 1993; New York City, New York
Leto sits in her son's apartment overlooking the New York skyline. The Empire State Building stands tall nearby, and Leto's gaze turns sad. She has not been on Olympus for some time; decades, if not centuries. That is for the best, she knows; Hera would never stomach her presence, and she has so few friends on the mountain. Still, her family is there, the man whose children she carried and the daughter who she misses.
Briefly, ever so briefly, she considers calling Artemis. It would only take a moment, she thinks. And Hunter's birthday is coming up. That would be such a nice gift, no? She has tried her best, truly she has, and she loves her darling little grandbaby to pieces, but…still.
She is not his mother, nor could she ever hope to be.
She ignores those thoughts, however. Artemis has always been unpredictable, especially toward those of the opposite gender. But still…the goddess of childbirth harming a baby? Surely she would never…but she might. She shakes her head. When he is older, she thinks. We'll tell her when he is older. Until then, she will tell him stories of Artemis—legends that will dazzle and wonder him. He'll know he has a good mother, even though he will not meet her.
The sounds of footsteps draws her attention. She and Hunter had visited Apollo for supper, and the two men are returning from a diaper change. Apollo, she reflects, has gotten remarkably good at child-rearing for one so absent from his own children. In the first few months he had been completely clueless; now, he is almost a master.
Apollo is walking Hunter down the hall, holding his hands and leading him into the room. They have been teaching him to walk, though he can do little more than take a step before he loses his balance and falls. Luckily they are quick enough to catch him.
"Go on," Apollo says, with all the warmth of his sun. "Go on, Hunter. Walk to Grandma."
She fights down the wince that name brings. "Grandma" makes her feel old and wrinkled—even though she appears no older than twenty-five; she makes a habit of telling any and all of her grandchildren to call her Leto.
Still, she reaches her arms out and gives an encouraging smile. "Come on, sweetness," she says. "You can do it." They've encouraged him like this before, so that he isn't afraid to fall or fail.
Apollo lets go as Hunter takes a step and…
…takes another. And another. And another. Only then does he lose his balance and falls forward, but Leto only needs to lean forward slightly to catch him. She pulls him close, exhausted. "You did it!" she cries, planting kisses all over his face. "You walked!"
Hunter is pulled from her grasp and lifted into the air by her son Apollo. "'Course you did," he says, laughing. "You're my big strong man, aren't you?" Hunter giggles as Apollo swings him around, and Leto laughs too.
We'll tell her when he's older, she thinks. Till then, he's all ours.
March 16, 1994; Brasher Falls State Park, New York
Something pulls on Leto's arm, dragging her from a painfully bliss sleep. She blinks twice and sees Hunter standing in front of her bed, looking at her with wide eyes.
She sits up and looks over at the clock: 9:32. She holds back a groan and says, "What's wrong?"
He holds his stuffed bear tightly to his chest and says, "Thirsty."
Closing her eyes and counting to five, she pulls the covers back and moves out of bed, despite her body's protests. She moves to the kitchen, Hunter following closely behind. She pulls out a glass, fills it halfway up with water, and gives it to him. He gulps it down quickly, then gives the glass back to her. She rinses it and leaves it on the rack to dry overnight.
Before she finishes tucking him in, she gives him a kiss and says, "Good night."
She is awakened several hours later by Hunter again. "What now?" she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
He looks down at his diaper, and Leto knows immediately that he has soiled himself. Fighting down another, more feral groan, she pulls herself from bed and brings him to his bedroom, where she quickly changes his wet diaper and makes sure that the sheets haven't gotten wet too. Thankfully, they haven't.
Never should have given him that water, she thinks as she pulls herself back into bed. Still, there have been worse nights. She remembers when he was five months old, he had gotten a rather bad fever. She didn't sleep for two full days, and Hunter had been feeling even worse. Looking back on it, she couldn't help but feel guilty. A baby was suffering and she was complaining about getting no sleep? She had thoroughly apologized to him by spending the next day snuggling and giving him his favorite baby foods.
She falls asleep moments later, only to be woken up again just after two in the morning.
This time, she couldn't stop the growl that passed her lips. "What," she hisses, "do you have against a good night's sleep?" All malice and annoyance melts when she sees his face, however.
His cheeks are red and covered in tear tracks. His eyes are puffy as well, and he is sniffling.
"What's wrong, honey?" she asks, voice silk-soft.
"Bad dream," he mumbles.
Oh, she thinks. Then she asks, "Do you want to sleep in here tonight?"
He looks up, hopeful, and asks, "Okay?"
She smiles reassuringly and says, "Yes, it's okay." She pulls the blanket up and moves back. "C'mere, baby."
He squirms up quickly, wiggling into place, his head buried in her chest. She pulls the blanket around them, keeping him safe and warm.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He sniffles again. "Bad. Monsters trying to eat me."
She bites her lip, then kisses his head. She is slightly relieved when he doesn't complain. "Don't worry, no monsters are going to get you."
"Promise?" His words are muffled, but she can still hear them.
"I promise. Apollo and I won't let anything happen to you." And they would; a little over a year ago, Orion came looking for his son. Apollo had managed to fight him off, but it had come too close for comfort. Afterward, the sun god had erected a barrier around their part of the woods so that nobody—god or monster—could enter without invitation.
Hunter nuzzled her chest and went to sleep easily.
Leto sighed and kissed him again. He was getting older, and he would likely have similar dreams more and more often. Not to mention Orion and Niobe were still out there, and if Artemis were to get her hands on him…
No, Leto thought. Nothing's going to happen to him. She would make sure of it, Apollo too. Nothing was going to harm their little boy, and he'd grow up to be one of the greatest demigods Olympus had ever known, and she'd be there, supporting him every step of the way.
But until then, there was no harm in letting him be her baby, was there?
A/N: This came out of nowhere. Seriously, I wasn't planning on writing any spin-offs of The Hunter's Heir, but after spending half a day with my eighteen-month-old cousin (and to celebrate Hunter's late birthday and early Christmas), I decided to write this. I considered writing some more scenes from Apollo's POV, but decided against it. If that's something you guys want to see (and maybe a few scenes with Artemis), let me know. And if this is something that piqued your curiosity, go check out the story it's based on.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Bye!