"On Providence, Anger and the Art of Shooting a Cyclops"

When I talked to my mother about my plan, I knew - and she warned me plenty herself - that things wouldn't be the same as I expected them to be. Knowing that, I prepared myself for the metaphorical punch in the gut I would get as soon as one of my friends scowled at me, remembering only the horrible things I did; I prepared myself for my children acting awkward around me again; I prepared myself (maybe not well enough, I'll admit) for Meg frowning in confusion when she would see me again, with 'Who is this idiot?' ready on the tip of her tongue and her leg twitching from the need to kick me in the shins.

What I didn't prepare myself for was something that had less to do with their memories and more to do with my prolonged absence - I didn't think too much, after all, about how one year was still a long time in the life of a mortal. For a god, one year is not much longer than a day, and despite our shapeshifting abilities we always choose to stay the same, never changing, just like marble statues sitting still on pedestals.

Mortals, on the other hand, are the physical manifestation of the passage of time: they grow stronger, they age, they wither. Their faces are a mosaic of all their experiences, their clothes and their appearance a reflection of their love; all things that kept changing and shifting to fit them, their age, their surroundings.

Just like that, until the end of their lives.

Now, Percy and Annabeth were no different, and being legends didn't keep them from being human, just like everyone else. In one year, they seemed to have grown taller, and leaner. Percy chose to let the fuzz on his jaw grow, as well as his hair; Annabeth, on the other hand, cut hers, and it was now a wavy bob that barely touched her shoulders. The scars on their bodies were now pale lines on their skins, almost fading, and their eyes showed me something that I hadn't seen since they were just children - a sparkle, a sense of peace that they had lost over the years.

Their faces were flooded by sunlight, and the sight knocked the wind out of me. How much had I missed? How many important moments in their lives didn't I witness?

I hoped that being all-powerful also included being able to hide the tears in my eyes, because the last time Percy and Annabeth saw me before my quest I was still a godly asshole, and seeing me burst out crying now would almost certainly be a giant emotional whiplash that I wasn't sure their minds would be able to sustain. They seemed to be fine, so that meant my powers probably did what I wanted them to do for once.

Golden star for me.

Yet, there was still something wrong with the way both of them were staring at me - like I was some sort of timed bomb that was seconds away from exploding or a McDonald's cashier who just dumped a gallon of milk in one of the frying baskets. Past me would've gotten offended at such a reaction, or perhaps he would have thought that they were just shaking from the idea of being able to stand in my glorious and radiant presence. (Insert eye-roll here)

Now, though, thanks to the countless tiring rendezvous I had as a mortal (with the seemingly unending list of metaphorical U-turns that they caused in my head), I knew for sure that the shaking Percy showed was most likely caused by the great amount of self-restraint that he imposed on himself in order not to run straight ahead into any nearby tree to knock himself out and never see my face ever again.

If the tension in his jaw and the dangerous energy radiating from his body weren't enough to point that out, as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers he simply said, "Why?"

Annabeth seemed calmer than Percy. In the morning light, her eyes looked light like silver, which gave their usual dangerous appearance a friendlier undertone. Still, my warped perception of her led me to believe that she was prepared to kill me despite knowing that I was way more powerful than her and very much immortal.

Yet I knew she was just studying me, probably so she could make the number of questions she wanted to ask me drop drastically.

Somehow, she was able to simultaneously glare at Percy, elbowing him as soon as a tired sigh left his lips. Among the two, she was the one who remained (inexplicably) the most respectful towards the gods, and although Percy's attitude inevitably rubbed off on her over the years, she still kept burning a bit of her food for us with the same sentiment as before, and the scent of the smoke of her sacrifices was just as strong and vibrant as it was when she was a child.

Of course, she didn't fail to show her reverence this time too, as she sent me an apologetic look.

"Lord Apollo," she said, as the small part of me that was still very much Lester cringed at the title, "It's... a surprise to see you here; not an unpleasant one, of course. It's just been a long time since... well."

In her eyes, however, I could see a silent question lingering, the same that Percy asked in a much more straightforward way: 'What do you want from us?'

They don't remember you, I reminded myself.

Annabeth and Percy looked at me with anticipation.

"It really has been," I said, "It's easy to lose track of time, sometimes. Did you guys miss me? It sounds like you did. That's sweet." I summoned the brightest smile I could muster. "I assure you that I'm not here to ask you to go on any sort of quest, if that's what Percy was worried about."

Annabeth glared at Percy again, as he subconsciously moved away from her left arm. Despite this, I could still feel the tension lifting from their shoulders, and my heart clenched. That feeling of expectation and fear... it would never go away. They would grow old, and be all wrinkles and white hair, and still be alert each time a god showed up - always waiting for a request, for the last demand that would mark the end of their lives or add another scar to the collection.

Percy's eyes widened a bit, and a questioning expression slowly made its way between his features. "That's... weird. Then why are you here?"

Annabeth sighed. "We were heading to Camp just now, so why not tell us while we walk there?" she asked, as Percy turned to look at her in disbelief, "We can all head down together."

