To 8Ball3- I know there's a thousand different words for so-and-so, but sometimes so-and-so is the best because it's up to personal interpretation ^_^ I thought we had to sing Nelly the Elephant for CPR? O.o
To Writer2006- Thank you! ^_^
To Percy Fan- I'm here, I'm here! XD Now, that's a fair request... originally I was going to have Lou in the mix of fighting in this one, with Camp Half-Blood but I needed her to do the thing she's doing now. On the other hand, I am considering writing up a bunch of one-shot type things which will essentially be 'deleted scenes' for these rewrites... maybe she can call him a fatty neckbeard in those :P
Everyone makes their own choices.
Apollo's was to turn and run.
Not that he was terrified of a dozen Germani trying to kill him. OK, maybe a little terrified. But he had no arrows and no strength left. He badly wanted to hide behind- uh, stand next to Rachel, Screech-Bling and his old friend, the low budget Celtic Wolverine.
Nero's words rang in his ears. Destroying the fasces would be deadly. He could not allow anyone else to take that risk. Perhaps the leontocephaline had been amused for reasons Lu hadn't understood. Perhaps Apollo's sacrifice couldn't be avoided as easily as she had believed.
He stumbled into Lu, who managed to catch him without stabbing him to death. Will, still glowing like an overachieving night-light, had propped Nico against the wall and was now tending to his wounds. Screech-Bling let out a high-pitched whistle and more troglodytes poured into the room, charging the emperor's forces in a flurry of shrieks, mining picks and stylish headwear.
Apollo gasped for breath, making a grabby-hand gesture at Rachel.
"Give me the fasces."
"Please?" She prompted. "And, gee, sorry, I underestimated you, Rachel, you're actually kind of a warrior queen?"
"Yes please and thank you and all of that, you're amazing!" Apollo nodded earnestly. Lu scowled.
"Are you sure you can destroy it? I mean, without killing yourself?"
"No and no."
Rachel stared into the air, as if reading a prophecy written in the dancing lights of the disco ball.
"I can't see the outcome." She said. "But he has to try."
Apollo took the fasces, struggling not to collapse under its weight. The ceremonial weapon hummed and shuddered like an overheating race-car engine. Its aura made his pores pop and his ears ring. His side started to bleed again, if it ever really stopped. He wasn't thrilled about the blood trickling down his chest and into his underwear while he had an important job to do.
"Cover me." He told the ladies.
Lu leapt into battle, stabbing and slashing and kicking any Germani who got past the trogs. Rachel pulled out a blue plastic hairbrush and threw it at the nearest barbarian, beaning him in the eye and making him howl.
Sorry I underestimated you, Rachel, Apollo thought distantly, you're actually kind of a hairbrush ninja.
He cast a worried glance across the room. Meg was alright. More than alright. She had convinced all her remaining foster siblings to throw down their weapons. Now, she stood in front of them like a general trying to shore up her demoralised troops. Or- a less flattering comparison- she reminded him of one of Hades' dog trainers working with a pack of new hellhounds. At the moment, the demigods were obeying her commands and staying put, but any sign of weakness from her, any change in the temperature of the battle, and they might break ranks and slaughter everyone in sight.
It didn't help that Nero was stomping up and down on his couch, screeching,
"KILL APOLLO, KILL APOLLO!" Like Apollo was a cockroach he had just spotted scurrying across the floor.
Apollo gripped the fasces with both hands and tried to prise it apart. The golden bundle of rods glowed brighter and warmer, illuminating the bones and red flesh of his fingers, but it didn't budge.
"Come on." He muttered, trying again, hoping for a burst of godly strength. "If you need another immortal life, I'm right here!" Maybe he should have felt foolish negotiating with a Roman ceremonial axe, but after his conversations with the Arrow of Dodona, it seemed like a reasonable thing to try.
The trogs made the Germani look like the bumbling team the Harlem Globetrotters always played. (Sorry, Washington Generals). Lu sliced and poked and parried with her knife hands. Rachel stood protectively in front of Apollo and occasionally muttered:
"Apollo, now would be good." He didn't find it very helpful.
Meg still had her foster siblings under control for the time being, but that could change. She was talking to them encouragingly, gesturing to Apollo with a look that said, He's got this. He'll destroy Dad any minute, just watch.
Apollo wished he shared her certainty.
He took a shaky breath.
"I can do this." He mumbled. "I just need to concentrate. How hard can it be to destroy myself?" He tried to break the fasces over his knee, which nearly broke his knee.
At last, Nero lost his cool. Apparently, there was only so much satisfaction he could get from stomping on the sofa and screaming at his minions.
"Do I have to do everything myself?" He bellowed. "Do I have to kill you all? You forget! I AM A GOD!" He jumped off the couch and marched straight towards Apollo, his whole body starting to glow, because Will couldn't have his own thing. Oh no, Nero had to glow too.
Trogs swarmed the emperor. He tossed them aside. Germani who didn't move fast enough were also thrown into the next time zone. Meg looked like she wanted to challenge Nero herself, but any move away from her siblings would have shattered their delicate stand-off. Nico was still only half-conscious. Will was busy trying to revive him.
That left Lu and Rachel as his last line of defence. He couldn't have that. They had been in harm's way for his sake enough already.
Nero might have been the most minor of minor gods, but he still had divine strength. His glow was getting brighter as he approached the fasces- like Will, like Apollo in his own godly moments of rage.
A thought came to him- or maybe something deeper than a thought, a sort of instinctive recognition. Like Caligula, Nero had always wanted to be the new sun god. He had designed his giant golden Colossus to look like Apollo's body with Nero's head on it. The fasces wasn't just his symbol of power and immortality- it was his claim to godhood.
