To 8Ball3- That's the one! Testudo XD And yes to Apollo kids have more sunlight powers! Apollo can shoot flames from his hands, why can't his kids? :O No no no, Meg and Apollo have always had a siblingy relationship, no shipping here! D: And Lou called in a favour! ^_^
To propheciesandbluecookies- She can't, but that would be fun, wouldn't it? XP
To amy- Thank you! XD
To Writer2006- Aww, thanks! ^_^
If their hearts had been in it, he would have died.
Apollo had seen actual mobs of bloodthirsty dryads attack. It was not something any mortal could live through. These tree spirits seemed more interested in playing the part. They staggered towards him, yelling at the top of their lungs while occasionally glancing over their shoulders to make sure the torch-bearing demigods hadn't set fire to their life sources.
He felt Louisa's presence tingle through his body, guiding him rather than taking over, and he dodged the first two palm-tree spirits who lunged at him. He wasn't sure how Louisa was in his head or why, but he couldn't help wonder if it was some sort of retribution for having a dream through her eyes. To his knowledge, however, she didn't know about that. So what was going on?
"I won't fight you!" He shouted. A sturdy ficus jumped on him from behind. Tingling down his arms and Louisa helped throw her off. "We're not enemies!"
A fiddle-leaf fig was hanging back, perhaps waiting for her turn to get him or just hoping she wouldn't get noticed.
Apollo! Louisa warned. The dryad's demigod keeper noticed. He lowered his torch. Apollo's arm went numb as his mental guest took over. Cold, ocean winds swept past them, snuffing the torch out before the demigod could burn the tree. For extra measure, Apollo-Louisa swiped his-their hand through the air, the winds doubling back and throwing the demigod into the wall. He was out cold before he even fell to the floor.
The dryad, while saved, realised how close combustion had been and charged in, screaming, terrified tears running down her face.
"What was that?" Nero demanded. "How did you do that?" Apollo didn't answer, a bit preoccupied, but he did silently pitch the question to Louisa.
Ugh, she said, voice trickling away, that sucked.
You alright? Apollo asked, ducking the fiddle-leaf fig. Louisa's presence was ebbing. His vision was blurring, nausea gathering in his stomach.
Can't stay much longer. She informed, sounding like a whisper over a failing radio. Duck.
The other dryads, spurned on by the near destruction of one of their own, attacked in earnest. Their fingernails stretched into talons. A lemon tree sprouted thorns all over her body and tackled him in a painful hug. I told you to duck! Louisa reprimanded.
"Stop it!" Meg pleaded, but her voice was so fragile, it barely registered. The ficus got Apollo in a chokehold. "Stop it!"
"Oh, let them try, my dear." Nero said as the trees piled onto Apollo's back. "They deserve their revenge." Apollo's knees buckled under the weight of seven dryads. Thorns and talons raked every bit of exposed skin. Louisa was a speck in his mind now, losing their connection.
See you- don't- after Meg-! Whatever she was trying to say didn't come through. Apollo struggled to draw breath, shadows coiling across his vision. Louisa was gone. He was alone.
"STOP!" Meg's shout thundered around the throne room. The dryads stopped. The ficus sobbed with relief and released her hold around Apollo's neck. He inhaled sharply, coughing. The others backed off, leaving him on his hands and knees, bruised and bleeding.
Meg ran to him. She knelt and put her hand on his shoulder, studying his scrapes and cuts and his ruined, bandaged nose with an agonised expression. He would have been overjoyed to get this attention from her if they hadn't been in the middle of Nero's throne room or if he could just catch his breath.
Her first whispered question was not the one he had been expecting. "Is Lu alive?" He nodded, blinking away tears of pain.
"Last I saw." He whispered back. "Still fighting." Her brow furrowed. For the moment, her old spirit seemed rekindled, but it was difficult to visualise her the way she used to be. Apollo had to concentrate on her eyes, framed by her wonderfully horrible cat-eye glasses and ignore the new wispy haircut, the smell of lilac perfume, the purple gown and gold sandals and- OH GODS- someone had given her a pedicure!
