From a titan's hand came innovation from flame, and from such an action eternal penance came. Endless suffering born from a love for Man. A desire to nurture, across all of time's span. Yet then does one wonder, what did such a thing mean? Was the love of a god worth all that it seemed?

Forsooth, you might ask, what is the truth? Why could such a feeling matter to a being far beyond their youth? Nay, dear listener, from that there is a story to tell. One of strength, power, and where such things dwell.

Let us take a glance back to yonder days of old, of heroes of bronze and demigods so bold. Of men of wit, such as the maker of the maze. Of the children of Zeus, with heavenly pride in their gaze.

But why look back then, you may again ask? That reason is simple; they were not bound by an ancient concordat. Their interactions with mortals grew freely and swiftly, and such did their love too grow.

Often all too quickly…

The truth of the matter is that the more a mortal is loved, the greater the child created will be, between them and the god above. And in this age of endless meetings, such strength appeared quickly, oft without much meaning. Wars grew harsh and great, until at long last the gods were then bound by Fate.

Do not linger with mortal Man. Do not favour the children they bear. Do not grow close with simple lives soon to pass.

When they beg for you to aid them, oft refuse to be there.

Like adamant chains with the weight of the Earth, their actions were bound by these almighty terms. Though they could strain and struggle against these binds, they were shocked to see the world paying them less and less mind. With the strength of their children fading from the present, the thoughts that came to their mind grew ever more unpleasant.

But that is not now, it was then and there. The gods had survived you see, and unknowingly the laws began their descent. Their binds had loosened, children of strength would again be born, to combat a returning loose end.

The Titans, the Giants, the Children of the Earth. The Fates knew as much, and under the guidance of Ananke did they lighten their harshest curse. And so thusly did the Lord of the Underworld first love dearly, only to watch in dismay as his love was taken ever swiftly.

"Zeus. Zeus! A thousand curses upon your name! A million more on your line, and infinitely more upon fate!"

Quickly then did he hide his children from the Lord of the Sky, before seeking revenge with unending hate in his eyes. Upon Phobos Apollo's chosen, the Oracle of Delphi, did his curses then fly.

"Be trapped. Be bound. May you be housed in pallid skin. May your blood be dust and soul be lost when your body's strength reaches its end."

A horrid thing, to be trapped like that, aware fully of your pain. A fate worse than the fields of the punishment upon the Oracle was then laid.

Yet then you ask the question again, why do I tell this tale? It has been told once, twice, a dozen times, to what point does it avail?

From you dear listener a measure of patience I must now beg. The depths that this tale reaches will make little sense if this is left unsaid.

Love. Fickle, and dangerous as you can see. A tale that continued to be followed across the gods of the Sky and Sea. But even then, there were more mortals that were loved as such. A traitor was to be born as the son of Hermes, and furthermore as time went on.

Yet this tale follows a path unseen, a hero whose very birth resulted in a love lost. A tale told of the Son of the Sun, of which whose strength came at such a heavy cost. Never before had Apollo conceived a child with one whom he loved. Adored, yes, even with infatuation before, but none were truly beloved. Such was the nature of Eros and his cruelty.

Whispers of flame and light would dance in his touch, even as healing song would leave his lips, but no. No, that was not why the seed of his mother's death was sown.

Pestilence. Plague. The most terrible of the Sun god's strengths. Within this child had it awoken too early, and with it was sealed his mother's fate. And Apollo wept, and howled. The world burned for a day. Drought burned away a dozen lives, even as disease ran harshly through the streets.

And then did his sister come, the Goddess of the Moon. One of three people he held so dear, the other also being within the room. Artemis watched, expression hardened. "You know just as well what you have to do."

Yet agonized eyes met her own, and it was there she was shocked in truth. Never before had her brother looked so full of pain. No, she realized, that was not true. It had only happened once more; when their mother was banished away.

"I have not the strength do you as you ask, not this time dear sister." He glanced down to the fitful babe within his arms, tears running down his cheeks again. "Should father smite me for choosing this path, then with Olympus I shant remain."

… A favored child, the Huntress realized, with no small amount of awe. And as she looked down, upon the child of the sun? Her feelings too began to feel raw.

For the eyes of the child were not of blue, but instead held irises of startling bronze. Comforting and loving, caring and wise. Those were the memories that she then saw.

What else was she to do, in the end, when she had seen those eyes before? What was she to do, when the eyes of Leto were that which the child bore? Her hand shook as she cupped the cheek of the boy, who looked upon her curiously before giggling with childlike joy.

"Though the eyes of mother he bears, I've never seen one look so similar to you." Her words sounded almost lost as she struggled to think of what to do. Apollo nodded, grief subsiding, even as he considered the words. His child looked similar to his truest form, a greek god in human skin, yet not bound by divine terms.

"He will stay with me, hidden well, as I teach him all that I can. There is nothing else that I could accept." Not with the dangers of his son's powers getting out of hand.

Hesitant then was the Silver goddess as she stood with her brother of Gold, before nodding sharply and stepping back. "I will help you with this task."

Stunned, perhaps, was a proper word to describe Apollo's state. But given this rare chance, it was a deal he'd swiftly take.

And thus starts the heart of our tale; of the Plague-bringer's path.

AN: Well hello there. Life sure is crazy recently, so I decided to take up this less time-consuming bit of writing for a while. I can't promise consistency, since engineering coursework takes up most of my freedom, so if you want to see more your best bet is to follow the story. See you next time, and thanks for reading. And yes, surprisingly, I don't own the whole of the plot, seeing as a decent deal will be derived from canon. Just getting that out of the way, no more disclaimers of that in later chapters.