Flowers For Apollo

Exhaustion and Excitement

Lester gets settled in with the Hunters.

Apollo and Artemis have a conversation.
Notes:

*Removed and re-edited this chapter. It accomplished what I wanted it to do, but it could have been stronger. I feel much much better about this version.

*CW: Discussion of declining health and issues with eating in relation to declining health.

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If Apollo took more time than usual stabling his horses that was no one's business but his own. Artemis had never once broken her word to him so he knew she was waiting inside. Worse, he could feel her eyes on him all the way from the Moon Chariot as another instance of her drove it on its proper course.

Their father would no doubt demand to know what the earlier stunt was about. Apollo was already trying to figure out how to keep that man's wrath far away from his sister.

He leaned his head against the gate and took in a deep breath, feeling absolutely wretched and exhausted. Everything but the desperate remembrance of the warmth of Hyacinthus's hand in his was impossible to keep together as he went through the motions of trying to calm himself.

Apollo wished he could just crawl into bed, hug his cow, and cry some more, even if it was childish to do so.

But he promised Artemis. If he didn't show, even to get a nap, she'd just chase him all over again. No matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to outrun the Goddess of the Hunt.

He stood straight and ran his fingers through his hair as he tossed it back. The puffiness of his eyes were gone. His hair was no longer sweaty and stringy and fell in dark curls around his shoulders. His throat was still sore, but at least he looked presentable. With a snap of his fingers, his chiton became his favorite jeans and his old Apollo mission T-shirt. The fringe jacket Naomi gifted him on their third date settled on his shoulders.

He sighed and pulled his arms through the sleeves. At least he was getting the hang of this part again. Maybe the rest would come back to him soon.

As he approached the Sun Palace he pulled his hair up into a loose bun to get it off his neck.

He'd have to retrace his steps the next day. Sure, the pictures of all that art were in the cloud but he could never keep any real track of his passwords. Hephastus and Hermes always gave him That Look every single time he came crying because he locked himself out of his accounts.

Artemis was inside waiting for the demanded conversation, but more of those flowers were planted at the base of the staircase.

-- hyacinths. Six soft petals radiating from the center in tall bunches reaching for the sky in shades of lavender, pink, and white.

The pinks were the same shades of his sunset Hyacinthus said he always liked. Apollo had made a huge point of including that shade in his sunsets when he wasn't by Hyacinthus's side. The lavender was no doubt the color of his lost lover's eyes. It had to be. The whites for the clouds they used to lay back and pick out shapes in to tell nonsense stories to one another.

Why couldn't he remember any of those stories? He made the silliest stupidest of poems with the most ridiculous rhyming schemes and cadences out of them to get Hyacinthus to laugh.

His entire being ached with grief. If Artemis wasn't waiting for him, he'd probably fall to his knees weeping again. How could he so intricately understand the logic behind the flowers, but not remember the actual creation? This was not some centuries-old epic he made on a whim or a song he wrote among the myriad of others. This was Hyacinthus . It'd be like forgetting laurels and Daphne and how little he knew of her now made dread settle like stone on his shoulders.