Poseidon: Brother, why is Iapetus in your house, sweeping?
Hades: Your son.
Poseidon: *baffled but not surprised nodding* my son....right. Of course
Hades: Yes.
Poseidon: my son....
Hades: Threw him in the Lethe.
Poseidon: *deep sigh*
Poseidon: Percyyyy.....
Hades: he named him Bob.
Poseidon: *even deeper sigh* Of course he did....
—!——!—
For fun, I personally hc that this is the fourth time Bob has given someone flashbacks in the palace. (Zagreus, Hades and then Zagreus again because no one warned his reincarnation).
Also I wanna explore the fact that Hades has no reason to care about or like Bob considering the Titanomachy is a thing that happened. (My Titanomachy PTSD Kronides propaganda go!)
Last: "Good-bye, Gaea! Good-bye, Jason Grace the traitor!"
Derw
First: "Well, I hope they're worth the trouble. "
Last: "Oh... my... god. Who..."
Clovis
First: "Wh-wh-what?"
Last: "It's okay, cousin. It's a big city now. It belongs to all of us. You've done your part. Now you deserve a rest. Bring it in."
Coach Hedge
First: "Allright, cupcakes, listen up!"
Last: "Coach, of course! They've got some great varsity sports teams in Oklahoma. Plus, I hear nature is pretty strong there. Nice place to raise a kid."
Mellie
First: "Hello! Are you from lord Zeus? We've been expecting you."
Last: "Chuck and I are riding in the SUV."
Bob
First: "SWEEP! Sweep, sweep sweep!"
Last: "I have no idea. But that is the best possible reality for me. I now have choices when I used to have none.
Bryce Lawrence
First: "Yes, my lord."
Last: "No, I am Bryce Lawrence! I am alive!"
Michael Kahale
First: "That makes two dozen now."
Last: "Good-bye, Octavian."
Don
First: "Hazel!"
Last: "Cool... Hey, Apollo, you- you know the difference between a faun and a satyr..."
Madea
First: "May I help you find something?"
Last: "Ventus! Kill them!"
Nyx
First: "I imagine, that she meant Night, with a capital N. After all, I am the only one.
Last: I will get you, Nico di Angelo! I'll capture you and seal you up, and I'll force you to... to..."
Nemesis
First: "Is that what you see? Interesting. And you, Hazel, dear?"
Last: "Go!"
Epiales
First: "Sleep, demigod."
Last: "Thank you for helping us realize the truth, too."
Ganymede
First: "May I join you?"
Last: "Coming, Lord Zeus! Just... filling my chalice, which has been in my possession this entire time!"
Eudora
First: "Percy Jackson, please report to the counselor's office. "
Last: "New Rome it is! Oh! Oh!"
Kayla
First: "So it's really you."
Last: "Oooooh, how romantic."
Austin
First: "Meg told us you were beaten up by a couple of thugs. She said you had no powers and you were hysterical out in the woods."
Last: "Nico! Oh, we're so glad to see you!"
Emmie
First: "Hit the pavement!"
Last: "And the third emperor? Do you know who it is?"
Jo
First: "I'll be hexed! Is that Apollo?"
Last: "Doing good, this one. He's got potential."
Lityerses
First: "You speak well, girl- fortunately for your friends, or I would have run them though."
Last: "I will keep that in mind."
Luguselwa
First: "Yes sapling. Now put away your wepons before Gunther is obliged to chop off your head."
Last: "Well, I'll let you two get on with the tour. Assembling this IKEA furniture is the toughest quest I've had in years."
Shel
First: "Who's this? Your dad has a boyfriend?"
Last: "It was nice meeting you!"
Arrow of Dodona
First: "THOU SHALT NOT!"
Last: "FARE THEE WELL, FRIEND. APOLLO WILL FALL, BUT APOLLO MUST RISE AGAIN."
Nero
First: "Hello, my reptilian friend."
Last: "You've given him victory. You've-"
Commodus
First: "ENOUGH!"
Last: "SHIPS! FIRE!"
Caligula
First: "Perfect timing! I've been having the most fascinating conversation with your friends."