"We can?" Percy grumbled.

Annabeth turned her head to him, her smile just as sharp as a dagger. "We can."

I blinked. This would take a bit to get used to. "...alright. Yes, great! Good idea. Maybe we can avoid being seen by Dionysus, though? Or Chiron, for that matter." I cleared my throat. "They didn't know I was planning to visit. Are they here, by any chance?"

Percy snorted. Annabeth hid her face in her hands.

"What is it?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Having a feeling that he had something to do with it, I then said, "What did Dionysus do this time?"

"He told us you were cleaning the toilets up on Olympus."

"Of course he did." I rubbed a hand on my face. "Look, Dionysus is no Hermes, but he tends to enjoy pranking me just as much." I channeled all of the inner peace that remained in me to keep myself from teleporting to wherever he was now and cursing him to hear mosquitoes fly beside his ears for a couple of centuries. "There has just been some godly business I had to attend to, no punishments. Just cows to tame, chariots to clean up, piles of paperwork to work through - being on Delos while trying to escape my father's fury didn't exactly help with all that."

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows. "And it took you..." she said, "This much time?"

"Well-"

"Godly business, dude, sure," Percy mocked, with a grin, "Didn't Zeus say he wanted to punish you? Sounds more like ungodly business to me, if I have to be honest."

I exhaled, looking up. "Alright, maybe I had to deal with my father's punishment for a while. It only lasted for a year, though - a 'Winchester brothers' kind of adventure, if you know what I mean."

(I didn't lie!)

Percy was not so subtly holding back from laughing in my face. "So you were cleaning toilets the rest of the time."

"I was not! Gods, I'll turn my brother into a salmon one of these days." It slipped my mind to ask Mnemosyne what kind of lies she fed them to supply for the gap in their memories, so I took the opportunity to play dumb and dive into their lives instead. "Alright, never mind, he can tell me what he's been up to himself if he wants to, I don't care." I clapped my hands. "Rather, tell me about yourselves. Is someone getting married? Maybe someone went to college? Give Uncle A some gossip."

"Oh gods, don't call yourself that," Percy said.

"I regretted it as soon as it left my mouth."

"We did go to college," Annabeth said, changing the subject for everyone's sake. We started walking down the hill, with the rays warming our heads and the cicadas chirping all around. "To New Rome's college, actually. It's a lovely place. We just returned for the summer."

I tried to sound surprised. "Oh, really?"

"Lovely isn't the word I'd use," Percy retorted, crossing his arms. He frowned. "Absolute hell is more like it."

Annabeth looked unimpressed. "It's not that bad."

"Oh, surely not," he retorted, with as much sarcasm as he could muster and an eye-roll that Hera would've certainly been jealous of, "The music and poetry analysis section in the entrance exam was a walk in the park for you, I guess?"

"I might have written those," I said, with a snicker.

"Dude. Not cool."

I grinned, as a subtle feeling of déjà vu made its way into my brain. "Sorry. If it's difficult you could always drop it, by the way. The good thing about college is that you're allowed to give up."

"It's not that it's unbearably difficult," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile, "It's just... challenging. But I want to get through with it. It's fun, sometimes. Reminds me of Chiron's Latin lessons when he was still Mr. Brunner."

Then, as we made our way towards Camp (with as much enthusiasm from Percy as you'd expect), they told me of all the things that happened during those two years: some good, some bad; some old, some new to my ears.

They seemed to be ecstatic to tell me about Leo's adventures all over again, laughing at the memory of the campers' grumpy affection over his return, and they were just as happy when they told me about Estelle and about the blessing that she was - except when she woke everyone up at night with her cries. Once again, I had to fake my surprise; something that didn't turn out to be quite the success that I hoped it would be, judging by Annabeth's increasingly narrower eyes.

They told me about the quests too, of course. Erasing the memory of someone while still keeping everything else intact required an incredible amount of deceiving and replacing and I knew that without me something else must have taken the place of the countless of events where I was involved directly - Commodus' angry rants, the fun meeting we had with Harpocrates, anything that had to do with the Grove of Dodona and, of course, the Arrow's contribution to the quest. That obnoxious arrow couldn't have helped anyone without me listening, could it?

But the tale they told me, while not being extremely different from the truth and only having Meg as its protagonist, sounded like a bad adaptation of an extremely popular book. Some of the quests were cut off completely, others had loopholes and replacements that completely took the meaning out of them, and others were scrambled together to the point of being unrecognizable. Some of the deaths they recounted I already knew of; others... they weren't even mentioned, as expected.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach, but I still asked a question that had been nagging me ever since we started that conversation and ever since they skipped the trip to Santa Barbara. "And... Jason? Piper?"

Percy and Annabeth looked upset for a moment, and a selfish thought made its way into my brain. Maybe I won't have to lie about this. "They... well, they're fine, from what I've heard," Annabeth explained. As a thunderstorm of emotions swirled in my head, I settled on staring at her with wide eyes. "They broke up, but at least they're still friends. Piper has a girlfriend now and Jason..." She frowned. "Well, we haven't heard from him in a while. A long while, to be honest."

