References to 1, 6, 26, 33
Apollo - Temper
Apollo (?) - Connor (16)
January 2011
Travis and Connor Stoll.
Of course, he heard of them. His dear brother Hermes had mentioned them — when was it — last week? Last month? Sometime this decade? Well, Hermes had mentioned them several times in the past. And he has even seen the brothers in person back when they were stumbling little toddlers with all the grace of a wet napkin. After a night of drinking, Hermes had dragged him to the apartment one time, moaning about how infants are so much work while Martha and George slithered around the apartment cleaning up hazards.
Hermes complained about it, but to Apollo's eyes, it looked like he enjoyed spending time with the little children.
He can't imagine why though.
Travis and Connor can't speak. They can't clean up after themselves. They have no grace or manners. They're just babbling nonsense, drooling all over the place, cooing loud enough for a noise complaint, and tugging at Hermes's neck card.
Even more unfathomable is Hermes's small smile as he lets the little infants play around with him.
Apollo had done it once and doesn't see much point to it. Hermes had unceremoniously passed Connor Stoll into his unwilling hands while he confronted their mother who just arrived home. Like they're magnetized, Travis Stoll came crawling to him and tugging at his jeans, making grabby hands like he wanted to be picked up too and brought closer to his brother.
"Who's your friend?" Mother Stoll had said with a flirty grin aimed towards him as she tossed a duffel bag full of hard cash on the ground. He grinned back because how could he not? She is rather pretty. He dropped it though when Hermes glared at him.
"That's not the problem here," Hermes said, turning back to her, "Where have you been? Travis and Connor would have starved if I hadn't been here."
"Well, you are the father and I am a working mother just trying to make enough to afford rent. You know how expensive San Francisco is."
"You stole millions at this point. San Francisco is not that expensive."
"Wanna gamble on that?"
Apollo had tuned out their argument, placing Connor down beside his older brother. He was about to take off, but Travis had grabbed his jeans, blue eyes gleaming up at him and gurgling some nonsense. It made him pause.
For a second, he was back in the cave at Mount Cyllene, staring into the crib where a young god was attempting to lie to him.
Their striking blue eyes were the same, he remembered.
Hermes's strange habits must have rubbed off on him because he's conjuring towers of colorful blocks and soft plushies for the infants to play with. In a thought, he turned into a raven and flew out the window, leaving the father, mother, and their two children to their own devices. He made a note to himself that day. Do not hang out with Hermes until Luke and those brothers are dead.
All this effort, Hermes… and all because of what was going on with Luke Castellan. It was the guilt of not being able to save his favorite son that was driving Hermes to take care of these two motherless children. Apollo didn't get it back then. He would have just dropped these two off at Camp Half Blood as soon as he could. Babies don't need all that much care, do they? Just feed them and change their diapers. Seems simple enough and he was sure Chiron had plenty of free-time to do so.
But Hermes kept up the act well past infanthood and toddlerhood.
Of course, it affected his production. Mail was being delivered more slowly. Almost all of their packages arrived a day or two days later than expected. Not that he minded but Zeus and Hera did not take well to the delays.
Then one day, thankfully, it all went back to normal.
Apollo hadn't thought much of it. Maybe Hermes finally dropped them off at the camp. Maybe the mother had stepped up. Maybe the brothers are finally able to take care of themselves. (He did when he was just a week old.) Or maybe the brothers are dead. Either way, Hermes didn't have that obligation anymore and the Hermes Express is back to their timely deliveries.
The point of that story was he had met them once before and now here he is meeting them again, Connor more specifically. All grown up. No longer a babbling infant that drools all over his bib, but a fully-realized demigod with hopefully a somewhat admirable strength.
Maybe Connor will remember the time they spent together as god and infant, will remember his generosity with the toys, and devote his entire life to fulfilling his every wish.
There's no hurt in trying. Though the way Connor suggested dumping his head into the toilet last night had been… well… that is a bit concerning, but maybe it had been a warning to him about the Ares Cabin's propensity for dunking newbies' heads into the toilets! Yes, that must be the reason. A warning for him.
