Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo
TOApril day nineteen: "And So The Sun Sets"
Apollo fell, and Zeus watched.
He mourned.
Once, Apollo had been his favourite son. Beautiful, powerful, golden – the perfect child, and Zeus had lavished attention upon him. Favoured him, for all that Hera despised that he had had children out of wedlock, that the twins existed. Favoured both of them, really, but Artemis knew what she wanted and demanded it with all the poise that suited a goddess. Apollo never made up his mind; too many things caught his eye, and almost before Zeus realised what was going on he'd amassed a plethora of domains.
None of them were a threat to him. Not healing, not the arts, not even archery, although prophecy was always one to watch. Each domain gave Apollo power, bolstered by the belief of the humans, but Zeus had far, far more and his golden child was of no concern. The prophecy had said that it would be a son of Metis who overthrew him, and Apollo was a child of Leto. He'd disciplined the other god when he had to, of course, but it was nothing unusual, nothing more than a father making sure his son followed the right path.
The rebellion had come out of nowhere. Poseidon and Hera were less of a surprise – his brother was not quite his equal, but close enough in power to conceivably make a claim for the throne of Olympus, and his wife and sister had made no secret of her disapproval of his various mortal lovers and resulting offspring – but Apollo's involvement had startled Zeus.
Zeus did not like being startled. He did not like having a son defy him, and he had been immediately reminded of his own machinations with his own father.
Apollo had inherited his flair for the dramatic, his beauty, and his intelligence. When those were combined with Apollo's ever-growing spread of domains and steadily increasing power, Zeus' eyes had been opened.
This son of his was not a son of Metis, but he was his son and the same way Zeus had overthrown Kronos, the same way Kronos had overthrown Ouranos, the realisation that Apollo could and one day would attempt to overthrow him had settled in.
But Zeus had not made the mistake of Kronos. He had not let his paranoia act for him, he had not given Apollo reason to act. He had reminded Apollo who the king of the gods was, who the more powerful god was, who would win any confrontation.
Hera had been sent to Chaos for her crime, but the other two he'd reduced to mortal, reminded them why he was king, and that should have been that.
He had not accounted for Apollo's heart. He had not accounted for the way his son, less golden in his eyes yet all the more golden when Helios faded and his powers had passed to Apollo – giving him a domain important enough within the cosmos to be a real threat and greatly boosting the younger god – grew attached to certain mortals, his own children, enough to retaliate in rage against a just punishment.
Zeus had reminded him again that he was weaker, enforced that even with a celestial domain Apollo was still nothing compared to him, and had sent him back down to work as a mortal once more. Clearly, however, he'd needed to do more – a donkey needed both a stick and a carrot, and Zeus had clearly seen that if he did not give Apollo something to mollify him, the resentment would have begun to foster in earnest.
The appeasement of Asclepius' ascension had worked exactly as planned; Apollo did not defy him again, but Zeus had remained wary. He had been blindsided once by his son. There would not be a second time. Wedges had been driven between the other gods – Apollo could not hope to take him on alone, but Zeus had not taken down the titans alone, either, and nor had Kronos destroyed Ouranos unaided. Apollo was beloved, easy to like yet also envied by many, and it was that Zeus had used to ensure no rebellion could be founded.
He didn't know when he stopped loving Apollo. Maybe he never did, maybe part of him still loved him as he watched him fall for the last time, but that didn't matter.
Couldn't matter.
For millennia, the status quo had been maintained. Apollo had remained subservient as he should, and there had been no whispers of rebellion. More millennia, Zeus had been on edge, unable to relax, knowing that the moment he let down his guard would be when Apollo struck.
And he had. It was a more miserable failure than the previous attempts, but it was an attempt nonetheless. Conspiring with the Romans, taking advantage of his status as too Greek for the Romans to remake to play both sides as their minds tore in two, he fuelled the flames of war, incapacitated the gods, and gave no warning of Gaia's rise. Had Zeus not been keeping such a close eye on his son, he would have missed it, and that could not be ignored.
Three strikes.
He could not give Apollo any more leniency. Apollo had proven that he would bide his time across millennia as he waited for an opportunity to overthrow Zeus. If Zeus did not do something once and for all, not only would he be forced to watch Apollo for the rest of time, he would also be sending the message to the other gods that all he gave for such a serious crime was a slap on the wrist. Twice, Apollo had not been deterred by mortality. A third time would make no difference. Not unless he changed it.
In the past, he had simply taken Apollo's powers and been done with it. This time, that wasn't good enough. This time, Apollo could not be given the chance to return. Zeus could not directly kill Apollo, and nor would he try – there was a fine line, but he refused to follow in Kronos' footsteps – but he could tear all of his divinity from him and yet phrase it the same way he had before.
It took six months to tear his son apart, longer than he'd expected and proof that he was doing the right thing. If Apollo was this powerful, there was no question that should he secure the support of some of his brethren, another rebellion attempt might be successful.
He watched him fall, for the third and final time, but while there was relief there was no satisfaction. He had loved Apollo, once. His son's desperate pleas reached his ears, and Zeus forced himself to turn away. Apollo would not survive these trials, he would not learn his lesson. Perhaps he would succeed in dealing with the Python Problem, but for as long as he retained his mortality he would not survive the encounter, even if he managed to get that far, and Zeus would not permit his powers to return.
He would watch over him, in the last embers of his son's existence, and he would mourn the son he'd once loved, but he would not interfere any further. Apollo's life was in the jaws of Python, now, and Python would show no mercy.
I am never writing Zeus pov again this was absolute murder. I scrapped the whole thing twice and I'm still a little dubious how canon-compliant it is but I like the concept so here it is anyway. I cannot guarantee any timeline accuracy; I can guarantee a very biased narrator.
Thanks for reading!
Tsari
