Yes, this is another little idea that popped into my mind and just had to be addressed.
Disclaimer: The usual
The Sun God's Grief
Apollo wondered why he had come here. Here of all places.
He gazed out at the forest, the silent, sentinel organic columns towered over him; the dark corridors strangely inviting. A jet of arctic air blasted past the god, causing the skeletal branches to groan in protest. The black void, although strangely inviting was almost enticing- luring in its nature, as if lying in wait for its next victim. As soon as this thought past through his head the branches turned to claws, reaching and clutching.
He shook his head in an effort to rid the foreboding feelings - the forest was his sister's realm.
He looked up. His sun car was a few miles directly above him, hidden from view by the stormy black clouds which cloaked most of the light. Of course some of its radiance was still visible, and at this moment he couldn't have cared less.
True, on any other day he would've meticulously shrouded his car in the Mist and checked to make sure no mortal could see it, but today he couldn't give a Hades about it. Let his father bluster about his incompetence and remind him of the consequences of his actions. He simply didn't give a damn.
You might be wondering what could make the normally cheerful god descend into this state of indifference, but he had just received news that one of his demigod children had died. Indeed the news was expected and it had only offered a reminder of the tragedy he was facing. For the god of prophecy had expected this day for quite some time, regardless it did not make its arrival anymore accepted.
The icy sea breeze ruffled the god's golden locks and he glanced to the cliff edge to his left.
The hostile waves crashed repeatedly against the rock. It's incessant attempts were somehow soothing and for a few moments he let the sound of the endless battle between the two primordial elements wash over him.
The sun god sat down on a nearby boulder, merely watching the clouds drift across the moon's surface. Soon- too soon for his liking, Apollo pondered his grief.
Was it normal for a god to be so upset by the passing of their child? After all they had so many- what was one child in the face of a hundred others? Then again who was he to put a value on a life… to say that one life is more or less valuable than a hundred?
He'd seen what the death of a single child could do to mortals and how they would cry for their loss. Their lives were so short, their children so treasured. A god's life -existence (for Apollo now realised he had merely existed, never lived) was eternal and their children -many.
He'd had a bad feeling as soon as the new day arrived…somewhere in the pit of his stomach or maybe in the farthest corners of his mind he had felt that one of his children was going to die.
There had been a jolt when the deed occurred, like a part of his soul was being ripped away.
Fate, they were all pawns in her masochistic game.
By the time he got there it was far too late, his child was now in Hades' unyielding , often cruel embrace. There was nothing he could do. Gods he hated the helplessness which loomed over him. Simply knowing there was nothing he could do to help-to rectify the situation. Absolutely nothing. Afterwards the irony of the situation hit him quite unexpectedly. This child who had fought in the second Titanomachy had been felled by a bullet to the head by a common mortal criminal.
The death of the mortal responsible had done nothing to quench this despair which now ravaged his body. And so he had found himself here.
No doubt she could already sense his presence.
He approached the temporary structure and lifted the velveteen fabric with the back of his hand. The warmth from within was inviting; its interior bathed in an orange glow.
"I've been expecting you brother."
Her voice had a musical quality, like the sound of wind chimes caught in a breeze or the soft strumming of the strings of a harp.
He stepped gingerly into the silver tent. It was times like these that he needed the comfort of his sister, the comfort that someone somewhere would listen to his problems. To listen and sympathise.
The petite huntress looked up at him from her seated position on the floor. Her silver eyes locked on his, "I'm sorry for your loss Apollo."
"You've heard?" His voice was a stark contrast to the almost melodic peals of his sisters', it was hard -strained from the hours he had spent grieving.
She inclined her head and patted the crimson cushion by her side. He gladly took the invitation as he lowered himself to the floor. He talked well until the early hours of the morning whilst Artemis simply listened. It was only when he felt the familiar tug which heralded his duty was needed that he left with a parting (and swift) embrace for her time.
He ducked under the fabric of the makeshift doorway; he was welcomed back into the outside world by the bitter cold which permeated the air in its icy grasp. If it wasn't for his innate heat he would be shivering violently, however as it was he groaned in exasperation. Apollo simply hated the cold.
The warmth and comfort in the celestial tent long forgotten, he sighed and instead of risking the now near glacial path before him he teleported straight up to the car which was waiting above.
Apollo lounged in the driver's seat and leisurely reached out for his ray bans. His hand stroked the leather dashboard as he did so, and he froze.
It had been a long time since he had looked- really looked at the collage of photos which were haphazardly stuck on to the material.
The myriad of pictures depicted numerous children all cradled in the sun god's arms. There was one which Apollo possessed a rather impressive afro and fluorescent flared outfit partnered with platform boots, and another with a mullet and leather jacket. However, Apollo's gaze was drawn to the children he held and their smiling faces as they lay comforted in his arms. It was upon looking at them all- together, that he realised they all had inherited his nose. He quirked an eyebrow at his discovery and continued on with his vigil. As he glanced over the precious moments frozen in time the god's eyes inevitably landed on the picture of his recently deceased child. His eyes pooled slightly with tears, but he held them back.
His memory always served him well, but being a rather capricious god he was constantly distracted by menial things. The photos would succeed in drawing out those memories of his children-those memories he secretly treasured. It was times like these that he truly pitied Artemis, for she would never know the love of holding a new born child in her arms and knowing it was hers.
His contented smile spread across his features as he let the memories of his fallen child overwhelm him. And no matter how much he would deny it, he let a few tears escape in a grievance for his heroic offspring. He plucked the picture from its place and held it in front of his eyes, simply staring at the child's face.
The mortals could wait for a few more hours.
Thank you for reading :)
Any problems or tips for improvement don't hesitate to message or review. (I was about to put IM... that's a bad sign)
As with all my fanfictions this will get a much needed re-write...as soon as I have the time.