Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo.

HADES XIII
Paranoia May Or May Not Be Hereditary

Apollo's fingers were thrumming constantly where they held his bow. That wasn't a new tic – he'd been doing it on and off since first deciding to descend into Tartarus – but the accompanying motion of his other hand brushing again and again and again through the feather fletching of his arrows where they nestled together in his quiver made it abundantly clear that Hades' nephew was on edge.

At least that meant his head wasn't completely halfway out of Tartarus, trying to focus on his son instead of their current surroundings. Hades had had no choice but to remove Asclepius from Tartarus, not if he wanted Apollo to focus on their mission, and that had extended to even going so far as to defend the youngest god as he climbed, just to make sure he got out of the way and stopped distracting his nephew in a place where distraction could mean disaster.

He'd get his vengeance on Asclepius later, once this was all over and he no longer needed the full force of Apollo's not inconsiderable attention on getting them through Tartarus as unscathed as possible. Already, dangers were showing themselves – the Phlegethon might not be able to touch him through his robes of souls, but it seemed to have no trouble scorching Apollo, and there was the state Apollo had been in upon their reunion to consider. The Cocytus, too, had come far closer than Hades had liked to causing him potential harm.

That was once again their next river crossing, and Hades did not look forwards to having to support Apollo across the way he had once been supported by Zeus, unless the younger god had a mental fortitude far beyond anything Hades could think to credit him with. There was a chance that Apollo might know enough about the river to mentally prepare himself, but likewise there was a chance that, like Hades himself, that would simply cause the river to find a different angle of attack instead.

Regardless, they could not reach the prison without crossing the river, so Hades refused to allow any hesitation as he led the way.

The exit to the Overworld was approaching; on this route, they would need to pass it, and already the signs were there in the long lines of monsters snaking their way across the unforgiving expanse of the Pit towards the long, near-vertical tunnel that led out. Hades had no intentions of going out of his way to stop the monsters – it was an ever-occurring cycle, and for every monster that even he and his Stygian Iron blade cut down, several more would reappear in their place.

That was a demigod battle, not his.

He half expected Apollo to disagree, to at least try and lessen the numbers this wave of monsters would unleash upon the Overworld, but his nephew seemed more preoccupied with his bow, his quiver, and fugitive glances behind them, as though he thought they were being followed.

Hades frowned and cast out his senses.

Monsters, of course, were dogging their footsteps at a safe distance, once again observing and tracking but not suicidal enough to attempt to take them down, but he could sense nothing worse than that, nothing that should have Apollo concerned.

He recalled that Apollo had been able to sense Asclepius despite not even expecting his presence, while Hades hadn't even registered the weak god despite knowing he was there, and after a moment of deliberation decided that it would be better to know what, exactly, Apollo appeared to be noticing that was eluding him, rather than be blindsided by another argument.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet and his eyes on their route ahead. The nearest line of monsters had noticed them and were chattering to themselves, debating if they should avoid or attack the gods in their midst. Hades paid them no mind; should they attack, it would be their last mistake.

"Can you sense anything behind us?" Apollo replied, his voice equally quiet.

"What can you sense?" Hades returned, unwilling to admit that there might be something he was missing, and in his periphery he saw Apollo's shoulders droop infinitesimally.

"Hellhounds, empousai, dracaenae…" he murmured. "Nothing more than the regular monsters around us."

So Hades wasn't missing anything.

"Would it reassure you to know I do not sense anything beyond those?" he asked. "There is no need to be so visibly on edge, Apollo. You will invite boldness from the masses if you continue like this. I will not say there is nothing in here that could pose a challenge to us, but they are not near us."

"I hope so," Apollo murmured, apparently somehow unconvinced, as though he thought they would be unable to sense something powerful enough to pose a genuine threat.

Hades decided it was best to dismiss his nephew's paranoia – he had not thought Apollo had inherited that particular trait from his brother but perhaps he had been wrong about that – and continue to focus on their journey.

Then he felt it.

It was a flicker of something, lasting less than a second before disappearing again, so completely it was as though it had never been there.

Hades did not recognise it, but two things were immediately apparent. Firstly, whatever it was, it was powerful, far more so than anything else save the rivers he had encountered so far in this sojourn into Tartarus. Secondly, perhaps Apollo was not so paranoid after all.

He was at loath to admit the second point out loud, but Apollo's nervous tics had not altered at all, had neither stuttered nor increased at the sudden flicker that had come from somewhere deeper into the pit, and if the younger, weaker, god had not noticed it, it would cost him an extra microsecond of time to react.

"Did you sense it?" he asked, pitching intent into his low voice so Apollo should tell it was no idle inquiry. The fleeting pause in the fingers thrumming against the bow gave him his answer before his nephew spoke.

"Sense what?" Apollo replied, equally quiet.

It had only been a split second, brief enough that lesser beings might doubt their senses, but Hades did not. Something was out there, and nothing in Tartarus could be assumed as anything less than antagonistic.

Hades stretched out his senses in that direction, to see if he could get a firmer grip on it, if it would appear again, and got another flicker. Closer.

