Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo

APOLLO XXXII

A goodbye for now
The future keeps coming, but
This tale is over

Hades rolled his eyes. "You do not need to thank me, nephew," he said, the familial title sounding almost fond and reminding Apollo yet again of Hades' words after the Arai. "I never intended to allow Nico to return to the Pit; it should be I thanking you for preventing it when he had found a way to get around my notice."

Apollo had no words to say to that, a creeping feeling of awkwardness descending around them. In the Pit it had been one thing, an alliance for survival against the Pit and everything it tried to throw at them – which had, eventually, been everything or close enough to it that Apollo was still amazed that they had escaped, and thoroughly grateful to Thanatos for choosing to aid them. Now, there was no adrenaline tying them together, no co-dependence for survival.

They were safe once more, in Hades' domain where Apollo had less power while his uncle ruled over every daktylos of it, and Apollo was not sure if he was expected to stay and talk, or if he had overstayed his welcome and was required to leave, now that the demigods had departed and Asclepius sentenced.

Silence stretched between them, before Hades broke it with a sigh. "I did not lie, in the Pit," he said. "Your presence is more tolerable than that of your siblings and cousins." There was a weighted pause. "Certainly more tolerable than your father."

"I don't think being more tolerable than him is much of an achievement," Apollo muttered, and Hades let out an amused noise.

"No, it is not," he said. "Once, he was fair and just. Now, he has allowed paranoia to devour any common sense he once had and isolates himself, fearing a knife in the back at every turn. In truth, he is hardly recognisable from the young god I recall leading us from Mount Othrys, except in his determination."

Apollo knew the stories, but that had been long before he and Artemis had been conceived so all he knew were the stories, most of which had been told to an infant god by his mother. Zeus had rarely spoken of it, and Apollo had never been close enough to the other involved gods for them to tell him about it.

"Speaking of your father, and my siblings," Hades continued, "I was not expecting Poseidon to drag himself from his watery depths, much less to take the side of Bob. Athena, perhaps I could understand your sister gathering, but Poseidon keeps himself out of reach of Olympus almost as much as I."

"It wasn't Artemis." That much, Apollo knew, but the sound of his sister's name provoked a memory of a vision, of two demigods scribbling symbols on a piece of paper. An awkward, not-quite bubble letter 'C' – or rather, he realised, a crescent – squiggly lines stacked above each other in parallel rows, a stick figure that could creatively be called a bird.

At the time, Apollo had been too distracted with the aftermath of the Arai to recognise what the bad iconography had represented, but now he recalled mention of Percy and Annabeth, and the pieces slotted together.

"It was Will and Nico," he said, meeting his uncle's eyes as Hades froze. "Somehow – Nico's dream-walking – they reached out. They must have known bringing a titan out wouldn't go down well and tried to find allies."

It was a laughable thought – allies amongst the Olympians. Artemis was unique, his twin and intrinsically tied to him because of it, covering his back when she could manage, but the other gods? No.

Except, Hades had stood with him, still stood with him, amicable and merciful to the son who offended him more than once, and Zeus had been the one outnumbered in the throne room. It hadn't been an alliance – Apollo had allied with three of the gods in there before, to try and talk Zeus into being a little less tyrannical, and that hadn't been the same at all – but it had been something.

Trust demigods, who had little scope of the dynamic between gods, but an innate knowledge of how powerful friends in the right places could be, to head straight to the heart of the matter and enlist them regardless. They must have gone through their friends – Percy and Annabeth, for Poseidon and Athena, and Reyna or Thalia to reach Artemis – all demigods who also knew the strength in bonds.

Asclepius had warned them against it, but hadn't stopped them – enough of a god to know how unlikely it was to work, yet with the memories of a demigod who knew it needed to work.

Hades sighed, clenching a fist in the fabric of his robes. The souls around his fingers twisted into something even more agonised. "Foolish children."

"Very," Apollo agreed whole-heartedly, "but it worked."