That would be because dead people can't get in touch, I thought, hysterically.

"That's unusual," I managed to choke out.

When I went there, I thought that I had to get my friends' memories back - they couldn't live without knowing the full truth, could they? It's cruel to deprive them of it, I thought.

What I was looking for, though, was not their happiness, but mine. I was miserable, and I missed the times we spent together, and the only solution I saw was restoring everything as it once had been. But here I was placed before the consequences of my actions - because of me, they would have to go through the grief of losing Jason all over again, and I couldn't back out because that meant that I would doom them to their deaths.

I would have to live with that guilt, maybe their resentment, and with a single, everlasting doubt: was it my fault that Jason died, after all? Would he be still alive if I hadn't gone to ask for his help?

Manipulation or not, Styx was still looking forward to my misery.

But was it really bad, after all? Was it better for them to think that Jason was so uncharacteristically cruel that he didn't even bother to contact them, or to know that he couldn't talk to them, even if he wanted to, because he was somewhere where they couldn't reach him?

"Apollo?" Percy asked, reaching out to put a hand on my shoulder, "You good? You look pale."

I clenched my shirt. My chest seemed to burn under my touch. "Oh, I'm... fine, yeah," I said, crossing my arms, "I just really hope you guys will see him soon again. I hope that for myself too, since I have some thanks to give."

"What for?" Annabeth tilted her head in confusion, just as Percy muttered 'Well, this is getting freaky.'

"He stood up to my father," I said. Then, I stretched my lips in what was probably the first genuine smile I gave that morning. "Or so I was told."

They exchanged a questioning look.

At some point, without even taking notice, we found ourselves in the middle of Camp Half-Blood. Since it was the last day before many of the children had to return to their mortal families, everyone was buzzing around, already sharing their goodbyes and exchanging hugs, packing up their bags, and pulling the last pranks of July.

A demigod ran away right in front of me, followed by a bunch of angry nymphs covered in jelly.

"Is that one of Hermes'?" I asked, not recalling seeing that child in the cabin when I last visited.

Annabeth sighed. "No, that's... that's one of my siblings."

I turned to her, with my eyes wide as coins and a feeling of extreme amusement exploding in my chest. Before I could say anything that could have potentially made Athena very very angry, however, I heard someone from the dining pavilion calling, 'Apollo!' with a tone that definitely didn't match my glee.

It didn't take me a long time to notice Chiron standing among the demigods in all of his seven-foot-tall glory. The slow movements of his tail and the stoic expression made him look like the personification of tranquility, yet his hooves kept stomping on the ground, probably getting ready to sprint and roundhouse kick me all the way to Ecuador.

"Oh no," I muttered, in a strangled voice, quickly turning my eyes away and pretending I hadn't seen him, "This is bad. Really bad."

"What is bad?" Percy asked, following the direction from which the voice came. His eyes searched the crowd for a fraction of a second, then he turned to us again. "Chiron is bad? How is 'bad' a word you can even remotely associate with him?"

"Oh, but I didn't!" I said, in a hurry, "I-"

"You're didn't what, Apollo?"

With a great show of strength and self-control, I managed not to yelp - something that did pay off, because Chiron's enormous shadow, that was now shielding me completely from the sun, probably took a while to approach me, and yelling would've given away that a) I have poor observation skills, and b) even someone as non-violent as Chiron, with the right dose of fright, could send me flying into the mesosphere.

Gods forbid, someone could've thought that I was scared of my own shadow!

(Which, by the way, would be absolute blasphemy and completely untrue.)

(I know what you're thinking, you little rascals. Shut up.)

"Chiron, old friend!" I said, with my arms wide and an ad-like grin. Chiron stared at me with a frown, as if he was questioning whether or not trying to drag me away from there would be worth it. "It's been such a long time! The kids here were just telling me what they've been up to! Did you know that Perseus here has a little sister?"

"We're not 'kids', man!" Percy objected, pointing at another demigod nearby, "That's a kid!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that the guy he pointed at was fifteen, most likely, and therefore close to his age. Annabeth seemed to think the same.

"Irrelevant. You're still kids," I declared, out of mischief rather than out of an attempt to prove my point.

"Apollo, we're almost nineteen."

"And I'm four thousand, you're all infants compared to me."

"As much as this seems like an interesting debate," Chiron intruded, clearing his throat, "I have to ask, Apollo, if there's anything I can help you with. It seems urgent, since you rarely visit unless you need help."

I bit back a mean answer.

The thing is, among everyone who lost their memories, there were still some people that didn't forget, other than the main gods - mostly other immortals. I didn't know why, exactly: maybe it was because the memory of an immortal is much more difficult to erase; maybe because some of them didn't even care enough to think about what happened or about me, so it would be useless to make them forget something they wouldn't talk about anyway; maybe because they pretended they didn't exist and were somehow missed by Mnemosyne's memory bulldozer.

In any case, Chiron was one of these beings, although I suspected that he was simply put in the place of a guardian who would be able to prevent anything that could shatter that delicate structure and, consequently, put the children in danger. That was why he needed to think of me as the person I was before my punishment.