"Something is coming," he warned, steadily withdrawing his sword from its sheath in preparation. Instantly, Apollo had an arrow on the string of his bow.

"What sort of something?" the younger god murmured, golden eyes scouring the direction Hades' senses were extended in intently. Apollo may not be able to feel whatever it was Hades could detect, but he could clearly follow where Hades' attention had stretched.

A third flicker brushed his senses and with it an echo of clarity. Hades frowned; he couldn't do a strict identification, but he could tell enough to know that this could be a problem.

"A giant."

It was not Alcyoneus. That, Hades could tell instantly – he knew the feeling of his own bane far, far too well to ever mistake it for another. But it was one of his brethren, and that did not bode well.

Apollo swore, with far more intensity than Hades had expected him to, and added a few more arrows to his string.

"Where?" he asked, bringing the bow to full draw, but before Hades could answer, something came whistling through what passed for air in Tartarus in their direction.

His nephew clearly needed no assistance in locating those, letting his arrows fly and knocking the offending attack away with multiple clatters as arrows hit the incoming projectiles.

Apollo stood as taut as his own bowstring, more arrows already jumping to the string as he drew it back again.

Laughter rang out about them, melodious in a way that no giant's voice had any right to be, and Hades narrowed his eyes, trying to detect the precise location of the giant in question.

"Hiding behind your uncle, this time, Apollo?" the voice boomed out. It sounded amused. "No more petty tricks up your sleeve?" Movement caught Hades' attention; the figure that materialised out of what appeared to be nothing was small, for a giant, and didn't even have the serpentine feet he associated with them, but the power radiating from it was unmistakable.

Beside him, Apollo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snarl, feral in a way Hades had never expected to hear from this particular nephew of his. "I am not hiding," he spat vehemently, and any doubts that this giant was Apollo's bane were immediately banished. There was a personal connection, personal grievance, between the two of them that could mean nothing else.

Hades had seen Apollo angry on occasion; he had certainly seen the aftermath of his nephew's fury when the unfortunate recipients ended up in his domain. This raw hatred emitting from the younger god was new. Arrows were nocked but his bow wasn't yet drawn, although the blazing golden flames in his eyes – simmering away from yellow hues and edging towards whites and blues – made it clear that Apollo just needed one excuse, any excuse, to lash out.

The giant laughed again, and finally made the last step to fully reveal his form. He had a handsome face, although it was streaked with gold as though something had clawed at his face with the intention of taking the false eyes. "You should be," he taunted. "You and I both know you can't defeat me, Apollo. All you can do is run away, play your pathetic tricks, and hope something else interferes in your favour."

"I do not believe we have had the displeasure of crossing paths before," Hades interrupted, seeing no reason to let the giant continue riling Apollo up, and also disliking the way he was being completely dismissed as unimportant. He was certain, from not just the interactions between the giant and his nephew, but also the sight of Hephaestus' work upon the giant's face, of his identity, but Apollo's bane or not, he could not ignore Hades.

"We have not," the giant confirmed. "My name is Orion, the greatest Hunter to walk the earth."

Beside Hades, Apollo scoffed. He still hadn't raised his bow, but he was holding it ready, and Hades knew he could draw and fire it in less than a blink of a mortal eye from that position. What his nephew was waiting for, he did not know, although it was likely that just as Apollo had shot Orion's arrows down, the giant might be able to do the same to Apollo's.

"Your bane, I presume," he said to the god next to him, feigning ignorance – if Orion would disrespect him then he was all too glad to return the favour, but the giant roared with laughter, showing no sign of being offended.

"Apollo's bane?" the giant repeated. "Oh, no, Lord Hades." The title was not said with any respect at all. "I was not created to oppose Apollo." Orion grinned. It was not a pleasant grin, leering and self-important, and bared perfectly shaped teeth stained with gold. "I was created to oppose the Twins."

Several realisations snapped into being at once.

Gold-stained teeth, and the bite to Apollo's throat. This was the reason Apollo had been in such a state after retrieving Asclepius. His nephew had already faced the giant once since arriving in Tartarus, and clearly he had escaped rather than won the confrontation.

The bane of the Twins. Not Apollo, and not Artemis, but both of them, together. One giant for two Olympians. Hades had already known that, of course, but he had never known how Orion had been defeated the first time, and he didn't like the emphasis the giant put on the fact that he was the bane of both. Orion's claim that Apollo could not defeat him may have been a reference to the fact that most gods required the assistance of a demigod to take down a giant, but could it also have meant that Apollo and Artemis had needed to stand together against this one? That even with the help of a demigod, Apollo alone could not win?

Hades was greater than Artemis; the lack of a demigod was still an issue, but in terms of godly strength, they had enough to take down the giant – so long as Apollo focused.

"My business is not with you, Lord Hades," Orion continued. "So, please excuse me."

At a speed that Hades was certain rivalled Apollo and Artemis, the large, complex bow swung up, arrows bristling together where they all clung to the string, and multiple thick, black arrows whistled towards them.

No, not them, Hades realised. Towards Apollo.