His uncle scoffed. "It shouldn't have done," he said. "My son's irreverence for the gods will get him killed one day, if he is not careful. It is one thing not to fear me – for all he should." Apollo didn't think for a single moment that Hades was as irritated about his son's lack of fear as he projected; parents who wanted to inspire fear tended not to put themselves in danger to protect their child. "It is another to argue with or attempt to manipulate other gods, who would as soon as smite him down as listen."

He wasn't wrong, but Apollo could not see how they could convince Nico not to keep doing exactly as he pleased. It was not as though the son of Hades hadn't experienced first hand the wrath of a god – Apollo recalled the death of Maria di Angelo all too well, and not just because it had coincided with his uncle cursing his Pythia in his furious grief.

That had been the moment Bianca and Nico had been marked as important, to the future. Their potential had always been there, but the potential had also been there for them to die in the war, forgotten casualties like so many others of the time period. Zeus' attack on Maria had provoked Hades' defence of the children, squirrelling them away, out of the time stream and safe until it was time to bring them back out to re-join the world.

"In the future, I expect William to attempt to stop my son's suicidal plans, not enable them," Hades said, and Apollo gave a shrug.

"I'm sure he'll do what he can," he said lightly, well aware that Will's own stubbornness and strong morals were more likely to have him joining Nico in the chaos, rather than pulling him out of it. Even when he'd tried to keep Nico out of harms' way, it had happened anyway.

"See that he does," Hades grumbled, but Apollo suspected he, too, knew that the demigods were a lost cause. As long as they were happy, that was the most important thing – although safe and alive were also listed at the top of Apollo's priority list, and no doubt Hades' as well.

His uncle stepped past him, as though heading for his throne once again, but paused after a few steps, turning back to face Apollo, who had half thought that he had just been dismissed.

"The prophecy," he began. "I find it curious that topaz referenced Koios."

"I thought you didn't care for prophecies," Apollo retorted, defensive almost without thinking – it had been enough of a struggle getting his uncle to comprehend the idea of claiming one, and now Hades wanted to talk about the wording?

Hades hesitated, something that had been unnerving enough in the depths of Tartarus, but now in his own domain just seemed wrong. "I cannot say that I like them," he admitted, a truth Apollo had long been aware of, "but I realise now that they exist nonetheless, and will not be gainsaid by my refusal to listen. I was… rash, when I cursed her. Your Pythia. I… should not have done that."

It took Apollo a moment to realise his uncle was apologising, and another moment for the implications to sink in. It changed nothing; Cassie's life had been forfeit and she had been forced to endure long beyond the limits of her mortal life, restricted from death but unable to live. With the lifting of the curse and the transference of her duties to Rachel, she had finally been allowed to rest, her torment over.

It also, Apollo realised suddenly, was not something he could condemn Hades for. Perhaps once he would have done, a hypocrite of the highest order or perhaps simply forgetting his own crimes, but thinking now about a young woman cursed by a god for no good reason, Apollo could only remember the Cumaean Sibyl and the grains of sand he had made her life.

He had long waited for Hades to acknowledge what he had done to Cassie, to apologise for it, but now that he had received it, it gave him no satisfaction at all. The act of his uncle apologising, and apologising to him, was strange enough in its own right, a flicker of warmth within his essence because apologies were not given lightly between gods, but it was cooled unpleasantly because as soon as he received it, it sent a chill through him.

He couldn't accept it.

"You are not the only god to curse a prophetess in a moment of rage," he admitted, glancing down at the polished black marble of Hades' throne room floor before meeting his uncle's eyes. Hades looked surprised, as though he hadn't known about the Sibyl – but perhaps he hadn't, her name not appearing on Thanatos' list of souls to be reaped and leaving that crime of Apollo's unrevealed. "I cannot condemn you for it when I have done worse."

Cassie still had a body, when she was finally allowed to pass on. The Sibyl of Cumae had been nothing but a naked and vulnerable soul, her body long since decayed to nothing while she still endured. Apollo could not call it living, not in that state.