Last: "Yes it is. For you."
Python
First: "Well, I was wondering if you would make this trip, Monsieur Beast."
Out of everything Hades could've done to Iapetus, he just... hired him? To sweep palace floors? While Nico, Hades' teenage son, feels free and comfy to casually chat with him about Percy being such a good friend?
I guess Iapetus didn't make much of an impression on his enemies in the first Titanomachy and didn't hurt anyone valuable then.
Yeah yeah Iapetus redemption is fun and all, but honestly, he should be rightfully angry at Zeus for the fates of his sons.
Menoetius was stuck in Tartarus with him.
Atlas has been carrying the sky since the 1st titan war.
Prometheus was getting his liver eaten out daily for giving humans fire.
Epimetheus's wife was deliberately made to screw over humanity (who Prometheus invented and loved) because Zeus didn't feel like Prometheus's punishment was enough and had to mess with his brother too.
And sure, Iapetus's sons aren't perfect, some of them in fact are not good at all, but he's still a father and those are still his little boys. And they suffered a lot.
Probably unpopular, but I did not care for him all that much at the start. When he showed up in HOH, I hadn't read the Sword of Hades, so I had no idea what was going on there.
He grew on me throughout the book, but then he died and it was very sad. But now according to TSAST he's not dead? I haven't read the book yet, I don't know. His "death" always felt like it was supposed to be a more permanent thing, he was literally facing off against Tartarus.
I saw this on wikipedia, and I think it's really interesting. I don't know if Rick Riordan was aware of this, but it certainly adds an interesting layer to Iapetus losing his memory and becoming Bob and stuff:
"Hesiod and other Greek scholars regarded the sons of Iapetus as mankind's ancestors and as such, some of humanity's worst qualities were said to have been inherited from these four gods, each of whom were described with a particular moral fault that often led to their own downfall. For instance, sly and clever Prometheus could perhaps represent crafty scheming; the inept and guileless Epimetheus, foolish stupidity; the enduring, strongest and powerful Atlas, excessive daring; and the arrogant Menoetius, rash violence."
Fandom: Trials of Apollo
Rating: Teen
Genre: Family/Adventure
Characters: Apollo, Hades
And with this, we bid farewell to Hades' pov for this fic. Only two chapters to go now, and both will be Apollo's pov. I had a lot of fun figuring out Hades' narrative voice, as well as what's going on beneath the exterior he projects! This is also the awkward "deal with the Zeus consequences" chapter, which I keep seeming to need in my fics despite them being incredibly difficult to write!
I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!
<<Chapter 29
HADES XXX
Zeus Loses His Temper
At some point during the journey between leaving his palace and arriving at Olympus, Apollo had left Elysium and recoalesced his entire essence into a single form, a now familiar feeling on Hades’ periphery after what had proven to be over a month in close company with his nephew at full, undiluted power. He was not surprised that Apollo had elected to be as powerful as possible in Zeus’ presence, but now that he was in the same room as both his brother and his nephew – and a few other unexpected gods Hades was electing to currently ignore as well – it brought something interesting to Hades’ attention.
He'd known something was different with Apollo’s essence since his time spent as a mortal. His nephew had felt stronger, considerably stronger than Hades had expected of him, but he was still not as powerful as Hades, so he had put it out of his mind while he had other, more immediate, concerns to focus on.
Standing in the middle of the Olympian throne room, with his nephew at his side and his brother seated on his throne before him – both brothers, in fact, although Hades had no interest in Poseidon’s unexpected presence at that moment – a single observation leaped out at him, unbidden but impossible to ignore nonetheless.
Apollo was more powerful than Zeus.
He did not quite measure up to Hades himself, or Poseidon, both of whom had found their old power levels still within them during the climax of the second Titanomachy and re-embraced the strength they had once been renowned for, but Zeus himself, Apollo appeared to have now surpassed. In fact, with the comparison right in front of him, Hades suspected that Apollo had not just done as he and Poseidon had managed and rediscovered his old strength, but somehow surpassed his younger days entirely.
Apollo was so obviously more powerful than he’d ever been before, that Hades wondered how he’d missed the extent of it until then.