After the morning boot camp and after the wondrous shower, there was a bit of time before the next morning session. And what would you have it. There is Connor Stoll, sitting on his cabin's porch and staring at the cloudy skies with his patchy scalp covered in a medicinal salve.
This looks like a better time than others. Connors looks exceptionally bored and Apollo is in a dire need of some kind of worshippers/followers/devotees. Basically anyone who is willing to wait on his hands and feet.
So he bounds over, resting an elbow on the old porch railing. It's flaking by the way. Definitely in desperate need of a makeover. His cabin may look boring but at least it doesn't look run-down and neglected like Hermes. How can Hermes even stand his cabin looking like this? If it was him, he would have ordered this fixed long ago. Maybe even curse the cabin for several months for the disrespect.
Connor glances at him from the side. For a moment, Apollo is sure he sees disgust on the son of Hermes's face, but a blink and it's gone. Must be his imagination. Not many demigods hate him. Much less ones he never interacted with and Connor is the lowest of the low when it comes to demigods he interacted with in a meaningful manner.
He flashes a smile. "So I heard Travis is in college? That's pretty incredible of him, considering most of Hermes's children are not too bright."
Connor for whatever reason inhales slowly, eyes closing as his head tilts further to the sky for a few seconds, muttering what suspiciously sounds like, I can do this. I can do this. Then Connor stands and looks down at him (curse Lester's immovable height. Why can't mortals just magically change their height at will?) and shrugs noncommittally. "Yeah. Travis is in college. New Rome University specifically."
Apollo frowns. Unless his math is wrong, Travis is 17. He should be a senior just like Percy Jackson, but he's already in college. That's not adding up. "Isn't he the same age as Percy? That's a bit soon to be in college, don't you think?"
"Well, me and Travis already have our SAT scores and he has all the required courses. Our grades are okay too and he passed the DSTOMP with flying colors so yeah. He got in."
"Really? But aren't you supposed to be average at everything? If Percy can't do it, then what chances do you medi— " Oops, he almost said mediocre. "— do you average demigods have?"
Saved it.
Connor grits his teeth and forces a smile. "Well, when your teacher is one of the best in the world then—"
"Teacher?"
Another tick appears on Connor's forehead. "Yeah, Lee. He taught me all he knew about music and I taught Travis. As for the rest of the materials, Chiron, Annabeth, and Malcolm are pretty good and thorough teachers."
Apollo blinks absently.
Lee…
Lee…
The name is so familiar. He knows this person. He should know this person. They're definitely from this modern age rather than centuries ago. He can almost picture the face in his feeble mortal mind. But the picture isn't clearing up and Connor is just standing there, staring at him with this face growing judgemental by the second. He needs to say something. Anything.
So he does, very confidently and very assuredly: "Yes. Lee, of course. Lee."
And he completes the picture with a perfect smile that would dazzle anyone. Men, women, gods, and monsters alike.
Anyone except for Connor apparently because Connor scowls. He scoffs and even rolls his eyes!
"Okay then," his nephew says, moving away like he's about to leave.
Connor pauses for a moment, like he's thinking of his next words. Apollo can literally see the thoughts 'fuck it, who cares, let's ball,' going through his head before his grin tightens, turning into a cruel smirk.
"You sure you remember him? You sounded kind of uncertain there. Lee Fletcher. Has the typical blond hair and blue eyes? Looks like an older Will? Really likes his trumpet? I guess we can remember Michael too while we're at it. Bow and arrow? A natural at it? Short with black hair? Was picking a fight with you after Lee's death? Do you need a photo to help recall them?"
The blurry pictures in his head solidify and he remembers now. Lee, his musically gifted child who died during the Battle of the Labyrinth two and a half years ago. Michael, his son with an unbelievable and unflinching personality who gave his life a year and a half ago.
