Apollo 13

The following story is a Camp Half Blood fan-fiction set in a hypothetical future after the Trials of Apollo series. It takes place in 2056, shortly after Dionysus has been released from Camp Half Blood. Apollo has become a god again. All rights to the Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, and Trials of Apollo series belong to Rick Riordan.

I was woken up in the middle of the night by a strange light.

“Whoa man, you just got claimed” said a Hermes kid.

“By who?”

“Apollo.”

“Alright...”

“Aren’t you happy? Apollo is awesome.”

“Uh, yeah… right. Yes. Happy.”

“You don’t sound happy.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not. My Dad’s the god of thieves and liars. Do you have any idea what that has done to my reputation?”

“Do you deserve that reputation?”

The kid looked offended. “Of course not.” I’m honest. I don’t steal anything. I just happen to look like an elf!”

“Have you even been claimed?”

“No, I don’t have to be, it’s obvious.”

Hermes suddenly appeared. “Claimed.”

“I am nothing like you, though!”

“No, you are everything like me.”

“But...”

“Give it time...”

The daughter of Hermes looked enraged. Hermes vanished.

I went over to my bed and packed my things.

A few weeks later, I dreamed an entire day. The day seemed to go by in fast motion, but when I woke up, I had the weirdest attack of de ja vu, because the actual day seemed to be my dream in slow motion.

The next day, there was a kit on my bed entitled. “So you have the gift of prophecy”. The note attached to it referred to Hermes’ mail company. The information in the kit said to never tell anyone my predictions or interfere in their fulfillment. To do so would be to interfere with the will of the gods.

Reading this, I realized that fate was rigged, and that it didn’t work as I had suspected. The kit contained information on other people who’d had the gift of prophecy including an old man named “Halcyon Green”. This man had been severely punished for telling others his predictions so that they could avert their fate. Avert fate? This I hadn’t thought possible. I had somehow assumed that either all or some of the future was a “fixed point in time” like in Doctor Who, as soon as I learned that the Fates were real. It didn’t occur to me that the system was not only rigged, but rigged so weakly that a prophet like me could even interfere. Well… I shouldn’t consider myself a prophet. Not when I’m not allowed to tell anyone my predictions ever.

It was ages before we got a quest, but when we finally did, my boyfriend Peter and I (my boyfriend being my cousin or possible half-brother, he hadn’t been claimed), were asked to go on a ship called the “Glory of Hera”.

“Eh? Why is it called that?” I asked.

“Have you not heard of Hercules?” Chiron asked.

We got on the ship.

Our quest was to go fetch Hercules, who’d been sulking. Personally, I suspected there was more to it than that.

“What do they need Hercules for right now any way?” I asked Peter.

“No idea. I’ve heard strange things about him.” Peter replied.

“Oh?” I responded.

“He hates being a god.” Peter replied.

“Even with all his power?” I responded.

“He doesn’t have much power relative to the other gods, and possibly has PTSD because he’s trapped with his own memories of murdering his first wife.” Peter responded.

“That must be why he’s gone missing.” I said.

“Maybe...” Peter replied.

“You don’t think he’s been kidnapped, do you?” I asked.

“Doubtful. He’s very difficult to capture.” Peter replied.

“Maybe he committed suicide.” I responded.

“Impossible.” Peter said.

“Can’t the gods fade?” I asked.

“Hercules can’t. Too many people are maintaining him through belief.” Peter responded.

“But almost no one believes in him.” I said.

“His domain is over-powered though. The gods draw power through their domains as well. As long as he is needed, worship of him will continue. Also, worship isn’t even necessary to keep him alive. All that is necessary is that someone thinks of him, and mortals think of him all the time without even believing in him.” Peter replied.

“This logic implies Santa Claus is real, but if Santa were real, then parents wouldn’t have to buy gifts for their children.” I said.

“Perhaps Santa is simultaneously real and lazy.” Peter joked.

“Heh.”

“Not every ‘belief-being’, as I have decided to call them, is real, but I can’t figure out why.” Peter said.