Moreover, he was irritated, if not angry. He had to bear the truth on his shoulders as much as I did; he had to lie and be someone he wasn't, all because of a stupid mistake I made during my quest that he didn't even find out about until later. And now, there I was again, making what seemed to be my umpteenth mistake.

I couldn't blame him if he decided to give me the cold shoulder.

"I think we should talk about this in the Big House," I said. I turned towards Percy and Annabeth, and shrugged, "Sadly, the tour will have to wait for a bit."

"We'll still be around," Annabeth promised, with a nod.

As they were walking away, Percy looked back and yelled, "Take your time!"

They started bickering but, as far as they were, their conversation was mostly unintelligible. I only heard random words - 'respect', 'gods', 'smite'. Obviously, they all came from Annabeth.

Chiron started to go in the opposite direction, as I followed. I'm ashamed to say that I had to almost run to keep up with him.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here," I explained, switching to ancient Phoenician so any eavesdroppers wouldn't understand. "But I didn't come without reason. I spoke with some deities, and we can take everything back to how it was before, without any danger for the demigods."

"Why would you want to return to the status quo?" Chiron asked, raising an eyebrow, "It was all going well."

"I know it was, but-" I ran a hand through my hair. "The demigods need someone on their side in the Council, and it's certainly not going to be any of the other gods. As much as I trust my sister and Hermes, they don't have the same insight I do on the matter.

"But since Styx's ban doesn't allow me to interact with them in any way, not only do I have to follow my father's rules about the direct interactions, as I did before, but I have my hands completely tied now. Without support, they will keep dying. I came to help."

While Chiron seemed to consider my words, I continued, "Am I doing this for selfish reasons as well? Probably. But have you heard what they're saying? Have you heard-"

"Yes," he sighed. His pace had slowed down, so I was able to follow him without having to focus on not tripping over my feet. "Anything you might think of, I heard it. I had to. For an entire year."

"And it doesn't concern you?" I asked, flailing my hands, "Not in the slightest? I didn't even know about this before!"

I hadn't seen Chiron for a whole year, and the contrast between the reassuring demeanor he had all those months ago and the tiredness that hung over his shoulders, now, was even more evident.

There was never a moment when Chiron wasn't tired - it became ingrained in his personality, at some point -, but now it was amplified, too loud, too heavy. It was the kind of exhaustion you see in someone's eyes as you're sitting across them after a heated argument - that empty feeling you think you understand, when actually you can't read it at all.

"I'd lie if I said it doesn't," he murmured, "But I couldn't do anything up until now. I'm quite certain that I wouldn't have been able to restore their memories even if I tried, and if I did manage to do so, I feared there would have been dire consequences. Now that you're here, however, I suppose I will have to follow along."

It seemed he was also about to say something along the lines of, 'It's going to be a disaster either way.'

I tried not to get offended.

Chiron shot me a disappointed look, mixed with a sentiment that I could only identify with resignation. "You said you can help them. What is your plan?"

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to illustrate the great, fool-proof idea which I, in fact, didn't have.

"Well, uh, yes," I stammered, suddenly incredibly self-aware, "About that-"

"You did come here with a plan, didn't you?"

"Yes, yes!" I nodded my head with the same speed as those small figurines with moving heads people used to keep in their cars. "I do have a plan!" I winced. "Well, sort of. I'll have to tell you about the things I heard first."

Recounting my conversations with Leto and Mnemosyne, as well as the countless other bits and details I managed to scrape together, took more time than I had expected. By the time I was done, the sun was already high in the sky, and we were almost at the Big House.

"You're saying that you believe Styx was provoking you," Chiron pondered, "Just so she could use you to do her bidding."

"Yes," I replied, "although I'm still not sure why she couldn't just... ask me. It wasn't like I could refuse if she threatened me."

Chiron crossed his arms, exhaling. "Have you ever considered that you might be wrong?"

"I did," I said, "Of course I did. But doesn't it seem weird to you that Styx didn't show up until now? She wouldn't postpone her bloodlust for this long just for fun."

That is unless she was already on a murder rampage and we didn't even notice, focused as we were on trying to figure out her next course of action.

I decided, for now, that it would be much wiser not to share this though with Chiron.

As we walked in silence, I thought about what he said to me. What if I had been wrong? What if my blind intuition had led me to disaster? Would I have just watched as she killed my friends, without a word, without an apology?

For the first time in four millennia, I found myself thanking Tyche for looking over me and my dumb decisions.

After a while, I said, "For now, I don't think we can figure out why she's acting the way she is. I thought that maybe it would be best to wait, to find out - sooner or later, she'll show up anyway." Hopefully, without murderous intentions, I wanted to add. "Once she does, I'll just have to talk to her, do what she asks, and ta-dah! Everything will be fixed."

Chiron didn't seem to be convinced. He ran his fingers through his beard and said, "But what about the Olympians?"

"Demeter already knows about this and she's on my side," I replied, "And Artemis will surely do the same once I tell her. As for the others-"

"They don't know either, do they?" he asked, crossing his arms.