He tried to contain his horror. "Meg." He said. "There's only one person here you need to listen to: yourself. Trust yourself."
He meant it, despite all his doubts and fears, despite all his complaints over the months about Meg being his master. She had chosen him, but he had also chosen her. He did trust her- not in spite of her past with Nero, but because of it. He had seen her struggle. He had admired her hard-won progress. He had to believe in her, for his own sake. She was, gods help him, his role model.
He pulled her gold rings from his pocket. She recoiled when she saw them, but he pressed them into her hands. "You are stronger than he is."
If he could have just kept her looking nowhere but at him, perhaps they could have survived in a small bubble of their old friendship, even surrounded by Nero's toxic environment.
But Nero wouldn't allow that.
"Oh, my dear." He sighed. "I appreciate your kind heart, I do! But we can't interfere with justice." Meg stood and faced him, squaring her shoulders.
"This isn't justice."
Nero's smile thinned. He glanced at Apollo with a mixture of humour and pity, as if saying, Now look what you've done.
"Perhaps you are right, Meg." He conceded. "These dryads don't have the courage or the spirit to do what's necessary." Meg stiffened, apparently realising what Nero intended to do.
"No."
"We will have to try something else." He gestured to the demigods, who lowered their torches into the plants.
"NO!" Meg screamed. The room turned green. A storm of allergens exploded from Meg's body as if she had released an entire season of oak pollen in a single blast. Verdant dust coated the throne room- Nero, his couch, his guards, his rugs, his windows, his children. The demigods' torch flames spluttered and died.
The dryads' trees began to grow, roots breaking through their pots and anchoring to the floor, new leaves unfurling to replace the singed ones, branches thickening and stretching out, threatening to entangle their demigod minders. Not being complete fools, Nero's children scrambled away from their newly aggressive houseplants.
Meg turned to the dryads, spine straight, jaw set, fists clenched. There was a power in her eyes, simmering green slowly fading from her irises. The dryads were huddled together, trembling, burn marks steaming on their arms. "Go heal." Meg told them. "I'll keep you safe." With a collective sob, the dryads vanished.
Nero calmly brushed pollen from his face and clothes. His Germani seemed unperturbed, as if this sort of thing happened a lot. One of the cynocephali sneezed. His wolf-headed comrade offered him a tissue.
"My dear Meg." Nero said, his voice even. "We've talked about this before. You must control yourself."
"You didn't have the right." She defied. "It wasn't fair-"
"Now, Meg." His voice hardened, letting her know that his patience was strained. "Apollo might still be allowed to live, if that's really what you want. We don't have to surrender him to Python. But, if we're going to take that kind of risk, I'll need you at my side with your wonderful powers. Be my daughter again. Let me save him for you."
She said nothing. Her stance radiated stubbornness. Apollo imagined her putting down her own roots, mooring herself in place. Nero sighed. "Everything becomes much, much harder when you wake the Beast. You don't want to make the wrong choice again, do you? And lose someone else like you lost your father?" He gestured to his dozen pollen-covered Germani, his pair of cynocephali, his seven demigod foster children, the knocked-out one coming back around, all of whom glared at Apollo and Meg as if they, unlike the dryads, would be quite happy to tear them to pieces.
Apollo wondered how quickly he could retrieve his bow, though he was in no shape for combat. Even the nausea from Louisa hadn't completely passed. He wondered how many opponents Meg could handle with scimitars. Good as she was, he doubted she could fend off twenty-one. Then there was Nero himself, who had the constitution of a minor god. Despite her anger, Meg couldn't seem to make herself look him in the face.
Apollo imagined Meg making these same calculations, perhaps deciding that there was no hope, that the only possibility of sparing his life was to give in to Nero.
