Chapter Text
"Just as Cow the First lowered its horns and charged, a hand grabbed my shoulder.
Nico di Angelo’s voice said, ‘Gotcha.’
And the world turned cold and dark."
Apollo blinked his eyes open, head aching. His vision was blurry and it felt like he had cotton balls stuffed in his ears. Distantly, he heard a vaguely French accent proclaim, "Yield, little heroes."
He tensed, but groaned soon afterward, muscles feeling like spaghetti, too weak to even move.
"Wha-," The French voice was interrupted by the sound of a hunting call. "No! It cannot be!"
His vision focused.
He was caught in a nightmare from a scene that happened only a few years ago. His eyes settled on the young Bianca di Angelo, clutching onto her brother tightly as they lay on the snow, unknowing of what was destined to happen.
His heart broke.
"No." He groaned, pushing him up weakly. His arms gave out on him, and he collapsed back on the frozen ground. He reached a shaky arm out toward he beast he recognized as the Manticore, core warmed with hatred and vengeance of the monster who brought Nico and his sister so violently into their world. He didn't deserve to live. "No."
He felt his hand supercharge, heat up to temperatures you could only find in the sun, so hot Apollo himself was surprised he didn't just burn to death right where he lay.
A silver arrow dug into the Manticore's shoulder, causing him to stagger backward. A second later, a stream of pure, bright light struck him down, leaving nothing but gold dust floating in the wind and scorch marks in the grass.
Apollo saw the siblings and a young Percy Jackson stare at him, weary but also shocked at their new savior, jaws dropped.
Percy lowered his shield, allowing Apollo to get a glance of a girl he hadn't seen since Artemis helped save New Rome from Caligula and Commodus: Thalia.
She glared at Apollo, guarded when she didn't recognize him. He smiled weakly, dropping his sore arm back into the snow, and sighing softly, the cold snow cooling his scalded limb.
"Apollo?" He heard a (thankfully) very familiar voice call out his name. He turned his head to side, watching (his) Nico push himself off the ground, leaning heavily against a tree. "Where's Will? Where'd he go?"
Apollo could tell Nico was starting to panic, so he gathered his remaining strength to lift himself up. "Nico," He heard a gasp, "Look around you. Look where we are."
Nico raised his head slightly, paling when he realized where, or perhaps when, they were.
"What?" He gasps, suddenly more alert then he was before. "How did we- I thought- The trogs! And- and Nero's gonna destroy New York, and–!"
"Nico! Calm down. It's going to be fi–"
"Silence, mortals." Apollo's sister's voice cut in. "Who are you, and why are you bold to use my brother's name as your own?"
Apollo flinched, turning back to see his younger sister watching him with narrowed eyed, contemplating divine judgement.
Recovering from the brief moment of godly power he had, but also stronger than when he first arrived here, here being presumably in the past, he stood up, raising his hands to show he's harmless.
Before Apollo could utter a single syllable in his defense, the helicopters whirring behind them start shooting, tiny holes appearing in the snow. The majority of hunters scattered back into the woods, as Artemis calmly turns to the helicopters.
This next part was all a blur.
Apollo jumped back, as fast as he could, but not fast enough. He let out a cry of pain as one of the bullets hits him in the shoulder. He collapsed backwards, the pain almost enough to make him pass out, but he struggled through. He was breathing hard, almost at the point of hyperventilating, trying to focus on his surroundings. Tears built up in his eyes, seeing his blood soaked into the snow.
Like a forbidden snow cone, Apollo thought deliriously.
He could see the hazy image of his (actually younger) sister stand over him, kneeling over to place a hand on his shoulder. Apollo groaned, feeling the bullet being pulled out. His breath hitched as the bullet exited the wound. Her cool hands ghost over the injury, healing it up almost as fast as Apollo could, when he was still a god.
He felt like he could breathe again, letting a foggy puff of air rise from his mouth. Artemis still stood staring at him, head cocked. Apollo pulled himself up into sitting position, scooting back away from her before standing up and facing her again.
"Not bowing?" She asked in a mocking tone. Her loyal followers stared coldly at him as he remained standing. He tried to stammer an explanation.
"I- I- I don't know what I'm doing here, but I promise I can explain! See, I'm Apollo, and—"
"Foolish mortal!" Artemis thunders, eyes narrowing in anger. "Claiming my brother's name once more? I should smite you where you stand!"