One thing was also clear: Zeus knew.
It was not fear he was eyeing his son with, but it was resentment and distrust, wrapped up in the mess of paranoia that had been winding itself ever thicker around the king over the past couple of millennia. Anger roiled within his essence, too, the fury of a storm building and waiting to be unleashed.
The thought occurred to Hades that Apollo’s mortal punishment had somehow backfired on Zeus; there was no way in Olympus that Zeus would ever give Apollo power greater than his own, which meant that Apollo’s current, post-punishment self was not a product of Zeus’ intentions, whatever they had been. The lazy amusement on Poseidon’s face supported the theory – Poseidon, too, had once been stripped of his immortality, back when Zeus was actually the most powerful of all and had been capable of striking down even those considered his peers. No doubt he found Zeus’ self-made apparent predicament highly amusing.
Hades found himself more concerned with what Zeus’ intentions had been, but forcibly shoved the thought aside to deal with after the current issue – namely their trip to Tartarus and retrieval of Bob – had been resolved.
“Apollo,” his youngest brother boomed after a moment, clearly deciding to ignore Hades and focus on the son he was no doubt intending on somehow punishing again, for no justifiable reason other than to soothe his own paranoia. Apollo’s posture, already far straighter and less relaxed than it had been since escaping Tartarus, and arguably even within the Pit, stiffened further.
“Father,” he replied, cautiously.
“Explain.” The word was curt, short, and full of heavy expectations whilst giving nothing itself. Typical of his brother, to put the onus on Apollo to do all the work – and, potentially, talk himself into a trap.
Hades had no intention of letting the conversation dance along to Zeus’ tune. Once, perhaps, his brother had been a magnificent musician – indeed, Apollo had got it from somewhere, and that somewhere had not been Koios’ line – but in recent centuries, Zeus had lost the spark he had once had.
“What is there to explain?” he cut in smoothly, silencing Apollo just as his nephew began to say something about a prophecy. “An investigation into Tartarus was warranted, and demigods could not be trusted to survive long enough to succeed. Thus, we elected to go in their place.”
Zeus leaned forwards on his throne, white-knuckled fists clutching the ends of the arms in poorly concealed rage.
“No such investigation was needed,” he ground out, thunder rolling dimly in the sky above. “And if any was required, you do not have the authority to make that decision. You certainly” – his voice raised, loud enough to rival the thunder he summoned – “did not have the authority to bring a titan out. Two titans, in fact.”
So he hadn’t missed Koios’ brief sojourn into the Overworld. Hades supposed it had been too much to ask that it would have somehow passed beneath his notice, especially as Artemis had clearly been alerted immediately. He observed the goddess in question out of the corner of his eye, perched on her silver throne silently but a presence nonetheless.
There were more Olympians present than he had expected. Poseidon’s presence alone was a surprise – while he had the free reign to travel to Olympus as he wished, a matter Hades could admit made him sore, his water-residing brother usually preferred to distance himself from Zeus’ inane whims. Artemis was perhaps predictable, given her own involvement, but her neighbouring goddess was far more unexpected.
Wise enough to know that she ought to keep her mouth shut while Zeus was in one of his temper tantrums, Athena sat back regally in her throne, observing the proceedings with her sharp silver eyes. For the most part, she seemed particularly interested in Bob and Apollo, but Hades did not miss his niece’s searching gaze as it brushed over his presence, as well. Perhaps Zeus was not the only one surprised to see him there.
Hestia, as always, tended to her hearth, human-sized and meek – a far cry from the fierce eldest sister Hades knew she could be, or had been once a millennia ago, when it was their generation against their predecessors – while on the other end of the temperamental scale, Hera was straight-backed on her throne beside Zeus, a black veil doing nothing to hide her eagle eyes.
It seemed that of those of them that had fought the titans twice, only Demeter had abstained from making an appearance – no doubt more interested in spending time with her daughter during the summer months than an informal, half-attended, Olympian council. Hades did not know how well that fared for Zeus’ temper, or whatever decision would be made regarding Bob’s departure from Tartarus, but he suspected he and Apollo were not the ones outnumbered.