"I didn't kill my father." She said, her voice small and hard. "I didn't cut off Lu's hands or enslave those dryads or twist us all up inside." She swept a hand towards the other demigods of the household. "You did that, Nero. I hate you." The emperor's expression turned sad and weary.
"I see. Well… if you feel that way-"
"It's not about feelings!" Meg snapped. "It's about the truth! I'm not listening to you. And I'm not using your weapons to fight anymore!"
She tossed her rings away.
A small desperate yelp escaped Apollo's throat. Nero chuckled.
"That, my dear, was foolish."
For once, Apollo was tempted to agree with the emperor. No matter how good his young friend was with gourds and pollen, no matter how glad he was to have her at his side, he couldn't imagine them getting out of this room alive unarmed.
The Germani hefted their spears. The Imperial demigods drew their swords. The wolf-headed warriors snarled. Nero raised his hand, ready to give the kill command, when a mighty BOOM! shook the antechamber. Half their enemies were thrown off their feet. Cracks sprouted in the windows and the marble columns. Ceiling tiles broke, raining dust like split bags of flour.
Apollo turned to see the impenetrable blast doors lying twisted and broken, a strangely emaciated red bull standing in the breach. Behind it stood Nico di Angelo.
I was gone for five minutes! Storm reprimanded, holding Louisa's hair in her mouth as she puked behind a tree. I told you to sit still and do nothing while I went to the loo. But noooooo! You're not getting sympathy from me, no ma'am! Louisa looked up at her, mouth opening to argue back. Instead of words coming up, however, it was yet more vomit. That is disgusting. Storm huffed. And it smells.
"Sorry…" Louisa croaked, spitting on the ground. She made to move away, the smell only making her feel worse, only to be wrenched back by the pegasus hanging off her hair. "Ow."
What did you do? Storm demanded.
"Technically, I sat still." Louisa mumbled. The mare tugged on her hair again, pulling her head sharply round. "Ow ow ow!" She flailed a hand at the pegasus, who trotted in a circle to avoid her, but also not letting go and dragging her with her.
She tried to explain while she was being hauled around by her hair, but Storm was having too much fun and refused to listen. She only backed off when her hoof went straight into the pile of still-warm sick.
EW! She whinnied in disgust and took off as quickly as she could on three legs, keeping the soiled one off the ground. EW EW EW EW!
Louisa huffed, watching the mare disappear in search of a river or something to clean up in. She rubbed at her sore head, pulled her hairband up to tidy the dark mess back into a ponytail, again. She closed her eyes so she didn't have to see the blonde streak. Her stomach didn't feel right enough to see that right now.
Salacia had helped her get to Apollo. Louisa had had such a strong feeling about whatever was going on in Manhattan, she had to do something. She was worried about Nico, about the demigods of Camp Half-Blood. She was worried for Meg going back to that hellhole; she was worried for Apollo because if he died, she would have to deal with the biggest snake in existence and that just wasn't in her contract.
So, she had sat down, cross-legged, hands on her knees, making herself take a deep breath.
Then she prayed to her stepmother. She wanted help, she wanted to help. She needed to know what was going on before she went any further away from New York. She had wanted to see Nico more than anything, throat closing up at the thought of losing him too.
Instead, Salacia had pulled her dream self out and planted her in Apollo's head. It was sort of like a dream, except Apollo's panicking thoughts crashed around her own, giving her a headache. Yes, she understood the situation a little better now, but what she had seen hadn't necessarily been good nor had it reassured her. She probably could have stayed a little longer if she hadn't pushed her powers through Apollo, but that poor dryad was going to go up in flame. She couldn't allow it.
Using her abilities through Apollo was not in the book. She could almost see Salacia rolling her eyes and face-palming, but was a bit more occupied with everything blurring and woozing around her. She could feel Apollo's nausea from her exertion, could hear Nero's confusion. She was just as confused- OK, Jason had combined his powers with hers against Caligula's fleet, but he was a spirit and had left a mark as all spirits do. She was still alive, but she couldn't help wonder if something similar would happen to Apollo. A streak of black hair? Maybe green to his eyes? Or some swearing, the boy could do with some swearing.