I shook my head. "Not all of them."

"Then, are you certain that Styx is the only immortal we have to worry about?"

I wanted to have an answer to this question. I really did. Truth be told, I couldn't be sure.

I only hoped that some of the gods caught on to what I was planning to do when I spoke to them. Hopefully, not the wrong gods - uncle Poseidon wasn't someone I was eager to argue with about the safety of his son, considering both his short temper and the tendency that godly fights had to escalate, and I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of crossing my father either.

Zeus couldn't care less about this ordeal, of course, since he had no demigod children he cared about (children that were alive, at least), yet his old rules were still in force, and he wouldn't take any disrespect lightly, especially from someone he wasn't particularly fond of.

(If we were to take into account everything that happened, calling myself his favourite son again would sound pretty stupid. Did he even call me that himself?)

After all, it is worth considering that he has always been an immensely prideful god and, ever since I came to know him not just as my father but as a king too - ever since my sister and I became Olympians -, he has always shown himself to be jealous of his power. He wouldn't tolerate anything that could put it in danger and that could undermine his authority, so he wouldn't tolerate me breaking his rules or the rules that he tried to enforce as his either.

And yet.

"Not really, but I have reasons to believe that the gods won't do anything until after I manage to talk to her," I assured, taking in a breath. Gods, why did I get myself into such a mess? "Intervening too early would only make everything worse. The same goes for my father, except that it's his consensus that is at risk."

"You mean..."

"If he does do something, he'll make sure to protect the kids," I said, with more uncertainty in my voice than I would like to admit, "Causing them to get killed would only lead to a war. Some gods don't show it, but they do care." I winced again. "Well, sometimes."

"You could be right," Chiron pondered, stopping near the stairs of the Big House. He turned to me. "If that weren't the case, there still is some degree of protection that the camp borders could offer. You'll probably have at least half a day before anyone notices. As long as you'll be careful."

He looked me in the eyes. I pursed my lips, nodding, and we said nothing more about the subject.

The Big House was just as I remembered it was: big (duh), old and dusty like the insides of an urn. The sky-blue paint was peeling off from the walls and some of the boards were severely damaged; the front stairs squeaked at every step we took and the white, wooden railing that was pricking my fingers shook as I held onto it. It was likely that some serious magic was keeping it from crumbling down over our heads.

Despite it all, though, it still was a heartwarming sight, like the childhood house you haven't been to in a long time. Someone had put a variety of different furniture on the deck: a bunch of old-style kitchen chairs, colorful bean bags, and plastic stools surrounded a light wooden table in a kind of chaos that wasn't as messy as one would expect. An empty pitcher, which was supposedly meant to be filled with fresh lemonade, sat on the table near a bunch of empty glasses, and near the pitcher sat Dionysus himself.

He had the same bored expression he always wore, but his appearance was radically different from the last time I saw him. With a face as clean as a teenager's before puberty, and hair shining with a lively, purple glow I hadn't seen since the last party he attended with Ariadne back in the 1950s, he could've fooled any mortal into thinking he wasn't the same middle-aged man they were almost tempted to point a pepper spray at the day before.

Of course, he still hadn't lost his hideous sense of style.

I felt the intense need to burn his mismatched socks, and his fluorescent running shoes, and most of all that horrifying leopard-skin shirt he had, both for the questionable choice of pattern (who even wore leopard prints in 2021?) and the fact that it was a polo shirt, of all things, which was objectively a clothing piece that not even Aphrodite could pull off. (Believe me, she tried.)

However, since I prided myself in being a fair and just god and I respected the sacred institution of democracy, I settled for bullying him instead.

"Still walking around like you fished out your clothes from a dumpster, brother?" I asked while we walked up to him, with glee. For the first time since I returned to godhood, I found myself finally able to enjoy all the privileges of being a god: no power imbalance, no risk of losing an arm because of an immortal gremlin, and all the joy of paying back Dionysus for his mocking back when I was still running around the US playing tag with the emperors' armies of monsters. And, naturally, there was also a significantly lesser chance of my psyche cracking open like a broken glass just because I stood in his proximity so, I supposed, that was an added advantage.

He was in the middle of shuffling a card deck, presumably after winning yet another pinochle game against some poor camper who had the misfortune of being close enough for Dionysus to convince them to play.

At first, the image stabbed me in the heart - even though one year was to us what a grain of salt was to a human, my fall from Olympus shifted my perception of the passage of time during the period I spent as a mortal, so I felt that year like any of you would do: an agonizing sequence of minutes and hours and days that seemed positively unending.

In short, I had missed my brother - at least, until after the first six seconds.

As he slowly looked up, smirking in my direction with an attitude that was just as angelic as of a grain spirit's, I remembered every single way he used to annoy me and any remaining sentiment of affection - that I decided to pin on his aura of madness - swiftly disappeared.

"You're one to talk about dumpsters," he said, leaving the cards on the table. Before I had the chance to ask him whatever he meant by that, he got up, putting an arm over my shoulder and, of course, being so purposefully careless that he pulled my hair with it.

