For the Acrostic Challenge (O, Olympian!au)
O, great Apollo.
Sirius sits on his throne at Olympus, the sudden prayer catching his attention. He's tried to stay out of the affairs of mortals. After all, if he swooped in and healed every sickness, Lucius, the latest holder of Thanatos' mantle, would grow upset with him.
But this voice is so familiar. Sirius has listened to Remus' prayers for years. He's always tried not to play favorites, but his heart is so easily swayed by those tawny eyes. Sirius has watched him grow. He's guided his hand with the bow, sent him visions to foretell disaster, healed him of illnesses that would have killed him.
With a sigh, the holder of Apollo's mantle listens.
Heal me, Apollo. The physicians cannot. Please, Apollo. You have guided me so much in my life. Have mercy on me now.
Sirius closes his eyes, locating his follower. He immediately wishes he had been deaf to the pleas. The jagged cuts that rip into Remus' body are enough to break his heart. He could easily heal his body. But it's deeper than that.
Those are not wounds made by an animal or a blade. Apollo would recognize Lycoan's marks anywhere. He's tried so many times to reverse the monster's damage on his victims in the past.
It's hopeless. There is nothing he can do. Remus will not die from the attack. Not yet. But his fate will be worse than death. He will transform from man to beast, just as Lycoan had.
Apollo, have mercy.
…
"I have heard your prayers, Remus," Sirius tells him.
The mortal draws back in surprise. Sirius is almost offended. Then again, this body hardly does his godly form justice. He can forgive him.
"You're?"
"I am."
It feels strange to be so close to him now. He's only ever allowed himself to admire Remus from afar. After Hyacinthus, Sirius has been so afraid of bringing a mortal into his life again.
"Can you heal me?"
"I'm sorry."
The look of disappointment in Remus' eyes is too painful. Sirius looks away quickly. He takes a deep breath.
"I'm going to become just like him?" Remus whispers, his voice breaking.
"I can't heal you, but I can offer another solution."
"What is it?"
"There have been many that I've loved in the past," Sirius says without thinking. Judging by the way Remus' eyes widen at loved, Sirius guesses that he's picked up on it. "I was reluctant to part with them."
"And you transformed them," Remus says quietly.
Sirius chances a glance at him. Remus is surprisingly calm about the prospect. "Yes," he answers. "I transformed them so that I would never have to say goodbye. Not really. I only regret that I never had the chance to truly know you, Remus."
Remus is silent for a moment. He shifts his gaze to trees that surround them. Sirius assumes he's wondering what sort of plant he will become. "You care for me?"
"Gods aren't supposed to play favorites, but yes. I could never let myself ignore you, yet I could never bring myself to appear to you. I've lost so many people that way."
"Will it be a better fate?"
"I will take you to my oracle at Delphi. You will be cared for by my followers, and I will always watch after you."
Remus closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. This must be a strange decision for him. After all, Sirius so rarely had the opportunity to actually give them a choice. The god waits, studying the mortal.
Yes, he should have appeared to Remus much sooner. There's could have been a love story as great as Ares and Aphrodite, a legend to be passed around until the end of time. Instead, Remus Lupin will just be another ordinary mortal who lived an ordinary life. To the rest of the world, he will have died a mysterious, yet still ordinary death.
"Will it hurt?"
"It's like falling asleep."
…
Remus' body begins to change first. His toes lengthen and thin, forming roots as his legs merge into a trunk. Sirius takes the opportunity while he can. He cups Remus' face in his hands, smiling sadly. "We could have been great," he whispers before pressing his lips to the mortal's lips.
He doesn't move for several moments. When he finally pulls away, the transformation is complete. A new laurel tree stands by the spring.
…
"Melpomene," Sirius calls.
The muse of tragedy appears before him dutifully. "Yes, Lord Apollo?"
"Find a great playwright," Sirius instructs. "Whisper in his dreams about a mortal that Apollo loved dearly, a mortal doomed to become a monster. Tell him that Apollo saved him and blessed him to live on forever inside a laurel tree."
…
Years later, he hears the story. It has changed so much and has become so different from the truth. Remus, the man that Apollo favored, has become a nymph named Daphne who fled from Apollo.
Sirius should be upset, he supposes. But that's the problem with mortals. They never really get the stories right.
He knows the truth.
He sits at his laurel tree, the book open in his hand, a smile on his lips. "You would have made a rather interesting nymph," he laughs.
And though there is no breeze, the leaves rustle softly, almost as though the tree is laughing.