Unfamiliar guilt coils in his guts. Connor had called him out on his bluff. He had forgotten about them, hadn't even thought of them in years. His time in his cabin hadn't even made him think of them. Not when Lee's trumpet is displayed on a shelf and Michael's bow right next to it. How can he just forget about two of the bravest children he ever had? No. No. This is the fault of this mortal's frail body. It can't withstand all four thousand years of knowledge he has. Of course, some of it will be forgotten. He's not at fault. He can't be.
Connor snorts. "You didn't remember. Of course, you didn't. I bet you don't care even now. That's fine, I guess. It's not like you ever did anything for them."
The unfamiliar guilt is quick to turn to familiar, comforting anger. How dare he! This impetuous child! He has done plenty. More than some of his other fellow Olympians. Soon as he's back to a god, he is smitting Connor Stoll off the face of the earth! Not right now though, because he is mortal, and Connor is taller than him. Plus he's too busy figuring out a shortcut or speedrun to become a god again. But as soon as he's a god, it is over for Connor Stoll.
Surprisingly, Sherman Yang of all people jumps to his defense, appearing out of nowhere and slinging an arm around Connor's shoulder. "Woah, hey now. Connor, you shouldn't—" and even more surprisingly, the son of Ares pauses and looks like he's trying to find the words to say, like he's trying to be tactful. Ares? Tactful? Never thought those two would go together but here it is before him. Sherman must have found the words as he continues, "You heard Chiron. No bullying our guests. You wouldn't want to make our favorite centaur sad, would you?"
Connor huffs. "Guess not. This sucks though. No messing with Apollo. No messing with Meg. It feels like nothing changed."
"Come on. I know what will cheer you up." Sherman leads Connor away but not without Connor throwing a final glare back at Apollo. Sherman headbutts Connor in the forehead despite his own head injuries and the son of Hermes winces, finally moving the glare to someone far more deserving than awesome ol' him.
"Ow," Connor verbalizes plainly.
"Don't 'ow' me. Get a grip on your blabbermouth before you get yourself killed. You know you're supposed to keep that side of you hidden," Sherman hisses, clearly only meant for Connor but Apollo still hears it anyway as the duo walks further and further away.
Guess they're not reconnecting about the diaper days.
Complaining about Connor to his son, Austin, during the second morning session is relieving though, especially when Austin's offer still stands.
"I'll curse him to talk in only couplets for a year if you want."
The complaining continues into the archery lesson and Kayla is just as nice, offering to shoot Connor in the heel with a cursed arrow so he'll walk unevenly for a couple of months.
At lunch, Will just shrugs and offers advice a mature and well-functioning adult would say.
"Don't mind Connor. He misses Travis and gets snarky if someone brings him up."
Even Nico had something to say. "He's nice for the most part. Even to someone like me."
"What does that mean?" Will says, eyes narrowing, "You're deserving of kindness too."
The topic is derailing and Apollo brings it back to him after he chews and angrily swallows a bite of his amazing sandwich. "Well, of course, he would get along with you. Your dad likes Hermes. He's the only Olympian Hades more than tolerates. I think Hermes might even be his favorite! Can you believe it? Hermes, instead of me? How do you think Hermes has been allowed to enter and leave the Underworld whenever he wants for this long? They're total BFFs. I bet they even have weekly sleepovers at the palace."
Nico's doubtful face tells him it's unlikely. But what other explanation is there for how his brother gets along so well with their grumpiest uncle?
"You also get along with Hermes," Will notes, "Most of your tales together are positive."
"That's different. Connor isn't his dad. Connor is more dour, nasty, uncultured, a total brat."
"Didn't Hermes steal your sacred cattle and kill one of them?"
"Hermes was a little baby back then. Barely a day old. And he was a cheeky, adorable boy who gifted me the lyre. Connor only gifted me the threat of a swirly."
Will squints his eyes. "Are you going to seriously curse Connor?"
"No. Maybe. Possibly. Just a little. Just so he'll learn manners."
"Well, Sherman asked me to stop you. I also want you to not do it. Travis asked us to watch out for his little brother while he's away and I hate to break promises."
"Please. Connor is as old as you two. He can handle a couple of curses."
Will's face saddens. It's like looking at a kicked puppy. "Apollo, Connor is a good friend of mine. We've known each other for years. I would be hurt if you decide to hurt him."
Well, you should try and find a better company, he almost says but the son of Hades glaring at him as he rubs Will's back in comforting circles has him grumbling a low, "I was just kidding."
He was being truthful there by the way.
He would have left Connor alone if not for the race when he and Paolo stole that golden apple from him.
"Too slow, suckers!" Connor yells at him and Meg with this infuriating smug smile and that's it.
The cursing of Connor Stoll is back on.
A trap activates, the ceiling above releasing cantaloupe-sized iron orbs on Connor and Paolo. As they run away in the opposite direction, Apollo takes the time to shout after them.
"I bet you wouldn't speak to your father like this!"
And Connor looks back much to Paolo's displeasure. Not even Paolo screaming right into his ear in Portuguese was enough to deter Connor Stoll. "Wrong yet again! I would be the first to bully Hermes if he turned into a mortal."
The shit-eating grin sends another roiling fit of anger through Apollo. Connor and Paolo hobble out of view before Apollo can get the last word in and that's the most frustrating part of all. He always gets the last word. How dare Connor flee before Apollo can get to it?
When he crash-landed in that dumpster yesterday, he thought it was unfair that only he was made mortal. Hermes's son, Luke, had come extremely close to ending their reign too! Why couldn't it have been Hermes instead of him? But now maybe it's for the best that his little half-brother is not a mortal. The loving support of his three children has been essential in him not losing it. Apollo can't imagine Hermes going through this and surviving without the same aid.
"Want me to poke him in the eye again?" Meg offers.
"Sure. Why not? He earned it."
The offer never comes to fruition.
Not when Kayla and Apollo disappear and their priorities shift. Connor Stoll becomes a small dot in the back of his mind and it looks like he becomes the same in Connor's mind as well, the son of Hermes not once looking his way.
Just briefly, he catches Connor along with Malcolm and Sherman arguing with Chiron, all three escaping the labyrinth just fine except for a few bruises and scratches. They make for a weird, unlikely rag-tag team, in his opinion, but then again he doesn't know any of the yearrounders all that well so who's he to comment on their friendship levels?
Apollo doesn't want to listen in on their conversation, but they're talking right out in the open. If he leaves his position now, they'll spot him and he's not in the mood for Connor Stoll's antagonism no matter how much he deserves it. That boy just has a way of striking it where it hurts most somehow and Apollo just knows Connor will find that right, scathing set of words that will make him cry over his lost children.
So he bunkers down and waits for their conversation to end.
"The three of us are the most experienced," Sherman starts, "We'll be fine as long as we stick together."
"All the more reason you three cannot," Chiron snaps, "The camp is already bare-boned as it is. Let us trust the dryads."
"I kind of know the woods pretty well. You know how I used to sneak around there with Travis all the time. Come on, Chiron. Just let us go searching for a few hours," Connor pleads.
"And I also recall that the woods were tamer back then and that you two only stuck on a set path to Zeus's Fist," Chiron rebuts.
Malcolm tries next. "I'll have the map with me. If things look too dangerous, we'll head back right away. And you know Connor and I will keep Sherman in check."
Sherman spins with a hard glare, pointing a finger in Malcolm's face. "Hey! For the record, Connor has a hotter head than me. I saved him from Apollo's wrath today, you know."
Chiron stomps his hooves and paces in a brief circle. "That's enough. None of you are going and that's final. Go clean up and rest. I'll call you when we have a plan." There's a gleam of worry in Chiron's eyes. "And Sherman, Connor? We're going to have a talk about what you meant by 'Apollo's wrath' after all this is over."
Chiron stomps his hoof a final time, Apollo can imagine the stern face he must be giving them, before trotting away. The trio of demigods wilt. Sherman lets out a cry of frustration, reverberating full of anger, before kicking a stray shield on the ground like it's a soccer ball. It impressively flies clear over the woods and Apollo hears a distant splash of water.
"Nice going, Sherman," Connor groans.
"Yeah, Sherman. Apollo has no power right now," Malcolm says (ouch), "So you saved Connor from nothing. You could have not mentioned that."
"You two are lucky you're my friends otherwise I would have shoved your ugly heads in the toilet long ago. Besides, you should have been there, Malcolm. Connor really lost it."
"I wasn't that bad. Besides Apollo started it first," Connor argues, crossing his arms, "I just shot back."
"You should have been the bigger man," Malcolm notes dejectedly. "Apollo is going through the biggest shock of his life. Give him a break."
"Connor is the bigger man. We all are. Apollo is short," Sherman points out (ouch, again).
"That's not what I meant."
The three of them leave, their voices growing distant until gone completely.
He can leave now too and he should, his muscles are starting to cramp, but something in his chest is stopping him. A heavy feeling that's warm and nauseating all at the same time.
Despite being sore and tired themselves, despite the danger it poses, those three were raring to go. No hints of reluctance or avoidance in their words. He knew the yearrounders are a close-knit bunch. Athena had mentioned that once upon a time. But to see it for himself, to have his children be on the reciprocating end, it's different.
It fills him with relief to know his children have such die-hard friends here.
To think he had wanted to use these people to do his bidding.
Deep down, whatever godly part of him that's still there, still wants that to be the case.
Not so much after finding the grove of Dodona. After nearing losing his children and the others. After did losing Meg to Nero. After the collapse of the Colossus, as he stares at the campers rejoicing over their victory, he can't imagine using any of them, of sending any of them to do his dirty work.
After a very nice, warm dinner around the campfire, Apollo slinks away to the privacy of his cabin to decompress.
Or tried to anyway.
Not one second later after the door closes, it opens again. Apollo stifles a groan and thankfully so, because it's Connor.
"Hey, there you are," Connor greets him, almost abashedly as he rubs the back of his head without meeting his eyes. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rubs the heel of his shoe against the wood floor. "Thanks for rescuing my friends. And for saving camp. I really appreciate that."
"Of course," he says. Especially considering he was the one who brought them to danger in the first place. If he hadn't been here, none of this would have happened.
Connor chews his cheeks, sucking in a quick breath, before actually looking at him and it's striking how similar Connor looks to his father when he was just a young, budding god. He's taken aback to that fateful day when Hermes stole his precious cattle and slaughtered one to make a lyre from its intestines. Apollo had confronted his newest half-brother, flew straight to that cave and walked right up to the crib holding the godly infant. Hermes's first instinct had been to lie to him, a mistake, before he begrudgingly told the truth. The reluctant guilt in Connor's blue eyes is practically the same as Hermes's. "I'm sorry for everything earlier too. You're really different from the guy Michael used to complain about. I… um… was wrong about you. So… I'm sorry."
Michael had complained about him to them? No wonder the hate then. His gut coils further and further into a tinier ball as he thinks about his last in-person conversation with his deceased son. It hadn't ended particularly well.
He wants to say it's fine or at the very least, he wants to say he's sorry too. But the words refuse to come out. So he nods instead and hopes Connor says something else that's easier to form a response to, but his nephew is back to staring at the ground and shuffling his feet.
"Right. Well. That's all. See ya."
Then Connor is taking off, shoes squeaking as he slams the door behind him.
Apollo peeks out from the window as Connor runs back towards the campfire and throws his arms around his half-brother Cecil Markowitz and Cabin 4's head counselor Miranda Gardiner, surprisingly enough. The smile he gives them is wide and genuine, no hints of any of that awkwardness earlier. Miranda laughs at something Connor says, poking him in the cheek with the marshmallow-free end of the stick. Cecil ducks out under Connor's arm and hops onto his back for an impromptu piggyback ride, their joyous laughter ringing through the night sky and into the cabin.
They're happy, he notes.
And he almost took all that away.
Maybe it's for the best he leaves, he thinks as he gets ready for bed. But he'll sleep on it first before making any life-changing decisions.
I finished the first book. I guess when inspired, I can type a chapter relatively fast lol.
Thank you for reading!
I'm off to the second book now.