“I can’t either.” I responded.

“Maybe magic is involved. Maybe Hecate has to bless the “belief operation” or something.” Peter said.

“Or it has to do with the domains. Since there is no domain for Santa to control, seeing as everyone buys the gifts themselves, he has no power to manifest.” I replied. Then I got an idea.

“There was a certain Doctor Who episode though… yeah, I know… that implied that Santa may nevertheless have power over dreams.” I said.

“How?” Peter asked.

“Possibly by manipulating monsters, or by being an archetype of the human subconscious, or being a real person that can only manifest within people’s dreams. In that episode he was said to be real and gift-giving though.” I replied.

“Maybe he only gives gifts to people who actually need them.” Peter said.

“Or maybe he’s not real, and magic really is involved in creating gods.” I replied.

“No, you can’t just “invent” a god. The only gods I heard of either started life as immortals or real mortals.” Peter responded.

“Right, but I think they were originally perceived through visions, which mortals don’t credit with any validity. Maybe all gods start life as archetypes.” I said.

“Then what is to stop every single imaginary friend from becoming real?” Peter said.

“Perhaps they are?” I replied.

“I doubt it.” Peter responded.

“Gods without enough belief sustaining them can’t take physical form anyway.” I said.

“Maybe no god is “invented”, but you could create one with a blessing from Hecate, or magical powers or something.” said Peter.

“Maybe.” I replied.

“I doubt it.” said Peter.

“Oh, but it’s too beautiful not to be true.” I replied. “In theory, Hecate shouldn’t even be necessary if the idea gains enough power. Honestly, I think the Doctor might be real.”

“I doubt he’s real in our universe.” Peter responded. “You know what? Even so, I find “false gods” significant. I’m Jewish and so are you. Our God and angels may be false gods, but they are nevertheless important to me.”

“To me as well.” I replied.

“Really?”

“Yes.” I said.

“But you sacrifice to the Greek gods all the time. You violate the First Commandment.” Peter pointed out.

“Oh contraire. That commandment says no gods “before Me”. I hold no gods in my heart before Adonai.” I replied.

“In theory, you would only worship the Greek gods to save your own life.” Peter pointed out.

“Since finding out I was a demigod who would get chased by monsters, I’ve found it wiser to pray to them.” I replied. “Besides, monsters isn’t the only problem, if not given their due honor, gods can tear your entire world down.”

“That makes sense.” Peter agreed.

“Do you think God is mad at me for worshiping them?” I asked.

“I doubt it. He knows us all intimately and is merciful. Also he probably isn’t real in the same sense the gods are.” Peter responded.

“That’s just it. Our God is not a physical being, and therefore wouldn’t exist physically anyway.” I pointed out.

“Maybe God is the author of our story.” Peter mused.

“Maybe that author is not Jewish, but Christian… or an atheist.” I wondered.

“Maybe.” Peter said.

“But couldn’t you conjure the God of our universe the same way?” I asked.

“Perhaps that’s what prophets have done.” Peter replied.

“Even so, the cosmology of our universe doesn’t allow for...” I started.

“God as the author would be beyond space and time.” Peter replied, cutting me off mid-sentence.

“True. Perhaps there is no God except Chaos, and “God” is just a metaphor for the morality principle.” I said.

“We have a titan for that though. Themis.” Peter pointed out.

“True.” I said.

That night, I had a dream that a shiny blob attacked Peter. He died, and I woke up with a start.

On the way to Hercules’ island we came upon another island that we’d have to cross (the waters around it were too turbulent to sail through. While walking on that island I kept noticing a shiny blob. In my mind’s eye, this blob had an appearance, he looked like a dragon with the skin of a crusty brown toad.

Peter noticed it too, but we both kept walking, deciding not to draw it out in the open, fearing that doing so would lead it to attack us directly.

All of a sudden, the shiny blob ambushed Peter. I felt as if time slowed down. In a flash, I grabbed two arrows from my quiver and stabbed the dragon in both its eyes.

The dragon exploded into dust.