Poseidon delighted in causing trouble for their youngest brother. He and Hades may have their own brotherly issues, but the more self-important Zeus styled himself, the more they pushed back. Despite her caution and scolding earlier, Hades would likewise be very surprised if Artemis truly sided against her twin, and Hera and Zeus had argued more than they had ever made up throughout their marriage, while Hestia had always been determinedly neutral against inter-sibling conflicts.
The only true unknown was Athena, wise in council but always Zeus’ favourite daughter, and too smart to jeopardise her position as such unnecessarily.
It was good odds in Apollo’s favour, but that did not mean it would translate into a favourable outcome. Cornered animals had a rightful reputation for danger, and Hades would not hesitate in using that term to describe his brother right then.
“Koios no longer lives,” he reminded Zeus – if he had seen his arrival, then he must have seen his departure as well. He would not have taken his eyes off of the titan for as long as he considered him a threat. “Your own children saw well enough to that.”
Sky blue eyes, flickering with the searing white of furious lightning, glanced over at Artemis before focusing back on Apollo.
“Indeed,” he allowed, “although he should never have been permitted the opportunity to reach it in the first place.” Zeus really could never let a point go until it was in his favour. “That does not, however, explain why the second titan is standing before me, in the heart of Olympus, right now, Hades. Do not think I missed who led Iapetus here.”
“Bob,” the titan interjected, taking a step closer as all eyes fell upon him. It placed him directly between Hades and Apollo, using them as an honour guard – or perhaps simply as guards, although for whose benefit it was impossible to say. “I do not go by the name Iapetus anymore.”
Hades was not sure that intentionally drawing Zeus’ attention was a particularly smart move on the titan’s behalf, but what was done was done and Bob stood straight and uncowed as Zeus loomed over him.
“You expect me to believe that you have changed your name?” he demanded, sprites of lightning flickering into existence around his head. “Or, perhaps, that changing your name changes your nature? I remember you, Iapetus the Piercer. I remember the ichor that stained the shaft of your spear. I remember the bite of that spear, and you expect me to believe that you are not that same titan I once fought against?” Zeus was almost spitting in his rage. “You are an immortal, Iapetus, and immortals do not change.”
“Do not change, or will not change?” Bob asked, all too calm for someone in the eye of the violent storm that was a furious Zeus, although Hades could feel the light in his essence, feel the strength in Apollo’s, and saw his point. Immortals could change, it appeared, for all that change was an unlooked-for and often unwelcomed guest. “What is stopping you? Fear? Are you afraid of what you might become, if you accept change into your existence?”
Lightning flashed, an explosion of thunder in Hades’ ear as the Master Bolt hurtled at the titan. He felt Apollo’s essence flinch at its proximity, despite not being its target, and fought to keep himself from either going to his nephew’s side or retaliating against his brother at the realisation that Apollo would only fear the bolt if he knew first-hand what it could do to him.
Hades knew that it had struck at least one of Apollo’s children, yes, but he had never known that Zeus had struck the god directly.
This time, the target had not been Apollo – or Hades himself, who had also found himself on the receiving end of his brother’s flashy temper although held nothing but contempt for the bolt, rather than any degree of fear – but Bob.
The titan, too, had endured the business end of the bolt on more than one occasion, during that same Titanomachy Zeus was referring to, but not even the Elder Cyclopes had created a weapon that could obliterate a titan in a single hit. Bob remained on his feet, seemingly hardly fazed by the attack despite tendrils of smoke curling up from his skin, and met Zeus’ gaze calmly. “I do not recall you being a coward, when you poisoned me and deceived Kronos into expelling your siblings from his stomach,” he said.
That was pushing Zeus too far, and Hades stepped forwards, blocking the titan from Zeus’ immediate view. Apollo was almost immediately beside him, the faintest of wavers in his essence that Hades would not have been able to notice if he had not become intimately knowledgeable about his nephew’s essence in Tartarus betraying his nerves.
“Enough,” he said, sending Bob a warning glare before facing his brother once more. “There is no need to keep exchanging insults like children.”