I stretched my lips in a forced smile, exhaling through my nose. It would have been wrong to kick him to the other side of the Milky Way, wouldn't it? Still, it was tempting, albeit unwise. Eventually, he would've found his way back, and my torment would've been way, way worse.

"Well, at least I got out of it," I replied, shaking him off, "Nonetheless, I see you're doing well now. You look almost decent."

"Father toned my punishment down a notch. I didn't expect that from him, but I'm not complaining." He shrugged. "It's a wonder what a little bit of wine can do, isn't it?"

I knew that it wasn't just the wine. From what I had been told, 'toning his punishment down a notch' also included letting Ariadne visit him, from time to time, and as much as I complained about their sickening displays of affection, which seemed only to intensify when I was in Dionysus' direct line of sight, or about Dionysus' existence in general, it was nice to know that he found his reason to be happy, and heartbreaking all the same to know how much her absence had affected him.

"Speaking of punishments," Dionysus continued, interrupting my train of thought, "Shouldn't you be somewhere else, dearest outlaw?"

"I'm not an outlaw."

"But you are!" he laughed, patting my shoulder with more force than necessary, "I remember the mess that happened at the last Council. Didn't they tell you to be a good little god and stay put?" He sat back down on the chair with a 'puff' of the cushion, apparently deciding that I wasn't enough support for his bones. "Didn't expect that you'd break the rules so close after coming back from a punishment. You usually wait a couple of centuries before you piss Father off again."

"It's bold of you to mock me when you're currently stuck in one yourself," I commented, ruffling his hair because despite any impression I might give I am, in fact, spiteful. Remember One Direction's 'hiatus'? Yeah. "I came for a good reason."

He backed away, hissing. "Like what?" he asked, patting on his shirt as if he was trying to get the dust off of it. "Counting every single strawberry?"

I chuckled. "Oh, please, I'll leave that job to you. I'm visiting."

"Which you're not supposed to do," my brother added, as his grin grew impossibly wider than before, to the point that I coldly contemplated how much further he could go without looking like the Joker.

Whatever people you may have met, dear readers, be it a nagging grandpa who decided to retell you all the old tales he still remembered from his youth, or the person who sat beside you on the plane with the firm belief that the armrest was theirs alone, none of them could have ever been as annoying as Dionysus. I have yet to meet a creature more insufferable than him.

I crossed my arms. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, believe me, I don't." Dionysus started shuffling his cards again, moving them in his hands at such a speed that I almost had trouble seeing their design. "I'm just here to enjoy the show, since there isn't much that I can do anyway. At least it's a good show." He stopped to look me in the eyes, with a grin on his face that seemed to imply that he thought I was ridiculous, or that he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Maybe both. "Seeing you deal with all the problems you accumulated over the past two hundred years is always an endless source of entertainment."

"What I have to do here," I said, gesturing wildly at our surroundings, managing to almost hit a chair in the process, much to my brother's amusement, "Has nothing to do with any of my hypothetical problems."

"Which you do have."

"Not my point!"

After being silent for so long, Chiron decided to come to my rescue. "I'm not one to usually interrupt," he said, stepping forward, "But how about I explain Dionysus what you told me? You could complete the tour you mentioned before, meanwhile."

Sinking deeper into his chair, Dionysus summoned a can of Diet Coke, popping it open. He got so used to drinking it that he forgot he could drink wine now, apparently. Either that, or he actually cared about setting a good example for any demigod who could see him, a possibility that was more unlikely and immensely out of character. "Yeah, do whatever you must. You could dump the lava wall in acid or conduct a social experiment on those little devils for all I care, if that's part of the..." He snorted, and I could swear he would have choked on his drink if he were a mortal. He turned to Chiron. "What did you call it? Tour? He invented this camp."

I grinned, despite myself.

"Meanwhile," Dionysus continued, "Chiron and I will play a nice game of pinochle. It's been a while since I had a good opponent." He shook his head. "The demigods are incompetent."

"Demigods?" I asked, with a snort, "Since when do you interact with demigods?"

Don't get me wrong; I did remember how helpful my brother had been, especially with Nico. With all the horrors they saw at such a young age, the campers needed someone who could help them with their nightmares and their visions and all that came in the Demigods' Exclusive and Absolutely Family-Friendly Package™, and Dionysus was the right god for the job.

However, that was as far as I expected him to go - which is justified, from my point of view, since he never showed any interest in demigods, apart from the occasional 'Good job' usually reserved for his kids or the genuine confusion he had when one of the heroes didn't act as expected.

"Since that friend of yours said she liked pinochle," he explained, while Chiron got into his wheelchair, "I expected her to be better at it, to be honest."

I blinked a couple of times, frowning. "A friend of mine? Who-"

My body tensed as if a wave of electricity shot through it. I stepped forward, on high alert.

"You mean Meg?" I asked, ignoring Dionysus' self-satisfied expression. I gripped his shoulder. "She's here?"

"What do I know? Do I look like a GPS?" he grumbled, waving his hand as if to shoo me away. I raised an eyebrow, as the smell of burning wood began to rise from under my feet.

