Chapter Text
Apollo should have thought of a better argument than the sirens.
The last echoes of "fall" still danced around the arena and sparks leapt across the floor.
But he could fix it. Apollo, god of prophecy, may have failed, but Apollo, god of healing, would not.
Don't get up, Athena. Don't seem like a threat.
"Is she dead?" Ares asked. The silence afterwards screamed. Normally, any number of Olympians would have jumped in to tease him with a reminder that gods, quite simply, did not die. Normally, Athena would have been the first to say so. Those two certainly confused Apollo at times - if anything or anyone else had wounded Athena, Ares would have been next to her in an instant with a proud smirk on his face, light-heartedly asking which of her brilliant strategies had gone awry, even in the middle of battle. He would snatch her spear if it had fallen aside and jest about the inferiority of long-range weapons. Before he finished his sentence, she would be back on her feet, pulling the spear away from Ares and striding back into the fight with a cold, monotone reminder that Ares received more wounds in an hour of battle than she did over the course of an entire war.
So as the seconds ticked dragged past so slowly he felt as though he were in Quick Thought, Apollo increasingly began to wish that Athena would stand, or at least move. He wanted her to give any sign of life. Even if it was just the twitch of a finger. She had fallen forward, so he could not even see her breathe. In that moment, only the definition of immortality and the tug of warmth behind his hands as his healing abilities gathered kept him standing still. As soon as Zeus left, he told himself, he would heal her. She would not - could not - die.
Time distorted and he stood in a red plain, Ares directly across from him. Ah. Now he he had actually been pulled into Quick Thought. Ares had crossed his arms, but his uneasy posture told Apollo that he was more concerned than angry, and that the anger was not directed at him.
"You have to help her."
"I will. I'm waiting for Father to say something."
"He had better hurry up, then. He-"
"Watch your tongue, brother," Apollo interrupted. Zeus had never struck a god with lightning so aggressively, and when he struck mortals, they died instantly. He had a dearth of experience when dealing with lightning wounds, and he would prefer to not fill in this way. He could, of course. Apollo healed. He fixed things; he fixed people. He would heal his sister.
"He can't hear us in here. It's my domain and I'll say as I please," Ares replied, stepping closer. Apollo knew the anger wasn't directed at him, not really. But anger towards Zeus often got misplaced. After all, why had Hera cursed his mother? Because she could not curse Zeus.
"I would greatly prefer to not have two patients tonight, and in this state, Athena can hardly calm him down if he turns his ire to you."
Apollo, for obvious reasons, made a habit of waiting near battlefields both to guide arrows true as needed and in case anyone needed healing. On the rare occasion Athena had been injured, she would make herself scarce as soon as the fighting concluded, but Apollo would have heard the earlier conversation between her and Ares. It concerned him. After Athena was out of earshot, he would say so. Ares would just laugh and explain that they did care about each other and that he was trying to help, although he would never articulate what he wanted to help with. Apollo hadn't even believe him until he saw how, whenever Zeus worked himself into a rage at Ares, Athena would, without fail, fly in and deftly redirect Zeus' attention to some other issue. Despite Ares' attempts to help, though, Apollo almost always found himself trying to to locate a wounded Athena in whichever forest or other biome she had decided to storm off to, and if Artemis ever helped him, neither would tell a soul. Either way, most times he found Athena after she had healed. During the infrequent events she had not, she would clench her jaw and refuse to meet his eyes as he took care of the last remnants of her injuries. The few times he had attempted to make conversation - often about whatever issue she had distracted Zeus with most recently, which perhaps had not been the wisest choice of topic in hindsight - she would reply that it was urgent at the time, but has since been resolved in a defensive tone of voice that quite clearly told him not to ask more questions. At that point, he often decided he would take her letting him assist as the victory it was.
Ares didn't attempt another refutation. Those tended to be Athena's strength - she had proven as much a few minutes ago.
"...I know a god of war isn't worth much in a healing ward, but if there's anything at all I can help with-" Ares cut himself off.
None of them would have words for what had happened, Apollo suspected, not for a long time.
"I hope things do not come to that," Apollo said.
"Come to what?"
"The point that you would need to restrain her." In truth, Apollo couldn't picture such a situation. Sometimes, when dealing with particularly volatile or out-of-it patients, Apollo would imagine his brother holding them down long enough for him to heal them. But if he tried to replace those distressed people with Athena in his mind, he couldn't.
Ares snorted. "It's Athena. You really think she's going to forget herself?"
"I'm more concerned about her trying to leave before she's ready."
"She wouldn't listen to me. She knows full well that I do that half the time I end up in your ward."
"Half? I believe the amount of times you've been stayed put can be counted on one hand with every finger in a bandage."
Ares narrowed his eyes, but said, "You've earned that one. And this better end soon."
Before Apollo could reply, the plain vanished and he stood in the arena again. Dark clouds swirled in the sky. Zeus stared at Athena's still-unmoving body. Was he waiting for something? Waiting for her to wake and apologize? He'd have a better chance of that happening if Apollo healed her, but moving too soon, angering his father, and getting himself the same treatment would only make the situation worse.
Apollo had never seen anyone attempt to stare down someone unconcious, and in another scenario, he may have found it a comical display of ego. Not here. Not now. In reality, not even a minute had passed, but injuries of this magnitude required immediate attention; each second increased the risk of some sort of permanent damage that he had not only failed to heal but also helped cause.
Did Zeus really think he would have much of an argument? If he wanted to ensure Athena would never win, he should have summoned Poseidon! Yes, he and Athena had been on opposite sides of the Trojan War, but he would not resurrect a war ten years after its end. Odysseus was not Agamemnon; he was not Achilles. As far as Apollo had knew, Agamemnon had forced Odysseus into the war by threatening his son. Besides, grudges would not raise the sun to make a new day, and Apollo tried to avoid them. So no, Apollo had nothing personal against Odysseus.