Hades' eyes regarded him, surprise flickering in black flames for a few moments before morphing into something else, softer and yet harder at the same time. "In that case," he said after several long moments, during which Apollo felt exposed in a way he hadn't even when his form had been torn to shreds and his essence was the only thing left of him, "let me rephrase. In cursing your Pythia, I belittled and disrespected you and your domain. You and she attempted to use Delphi to protect Maria and her children, and when I did not listen, I lashed out at the ones that would have helped me, had I allowed it. If you will not accept an apology for my treatment of her, then let me instead apologise for the disrespect I gave you then."

Apollo froze. He had thought Hades would brush off the attempted apology and continue with whatever it was he had to say about the wording of the one they had claimed, not that he would amend the apology to address what was, in essence, the real offence.

"I still do not like prophecies," Hades confirmed, "and I do not believe I ever will. But they are part of the Fates' designs, a part of your power, and I should not have lashed out."

If the previous apology had startled Apollo, this one floored him. His uncle apologising for a single rash action was one thing, but to delve into the heart of the issue and apologise for what was, at its core, disrespecting Apollo? No, Apollo had never even considered the possibility.

He also knew that he could not brush this one away.

"Thank you," he said. There were no other words good enough in the face of Hades' honesty, no elaborate speeches that would share his gratitude so eloquently. "That…" His breath hitched, as he realised just how much it meant, but also that while Hades had been open with him, he hadn't returned the gesture. "That means a lot."

It felt wrong, baring himself, but if Hades could do it in Tartarus, then Apollo owed it to him to at least try. "I know it's less competition, but you've always been the most tolerable of my father's siblings."

Hades' face went blank. "Even Hestia?"

Apollo's heart did an awkward twist at that, remembering her rejection of his advances. In hindsight, it had been the correct decision, for both of them, but at the time… Apollo had respected it, but he hadn't been used to rejection. Not when he was the young, handsome god everyone was falling over to be near, let alone with.

"You have never rejected my presence," he settled on. It must have been good enough, because Hades did not press further. "Then, you protected me, in the Pit."

"We protected each other," Hades said, his face still unreadable. Apollo hoped he hadn't just overstepped, hadn't just ruined everything he thought they'd created in Tartarus. "It has been a long time since anyone trusted me like you did."

The corner of Apollo's lip quirked up humourlessly. "It's been a long time since anyone stood between me and Father." He could scarcely believe that he was admitting that, that he was admitting any of his thoughts, but after his uncle had been so open with him – it was the right thing to do.

It also, inexplicably, made his essence feel lighter, like a great weight had just dispersed. "Thank you."

Hades nodded, a single tilt of his chin acknowledging his words, but when he spoke it was a change of topic, backtracking to the comment that had sparked their openness. Apollo followed the subject change eagerly – baring himself, being honest, was unnerving at best, and if Hades didn't want to leave those words hanging between them awkwardly, then he was more than happy to oblige.

"The prophecy," his uncle said. "Topaz was an interesting choice for Koios." With a flick of his wrist, a collection of gemstones appeared in his hand, a mixture of fiery oranges and yellows, and faded blues. "These are all topaz," he said. "It comes in a variety of colours, but these are the most common ones, and amongst the common colours, its reputation is for yellows and oranges, not blue. Yet you and Koios both accepted without question that it was him."

Apollo gazed at the gemstones, bright and pure in the hands of their god, and could only shrug. "Prophecies are not set in stone," he reminded his uncle. "Topaz certainly referred to Koios" – he'd known that, felt the certainty of an event coming to pass – "but had events resolved differently, there may have been another prisoner of the Pit who better fit the other colouration."

"You," Hades said bluntly, not even letting Apollo pause before jumping in. "If you had gone without me, it would have been you."

"It could have also been Asclepius," Apollo corrected, "or anyone who ended up in the Pit and could be conceivably associated with one of the many colours of topaz." Like Will and Nico. "Once a prophecy has come to pass, the other potential interpretations are meaningless." Discarded possibilities, like so many of his visions over the millennia, because there were near infinite possibilities but there was only one future that would ever come to pass.

"And it has come to pass?" Hades pressed.

"Yes," Apollo said simply. "It has."