Concerned for the well-being of the Big House, Chiron translated for me, "She's in the infirmary, and Will should be there too. But Apollo-"

Before he could start another speech about safety and danger and the likeliness of some deity striking me down out of spite - things that I knew I had to think about, but decided to archive for later - I bolted inside the building, as the planks creaked at every step I took.

As the god of truth, it's my job to try to be as honest as possible, and so I will - I might have been terrified out of my mind. I hadn't been sure if an immortal's heart beat before, and as curious as I am, I would never put myself at Hephaestus' mercy just to check something so trivial (he has a rather... rudimental medical technique, so to speak). Now, given how it seemed on the verge of taking off, I figured it did.

I had already met up with Percy and Annabeth, and I had been as teary-eyed as I was supposed to be, but this... this was so, so different. It was different in the same way your favorite city differs from your childhood town, in the same way a lovely bouquet you just received differs from the dried flowers you've tended to for years on end. This is to say that I did not prefer some over others - it was just another kind of connection.

I felt ecstatic, of course, and light-headed. After going through so much distress, and after so much talking and planning and thinking, here I was, about to speak to my son and my young friend again and, Hades, soon to my other children as well. I could hug them strongly enough this time.

On the other hand, doubt still overcame my thoughts, just as it did before: would I be able to look them in the eyes and lie again? Would I be able to pretend to not recognize Meg, even though we were stuck together for months, relying on one another for survival?

Would I recognize her at all?

I didn't give myself the time to answer such questions.

Peeking inside the infirmary, I noticed how it stayed mostly the same, since the last time I was there.

(Thinking back to how many times I ended up there, I figured I should've gotten a yearly subscription to Camp Halfblood's medical services. Will probably used up at least half of his supplies on me.)

A pot of flowers - not hyacinths, this time, but dandelions instead - was placed near the window, and if it hadn't been for the cloudy sky, they would have been sunbathing by now. Medicinal herbs grew in every corner of the room, and lots of anatomical illustrations that were at least half a century old hung on the walls. The infirmary didn't smell as strongly of disinfectant as one would expect; instead, the air carried a more delicate, grass-like scent, providing its patients with the bliss of not having to smell medicine and rubber gloves all day long.

The cots were empty, for the most part, except for two campers who chatted in half-whispers, lying close to each other, laughing at a joke they shared. They didn't seem to mind the casts on their legs or the bandages on their arms.

The sight brought a smile to my lips. As per usual, demigods had enough stubbornness and strength in them to be able to face hardships without caring for the pain they endured, even if those hardships involved something silly like trying to lean in to hear each other better without falling off the bed.

To their left, two cots farther, Meg sat on the bed, dangling her feet while Will disinfected a cut on her forearm. At first, I thought that her nose was bleeding as well, but there was nothing on her upper lip. I figured that my apprehension had messed with my perception.

Puberty knocked on their door while I was gone, and although they didn't go through any big changes, I still had the same sense of unease I felt that time Hermes decided to move all the furniture in my house slightly to the left.

Will, who I remember being as short and awkward as a middle-schooler, decided to gracefully embrace his sixteen years, probably thanks to the two inches that his growth spurt gave him, and he now looked more confident and mature than before. From a distance, his movements looked quick and precise, and the way he talked to Meg (to scold her, judging from his frown) made him look like an experienced doctor.

However, he was still gentle and caring, and a benevolent eye shone in his eyes. He reminded me vaguely of Chiron and of Asclepius, in that sense, and it made my chest swell with affection. 'That's my son!' I wanted to yell, with a smile, 'He's amazing and I'm proud of him!'

Meg was the one I was less surprised by. Still dressed as an eccentric streetlight, she was slightly taller than last year, but still no taller than a sixth-grader. Thanks to her siblings' intervention and the chance of sleeping on an actual bed instead of the occasional cots and sleeping bags we used to pass out on during our quest, she looked cleaner and more well-rested than before; yet, having more hours of sleep at her disposal only meant that there was a higher number of strangers she could fight.

In a way, though, she was still the Meg I used to know; I could see that in her bored expression, and in the way she played with her twin rings. With her hair back to the length of a bob cut, I could even pretend that nothing changed and that I visited her regularly like I had promised to do. 'How do I look? I tried too hard, you said? Excuse me, Meg, this is not a dumb tan-'

When I stepped in, it was clear that this wasn't the case.

Meg turned to look at me, with the same frown she had that time we met Dionysus, and I was sure she was wondering whether she should fight me or ignore me, carrying on with her life.

The sight broke my heart a little, even though I knew that she couldn't possibly remember me.

Noticing that she wasn't listening to him anymore, and stopping in the middle of a lecture about the risks of jumping headfirst in a fight (something I recognised from the old Meg, but wasn't less concerned about than before), he looked up, and his eyebrows shot up as soon as he saw me.

"Dad?" he asked, leaving the cotton on a nearby table. His voice was deeper, with a raspy edge to it. "You're here."

His face took on a worried expression. Then, running towards me, he hugged me.