She couldn't stay much longer. Whatever connection they had slipped away, like Percabeth into Tartarus (too soon?). She woke up back in her body and immediately threw up as Storm clopped back to their resting spot. Then the hair-holding and the hair-yanking and the hair-merry-go-round. Louisa had been through a lot, thought she had seen everything. But being saved from a rude, hair-hating pegasus by a puddle of fresh vomit was new.
"Thank you, Salacia." She said aloud, feeling her tender head now her hair was tied back up. A gentle sea breeze whistled around her, racing away almost cheerfully.
HELP! Storm called from somewhere in the woods. IT'S NOT COMING OFF, HELP ME!
"I'm comin', I'm comin'! But if you pull my hair again, I'm gonna throw up on you!"
THAT IS NOT HELP! YOU DESERVE ALL THE HAIR ATTACKS! IT'S IN MY HOOF, WHERE ARE YOU?!
Safe to say, Apollo had not been expecting this kind of party-crasher. Clearly, Nero and his followers hadn't either. They stared in amazement as the tauri silvestris lumbered across the threshold. Where the bull's eyes should have been, there were only dark holes. Its shaggy red hide hung loosely over its reanimated skeleton, like a blanket. It was an undead thing with no flesh or soul- just the will of its master.
Nico scanned the room. He looked worse than the last time Apollo had seen him. His face was covered in soot, his left eye swollen shut. His shirt was ripped to shreds and his black sword dripped with some sort of monster blood. Worst of all, someone (presumably a trog) had forced him to wear a white cowboy hat. Apollo half-expected him to say yee-haw in the most unenthusiastic voice ever.
For the benefit of the skeleton bull, he pointed at Nero.
"Kill that one." He instructed. The bull charged. The followers of Nero went crazy. Germani rushed the creature like linebackers going after a wide receiver, desperate to stop it before it reached the dais. The cynocephali howled and bounded in Apollo and Meg's direction. The Imperial demigods faltered, looking at each other for direction like, Who do we attack? The bull? The emo kid? Dad? Each other?
"Vercorix!" Nero shrieked, his voice a half-octave higher than usual. He leapt onto his couch, madly punching buttons on his Sassanid gas remote control and apparently deciding that it was not, in fact, his Sassanid gas remote control. "Bring me the other controls! Hurry!"
Halfway to the bull, Vercorix stumbled and reversed course for the coffee table, perhaps wondering why he had taken this promotion and why the almighty Nero couldn't fetch his own stupid remotes.
Meg tugged at Apollo's arm, shaking him from his stupor.
"Get up!" She dragged him out of the path of a cynocephalus, who landed next to them on all fours, snarling and slavering. Before Apollo could decide whether to fight him with his bare hands or try and scare him away with his messed up face, Nico jumped between them, his sword already in motion. He slashed the wolf-man into dust and dog fur.
"Hey, guys." Nico's swollen eye made him look even fiercer than usual. "You should probably find weapons." Apollo tried to remember how to speak.
"How did you-? Wait, let me guess. Rachel sent you." Nico nodded.
Their reunion was interrupted by the second wolf-headed man. He loped towards them more cautiously than his fallen buddy, edging sideways and looking for an opening. Nico fended him off with his sword and scary cowboy hat, but Apollo had a feeling they would be getting more company soon.
Nero himself was still screaming on his sofa while Vercorix fumbled with the tray of remotes. A few feet away from Apollo, Meg and Nico, the Germani were piling on top of the skeleton bull. Some of the Imperial demigods ran to help them, but three of the more devious members of the family were hanging back, no doubt pondering the best way to kill the intruders so they could get a gold star from Daddy on their weekly chore chart.