“Aww,” Poseidon complained, lounging obscenely in his fisherman’s chair. “You spoil the fun, Hades.” Unimpressed, Hades levelled him with a flat glare.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Should you not be frolicking with dolphins in your overlarge swimming pool?”
“And miss out on this spectacle?” Poseidon laughed. “Not a chance, brother. Besides, I have business with… Bob.”
Quick as the lightning he threw, Zeus turned his attention to the throne beside his. “You do?” he growled, the sound echoing around the throne room lowly. “Poseidon-”
Poseidon waved a hand carelessly. “Peace, brother. It is simply that, if I am not much mistaken, this is the same Bob that my son mentioned saved his life in Tartarus.”
“Not just Perseus,” Athena spoke, drawing attention to herself for the first time, “nor even my daughter, Annabeth.” Her grey eyes, the smouldering of smoke after a fire, raked over the titan behind Hades curiously. “In assisting our children, he released the Doors of Death from their chains and thereby made it possible for Olympus to win the war against Gaia. It is Olympus itself he helped to protect, and I find myself curious as to why.”
“Why does not matter,” Zeus snapped. “He is a titan-”
“As is Mother,” Hera pointed out, apparently fearless in overriding her husband. Hades suspected the mourner’s veil she wore had something to do with it; he had not missed the son of Jupiter’s entrance into his domain, complete with Juno’s influence upon him. “There are many titans we have allowed to roam free, Zeus.”
“And not just peaceful ones,” Poseidon added before Zeus could protest that Rhea had never done them wrong – a point that Hades would have, unfortunately, had to concede if he had. “Oceanus continues to persist as he pleases despite actively working against us” – me, Hades was certain he truly meant, well aware that Poseidon had been left unaided against the eldest titan – “during Father’s recent attempt to destroy Olympus.” His eyes, the roiling blue green of wind-whisked waves, seemed to bore through Hades and Apollo to focus on Bob. “If Olympus allows him his freedom, why does it deny a titan that actively aided it the same boon?”
Because Oceanus was old and powerful enough that Olympus could not be sure of victory, Hades suspected. The titan had had millennia to consolidate his court within the seas; it was not a flimsy support like the ones Kronos had attempted to build for himself, it was an entire empire. Poseidon, at the least, had been fortunate that Oceanus had decided to retreat when Kronos fell rather than continue to press the advantage he had been gifted with when Poseidon had been forced to abandon Atlantis to aid their brethren against Typhon. If Oceanus had sustained the assault, Poseidon’s dominion over the seas might well have been obliterated for good, leaving Olympus down a powerful god and Oceanus with a far, far larger support base.
Bob, however, had none of that. He had no allies amongst the titans – although admittedly he might kindle some in time, but with the exception of Oceanus, none of those left to roam free had ever showed designs against Olympus, so Hades saw no likely issue there – and no base to use in an attempt to consolidate power. He was, quite simply, not a credible threat to Olympus.
“I would hear Bob’s reasons for saving my son,” Poseidon continued, “and Olympus, as Athena says.”
Zeus, Hades realised, was completely outnumbered. With even the sensible Athena cautiously rebutting his reasons for paranoia, the king of the gods was finding his hands rather tied – and he could see from the terseness with which Zeus shifted in his throne that his youngest brother was well aware of the fact. It was, in some way, a cause for concern – Zeus would not take this laying down, for all that he would be a fool to keep pushing when Poseidon at the least was determined to push back with at least equal pressure, and Hades himself was not going to take the younger god’s tantrums laying down, either. There would be retribution somewhere, somehow.
He was not the only one to have noticed the ticking bomb they were taunting; Apollo was uncharacteristically quiet, and Artemis was poised to leap into fight or flight at the slightest provocation. Athena, too, having said her piece, had also faded back into obscurity on her grey throne, allowing Poseidon to take the lead in their arguments – an alliance that barely a decade ago would have been unthinkable, although perhaps it was not a surprise that she would still set Poseidon up to take the brunt of Zeus’ wrath.
Then again, three of the gods currently in the throne room were currently more powerful than Zeus, and Poseidon was one of them.
