Slight spoilers for TTT! This chapter is based on my own little headcannon for Apollo's characterisation. Enjoy and review!

~4612 years ago~

I followed the gentle-giant titaness through the steep, mountainous forests of Delphi, clambering over boulders and collapsed tree trunks as the woman in front of me glided gracefully, walking barefoot through the rocky terrain as though it was sand. She was a mysterious being, certainly not like any other immortal I'd been in contact with. She had a rougher, more 'titan-ish' vibe than my father, and didn't look anything like her daughter, Leto - my mother. While Leto was bronze-skinned and had a slim figure, Phoebe was quite the opposite. Her body round and soft, her skin the warm, dark colour of a sculpture beautifully carved from deep mahogany. She exuded a sort of gentle calmness, like the warmth of a loving mother's embrace after a long day. Her caramel fringe swept low over her serene face, concealing her eyes. Her hair was thick and wavy, spilling over her shoulders and sweeping across her back. She wore a dress of long, broad leaves, each the height of my young form, that swept to her ankles. Occasionally she would stop and patiently wait as I determinedly struggled over a particularly steep hill, or turn to hold my hand to help me across a rushing river. My hands were tiny compared to Phoebe's - though I supposed it was partly to do with me taking the form of an eight year old boy - she stood at ten feet all, bigger than any human I'd seen. Mother said titans can get much bigger, even bigger than father.

Phoebe smiled as she held out her hand, pulling me up the last few steps to the summit of the mountain. The view was astonishing. Miles and miles of rocky hills rolled, divided by the most lush of valleys. Streams wound through the terrain, building lakes and careening down waterfalls, spraying silver mist into the crisp air. Nymphs and dryads frolicked and danced in clearings, their togas swishing with their bouncy movements. The island thrived with life.

But the mountain one over from ours seemed…darker than the rest. A cave big enough to comfortably house a titan dragged itself from the earth at the summit, some vines still dangling across it's entrance like they were the only things keeping the cavern from rising even higher. The grass and flora around it smoked. Deep in the throat of the earthen chamber, there lay the corpse of a rotting dragon, eternally emanating foul odours. Even from so far away, my nostrils still burned with the scent of acidic sulphur. I grimaced at the memory. Of course, it had only happened hours ago. My immortal status meant that I would long outlive the ghastly thought. Or so I hoped.

Phoebe knelt down, put a soft hand on my shoulder and pointed towards the tunnel from Tartarus.

"Do you see that big cave way over there?" She whispered. I didn't have the guts to speak without making some horrific noise, so I simply nodded. She playfully poked me in the sides. "That's all yours. Now, I know you already have many domains and much responsibility. I would like to help you manage it, like my sister taught me. It can be hard, and the visions can be overwhelming sometimes, but I wouldn't freely give you the position if I had not foreseen your success and capability. Happy belated birthday, grandson."

I sniffed. Tears distorted my vision and intrusive thoughts muscled into my head, turning the shadow of a nearby fir tree into a hideous, wrinkly abomination, growing larger by the millisecond, unhinging its mighty maw to swallow me whole-

"-Apollo!" I winced out of my nightmarish fantasy. Phoebe was still kneeling beside me, her mouth tight in concern. "I thought this may happen." She lowered herself a bit more, engulfed me in a warm hug, and rubbed soothing circles on my back.

"He w-was awful," I blubbered through the tears streaking down my cheeks. "I healed myself b-but…it still hurts."

"I know it does," my grandmother sighed. "I know it will." She didn't seem to mind me sputtering into her bare shoulder, a fact I was quite grateful for.

I do not recall how long we sat there, the cold Gamelion wind blowing through us hard enough to knock a mortal clean off the summit of the mountain. I felt only a slight cold. Phoebe sheltered me with her body, her leaf dress fluttering around my legs from the force of the wind. But to us, it was nothing more than a harsh breeze. We did not have to shout to hear each other. We were immortals, refined to perfection to withstand threats by the thousand. I shuddered, wistfully hoping that, in my first days of life, the worst was over.

After an eternity of seconds, Phoebe stood, a kind smile on her lips. I smiled back, wiping my face and eyes with the back of my hand. She patted my hair fondly.

"Let us begin. Firstly, visions flow naturally when you think about something. This can be quite a bother in most situations. Unless you actively repress or ignore them, they will come. It can be quite overwhelming and rather distracting at times. So, what you can do is cover your eyes or find some way to dim your sight, so that your sense of future does not bounce off every little thing you see." She pushed my hair over my face as a demonstration. I coughed it out of my mouth and pushed it out of my eyes.