"What about the Sassanid gas?" Apollo asked Nico.
"Trogs still working on that." Nico replied. Apollo muttered a curse that would not have been appropriate for the ears of a youngster like Meg, except that Meg had taught him this particular curse. "If I had a remote control doomsday button, I wouldn't keep it with the other remotes." Nico mused. "Like, all his planning and he can't find the thing to make it work? Bit stupid if you ask me."
"Cool." Meg dismissed. "Has Camp Half-Blood evacuated?" Apollo was relieved to hear her join the conversation. It made him feel like she was still one of them.
"No. They're fighting against Nero's forces on every floor. We warned everyone about the gas, but they won't leave until you guys leave."
"Oh, bless their cottons." Apollo felt a surge of gratitude and exasperation. Those stupid, beautiful Greek demigods, those brave, wonderful fools. He wanted to punch them all and then give them a big hug.
The cynocephalus lunged.
"Go!" Nico ordered.
Apollo sprinted towards the entrance where he had dropped his stuff, Meg right next to him. A Germanus flew overhead, kicked into oblivion by the bull. The zombie monster was about twenty feet from the emperor's dais now, struggling to make it to the goal line, but it was losing momentum under the weight of a dozen bodies. The three devious demigods were now prowling in Apollo and Meg's direction, paralleling their course towards the front of the room.
By the time he reached his possessions, Apollo was gasping and sweating like he had just run a marathon. He scooped up his ukulele, nocked an arrow in his bow and aimed at the approaching demigods, but two of them had disappeared. Perhaps they had taken cover behind the columns? He fired at the only demigod still visible- Aemillia- but either he was weak and slow or she was exceptionally well-trained. She dodged his shot and kept coming.
"What about weapons for you?" He asked Meg, nocking another arrow. She chin-pointed towards her foster sibling.
"I'll take hers. You concentrate on Nero." And off she ran in her silk dress and sandals, like she was about to lay waste to a black-tie event.
Nico was still duelling with the wolf-dude. The zombie bull finally collapsed under the weight of Team Nero, meaning it wouldn't be long before the Germani came looking for new targets to tackle.
Vercorix tripped and fell as he reached the emperor's sofa, spilling the entire tray of controls across the cushions.
"That one! That one!" Nero yelled unhelpfully, pointing to all of them. Nico had a point- all of Nero's wealth and resources and he couldn't label the damn things? Bit of a stupid move for an emperor so supposedly clever.
Apollo took aim at Nero's chest. He was thinking how good it would feel to make this shot when he found one of the missing demigods. It was one of Nero's older boys, Lucius maybe, and he was attached to the dagger now buried in Apollo's ribs. Lucius locked him in a death embrace. His vision swam. His lungs refused to fill with air.
Across the room, Meg fought bare-handed against Aemillia and the third missing demigod, who had apparently also been waiting in ambush.
Lucius drove his knife in deeper, Apollo struggled, sensing with detached medical interest that his ribs had done their job. They had deflected the blade from his vital organs, which was great except for the excruciating pain of having a knife embedded between his skin and his ribcage, and the massive amount of blood now soaking through his shirt.
He couldn't shake Lucius. He was too strong, too close. In desperation, Apollo yanked back his fist and gave him a big thumbs-up in the eye.
Lucius screamed and staggered away. Eye injuries- the absolute worst.
Apollo didn't have the strength to nock another arrow. He stumbled, trying to stay conscious as he slipped on his own blood. Through the haze of agony, he saw Nero smiling triumphantly, holding aloft a control. "Finally!" He declared, laughing.
No, Apollo prayed, Zeus, Artemis, Leto, anybody… NO!
He couldn't stop the emperor. Meg was too far away barely holding her own against her two siblings. The bull had been battered into a pile of bones. Nico had dispatched the wolf-man but now faced a line of angry Germani between him and the throne. "It's over!" Nero gloated. "Death to my enemies!"
And he pushed the button.