So I decided to write about Apollo next, as RageRunsStill requested. Hope you like it!

I still don't own anything, especially nothing worth suing me for. I don't even own the joke in the title of this chapter; my English teacher wore a shirt that said that the other day.

Apollo sat humming a tune of his own invention while staring dreamily off in to space. Of course he would describe it as "casting his heroic gaze across the windswept mountain of Olympus", but luckily he isn't narrating this.

You see Apollo was trying to think of a good limerick to sum up the chaos that was his family. He had given up on odes- he had a hard enough time making people sit still long enough to hear a whole haiku. His family was so unrefined. Perhaps that was their problem. Of course it could also be that Poseidon had gotten the ridiculous idea of giving Hermes a grenade. Apollo could understand being bored while being locked up here on Olympian-arrest, but seriously? Hermes and explosives were never a good combination. Old Unky should take up poetry writing or lyre-playing to distract him.

Speaking of distractions, he needed to get back to work on his limerick! He suddenly flung out a hand as inspiration struck him and he recited loudly-

"There once was a family of gods,

Who all had really hot bods,

They argued a lot,

They kicked and they fought,

They all should be beaten with rods."

Then he turned with a beatific smile on his face to greet the applause of his adoring fans… and found a satyr retching in the corner. Poor thing, Dionysus had probably given it bad grapes or something. Apollo got off his throne and graciously made his way toward the satyr (he was the god of medicine after all), but the creature put his hands up and shook his head while backing cautiously out of the room, muttering, "Enough damage for one day" over and over. The food poisoning must have affected his mind as well.

Apollo went to sit back down when three people burst into the throne room, yelling and pointing fingers. It appeared to be Athena and Zeus versus Poseidon. Normally Apollo would have feared for anyone facing the wrath of his father and half-sister at the same time, but his uncle could hold his own. You didn't need to see many earthquakes or typhoons to realize that.

And so Apollo made his way to his palace, which was humbly made of pure gold, so that he could achieve the proper silent atmosphere needed to produce his magnificent poems. He began pondering the events of the past few days when suddenly he was struck again (it seemed to be happening a lot these days), but this time with a vision of the future. It was his son Bobby out on a battle field, desperately trying to heal someone while a hideous monster bore down on them. The vision showed one last close-up of his son's terrified face before it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Apollo stopped walking and leaned heavily against a nearby statue. He had feared this for a long time: his son was one of the seven. Of course, it filled him with pride to know that his son was one the greatest demigods of the age, but at the same time he knew how high the chances of death and failure were on this quest.

Everyone thought Apollo was shallow and vain (and he was), but that didn't mean that he didn't care about his children. Just thinking about Lee or Michael still sent a blistering shot of pain through his chest, worse than any arrow wound. Not to mention the multitude of other children he had lost through the years. He didn't think he could stand losing Bobby, not now, not after everything that had happened.

At least he still had Will and Kayla, and Bobby, for however brief a time. And he had actually been visiting them more often, sharing his poetry with them and giving them tips on playing the guitar (and his children had had the decency to seem grateful). But that was before this stupid, stupid house-arrest. Seriously, what was locking all the gods up here and forbidding them to contact the mortal world going to do? Especially if Poseidon and Hermes continued to blow stuff up. Speaking of Poseidon, maybe Apollo could send a dream Percy's way; tell him to look after Bobby in particular. It had worked for Dionysus, hadn't it? And Daddy dearest need never know that the dream was actually divine intervention if he could convince Hephaestus to let him borrow some of the illicit equipment he was sure to have.

A happy grin had returned to Apollo's face while he finalized his plan when he heard someone shout, "Brother!" He turned, hoping it was Hermes, who was fun to hang with, or Artemis, who was fun to irritate. Unfortunately it was Ares. Who was decidedly un-fun. And who looked angry. Of course, when wasn't he angry?

Apollo attempted to be courteous. "What can I do for you, Brother-o-mine?" he asked sportingly.

"You can tell me what you're leaning against," came the reply.

"Why I'm leaning against a statue of…you." Apollo paled as he realized it was not only a statue of Ares but was also the brand new sacred monument that Athena's daughter had built, the one that Ares kept making people polish and always found some excuse to walk by. Apollo gulped and tried for an apologetic grin but instead a poem came pouring out, unbidden:

"There once was an old god of war,

Who fought and fought more and more,

What he never realized,

Was that people despised,

This useless and fat god of war."

It was undoubtedly Apollo's best limerick, and it was also his last. Sure he still spouted awful haikus and sonnets, but never again did a limerick cross his lips. People had to wonder, what had made the god develop such sudden abhorrence to this certain form of poetry? Their only clue was a malicious and triumphant gleam in Ares' eyes.

So, what'd you think? Who should I do next? Any suggestions for future chapters? Any blistering insults you want to level at me? All you have to do is press the button and review! That rhymed! By the way, it is amazing how quickly I was able to write the awful limericks. I think I discovered my true talent.