Oh, how I wanted to weep! As much as I wished to pin that on the flowers' pollen, I knew that the true reason lied within the subtle ache tormenting my heart. I had missed my children, I had missed Meg, I had missed the sound of their voices. I had missed being able to make sure they were alright, without a projection separating us.

Still, I managed to stay composed.

"Hey," I started, with a strained voice, returning the hug. Good job, Apollo! That sure is a fantastic way to greet your child! "I-" Talking didn't help with my stinging eyes. "Yeah, I'm here."

He stepped back, quickly, as if he got burned, and after taking a good look at me, his shoulders sunk. His expression, though, didn't hold any trace of the reason for that behaviour - he just smiled at me with his usual warmth.

"This is-" he started, moving his hands in an incomprehensible manner. He must have gotten the habit from Nico.

"'Really sudden'?" I supplied for him, chuckling, "Many people have told me that today."

The campers on the cots seemed eager to be added to the list, as they were listening intently.

Will laughed. "It is sudden. I mean, you haven't been around for... two years, more or less," he said, shrugging.

"And I'll tell you all about it," I promised. What I can tell you, that is. "I'll stay here all day, so we have time."

"But I can't-"

"You're the guy who shot the cyclops, in my dream," Meg observed, interrupting us with the same casual tone one would use to say they ate yogurt.

We both turned, looking at Meg with twin expressions of surprise for two very different reasons.

I had forgotten all about that incident, but it happened way back when we were wandering through the labyrinth. Did she somehow remember such a small detail? Or was it a crack in her conscience, pushing out tiny memories, one at a time?

I stared at her with wide eyes. "What?" I said, feeling the intense urge to laugh hysterically.

Something in my tone must've sounded threatening, even though I was obviously amused, because Will quickly stood between us. "That's my dad, Meg. He's Apollo. The god Apollo."

The way he said 'god' seemed to imply, 'This guy has big, dangerous powers. He can fry you to a crisp. Shut up.'

Meg frowned, completely ignoring Will's silent advice. "He was sitting on the toilet and you just, bam! Shot him in the eye with a fancy arrow," she continued, "You looked different, but I know it was you."

The Apollo my son remembered would have been fuming with rage already. 'You assume I could ever have such a humiliating experience, mortal? Heresy!'

I, on the other hand, laughed, which I'm sure weirded out Will even more than Meg's sudden comment. "You're a funny one." I shook my head. Then, already cringing, I said, "You must be Margaret."

"Meg." She narrowed her eyes. "Don't you ever call me Margaret."

Then, realizing that it isn't quite normal for a stranger to recognize her, given her lifestyle, she asked, "How do you know me?"

"Surely not because of that dream you mentioned, Meg," I replied, not denying that I did it, without getting a single reaction from her. Of course, she still had no shame. "Which, by the way, reminds me of that time I fought the cyclops who worked for my father. I was quite angry at them, the poor guys didn't do anything. But I digress." I grinned. "I'm the god of knowledge, among other things, so of course I know everyone and everything."

I heard Calypso's voice mock me in my head, 'You still don't know how much a dollar is worth!'

Jokes on you, Calypso, you don't know either!

Since Meg looked quite unimpressed herself, I added, "Also, Demeter told me about you."

Her eyes lit up. "She did?"

Meg's reaction made me immediately regret lying to her. It wasn't an actual lie, of course: she did mention her, both to me and to my mom. Still, what I told her seemed to imply that Demeter talked about her regularly, and, as self-aware as she appeared to be lately, the goddess always tended to forget about her mortal offspring.

I decided to dodge the question. "I will tell you about her if you'd like to. Maybe we could all head out together!" I proposed, clapping my hands once, "I still have to see Austin, and Kayla, and everyone else."

Will's wore a contrite expression. "I'm sure they will be happy to see you, dad," he began, "But I still have some patients to look after, and Meg is injured."

"I'm fine," she protested, attempting to jump off the bed. Will blocked her with his arm and, despite looking ready to bite him, she stayed put.

I winked. "I can help with that."

I closed my eyes, spreading my arms. After I whispered a prayer, warmth started flowing in my veins, reaching my fingertips and spreading all around me. When I looked again, Meg's wound was already mending itself, and the two demigods were both trying to move their legs as if they were riding a bike, failing miserably because of the weight of the white boulders surrounding them.

"My leg isn't broken anymore!" said Camper 1, laughing incredulously. Camper 2 stayed silent, knocking on their cast in wonder.

"See? Now we can go!" I exclaimed, proud of myself, turning to look at Will. He wasn't as pleased as I was: with his lips stretched into a thin line, and his arms crossed, it was obvious that something was wrong.

He saw I was looking at him, though, and he forced himself to smile. His jaw was still clenched. "Thank you," he said, clearing his throat.

Meg stared at the place where the cut had previously been, then at Will, and then back at me. The mistrust I saw in her eyes jarred me, and I frowned. Did I do something that I wasn't supposed to? "Will-"

"Just give me a moment, I'll need to remove their casts first," he said, adjusting the bloody cuffs of his coat.

I didn't ask if he needed help. I didn't say anything at all.