What had he asked Apollo earlier? Are you worthy of being a god?
That was the central question. The emperor believed he made a better deity than Apollo did. Perhaps he was right. Or perhaps neither of them were worthy. There was only one way to find out. If he couldn't destroy the fasces himself, maybe he could with a little godly help.
"Get out of the way!" He yelled at Lu and Rachel. They glanced at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was. "Run!" They broke to either side just before Nero would have ploughed through them.
The emperor stopped in front of him, his eyes flickering with power.
"You lose." He said. "Give it to me."
"Take it if you can." Apollo began to glow himself. Radiance intensified around him, as it had months ago in Indianapolis, but slower this time, building to a crescendo. The fasces pulsed in sympathy, beginning to superheat. Nero snarled and grabbed the handle of the axe.
To their mutual surprise, the strength of Apollo's grip was equal to his. They played tug-of-war, swinging the blade back and forth, trying to kill each other, but neither of them could win. The glow around them increased like a feedback loop, bleaching the carpet under their feet, whitening the black marble columns. Germani had to stop fighting just to shield their eyes. Trogs screamed and retreated, their dark goggles insufficient protection.
"You- cannot- take- it, Lester!" Nero growled through clenched teeth, pulling with all his might.
"I am Apollo." Apollo countered, tugging in the other direction. "God of the sun. And I- revoke- your- divinity!"
The fasces cracked in two, the shaft shattering, the rods and golden blade exploding like a firebomb. A tsunami of flames washed over him, along with thousands of years of Nero's pent-up rage, fear and insatiable hunger- the twisted sources of his power. Apollo stood his ground, but Nero hurtled backwards and landed on the carpet, his clothes smouldering, his skin mottled with burns.
Apollo's glow stared to fade. He was unharmed… or at least no more harmed than he had been before. The fasces was broken. But Nero remained alive and intact. Had all this been for nothing?
At least he wasn't gloating any more.
"What have you done?" He sobbed in despair. "Don't you see?" He began to crumble. His fingers disintegrated. His toga frayed into smoke. A glittery cloud plumed from his mouth and nose, as if he were exhaling his life force along with his final breaths. Worst of all, this glitter didn't simply vanish. It poured downwards, seeping into the Persian rug, worming into the cracks between the floor tiles, almost as if Nero was being pulled into the depths, piece by piece. "You've given him victory." He whimpered. "You've-" The last of his mortal form dissolved and soaked through the floor.
Everyone in the room stared at Apollo. The Germani dropped their weapons.
Nero was finally gone. Apollo waited to feel any joy and relief, but all he felt was exhaustion.
"Is it over?" Lu asked.
"Not yet." Rachel said. She was standing next to him, but her voice seemed to come from very far away. "Not even close."
Apollo's consciousness was dimming, but he knew she was right. He understood the real threat now. he had to get going. There was no time to waste.
Instead, he toppled into Rachel's arms and passed out.
He found himself hovering over a different throne room- the Council of the Gods on Mount Olympus. Thrones curved around Hestia's great hearth, forming a U. His family, such as they were, sat watching a holographic image that floated above the flames. It was of him, lying out cold in Rachel's arms in Nero's tower.
"This is the most critical time." Athena said. She was dressed in her usual armour and oversize helmet- Apollo was convinced she had stolen it from Marvin the Martian in Looney Tunes. "He is perilously close to failure."
"Hmph." Ares sat back and crossed his arms. "I wish he'd get on with it then. I have twenty golden drachma riding on this."
"That is so callous." Hermes chided. "Besides, it's thirty drachmas and I gave you very good odds." He pulled out a leather bound notepad and a pencil. "Any final bets, people?"
"Stop." Zeus rumbled. He was dressed in a sombre black three-piece suit, as if on his way to Apollo's funeral. His shaggy black beard was freshly combed and oiled. His eyes flickered with subdued lightning. He almost looked concerned for Apollo's situation.
Then again, he was as good an actor as Nero.
Zeus laced his fingers. "We must wait for the final battle." He announced. "The worst is yet to come."
"Hasn't he proved himself already?" Artemis demanded. Apollo's heart ached, seeing his sister again. "He's suffered more in these last few months than even you could have expected! Whatever lesson you were trying to teach him, dear father, he's learned it." Zeus glowered.
"You do not understand all the forces at work here, daughter. Apollo must face the final challenge, for all our sakes." Hephaestus sat forward in his mechanical recliner, adjusting his leg braces.
"And, if he fails, what then? Eleven Olympian gods? That's a terribly unbalanced number." Aphrodite hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"Would that work?" She asked hesitantly.
"No!" Artemis snapped.
"We could elect a new twelfth, if Apollo doesn't succeed." Aphrodite suggested gently. She was trying to be helpful, in her own little way, but Artemis glared at her, plotting to rip her pretty head off.
"Ooh, we could get a god of climate disasters!" Ares grinned. "That would be awesome. He and I could work well together!"
"Stop it, all of you." Queen Hera had been sitting back with a dark veil over her face. Now, she lifted it. To Apollo's surprise, her eyes were red and swollen. She had been crying. "This has gone on long enough. Too much loss. Too much pain. But, if my husband insists on seeing it through, the least you all can do is not talk about Apollo as if he's already dead!"
Wow, Apollo thought. Who is this woman and what has she done with my stepmother?
"Non-existent." Athena amended. "If he fails, his fate will be much worse than death. But, whatever happens, it begins now."
They all leaned forward, staring at the vision on the flames as Apollo's body began to stir.
Then he was back in his mortal form, looking up not at the Olympians, but at the faces of his friends.