*You can check out my completed fanfic, "Being Just" while you wait for the next chapters of "Once Upon A Prophecy.*
Same plot but this time, I'm going to start from the beginning, before Percy Jackson was even born. I'll delete the last story, sorry for those who read it. But I'll bet you didn't even like it. It was horrible, I know. I was never good writing in first person, dunno why I decided to try it out but here's a completely remade one.
I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.
This was the biggest bargain Apollo was ever going for if only it weren't for Eros's arrow striking his heart clueless and lovesick. Lame old cupid, he thought remorsefully for the hundredth time at his overflowing pride to lessen and get washed back like a boomerang around his foolishness to forget that he should've known better not to underestimate minor gods.
Apollo alternately kicked a pebble on his way to one of the few secret passages to the underworld, not that he was very fond of his wife-napping uncle, Hades, more of sorry for the guy. But Apollo was off to visit an unlikely friend or say, future enemy as he was foreseeing at the moment; everyone's last person in their want-to-meets: Death.
The sun god ironically favored the dim light on his current situation today, walking straight through the human's carefully maintained park full of trees, brightness collapsing his tower of positive attitude out. No. This was grander, he felt, pausing for a swift second as he delicately fixed his blond hair back to place against his reflection at a nearby phone booth. Massive it's going to be, his train of thoughts heading back on track.
Apollo bent down and picked the grey pebble up, stroking its surface with a thumb, he sensed the heat radiating from it and the depth of connection it has with the earth, territory of Gaia, the heavy sleeper goddess, quickly scratch the impoliteness before the ground quakes. Apollo lightly threw the stone once, caught it and aimed for the marked boulder.
Thump.
The pebble bounced off and rolled to a stop. A smile traced Apollo's sexy lips, murmuring, knock knock.
The greater form of rock shook in disturbance, clearly being opened by its guardian, Death, who slowly stepped out of the darkness.
"De-" Apollo lost his words, spotting the black perfectly sculptured form of death himself; he let out a whistle. "Got to hand it to you, man. We should work out together in the gym sometime." He coughed, "you do know you're barely naked," noting the flimsy cloth tied around his waist, cut barbarically, Tarzan-style.
"Apollo, your soul in my presence would be without clothing as well if immortality hadn't forbid my power from taking it away from your flesh." Death's black eyes sparked when the Olympian flinched at his witty comeback, "thank you nevertheless. I see even gods as powerful as you fear me also, I am glad."
"Well, see, for immortals like us, afterlife is sort of nonexistent," Apollo scratched the side of his neck, coming up with an example. "Like how flying for humans seems impossible but at the back of their heads, they think it'll happen someday when things take a sudden turn around as change is unpredictable. And so it's natural for me to fear the impossible because of its mere possibility of occurring."
Death smiled menacingly, perhaps it was just a casual grin if his fellow dead were to look at it, but for Apollo it made him stand more erect. "Son of Zeus and Leto, twin of sweet Artemis-"
That strongly hit a soft spot, "Why do you speak of my sister that way?"
"I like how she takes her love ones' souls away from my hands and the fates' judgement can no longer affect them, raising their spirits into the heavens as twinkling stars. I believe she's partly doing my job, only in a good manner." His eyes narrowed, "you think I actually like sending people to their brutal ends?"
Apollo shook his head like how his father Zeus used to ask when he was a kid, after he'd pinned down a monster with his bare pinky, 'you think you can beat me, son?' Their gazes practically forced the correct answer out of him, the kind they wanted to hear.
Death sighed, "But it's beautiful, I've seen worthy people who die smiling, seldom a number of those."
"Hmm…" Apollo found a tricky way through, clasping his hands speculatively, "those good people, you think they deserve to be taken away from their life?"
"I thought most people would find peace in death and they'd prefer it more than life." Death shrugged, "probably," realizing Apollo's blue eyes were glowing now, which meant a plan was being put together in his futuristic mind.
Apollo crossed his arms to provoke a point, "What if they weren't ready?"
"What if I was ready to get them? Hmm?" Death quizzically eyed him, "where are you going with this, Apollo?"
His name sounded awfully sleek with fury in Death's tone, which made him talk; too much, he had to admit.
"I want you to bring my love back to life, Death. Margaret. Marge, I call her. I love her so much, Death. Bring her back to me." The words spilled out of his mouth uncontrollably and when love was too cliché for someone who'd never felt it, Apollo added, "I'll pay you back, promise. I know you don't need drachmas much so I'll give you something more valuable."
Death took a step closer, if it was to be precious, he shall posses it; and whispered, "How valuable?"
"Maybe a hint on your future," Apollo tapped his temple twice, grinning wide. "I know a lot about it."
"I know enough about the future to tell you that it changes frequently."
"I know more about it to tell you that prophecies never change! They come true."
Reconsideration flooded Death's aura, there were doubts at the corners but the glint in his dark eyes didn't lie.
Right then and there, Apollo knew he's done it.
Review please! The next chapter would be sort of... intimate. If you youngsters don't like those... well, you know what I mean -feel free to skip it.