"Eugh," I stuck my tongue out, eloquently portraying my feelings on following that particular fashion statement.

Phoebe laughed. "But you looked so cute!"

~9 years later~

The warm summer breeze whipped through my thin toga and long, golden hair, while the sun beat down on my immortal back. Wiping the silvery sweat from my forehead, I leaned on a grazing cow and tapped my fingers on my shepherd's stick, taking in the mountainous view that I had grown rather sick of. I was almost nine years old (but took the form of a human teen, about fifteen years of age), and this, consequently, was my ninth year of 'purification' for the oh-so-dreadful act of slaying a evil mother-chasing, cave-stealing dragon, and I was so close to being done with it. I thought it extremely unfair that I was even doing this to begin with - after all, Python was foul. Gaea was furious that I had slain her 'son' (but somehow not upset that he was dwelling in her own daughter's cave, go figure - wait, was that a modern or future term? Wow, prophetic visions can really mess with your head) and had demanded that I be tossed into the depths of tartarus. I had thought that a touch melodramatic. Of course, my father, the great Zeus, would not have his new favourite son banished to the darkness, but unfortunately for me, Gaea did not intend to back down. Finally a compromise arose - nine years of purification and I would be off scot free.

It had seemed so easy at the start, especially with my father's assurance that nine years really was not that long in the eyes of an immortal. He promised that it would be done before I knew it. Then he ruffled my blond locks, pushing the strands of hair over my eyes and making me giggle with delight.

I closed my eyes and imagined once again seeing the gleaming halls of Olympus, with floors so sleek and shiny you could blind yourself. I remembered the sheer vastness of the corridors and the overwhelming power that radiated from the throne room. I had only seen the glorious place once, and that was under grim circumstances - the sentencing for my 'crime', in fact. My dear suck-up sister, Artemis, had already joined the Olympian ranks, and while I had a claim to a throne, I had to finish my nine years of service first. Boring.

The cow I was reclining against selfishly decided that eating the patch of perfectly good grass at his lips was unsatisfying, and moved on, forcing me to support my own weight. I liked cows, but they did not make very good furniture.

A loud rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. I looked up to the sky, beaming with elation (literally - I felt a faint halo glow around my head). My time was up. Nine years had passed. I was finally going to ascend to govern with my fellow major gods. I threw down my shepherd's staff - someone else could look after this herd from now on - and dashed off to meet my father, and complete my service.

~8 months later~

"You wished to see me, father?"

I stood in Zeus' personal throne room, slightly short of breath and still bloodied to my elbows from my last patient's treatment. I had just preformed a surgery nothing short of gory. The poor man was going to be in agony for a while, but my power of prophecy allowed me to assure the family that he would pull through. The adrenaline of the dangerous was blasting through my brain, the satisfaction of fulfilling my purpose making my whole being buzz. I was vaguely aware of the halo of light that surrounded my young teenage form, betraying my mood to the single onlooker.

The king glared down at me from where he sat on his cold, marble throne. His toga was a dark shade of navy, complete with intricate golden designs on the hem. Zeus looked to be a human man, perhaps in his late 30's or early 40's, with short, curly dark hair and a greying beard. He was 7 feet, maybe slightly taller - which, from my many experiences with humans, is fairly tall. His build was wide and solid, his shoulders broad, his bare arms muscular. He did not look pleased to see me.

Yet I was not scared. My mood neither faltered nor swayed. My father was the king of the universe! He had a lot on his plate, so who could blame him if he got a bit grumpy sometimes? It was natural to be stressed with so much responsibility on your back. What he needed was some good entertainment - a laugh, a song, a cure. All things within my very own sphere of control! (Plus, I had heard some very reliable rumours that Zeus used to sing marvellously at the request of Kronos. I wanted to hear where I had received the ability from for myself, and so far, I had not gotten him to sing along, if I am not counting the time I overheard him singing with my mother on Delos the day we were born. But I had endless days! Who was I to rush it?) While I was curious about the reasoning behind my urgent summoning, I was not concerned that it was too serious. I had been doing my job to the best of my ability, after all. And I can assure you, my godly best is extremely good.

"Since you have joined our ranks," Zeus began, tilting his chin up in authority, his voice gruff and low like thunder. "Mortals have been living longer. They don't die as often. When they are at the brink of hades' gates, they miraculously get better." I beamed. My relentless work had finally payed off! He was proud of me! My father, the king of the gods, was proud of me! I rushed to thank him for the recognition when- "It's bad for business."

My bright smile faded.

"Bad for..." I murmured, confusion pounding down on my skull as my I tried my hardest to wrap my head around the meaning of the harsh words. I detected no teasing humour in his voice.