“Thanks man!” Peter said.

Suddenly my father appeared. He looked livid.

“You dare defy fate?” he asked calmly, his eyes flashing blue murder.

“Yes.” I replied with equal calmness. I was surprised at my own composure. “I defied fate to save Peter’s life.”

“Were you not warned?” Apollo asked. “You have the gift of prophecy. All of your predictions must come true.”

“This one mustn’t. Peter is my boyfriend.”

“That’s irrelevant. You can’t defy fate.” His face was an impassive stone.

“What did I just do then?” I asked with a smirk.

My father got even angrier. It was at that point that I had an idea:

“Hey Dad, why don’t you just kill me?”

“What.”

“Why don’t you just kill me, so I can become a god?”

“What makes you think you’ll become a god if you die?”

“That’s how it works in Greek myths, isn’t it? When a god kills he deifies, always.”

“Not always. That’s just the myths you’ve heard. It doesn’t always happen that way.”

“No?”

“What makes you think you even deserve to be a god?”

“Nothing. But someone needs to be the god of what I want to be the god of. Someone needs to be the god of free will.”

“You heroes already have free will! You can challenge anyone--”

“But we prophets don’t! Every time you have a child with the gift of prophecy, they die horribly! And it’s always because they couldn’t change fate! They are always punished for speaking their predictions or entrapped by destiny! There may be a god of prophecy but there is no patron of prophets!”

“Hercules is a god of oracles...” Peter said, cutting in.

“But not the god of the prophets who must keep silent! I was shown the story of Halcyon Green. A person with the gift of prophecy can only talk if they are the chosen Oracle. Otherwise they must keep silent, and can’t even save their friends! That is a free will violation! We heroes must have the free will to be heroes whether we have the gift of prophecy or not! It is unfair otherwise!”

“Life is unfair” Apollo muttered.

“Look, if you’re not going to deify me, then at least deify Halcyon Green! He deserves it more than I do anyway.”

Apollo paused. “You are Halcyon Green.”

“What.”

“You’re his reincarnation. That’s the whole reason you have the gift of prophecy. You and he are the exact same soul. I can’t deify Halcyon Green at this stage without deifying you as well.”

“Why would he reincarnate, after all this time?”

“He was on his second incarnation. The first incarnation was Cassandra, princess of Troy. Both lives earned you Elysium, Steven, but you always tried again. If you prove your worth in this life you will earn your right to reside in the Isle of the Blessed.”

“Nice.”

“That means obeying me. That means obeying the will of the gods. I wont tolerate anymore of your nonsense.”

I paused. “Do I have to keep going on quests?”

“No, but if you don’t I don’t see how you’ll end up in the Isle of the Blessed.”

“So I’m just supposed to let my comrades die then.”

“If that is the will of the fates… yes.”

“What happens if I don’t make it into the Isle? Do I go back to Elysium?”

“No, you go to Asphodel Meadows.”

“After all the hard work of my past lives?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Apollo vanished.

After that conversation, I decided that the Isle of Blessed just wasn’t worth it. Not if I ever again had to risk losing Peter or any of the ones I loved. I never thought I could truly love anyone. I mean sure, I love my Mom, but I don’t feel much emotion for her at this stage and could lose her easily. Particularly now that I know there’s an afterlife for her.

But I could never stand to lose my friends.

I didn’t think I could make friends as good as the ones I made when I came here. I was born with nonverbal learning disorder, a hybrid between ADHD and Asperger Syndrome. Though I am not dyslexic, I am mildly autistic. I also have the wrong sort of ADHD. Instead of seeing too much, I really do see too little unless you count my mind’s eye, which is able to see through mist better than anyone. The price of course being that I can’t actually see through mist as well as the other demigods can. I have found that my battle reflexes improve dramatically when I simply see with my spirit instead of my five senses. This isn’t how it works with any of the other demigods and I have no idea why I’m different in this regard. I have no idea why I’m the only Greek demigod without dyslexia.