Really, there was no more to be said on the matter. Prophecies were simple, in hindsight, and this one was no different; he and Hades had ventured to the depths of the prison in Tartarus, and helped Bob and Koios leave – with the help of Thanatos – before he and Artemis had cast Koios back down at the moment their domains overlapped. It was almost too simplistic to encompass everything else the prophecy had caused, the weeks of impossible-to-track time trudging through Tartarus and suffering everything the Pit chose to throw at them. None of it had been even referenced in the vaguest terms by the prophecy, and yet without it none of it would have happened.

"In that case, it is time we returned to our duties," Hades said, turning away once more and continuing his way to his throne, resizing to fit. Almost instinctively, Apollo grew to match, even though this time he was sure that was the start of a dismissal. "Thanatos did well, but he is not this realm's god. Likewise, the sun felt wrong, without you at the reins. The gods from the other pantheons are not you, Apollo, and you are irreplaceable. Do not let anyone, least of all your father, tell you otherwise."

Ichor rushed around Apollo's cheeks, and he pushed it down with only the innate force of will and absolute control being a god allowed him – things he had sorely missed as a mortal, when his body had failed him on multiple, often humiliating, occasions.

"So are you," he replied, reaching for the sunlight high above them, in the Overworld. "See you later, dear uncle."

"One last thing, nephew," Hades said, and he paused, casting his gaze up at the god sat on his throne as the address registered. "Next time you need help, just ask." There was no if, just a simple when, and Apollo wasn't sure what to think about that when he was the god of prophecy and had no inkling of when he might need it, but the look on his uncle's face was intent. "You know where to find me."

It was a promise, Apollo realised, briefly losing his grip on the light high above in surprise. A promise of aid, when he needed it – something he hadn't had in millennia.

"I- thank you," he breathed, before finding enough presence of mind to say, "the same goes for you, uncle." Hades rolled his eyes.

"If I need your help, I will call," he said, but despite the eye-roll the tone wasn't dismissive; rather, it was serious enough that Apollo could feel that he meant it. "Now, go."

That was a dismissal, with no room for misunderstanding, but it wasn't harsh, and Apollo gave his uncle a grin and a wave before latching onto the warmth of the sun and dissolving into light.

The sun was only just risen, a new dawn to mark a new day, but it was late enough that Apollo had once again missed the timing for the chariot. Tomorrow, then, he would take the reins again, although he was well aware that his horses required a lot of bribing and grovelling before then for disappearing on them again, despite the fact he had warned them this time.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he had almost an entire day to spare. Part of him immediately flickered away to Helios' old palace in a near-repeat of when he'd re-ascended as a god – sure enough, Hermes had piled up all the subscriptions and repeating orders he hadn't cancelled across the door again, and once Apollo got past it to enter the stables, the greeting he found himself on the receiving end of was very similar, complete with hooves in delicate areas.

Most of him, however, had only one destination in mind, and it was barely a thought to reappear at the edge of Camp Half-Blood, watching the demigods stir as their new day began. His children were all up and about already – Will was curled up in a suntrap near the porch of cabin seven, the unmistakable shadow of Nico tucked away outside of the sun's rays but with his boyfriend nonetheless.

Will looked much better under the light of the morning sun, even if it was a sun that wasn't Apollo's. Tomorrow, when he took to the skies once again, he would ensure a boost to his son – it was the least he could do, after being the reason he had been trapped in the Underworld for so long.

"I hear you and the old man below stirred up some drama," a voice drawled from behind him. Apollo had sensed Dionysus' arrival and refused to give him the satisfaction of being startled when he began to speak. Dionysus had gained enough blackmail material to last him millennia simply from Apollo's second, brief visit to camp on his and Meg's way to Nero and their fake surrender. He did not need any more. "A titan rescued from the Pit, wasn't it?"

"Bob," Apollo confirmed, still watching the demigods as Kayla prodded Will incessantly until he stood up – bringing Nico with him – and meandered his way to the breakfast table. That appeared to be a cue for the others to swarm their brother and Nico, and Apollo was abruptly reminded that as far as the rest of the camp were considered, Will and Nico had simply disappeared for two months without a trace. No wonder they were delighted to see them back, and in one piece at that. "Formerly known as Iapetus."