"Not good," Zeus unhelpfully clarified. "Hades is losing citizens. There are less human sacrifices for Ares, as life is considered more 'valuable' if it had the chance to last longer. Demeter is run off her feet trying to bring harvest to obscure 'healing' crops that the humans have demanded on your request. My own wife has been losing her mind trying to organise weddings for the increasing population. You are healing too much."

"Healing," I repeated, too utterly bewildered to put much emotion into my voice. "Too… much." Zeus, ever a king of little explanation and many glares, simply glowered down his nose at me, as if waiting for my small, pathetic mind to piece two and two together. "Wha.. But… I…" I stuttered, trailing off after each feeble attempt at defence. Finally, I managed to complete a coherent sentence. "Could you… rule too well, father? Are you capable of designing a storm too impressive? Can you decree a law too fair?"

"Apollo-" He growled, leaning forward in his throne. His upper lip curled in disgust. I could feel the air around me begin to get denser and threatening to suffocate me if I dared say a word against him.

"My lord, I am only doing what I was made to do! As a prophetic god, is it not my purpose to tell you all I can about the future? Is it not my duty to make sure we are prepared for what is to come?" Zeus raised an eyebrow at me, but stayed silent for a while, deep in thought (a rare occasion, I felt, though I dared not voice such things).

"Are you saying there has been a shift in the balance?"

"Not 'has been' my lord. 'Will be'. I have had some… troubling visions. A new god will soon take form, one much more fierce than I. He will be your most powerful offspring; only you, Poseidon and Hades will be stronger than him. I have foreseen him to be a constant threat to your position. I do not yet know whether he should be warred against or locked away, but he should never be underestimated. We may need every mortal we have to keep our sacrifices burning and our power as widespread as we can."

Zeus stroked his beard, his brow furrowed, considering my words.

"Hmm. And you know when this 'new god' will be born, I presume?"

"I- yes, my king. I'm afraid… he already has been." At that, the room darkened dramatically, as if even light was afraid to look my father in the eye. I concentrated on steadying my breathing. I had never been in such a situation before, but I quickly decided that I did not like it. I swiftly added; "Though he is simply dormant right now! We still have time to rally together when the time comes."

"And he will overthrow me?"

"I think he will try. I do not yet know if he will succeed."

"So you have seen a deity arise, a god powerful enough to decimate everything we have ever built and has the demented irrationality to do so, yet instead of reporting this to me, you spend eight months healing puny mortals?"

I gulped. Hearing him lay out my actions so plainly made me question if I really had been wasting valuable war-prepping time, even though I had went over this decision in my head for weeks.

"I feel - I feel I need to."

Zeus tipped his chin up slightly higher, as to more effectively snarl down his nose at me.

"What?" He muttered, his voice so low, so dangerous that I could practically feel my form instinctively fighting to teleport as far away from this throne room as possible.

"I- um… I, well-" I stuttered uselessly. My voice was a good deal quieter than it had been upon entering the room. My head lowered and I hid my bloodstained hands behind my back, like they somehow incriminated me. "I just… know it will help. I don't know why or how, but I can feel the future Apollo smiling back on this time. I think helping the mortals is the right thing to do."

Zeus straightened his back and rolled back his shoulders, symbolising that his patience had run out. There was to be no more defence. He would not tolerate another word.

"No." Curse him, even the shortest sentence from the king was commanding enough to make me want to shrink back and melt into some conveniently placed shadows. I did not even know what was coming. Back then, I was young and naïve, full of love for every living being, unless they proved themselves unworthy. I was scared to look into the future, but snippets flowed anyways. I felt deep pain and suffering in the moments ahead. I tried to block them off, thinking I could somehow avoid this fate. Oh, how foolish a young mind can be.

I heard his footsteps getting closer and closer, louder and louder until my skull was pounding with panic. I chanced a look up. There he stood, the king of the gods, towering above me at his full godly height. Electricity cracked around him like the violent sound whips made when humans flailed them around to spur on their horses. His cruel eyes sparked with undiluted malice. The master bolt, a bronze rod that crackled and spluttered threateningly, flickered into existence in Zeus's right fist.

That was the last image I saw as that god. Apollo the innocent. Apollo the guiltless. Apollo the child. That boy screamed and pleaded until his voice was raw - a sensation he had never experienced before, nor ever wanted to experience again. He cradled his aching stomach with one bloodied arm, holding the other in front of his face, praying to anyone who would listen that it would shield him from the blow. It did not. Giving one final howl of agony, he went limp as his little body gave out. He dissipated in a burst of golden dust. That boy did not resurface.