Zeus would have even had better luck with Helios - although that would have likely made for an awkward few hours standing around the arena, and on top of that, Odysseus hadn't even been the one to kill the cow.
Exactly what position did Zeus expect him to take? Odysseus had been too cruel in his killing of a group of sirens seven years ago, so he deserved to be trapped on an island forever?
That line of thought posed a danger at the moment. Anything less than complete obedience created the risk of another lightning strike.
Athena's hand twitched. Ares gasped a few feet away.
Just apologize, Athena.
She pushed herself up on one arm.
Stay down. Please, Athena, stay down.
Nobody moved, except Athena.
She forced herself to stand. She swayed dangerously.
She should not have been able to stand at all.
Athena, please, be wise.
"Let him go, please," she begged.
Athena, no.
She staggered towards the stairs leading up to Zeus' throne.
Stop! Athena! Apollo knew she could not hear him.
"Let him go-"
ATHENA!
A blast of lightning threw her back down the stairs and onto the ground.
Zeus stood again. "None of you," he said as lightning crackled up and down his body, "shall challenge me in such a way. Ever. I am your king. Any more futile objections?"
Athena had fallen on her back, but her armor, half-melted, made the rise and fall of her chest nigh invisible. The sand around her had charred black. This was bad, it was horrible, but she was alive. He could fix this. If he got to her, she would be safe. Zeus was almost done. It would be soon-
A slight nudge from Hephaestus pulled Apollo from his thoughts. Zeus had asked-
He shook his head emphatically. Nobody dared utter a word.
"Good." Zeus sat down on his throne and that was all the permission Apollo needed.
He bolted across the sand of the arena and dropped to Athena's side. Getting this metal off would be vital, but first, he had to make sure she was stable. Up close, he could see that she was breathing, although it was far shallower than it should be. Burns covered her face and arms and he knew there would be others he couldn't see. His hands glowed from his healing abilities and he started with her head; healers respected the wishes of their patients and he knew that Athena prized her mind above all else.
He didn't even notice.
Someone - Zeus, he realized, with dawning horror - grabbed his right wrist and lifted him into the air. His muscles spasmed. What could have-
Blinding pain cut the thought off. He tasted ichor. The world blurred for a moment before coming back into focus. Then it blurred again and he felt ice in his veins: Zeus had shocked him. Nothing like Athena; it had been short and less powerful, given that Zeus had not done any sort of preparation. Yes, it had been a shock, not a strike.
What had Athena felt?
And what would have possibly convinced her to get up and risk it again?
Zeus threw Apollo halfway back to the other gods seemingly without effort. No! Athena needed help; he needed to help her. He had to make things right. If her mind had been permanently harmed, she would never forgive him, nor would he ever forgive himself. What kind of healer would he be?
"Just what," Zeus thundered, looming over him, "is it that you think you're doing?"
In a pathetic, trembling voice, Apollo replied, "I'm a healer." He was practically groveling at Zeus' feet. He felt as though the floor had vanished from beneath him and he could barely command his body to move in any other manner than to refrain from a desperate scramble backwards as Zeus stalked closer. There wasn't enough air and any air he managed to breathe reeked of lightning and the sky was completely black now, not even a single ray of sun peeked through and Zeus had certainly done so on purpose, to remind him he had no right, no chance-
"I shall make myself clear for the last time: Athena's punishment is Athena's punishment. I have declared it, Phoebus Apollo, and it is not yours to lift. In fact, let this serve as a lesson. None of you will help her in any way. If you do-" Zeus turned and raised his hand. He sent another bolt of lightning racing towards Athena, straight towards her head. Apollo dug his fingernails into his still-tingling arm andTHIS WAS HIS FAULT. He hadn't just failed to heal her fully, he hadn't just failed to heal her at all, he actively put her in harms' way again, he had just needed to help and now this and suddenly he couldn't breathe at all and a screaming filled his ears except his mouth was closed and Athena had not woken up and nobody else would dare and it didn't even sound like a person it was just noise- "-I will ensure that any aid you lend her is undone. Moreover, anyone who assists her will know her pain themselves. Consider the shock a warning, Apollo."
He knew this dance, he had seen it almost go awry enough times, and thankfully he did not have to think to know what to say. "I am forever greatful, my king." His voice broke every other syllable, but Zeus seemed appeased. The skies had grown lighter, but he still could not see a ray of sunshine.
"The affairs of the gods are ours alone," Zeus continued, "and should any mortal learn of these games, they will be struck dead. Do not hide from the gaze of justice; you shall only perish."
The other gods knew the dance just as well. He could not crane his head to look - he feared that if he attemtpted to move, pure instinct would overcome him and he would scramble away, angering Zeus more - but the light thuds behind him told him that the other gods had dropped to one knee.
"And finally: Hermes!" Zeus commanded, and when Hermes appeared in front of him, a few feet to Apollo's right, Zeus continued, "travel to Ogygia and tell Calypso that she is to release the mortal immediately."
Hermes blinked.
"Is it your ears or your brain that you've misplaced today, boy?" Zeus growled. The skies darkened behind him once more. "Travel to Ogygia and inform Calypso that the mortal is to be freed now. Athena was punished for her insolence, but I shall still maintain my promise. The mortal has no influence on her behaviors and thus need not bear any punishment, so he will be released."
Hermes nodded quickly, dropping to one knee. "Understood; my apologies. I never intended to challenge your authority." Hermes had not been so conciliating in the past century.
"All of you, leave this place. Your business here is done. I shall remain, to ensure she understands the decree." Zeus drew himself up and, as lightning rolled across the clouds behind him, declared, "Let it never be said that I am not a just and merciful king."