Apollo paled, shaking his head as fast as he could. "Ar- Lady Artemis, please let me explain. I don't mean to- I'm not really- My name is Lester! Please, you don't know the whole story!"
Her eyes scanned him, taking in his panicked posture, as well as suspiciously glancing at Nico, who stayed leaning against the tree during this whole endeavor.
"You shall be allowed to explain yourselves." Artemis told him curtly. "But for now, we must set up camp. Wait for my brother, the real Apollo, to come. From there, we shall decide your judgement together."
Despite how terrifying the circumstances were, Apollo couldn't help but feel a slight shiver of pleasure run down his spine. Artemis was defending him! Well, not current now him, but past god him. And she always acted like she never cared, always arguing who was older, unable to share, but seeing her get so protective over Apollo made him delighted. A lopsided grin covered his face and he smiled brightly, a shadow of the smile he used to have adorning his face during his previous duties as a sun god, and his sister scoffed at him and turned away, back to her hunters.
Apollo turned back to Nico, looping an arm around him and carrying most of his weight. Surprisingly, Grover, who had stayed silent during this whole ordeal, and sidled up on the other side of Nico to help. Apollo mouthed gratituted toward him as they stumbled forward to the camp the hunters were making surprisingly fast progress on, sitting him back down against a tree near the other demigods. Nico's head lulled towards the ground, a soft sigh escaping him as he rested. A light snore rose up from him. Grover got busy with healing.
Awkward silence rang aloud between them for a moment, before Thalia broke it.
"Stood up to Artemis?" She grinned at Apollo, her expression and her attire giving him the impression of staring at a predator. "That must've taken some balls." She held her hand out. "I'm—"
"—Thalia Grace." He finished for her, taking her hand for a short shake. "Percy Jackson, Nico and Bianca di Angelo, Grover Underwood, and Annabeth Chase."
Nico stirs slightly upon hearing his own name, muttering something about Will and deadly shadows.
Apollo glanced surreptitiously at the trees around them, knowing that Annabeth was probably hidden somewhere with her invisibility cap on. He jumped, squeaking a bit, when she took off her hat and revealed herself to be standing next to him, a smug smirk on her face.
"Oddly frightened for a demigod from the future." She scoffed, rolling her eyes in way that did not seem entirely good-natured.
"I'm not a demigod." Apollo sighed. "I'm a mortal."
The group froze.
"A clear sighted mortal?" Percy Jackson, soon to be hero of the gods, broke in, reminding Apollo that he had forgotten that Percy was there.
"Percy!" He had exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him. Apollo hadn't seen him in so long that instincts had taken over and he couldn't help but give him a bug hu—.
"Hold on there." Percy spoke, holding his sword tip to Apollo's throat. The sword wavered, as if he remembered something, and then he dropped his arm, sighing. "Oh yeah, Celestial Bronze can't hurt regular mortals."
"Well, I wouldn't call myself a particularly "regular" mortal." Apollo chuckled awkwardly, eyeing the sword Percy still held at his side.
"Oh, yeah. The, uh, laser beam you shot out of your hand." Percy snorted, waving his sword around haphazardly in a way that made Apollo want to back up a few steps.
"It was godly abilities! I can promise you that." He huffed. "Besides, I wasn't trying to lie earlier, my name really is Apollo."
"So you truly think that you're the god Apollo? Is that how you got yourself mixed up in all of this?" Annabeth asked, not trying to hide her sneer.
"Well, first of all—"
"Lester." A hunter of his sister tightly gripped his shoulder. Glancing back, he froze. That face haunted him . . . But he couldn't remember to whom it belonged. The familiar girl's face twisted when she saw the way Apollo was staring at her. "Men." She sounded disgusted.
From the corner of his eye, he could see the Hunter camp already set up in the few minutes they fellow "teenagers" had spent talking (Apollo was actually 4 thousands years old). The tents had been set up in a half-circle around a bonfire, guarded by white wolves and falcons that lurked in the trees. It was a very impressive sight.
"It is time for you to be judged by Artemis. You better hope, boy, that she is feeling generous today. I have a feeling she's not in the mood to deal with such arrogent mortals."