After this incident I became depressed, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I had found out the hard way that my father wasn’t a safe father to have, that unlike a mortal parent he might literally kill me for misbehaving. Or worse yet, he might fail to protect me from harsh punishments meted out by the other gods. I wasn’t safe here.

I tried to convince myself that this didn’t matter, because you are never really safe. That’s what the Doctor said to Clara when he said goodbye to her: “You’re never safe.”

Even so, my body couldn’t accept it. One night, I woke up in tears, but I couldn’t remember crying.

I tried to tell myself everything would be okay, but I couldn’t remember how to speak. My consciousness was becoming increasingly cloudy. I was very scared but I couldn’t will myself to move. I gradually fell into a trance and started floating through the air. I wasn’t surprised to be floating, I was that out of it, but it was the first time I had done so, and turned out to be a power of mine.

The next thing I remember is that I was on a bus in my a sweater out of the backpack and put it on to cover my pajamas. I pulled shoes out of my backpack and put them on. It seemed that in my trance I had somehow had the presence of mind to pack, but now I had no idea where I was.

“Excuse me?” I asked the bus driver. “Where is this bus going?”

“San Francisco.”

“How close are we?”

“Just a few more miles.”

What.

I squinted and read the bus driver’s aura. Yep. He was a satyr. A hat covered his horns, but the aura of a satyr is obvious. For one thing, their fur smells like barnyard animal. Even if they keep especially clean, they still have that goat aura.

When I got off the bus, I tried to take stock of what to do. I couldn’t remember why I’d come here, perhaps a god had mind-controlled me into going to Camp Jupiter. Perhaps I’d myself wanted to go there, but at this point all I could think of was seeing my mother.

I’d never missed her more.

Oh sure, she wasn’t a perfect mother. She was a narcissist and a space case. She’d conceived me after having a one night stand. It seemed she was smart enough to attract a god, but not a decent enough person to keep one. She wasn’t like Sally Jackson. She was far more human.

Not to say she was negligent or abusive or anything. She was fine. But I’m not sure she made the right judgment calls, when raising me. When I was bullied in school, and I said “I don’t want to go to school anymore” she agreed to take me out and home-school me.

In retrospect, I think that was a mistake. In retrospect, I might have been able to develop better socially while in school.

It’s really hard to tell though, considering I was able to have the advantage of a more manageable workload while studying at home. My mother says if I get good grades at a junior college it won’t matter that I never went to high school. (I left school when I turned twelve).

I was about to go to Camp Jupiter when I remembered what it was like. They tattooed you and had wolves attack you just to get in there. I wasn’t big on being wolf food, so I decided to head back home. I took the Grey Sister’s taxi.

When I returned, I walked into my cabin only to find that my counselor was furious with me.

“Where were you?” We’ve been worried sick!” he yelled.

“Do I know you?” I asked blearily.

“We haven’t been introduced, but don’t think I’m not aware of who lives in this cabin.” he said.

“You’ve been away.” I replied.

“Glad you actually noticed.” he replied sarcastically.

His aura seemed identical to that of my Dad, so for a moment I wondered if it was my Dad in disguise. I put the idea out of my head because it would be embarrassing if I asked and I was wrong.

My boyfriend had also been worried, but he thankfully didn’t give me crap about running away. I explained the situation to him, and he thankfully understood.

“You know what I wish?” I asked him.

“What?” he responded.

“Remember when I told Apollo that Halcyon Green should be made a god who advocated for the rights of prophets, and he told me I literally was Halcyon Green?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what if I actually managed to become a god?”

A sister of mine named Elizabeth walked up to us.

“What’s this about becoming a god?” she asked.

“I wish I was a god.” I replied. “I wish I was the patron of prophets.”

“Isn’t Dad already the god of prophecy?”

“By ‘patron’ I mean advocate. We need someone to advocate for those with the gift of prophecy. I have it, and so did both of my past lives. Dad forbid my last past life and I from sharing our predictions, lest we “give away too much too soon” and prevent fate from happening has it was originally ordained. I wish I was the god who could advocate for people with the gift and enable them to give away their predictions without fearing the gods’ wrath.”