“The demigods showed me mercy,” Bob began. “Percy, Nico, and the Hunter with them – Thalia, I was told was her name, although I have not seen her since falling into the Lethe.”
Zeus twitched, either unaware of his own daughter’s involvement in the situation, or unhappy that it had been brought to light. Out of the three demigods in question, Hades distinctly remembered that she was the only one with the sensible reaction to the amnesiac titan, while the two boys – and Nico, especially – had been rather less cautious. If Bob had been less amicable, she would likely have been the only one to survive.
“Then, I was shown kindness,” the titan continued. “Not just from the demigods, but gods that had every right to hate me. I learned kindness, and mercy. I will not lie and say my motivation was to help Olympus, but it was to help the demigods who chose to trust in me, even when they feared me. I had no wish to see any of them die in Tartarus.”
“Those demigods-” Zeus began, only for Poseidon to once again talk over him.
“Those demigods have saved Olympus twice in as many years,” the sea god said, his eyes flickering dangerously, as though daring Zeus to ignore the truth. “Were it not for my son, Athena’s daughter, and even Hades’ son, Olympus would have fallen twice over. They are loyal to the gods.”
That was an interesting way of wording it, Hades thought, privately amused at the thought of Nico’s reaction at being called loyal to the gods. His son’s loyalty was, first and foremost, to those that he formed bonds with. Hades was well aware that Nico was not loyal to him, for all that they had reached a non-hostile relationship with each other that at times managed to border amicable, although Apollo was potentially a different matter. Zeus was certainly not on the shortlist.
It was, however, undeniable that every time Olympus had found itself in need, the demigods had answered. Not even Zeus could deny that, and his youngest brother settled back on his throne.
“Very well,” he allowed, as though he had any real control over Poseidon’s words. Hades did nothing to puncture the air of authority he was desperately pulling back; while he would not allow Zeus to harm Apollo – who had taken a step back while Bob spoke and was now hovering almost unobtrusively behind them, not openly hiding but doing his best to deflect his father’s temper away from him – or indeed any of Apollo’s loved ones in a more roundabout way of punishing him, it would do them no good to push Zeus further than necessary.
He was volatile enough already.
“Against my better judgement, I will not send you back into the Pit where you stand,” the king of the gods continued, as though Bob had not already withstood a blast from the Master Bolt. “However, I will not allow you to walk freely. Athena or Artemis shall observe your movements at all times.”
Neither goddess seemed enamoured with the decision, but nor did they seem surprised. Hades was not, either; out of those present, they were the ones least distrusted by Zeus. He and Artemis were the only two that had never taken part in a direct challenge to Zeus’ rule, although Athena had managed to talk her way out of trouble, and the days of Zeus trusting him with anything, especially the supervision of something that he saw as a threat, were long past. It would not surprise Hades in the slightest if Zeus feared that, should he return Bob to Hades’ domain, out of his sight, they would begin to scheme against him.
His paranoia might already think they’d started.
“I trust the two of you will co-operate with each other and not allow it to get in the way of your other duties,” Zeus continued, and both goddesses bobbed their heads briefly.
“Yes, Father,” they chorused, glancing at each other just long enough to acknowledge the other but nothing else.
If Bob had any thoughts on his chaperones for the foreseeable future, he didn’t voice them, although he nodded at the pair of goddesses in acknowledgement. The piercing look he got in return from Artemis proved that she had not forgotten their earlier encounter outside the Necromanteion, and would be observing him to ensure he held true to his words.
“You are dismissed,” Zeus told the titan bluntly. “Leave, before I change my mind.” He gestured towards the door in a sweeping gesture, and Bob needed no further prompting.
“I will go to find Percy and Annabeth now,” he told Hades as he turned; on his throne, Poseidon leaned forwards, summoned by the name of his son. “I will endeavour to make myself easy for Nico to find, should he wish.” With at least one goddess on his tail, they both knew that the titan would not be able to return to the Underworld for the time being, and Hades inclined his head in acknowledgement as the titan strode away, out of the room.
Artemis and Athena disappeared in a shimmer of silver and grey without saying anything else, and Hades caught Apollo glancing at his twin’s throne wistfully before his nephew’s attention snapped back to the dangerous aura in the room.
