Sunburn- phoebus apollo

--x. why are people always leaving? I think you and I should stay the same.

RHEA JACKSON

It was September now, and her dreams were fuzzy.

Rhea wasn't sure what to make of that. While her visions had certainly been blurry and confusing before, they'd never been as fractured or unclear to her as they were now. It was as if the Fates were hiding something from her—something significant. She just wasn't sure what.

Apollo had told her not to worry about it, but the god had never had as much control over the future as he liked to believe, so Rhea figured he was probably just saying that to sweep the problem under the rug. He'd never liked dwelling on things that could make him unhappy, and Rhea had a feeling that whatever future was being kept from her was very unhappy indeed.

But there was no use in overthinking it, Rhea decided. Whatever would come, would come. For now...

Well, for now, she had another tragedy to confront—because she wanted to finally move on with her life, and she didn't think she could do that until she did this.

If Nico hadn't adored her so much, she wasn't sure if he would have ever arranged this meeting for her. They both knew the potential consequences of mingling with the dead, but Rhea had been insistent. She knew that she would never be able to accept Apollo fully until she got this over with, and she was willing to risk the negative affects this encounter might have on her well-being in exchange for some closure.

And so, after a nice visit with Bob, after years and years of nightmares, Rhea was put face-to-face with Cassandra.

She looked much like she had when Melinoe had taken on her form last winter, with her soft blonde hair and delicate features. In death, Cassandra had terrible eyes, a small mouth, and blood still chipping her fingernails, but she likely would have been lovely in life.

For a long moment, the two of them just looked at each other. It felt as if the future had come to a standstill, and they were trapped in this bubble where the world had stopped moving. Rhea had imagined this meeting more times than she could count, but now that it was actually happening, she had no idea where to start.

Luckily, she didn't need to. Rhea had all of the visions, but Cassandra had all of the words, and first thing she said to her was, "You should be dead."

There were a number of things Rhea could have said in response:

I am not like you.

You are the one who's dead.

Sometimes, I wish I was, too.

Instead, she didn't say a word. Rhea had been blessed to grow up in a world that let her speak her mind, but Cassandra had never had that luxury—never had that space to be honest without punishment. In life, Cassandra had never been listened to.

But Rhea would listen, even if it was not what she wanted to hear.

"No poor soul Apollo has chosen has ever had a kind fate, and it seems unfair that you were spared of that," Cassandra said, looking at Rhea with a kind of detached interest. "Prophesied or not, it seems cruel that you love him and that he loves you back."

The cold resentment was expected, and Rhea could not hold it against her. The Underworld was where love went to die and heartbreak festered, and there was a tragic subtext in everything. It was no wonder why she was lashing out—Cassandra had had years to suffer in silence, and Rhea didn't think she should anymore, even if it made her into a punching bag in the process.

Because Rhea knew what it was like to scream in a world where no one heard you, and she didn't want that for the other girl any longer.

"I begged for it," Cassandra said, the violence pulsing in her eyes. "I begged for Apollo to spare me, and when he didn't, I begged for death. And I have found that Death was kinder to me."