“Do you really think you’d be able to break the “give nothing away” rule?” Elizabeth asked.

“Perhaps not, but even so, we need an advocate and I think I’m the one to do it.”

“If you say so...” Elizabeth said. She developed a mischievous smile.

“You a legacy of Hermes?” I asked.

“Unfortunately.” she replied. “I’d rather be a legacy of Hecate. That way I’d be able to do real magic instead of all these magic feather spells.”

“Magic feather spells?”

“Casting spells as a mortal. It shouldn’t work in theory.”

“Maybe it works if Hecate wills it to.”

“That isn’t magic, that’s praying. The gods don’t usually respond to the prayers one casts magic for. Magic is about enacting your own will, which doesn’t necessarily conform to the will of the gods.”

“I’m not sure the gods want to be bothered with all your whims and wishes.” Peter quipped.

“I know, that’s the problem! I wish I could cast real magic like the Hecate kids.”

“Any mortal can cast chain reaction magic” I said.

“Eh?”

“Chain reaction magic. Or perhaps I should call it chaos magic. It’s more of a Hermes thing than a Hecate thing, so you might be better at it. It has to do with getting what you want by provoking natural chain reactions.”

“Can those even be tracked?”

“Surprisingly well, actually.”

“Wouldn’t tracking the chain reaction make it seem less magical?” Peter asked.

“It’s sort of like being a magician.” I responded. “You want to be in on your own trick, even if no one else is.”

“Do you keep track?” Elizabeth asked.

“At least some of the time, to make sure it’s working.” I replied.

“I guess that’s what I do.” Elizabeth said. “I guess it’s pretty magical after all!”

“Depends on what you mean by magic. I spell chaos magic ‘magick’ to distinguish it from Hecate’s real magic. It’s not actually the same thing I’m afraid.”

“Maybe Hecate controls both.” Elizabeth replied.

“I doubt it. I think Hermes controls what I described. You being a legacy of Hermes may give you talent at chain reaction magic.”

“I hope so” Elizabeth replied. She looked relieved. Perhaps she was relieved to hear that what she was doing actually meant something.

After that, I went on a few more quests, but I kept having to let people die, which made me feel guilty. Eventually, I stopped going on quests all together, to stop that from happening, but I could still see who would die, and I felt guilty about not being able to warn them. As the time went by, my powers increased. I started floating in more and more places, and my anxiety about not warning people of their fates went down. I suppose that was because I was growing up.

I didn’t feel like I was maturing though, so much as evolving into an alien. The older I got, the less human I felt. When I turned eighteen, I still looked seventeen. I hadn’t grown at all, and was still pretty short. One day, while in the common room of the cabin, I absentmindedly drank some nectar, downing the entire glass without meaning to.

Oops.

I panicked. Demigods weren’t supposed to drink this much nectar. Too much nectar would incinerate us.

I felt my forehead. A small overdose usually caused a fever as opposed to incineration. I didn’t feel I had a fever though. As a matter of fact, I felt fine.

On an impulse, I drank another glass.

Still fine.

Holy shit.

I had become a god. Or at least immortal. I didn’t seem to be shining very brightly though. Perhaps I didn’t yet have enough power to do so.

“Counselor? Counselor?”

“My name is Will.” the counselor said, coming into the room.

“I drank too much nectar but it isn’t affecting me. Am I a Greek God now?”

“Eh? Be careful with that stuff.”

“But it isn’t affecting me!”

“You might have a fever.”

“I swear I don’t! I feel fine! Take my temperature if you don’t believe me.”

Will did so, and was surprised to find that I was correct. “I guess you’re a god now.” he said.

“Are you sure I’m not just a nymph or something? I don’t seem to have an iridescent true form or whatever.”

“I think we have to ask Chiron.” he replied.

We walked to the Big House. Will took the lead.

“Come in.” Chiron said.

We walked into his office.

“Am I god now?” I asked.

“Why would you be a god?”