Dionysus snorted. "I bet Father loved that," he commented.

"Not particularly," Apollo replied. "The Fates intervened."

That got the full attention of his younger brother. Apollo felt the burning violet flames of his eyes boring into the back of his head. "The Fates?"

"'Bob will aid Olympus in her time of need'," he quoted. "'Because Olympus aided him'."

That prompted another snort from the other god. "Father definitely loved that. I almost wish I'd been there to see his face. Where is Bob now?"

"Reuniting with Percy and Annabeth," Apollo told him. "New Rome probably received rather a shock when he arrived with his chaperone goddess." He suspected it would have been Athena who went with him on that particular errand, given that it concerned her daughter. Apollo certainly would have gone himself in her position.

Dionysus flapped a hand dismissively, clearly uncaring about New Rome's potential collective heart attack. "So, what happens now, brother?" he asked. "Do we just continue in this boring dirge of an existence, ignoring the titan's presence outside of the Pit, until something exciting enough to change things occurs?"

"Life isn't boring," Apollo corrected. "Did we not already establish that you will continue making wine out of the sour grapes deposited in your way? But as for me – Will demanded I drop by, and he seems awake enough now, so if you don't mind-"

"One last question," Dionysus said, the lazy drawl of his voice disappearing to be replaced with something dangerous. "The voice summoning Nico. I trust there will be no more noises dragging my patient into situations that worsen his mental health?"

Alcyoneus sprang to mind, jewels and rocks combined as he sent out a cry that had sounded all too much like help me despite an eternal grin on his face, luring Nico down simply to get to Hades. Apollo also recalled the way his and Hades' essences had intermingled, furious and deadly even to a giant.

"The voice will not call him again," he said confidently. "Hades and I made sure of it."

"Good." The single word was vehement enough it almost made Dionysus sound personally invested in the situation. Apollo almost called him out on it, but movement from the pavilion drew his eye back to Will.

Will, who was looking directly at him and pointing a firm finger at the stone table cabin seven used as their own. Apollo wasn't sure how his son had noticed him, but he was not about to ignore such a blatant summons.

The rest of the table were beckoning him over as well, a total of eleven demigods including one son of Hades, and Apollo homed in on them like a fly to honey, slipping onto the bench next to Will, Austin on his other side.

"Is it over?" Will demanded, skipping greetings in favour of jumping straight into the grilling. None of his siblings looked surprised at the question, and Apollo assumed they'd all dragged the story out of Will the moment he and Nico had reappeared in camp.

Apollo smiled at him, and looped an arm around his shoulders. Instantly, his son nestled against him, and Apollo got a sense of tiredness. Of course, he and Nico had lost all semblance of a sleep schedule in the Underworld for so long, so far away from the movement of the sun and the moon. Arriving back in the middle of the night must have been a shock to their systems.

Was it over? Was anything ever, really, over, when the future kept marching forwards, adjusting to the tune of millions of small, individually inconsequential decisions with every new weave from the Fates' loom?

But Will wasn't asking about the universe. He was asking about Tartarus, about the voice calling his boyfriend, about the prophecy issued to him – but also to Apollo – and the titan that had clawed his way back out of the Pit and had no intentions of ever returning.

According to those, the answer was simple. "Yes," Apollo promised, pressing a light kiss to blond waves. "It's over."

We're finally here - the last chapter and end of this story. This fic's been a year and a half in the making, and it feels weird that it's finally done and posted. To head off the question I know is coming (because it's already been floated in the discord) - no, there is currently no plan for a sequel. Yes, there is definitely space for it, and if it happens it will be the Revolution~, but I have several other projects at the moment that I want to work on, and honestly writing a full blown revolution fic would be a lot of work and time I don't have right now. So for now at least, assume there won't be one.

I'm not making any promises on the next project or when it'll come, but I have several muses clamouring for attention so there should be another longfic out of me at some point...

Thanks for reading!
Tsari