No, when the time came for the god to collect the pieces of his consciousness, something very different reformed. A beautiful, muscled young man of twenty looked at himself in the reflection of a river. He had long, wavy blond hair, a defined jawline and cold, metallic, golden eyes that looked as hollow as the eyes of a man who had been imprisoned for fifty lifetimes. He understood. It was as if he had lived his life with a fringe over his eyes, and now the hair had been forcefully burned away, leaving him permanently smelling the putrid smoke - but it had cleared his vision to reveal the ugly truths of the world. His immortal bones throbbed with hatred and bitter resentment. The being who emerged that day was the god with the will to burn the throne of the king. The god destined to be a persistent threat to Zeus's reign. The god who would one day attempt an uprising.

His name was Phoebus Apollo.

~4,603 years later~

I sighed as the unfamiliar blue eyes stared back at the pimpled face and messy dark hair of a teenage dork. I half hoped that the warped mirror - the golden statue of Jupiter - was making me look more hideous than I was, but I had been human long enough to know this was not true. At least my cheeks were no longer seared with purple tendrils, marking my mortal body for death by cliche-Hollywood-apocalypse-movie.

I was alone. There were only a few minutes left of our time at camp Jupiter, and I did not quite understand why I had unconsciously wandered here, the temple of my father, the great and terrible Jupiter Optimus Maximus. I craned my neck so I could take in the full statue. He was in the exact pose that he had been all those years ago, the first time the bolt he held pierced my youthful skin. The last sight of a god who had faded along with the light of that strike, when a child died and an adult supplanted him.

All I had wanted to do was my best. To help, to heal, to make the lives of those around me brighter by sharing my light. Over the centuries, I had gotten selfish with that light. I had forgotten who I used to be. I was glad to be right about one thing though: I looked back on those months of mass healing with great fondness. They were the symbol of the child who had wanted to fix everything, no matter how impossible. They may just have been the best things I have ever done.

I had recently realised that my trials were not only shaping me into a new, better person, but also recalling some of the will I had possessed all those thousands of years ago, before my psyche was distorted by selfishness, anger and abuse. Right now I seemed to be an odd mixture of my new and old selves; protective but anxious, accepted but rejected, healed and hurt. I constantly wanted to take a Gaia-length nap with some hot chocolate while watching Les Misérables on repeat and crying my eyes out at every sad song. But, I also had a sense of satisfaction that I had not felt in centuries. Like I was doing something worthwhile, finally fulfilling my purpose. It was almost as if the painstaking effort of the quest made everything sweeter when it was finished. It was nice to have a little voice in my head that said "I survived that!" when I noticed a new scar in the shower, or a new burn when I was getting dressed. Who knew… I may even keep a few of them when I regained my godly status. But I was getting back my eight-pack. No compromise on that one.

"Hey, loser! We're leaving."

I rolled my eyes and turned to meet my beloved master, who was strutting a new fashion statement: an oversized blue unicorn tee that almost reached her knees over her signature green dress (which you could only see because the t-shirt was so big that the neckline drooped over her shoulder), and some denim jeans with her red high tops. She pushed her glasses up her nose and screwed up her face at the sight of Jupiter (I think that is what my kids call: a 'big mood-y'. I will have to check though). "That your dad?"

I heaved a tired sigh.

"Yes."

"Is he that big in real life?"

I chuckled under my breath.

"Thank goodness, no. Gods tend to be around twenty feet. That statue is about fifty. I think I would have died from stress already if he was fifteen meters tall all the time. Besides, I was a god too."

Meg looked at me, disbelief painting her features.

"So, you're like," she leaned down and picked up a piece of cracked tile at her feet. Furrowing her eyebrows in concentration, she chucked the marble at the sculpture, which hit it on the knee with a clang. "That high?"

"Nah," I said a grin spreading on my face as I too, scooped up a piece of tile from the ground. I tossed it in my hand once, calculating my arm. Then, with a grunt of effort, I let the rock loose, which sailed through the air and hit Jupiter's precious parts with a echoing clank. "I am that high." We burst into a fit of giggles like a couple of schoolchildren mocking the universally hated principal at the back of the class. When we were done snickering, Meg punched me in the arm. "Ow!"

"C'mon. We need to go."

I rubbed my tricep, pouting. "We got a ride?"

She gave me a impish grin that Hermes/Mercury would've been proud of.

"Oh yeah. We got a ride."

Sorry this one took a bit longer! I've been swamped with work and whatnot. Also, I read TTT and I was AMAZING! Definitely one of the best books. (Did you see how Apollo straight-up called Zeus his abuser? Fantastic. Would pay to see that again.) Remember to review! Even the shortest ones light up my day!