Despite being stood next to the younger god, it was immediately apparent that Hades was not the target for any of the projectiles. It was almost an offence, to be passed over so completely, save for the fact that, as Apollo's bane, it was only natural that he would be Orion's sole target.

Bane or not, it took more than a flock of arrows to threaten the god of archery, and golden arrows flashed past Hades with unerring aim, once again knocking all of Orion's to the ground.

Apollo had fired more arrows than Orion; while the black ones all clattered down, two golden ones continued past the chaos, headed straight for the giant. Still, for a giant that was all too easy, and Hades watched as the bulky bow knocked first one and then the other aside, a vicious grin marring his handsome face.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunted. Hades expected him to go for his quiver – still full of the vicious-looking darts – and fire another volley, but Orion clearly had other plans.

Perhaps he knew that, despite all his posturing, he would never be able to out-shoot Apollo. The god in question had no witty comeback – a clear sign that something was very wrong – but fired a fresh volley of his own.

The giant moved.

For a giant, Orion was small, and his feet were unusual. Unfortunately, it seemed the human-esque qualities of his body lent themselves to feats Hades had not seen other giants manage with anywhere near as much success – evasion and speed.

Orion danced past the volley, and then the next, shooting some arrows back at Apollo but for the most part dodging or knocking aside the golden hail of projectiles, and every step brought him closer to the gods.

Usually, Apollo had no problems manifesting arrows out of mere thoughts, but Hades had already noticed that Tartarus had slowed his ability to do so marginally – nothing dramatic, but against Orion, it was clearly enough to make a difference. What had started as a continuous stream began to stutter as Apollo's restocked quiver emptied and he had to consciously summon each flood of arrows to his bow. Against most opponents, it wouldn't make a difference.

Orion ducked under the latest barrage, his grin one that could only be described as blood thirsty, and then – to Hades' complete surprise – dropped his own bow. It landed on the sharp glass of Tartarus, and part of Hades hoped he'd just ruined the weapon but there was no sign of damage, not even a single slice to the string.

He didn't get a chance to take a closer look, not when Orion lunged straight at Apollo, receiving arrows point-blank to his shoulders but clearly unconcerned. Apollo was his usual size, human because his obsession with humanity demanded nothing else, and the giant over half his size again bearing down upon him made for a concerning sight.

The wicked sharp hunting knife Orion whipped out from a pocket in his quiver at the last second transformed it into an alarming sight, and Apollo stumbled backwards, eyes wide.

Ichor splashed down to the ground, loud even against the background hum of whispering monsters.

Orion's grin grew wider, splitting his face in two. "You didn't think the bow was my only weapon, did you?" he gloated, his body pressed against Apollo's. Golden eyes flickered and the god coughed.

More gold splattered the duo's feet, the sight jolting Hades into action.

This might not be his battle, but down in the Pit, he was the only ally Apollo had.

And maybe he did not like this smug giant with his blade buried in Apollo's torso, no doubt angled exactly to miss ribs and puncture vital organs in what would be a fatal blow, were Apollo mortal.

Apollo was not mortal, but it was still a severe wound.

He didn't make a sound, was not prone to exaggerated shouts unlike several of his brethren, but the stab of his sword, aimed through the chest of the giant, was evaded as Orion slipped back, slinking away from the attack with all the grace of a striking serpent. He still held his knife in one hand as he scooped up his bow in a single, fluid, motion, and stepped outside of Hades' immediate striking range.

"I thought I said this does not concern you, Lord Hades," the giant repeated, his twin laser eyes pinning their gaze into Hades' own. Hades' response was to shift his stance into something more combat-ready, prepared to strike the moment Orion moved.

Next to him, a jagged hole in his armour where it had clearly been utterly useless against the attack, Apollo dragged himself into an upright position again and hovered a hand over his empty quiver. More arrows appeared. Ichor continued to trail sluggishly down his front from the wound, but he didn't even grimace as he brought his bow up once again.

With the absence of a demigod, Hades knew this was a fight Apollo could not win. How he had escaped the first time – presumably with an injured Asclepius in tow – he did not know, but it was obvious that whatever tricks he'd resorted to back then had only bought him a short amount of time.

And this time, Orion was prepared for them.

Hades did not know how they were going to sufficiently put the giant in his place without some sort of demigod aid, which would not be forthcoming, but it was clear that they could not advance any further until they did so – and while Orion was clearly a match for Apollo, that did not mean he was a match for Hades.

It was common sense that had him adjusting the Helm on his head – the blanch of Orion when the full force of fear slammed into him was particularly satisfying – and allowing himself to begin to fade away into the shadows.

"Your opinion on the matter is of no consequence to me," he said as he felt the power of the Helm envelop him. "Things concern me if I say so." A sideways glance at Apollo, which went unnoticed by either giant or god due to the Helm, showed his nephew's face pale as the radiating fear brushed past him, but his grip on his bow didn't falter. "And I have decided this fight does concern me."

With those words, he moved, invisible and intangible, growing as he did so until he was a shade taller than the giant, and positioned himself behind Orion. His sword flowed as a natural extension of his being, and he slashed straight through the giant's neck.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari