Disclaimer: I don't own Trials of Apollo.

Day 8 - Moonlight's Reflection.

This is an AU where Apollo landed straight in camp and Will claimed his service.

"Apollo, no! Stop!"

The order settled over Apollo like a thick blanket on a midsummer's day, too warm and constricting as he froze in place, arm outstretched towards the forest.

"Will," he growled, unable to even turn his head – although whether that was due to the order or his own desperate emotions, he refused to consider. "Let. Me. Go." It wasn't like earlier, when there had been injuries to treat and his son had a duty that he would never abandon. Now, everyone was treated, everyone would live, and there were still missing demigods.

Two more missing demigods, his children, and the fact that Will, of all people, was holding him back, was unfathomable. He knew Will was as desperate as he was to find and rescue Austin and Kayla from the clutches of the forest and whatever had ensnared them in the middle of a camp-sanctioned activity, so why was his son stopping him?

"No," Will said, his voice perfectly even. Too even. "It's too dangerous." Apollo felt him rest a hand on his arm. "Come on, Apollo."

Apollo had no choice but to follow his son – his master – away from the edge of the forest, but Will's feet betrayed his reluctance, and Apollo was desperate.

"If they-" he started, before his brain caught up with his mouth and he realised what, exactly, he'd been able to say to his son. "If they're hurt-" he corrected, but Will was either too smart or was already thinking the same thing, because he didn't let Apollo's slip pass.

"If they die, it's on me," he said, and his voice was still too, too even. "I know. But I'm not losing you, either."

There was nothing Apollo could say to that.

The rest of their reluctant walk back to cabin seven was in silence as the sun finished setting and twilight settled in. Above their heads, Artemis took to the sky in her chariot.

"Will," Apollo demanded, begged. His son just shook his head.

"Not tonight," he said. "You can't enter the forest until sunrise."

The fresh order snarled around him like vines – or a snake, but Apollo much preferred the imagery of the former, given the current state of Delphi. That was more than enough ensnaring serpent, if you asked him.

It wasn't that he couldn't see Will's logic – his children rather famously did better in the sun than at night, and it made sense to assume the same held true for Apollo himself, in his current mortal meatsack. The problem was that he had two children out there, in danger, after dark.

"Dibs on the bathroom," Will said, too lacklustre to be anything other than habit, and he ducked inside the room in question immediately, leaving Apollo standing in the middle of the cabin, feeling helpless.

He hated it.

It wasn't that he didn't understand Will's fear – Will had lost so many siblings, and several of them after dark – but he also didn't understand why his son was able to stand aside with more siblings in danger in the dark. Surely Will wasn't placing his pathetic father's safety above that of his younger siblings'?

Apollo's memory was not pin sharp any more, and he hated that, but he still thought he remembered Will well enough to know that that wasn't like his son. And yet Will had done it, ordered Apollo outside of the forest until dawn, which was far too many hours away, given it was scarcely a month past midwinter and the sun had only just set.

Will hadn't ordered him to stay in the cabin, though. He'd made that oversight, and if Apollo wasn't allowed to go in the forest, then he was going to sit vigil outside it, instead. He half-heartedly snatched a book about him from Will's bookshelf, barely glancing at it, as he fled the cabin. No doubt Will would come looking for him, but he'd be tired now that the sun was fully set, and maybe Apollo could at least convince him to let him stay keeping his vigil overnight.

In his haste, he didn't notice the silence from the bathroom.

He didn't bother searching for a comfortable place to sit – he didn't deserve to be comfortable as he waited the night out, knowing that his children were in there, in an unknown condition with no guarantee of survival until dawn. Instead, he threw himself down on the cold, hard ground and simply stared into the darkness, cursing his mortal eyesight.

Why did mortal eyes just stop being able to see things properly in the dark? Apollo felt blind, and that was not an experience he had ever wanted to endure. All his feeble, mortal eyes could make out was the light swaying of the trees in the nighttime breeze, the shadow of the clouds passing past Artemis' chariot causing darker patches to run across the ground, periodically cutting him off from his sister's light entirely.

It was cold, too. Human skin raised in weird-feeling pimples, the minute hairs sticking up on end, and at another time Apollo might have found it fascinating to experience, but right then it was just another deserved discomfort in aid of keeping him awake all night, staring into the depths of the trees for any sign, any sign at all, that his children had escaped and were making their way back.

Austin and Kayla were resourceful. They could do it, he was certain.

He had to be certain, because the other choices were far less, well. Certain. Apollo couldn't entertain them, because if they did, then that meant there was a chance it wasn't certain.

If they died-

Movement caught his eye, a flicker of something in the corner of his eyes. A silhouette, and then another. Two of them, walking side by side, although it was more of a desperate run, and Apollo was on his feet immediately, hurtling his way towards them because-

He stumbled over his feet and his face became suddenly and intimately acquainted with the cold, hard January ground. His nose ached in protest, joining his aching ribs and assortment of other bruises his mortal body had acquired in its brief existence, but he ignored it as he pushed his way back to his feet, staggering and almost collapsing again before he finally managed to stagger to his feet again.

The moonlight bleached everything in silver, even the all-black shadow of the son of Hades – although silver always looked good with black, so the shimmer in Nico's hair made him look alive. It did not have the same effect on blond.

Will looked washed out and faded in the faint light of the moon, monochrome in all the wrong ways, sick and pale instead of healthy and hale. He was more like a wraith than a living soul, and Apollo's heart twisted.

"Will!" he shouted, tripping over his own feet again but somehow keeping his balance enough to not face-plant the ground a second time, instead staggering and stumbling forwards until the momentum from the near-fall finally exhausted itself and he was able to gain some control over the rhythm of his legs. "Will!"

His son's head whipped around, faded blond waves swaying with the moment, and his eyes widened. They were faded, too, silver instead of blue and looking like the moon had taken up residence in his irises.

"Apollo?" he exclaimed, shaking his head several times as if to clear it. "No, no."

"Will, what are you doing?" Apollo demanded, feet finding a small pebble, this time, to trip over. His son was already past the treeline, and as Apollo reached it he slammed to a stop, as though an invisible brick wall had formed in front of him.

Not until sunrise. The order held firm, even as Apollo pounded at empty air.

"I can't lose you," Will said, and there were many emotions shining through the silver of his eyes, "and I can't lose them. I'm sorry, Apollo, but I have to do this. They're my responsibility."

"They're my children!" Apollo shrieked. "You're my child!" He threw himself at the trees again, using the entirety of his mortal body's strength and momentum to try and force his way in, towards Will and Nico and their obvious intent to go into the woods alone, at night.

The order stood firm.

"I know," Will said, and mortal hearts weren't supposed to physically break but the pain in Apollo's chest couldn't be anything else, as his son continued. "That's why."

"Will-"

"I'll see you in the morning, Apollo," his son carried on, as though he hadn't heard Apollo sobbing out his name in despair. It was said with conviction, but no promise. "I'll bring them back."

He and Nico faded into the darkness of the trees, disappearing from Apollo's pathetic, blind, mortal sight even with the silver highlights from Artemis' chariot kissing their hair.

"No!" Apollo screamed, throwing himself at the unrelenting order again. "WILL!"

Thanks for reading!
Tsari