“Because I drank two glasses of nectar and I feel fine.”

“Why would you do that? You have to be careful… wait what?”

“Yeah.” I responded.

Chiron looked me up and down. “Change shape.” he said.

“I can do that?”

“You can if you’re a god.”

I concentrated. I thought of growing boobs as a lark, and touched my chest, willing them to appear.

To my surprise they did.

Will snickered.

“Wow.” Chiron said. “You really are a god, Steven.”

“Stephanie.” Will corrected, smiling in amusement.

I touched my hair to turn it black, and grew it a bit. I turned my eyes blue. I grew my hair a bit, and curled it.

“Amazing.” Chiron remarked.

“Huh?” I said.

“You’re the spitting image of Thalia Grace.”

I realized that I was a man with breasts, which felt weird to me, so I transformed the rest of my body to female. I was surprised by how good being a woman felt. Mentally speaking, I’d never really had a gender. I was just me.

EPILOGUE:

For a while I was mystified about how I’d become a god. It turned out Elizabeth had started a cult for me online. Few mortals had taken it seriously, but they had nevertheless responded positively, thinking it was a joke. Many demigods had decided to genuinely worship me, not because they thought I was worthy of worship, but because they thought it was worth making me a god for the sake of my “patron of prophets” cause, which Elizabeth had described on my website.

Now that summer was over, I was coming home, which made me nervous. Ever since I had changed into a woman I hadn’t changed back. I hadn’t felt the need to change back, but my family had never seen me like this; they’d never seen me display godly abilities.

When I walked into the parlor I was surprised to see a man there. He bore a strong resemblance to my boyfriend, Peter.

“Oh, hello there.”

“Hello.” the man replied smiling.

“Oh, hello Steven, this is Hercules.” said my mother. She didn’t seem surprised by my new form.

“I told your mother about your transition” Hercules said.

Transition? I hadn’t really considered myself trans.

“I’m not sure I’d call it that.” I replied. “Hercules as in Roman god Hercules?”

“Technically I’m just as Greek as I am Roman. I don’t have any other aspects.”

“I see...” I paused and then realized something.

“Are you two… together?”

“Oh yes.” my mother said. “...Are you alright with that?”

“Oh of course...” I said. “It’s just… I never asked… whatever happened with you and Apollo?”

“We had a one-night stand.”

“Well, yeah I already knew that, but… Did you know who he was at the time?”

“Oh yes, his aura was easy to recognize. We’d been communicating telepathically before meeting, but I was already bored with him by the time we met. All those haikus… He never seemed to consider me any more important than I considered him, but we both think everyone is important.”

“You never loved him then.”

“I wouldn’t say that… I still worship him now. What with my personality, and his personality… you could say I’m too in love with him to have ever fallen head over heels… but… I’m definitely head over heels for you, Hercules… if you don’t mind what I just said.”

“Not at all.” Hercules said smiling.

“Doesn’t Hebe mind you cheating? I mean… are you still married to her?” I was immediately alarmed by my own rudeness.

“Hebe and I have an open marriage.” Hercules responded. “Or at least… we do now. She’s had her own affairs.”

“Oh can we have that?” my mother asked.

“Sure.” Hercules said. “It’s not like I have the right to have anyone exclusively at this stage.”

“So you’re immortal now,” my mother said, changing the subject.

“I told her about that too.” Hercules said.

“We’ve never met.” I said. “How do you know so much about me?”

“I’m the patron of heroes, it’s my job to keep track.” Hercules replied.

“Guess I’m not needed then.” I replied.

“Huh?” my mother said.

“I was going to be the patron of prophetic heroes.”

“The world still needs a patron of prophets.” Hercules said. “You’re still needed.”

“For how long?” I asked. “Thinking of you… I’m a little scared to be immortal.”

“You’ll get used to it. Hercules said. “You’re lucky you became immortal before the onset of adulthood, I mean… can you still forget your pain?”

“Surprisingly… yes.” I replied.

“Then you’re still resilient. I think you’re going to be fine.”

END