Poseidon, it appeared, had decided he’d had enough of their brother’s presence – presumably, he had only been interested in Bob’s fate, and now that had been decreed, he did not care to linger longer. His throne emptied with a wash of seawater, leaving Hades and Apollo to face Zeus and Hera.
They had not been dismissed, Hades noticed, and Zeus did not appear inclined to let them go without throwing a more private and pointed temper tantrum.
“Hera, Hestia, leave us,” he ordered. “I will speak with Hades and Apollo alone.” Hera sniffed, offended at the dismissal, but disappeared in a shower of peacock feathers nonetheless. Hestia’s departure was far more demure; an extra flicker from her hearth and she was gone, no doubt instead at the sister-hearth of Camp Half-Blood.
Apollo moved to stand level with Hades again – next to him, and Hades wondered whether it was to present a united front to Zeus or if there was another reason for their resumed proximity, not that he had issue with it.
“You had no authority to raise a titan from the Pit,” Zeus growled, his anger sparking around him again. Without an audience, he seemed less interested in controlling his reactions. “Apollo, ever since you selected a new Pythia, Delphi has given nothing but rushed prophecies that continue to undermine Olympus and I. If you do not stop allowing that girl to speak of such things, I will have to intervene.”
He said intervene in a way that sounded a lot like destroy the Pythia or even strip you of your domain, a fact that clearly did not go unnoticed by Apollo as the younger god’s eyes flickered Phlegethon orange once more. Having once cursed the Pythia himself, and recently at that, Hades found distaste at the idea of another young woman ending up in a similar situation. He still did not like prophecies, no matter how lovingly Apollo talked about them and their endless possibilities, but he could acknowledge that perhaps the cursing of the Pythia for attempting to protect the di Angelos had been an ill-thought action. It certainly hadn’t stopped Delphi from issuing prophecies as and when it pleased.
“Father, I do not control the timing of prophecies, nor their content,” Apollo reminded him, although Hades could tell the words were falling on obtuse ears. Zeus had convinced himself otherwise, and the son he feared and distrusted would never be able to persuade him to hear the truth. “They are spoken when they are meant to be.”
“Enough!” Zeus thundered, and Apollo immediately snapped his mouth shut. Hades took a minute step sideways, not quite far enough to be touching his nephew, but close enough to remind Apollo that he was not alone against his father’s wrath. “This does not even consider your other transgression.”
He stood up, a little bit taller than the twenty feet the gods usually took as their stature, likely to guarantee that he towered over even Hades, who had always been the lither yet taller god.
“You interfered,” he proclaimed, thunder rolling around them. “Taking on a quest in the place of a demigod – do you even care how many of the Ancient Laws you trampled across in the process? Those Laws exist for a reason, Apollo. They serve to prevent interference in mortal affairs, and to ensure the balance of power is not shifted too far.”
Lightning crackled.
“Had the demigods gone, as they should, the titans would never have escaped,” Zeus continued. “By interfering, you changed something that should not have been changed, and now the stability of Olympus is at risk. Iapetus twice tried to destroy Olympus, and yet you welcomed him into the heart of it with open arms!” A bolt struck the ground close to Apollo’s throne, and the god in question flinched.
Hades had had enough.
“Brother,” he said firmly. “Bob is no threat to Olympus, and even if he becomes one in time, he is a single titan against our entire might. You have no reason to fear him, and acting as though you do makes you appear weak.”
“Weak?” Zeus seethed. “The darkness you hide in has blinded you, brother.”
The words stung, but Hades refused to let it show and give Zeus the satisfaction when they both knew that he did not reside near-solely in the darkness by choice, but rather but that same brother’s own decree.
“The darkness allows me to see what truly dwells in its depths,” he replied instead, “and of those, Bob is inconsequential.”
“A boon,” a new voice – one Hades had not heard in millennia – rasped lightly.
“A new soldier,” said a second.
“For Olympus,” finished the third.
The Fates emerged from nowhere, their strings clutched tightly in their grasp.
“What is the meaning of this?” Zeus demanded, as the three wizened crones clustered by Hestia’s hearth.
“The rise of the titan was inevitable,” Clotho assured them. In her hands, a silver string wove itself into existence. “Yesterday, today, tomorrow. The when was inconsequential, but the how was not.”
“Raised by gods to save the gods,” Lachesis murmured, almost to herself rather than the three gods held in the thrall of their appearance. “Raised by demigods to save the demigods. Not raised by titans to save the titans, now.”
Hades felt rather than saw Zeus leave his dais and come to stand next to him, near-mesmerised by the Fates. Daughters of Nyx, primordial in a way that the gods could never match, not even his brother ruled over them, for all that he had been known to pretend otherwise.
“What does that mean?” Zeus barked, metaphorical feathers well and truly ruffled by the words.
“Bob will aid Olympus in her time of need,” Atropos proclaimed. “Because Olympus aided him.”
It was not a prophecy. Prophecies were slippery, convoluted, and could mean any one of a myriad of possibilities at any given moment, according to Apollo, who was wide-eyed beside him. Hades almost wondered if the god of prophecy was seeing anything, or if he was simply overwhelmed by the pure, simple, Fact of Fate.
Olympus aided Bob, so Bob would aid Olympus.
It almost felt too simple, given the trials he and Apollo had gone through to retrieve the titan from Tartarus, but for all he hated – still hated – prophecies, Hades could no more defy Fate than anyone else.
Between one moment and the next, the Fates disappeared, their message delivered. Zeus jerked, as if only just realising that he had stepped down to join Hades and Apollo standing on the floor like mere gods and not the king of the gods, but did not back away.
“It appears the Fates have decreed your ill advised sojourn a boon for the future of Olympus,” he said, sounding like he had tasted something foul. “That does not mean I approve of your actions,” because of course Zeus could not admit he might have been wrong about something. It had been smart of the Fates, Hades mused, to wait until they had no further audience to intervene, else Zeus would have become apocalyptic.
As it was, he was clearly furious at being corrected in front of Hades and Apollo – two gods he had not trusted in millennia. “There will be no repeat of this,” he ordered. “The Ancient Laws are not to be broken, and I will not suffer any more offences, do you understand me?”
It was Apollo he glared at, as though Apollo was the one most likely to break it again. Hades supposed he was not wrong; the entire quest had been Apollo’s planning, for all that it had been Hades’ own, free choice to return to the Pit himself. His son shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes, Father,” he murmured.
“I do not care to meddle with mortal affairs further,” Hades said before Zeus could either pin him with his crackling glare, or gloss over him as though his words did not matter. He saw no reason why he would, regardless, at least, not unless Nico ended up in a similarly dire situation and intervention was necessary, but he hoped the Fates would spare his son from any further hardship; he had been though more than enough already.
There was no need to antagonise Zeus over it further.
“See that you do not,” Zeus muttered in a way that was clearly supposed to be ominous, then disappeared in a flash of lightning.
Apollo sighed, the sound ever so slightly shaky.
“That went better than I expected,” he said, tone deceptively light. Hades snorted.
“We were fortunate,” he said, glancing at Poseidon’s empty throne. Without the presence of his other brother, deliberately antagonising Zeus and dividing his attention, things could have gone very differently. Hades was still certain that Zeus would not have been able to inflict any real damage upon them, but there were other ways to cause grief. “Come, let us leave before my brother decides he is not feeling so merciful, after all.” Not that mercy was truly accurate a term for the situation, but he was well aware that on Olympus, in the heart of the sky that was Zeus’ domain, his brother was still no doubt capable of hearing everything that they said.
Apollo did not even hesitate to follow Hades as he swept his way out of the throne room and down the streets of Olympus until he reached the locked door to the Underworld. No doubt, he was eager to see his sons again, now that the threat of his father’s retribution had lessened somewhat.
Not completely – Zeus’ paranoia would not be completely overridden by the Fates’ words. He had fallen too far into its clutches over the millennia, far enough that Hades did not think it was possible for him to climb back out again. But somewhat, enough to allow a respite as they slipped away from the whites of Olympus and returned to the darkness of the Underworld.
