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Even before he was born, he knew too much. He knew his death, his sisters, his mothers, his brothers and his fathers. Especially, his fathers.
Born shining gold he announced who he would be.
Phoebus Apollon.
Son of Zeus and Leto.
When he claimed music. There were laughs, what good was music and song in war. What was good was it to lead. He laughed as well. His family, however much he loved (some of) them were quite narrow-minded. If it was not clearly stated, they would not know. Music, song, poetry and dance when used right united and brought people together. Bringing a united front to a battle was just as important as bringing weapons.
Archery brought similar scorn. Useful, compact and long range, his sister Artemis and him viewed that as positive. Though the other gods disagreed, a coward's weapon they said, just for hunting they said. Is battle not a type of hunt?
Growing up under the care of his mother and sister taught him many things but most importantly it told him he would help them any way possible. His sister revelled in the hunt she lived for the thrill. She cut her enemies down before they could become serious threats to her and her hunters (sometimes apollo felt she loved them more than him). So, he learnt to heal, singing healing songs as gold light glowed seeing the skin stitch together, the ichor stops flowing from wounds. He never felt any greater relief.
Apollo knew too much; he knew this and he knew his mother knew this. He knew about python long before his mother told him and his sister and he spoke of gods unknown to her for a long time to come. The fear in her eyes as he babbled about the day Hermes and Dionysus would form (that fear only grew when they arrived on Mt. Olympus, he knew too much, too early). He was too much like his grandfather. Both of them.
Apollo knew too much but not everything he soon found out. When he came back from slaying python and claiming Delphi, he expected his mother to be happy for him. He expected her not to see that he had done those tasks several weeks ago, that he had spent two weeks passed out from poison and wounds. His mother had hugged him her eyes downcast because she knew he was lying and that that lie would soon become the ‘truth’.
For a while apollo thought the only thing he would earn from slaying python was the nightmares and the fear. He was proved wrong though as one of the things he learned from the fight with python was that he loved learning! Finding out that there wear creatures capable of killing gods, finding out about the world outside delos, outside his family was exhilarating. Scrolls, stories, experiments, lectures, he loved them. Knowledge became one of his domains quite quickly. Though he lost wisdom, something about olives and running off to fight a giant snake that happened to be a child of Gaia when he was a month old. He still thought that was unfair.
Apollo thought that with the shitload of domains he had collected that he would be done. No one liked an overachiever including his father, more domains equalled more power, and more power means a bigger threat (Apollo thought it was silly for his father to fear him for so long as her was kind and just, Apollo wouldn’t challenge him). Yet something was itching at his brain. A feeling that he needed more. That he needed something to destroy with for balance. Plague. He did not enjoy making mortals suffer but it was needed to keep order, at least that's something his father always said.
He knew too much but that didn’t mean anything against an enemy you cannot bring yourself to hurt. His father.
When Hermes was born apollo knew he would take his cattle he also knew he would give them back (well most of them rip Bessie and Daisy, you were taken from us too young). The cattle were gone but he now had the lyre. It seemed like a fair trade in the moment but not anymore (no he was not bitter about it thank you very much).
Apollo knew a lot, too much even but he didn’t know how fast his father could change his mind. He knew his father was unjust the moment he tried to bring his bolt upon his brothers, the moment he did not consult Demeter when he gave Persephone away.
Apollo knew too much; he knew an event that would shake Olympus to its core was coming and he knew the guilty parties. Himself, Athena, Hera and Poseidon. That’s why he didn’t say anything, telling Zeus would only cause him pain, a pain he was becoming much too familiar with.
He still helped them when asked, his father hadn't been kind or just as of late and Apollo for once knew not more than anyone else. He had no clue what side would win if he did, he wouldn’t have been caught dead next to any of the others.
He and Poseidon were made mortal. Made to slave under the sun. Made to be berated by an angry mortal king (one angry at Zeus for taking Ganymede, not him or Poseidon). He thought that was the only punishment, he was wrong. As he ascended back to Olympus, he noticed Athena kept her place as father's favourite daughter, but Ares had crept into his place as the favorite son. Apollo found this weird and unsettling. His father, normally disgusted at Ares’ brutality and blood lust, now looked at him like he was the answer to an impossible problem. (He gazed at Apollo as if he had just spat in his face)
His poetry became sadder, the songs slower and dances subdued. Lightning scorched himself and his temples but never anyone else, that made him happy. He didn’t know what he would do if his father hurt his sister. If his father looked at his sister, the way he looked at Apollo. He thought though that Zeus did still love him just not as much.
Ashes fell through his fingers. Tears fell from his eyes. His son, dead. At the hands of his grandfather.
‘You shall be sent to earth and live as a mortal.’
It wasn’t fair, Zeus had murdered his son for doing his job. For healing people. Apollo had begged for himself to be punished instead of his son, begging for his son to be spared. It had not mattered Asclepius fell, there had been no body to bury.
His rage was colossal, terrifying and all consuming. The lightning maker was dead soon, too soon if you asked apollo. Once his father knew, blood once gold flowed red, golden hair now pale brown as he fell to earth.
Apollo knew better this time he knew being mortal was not the only punishment he would be given, just the one on record. Oh, how Zeus had outdone himself this time! Bringing back Asclepius as a god just to ban Apollo from ever seeing him again. His heart hurt more than when he thought him dead, to have him so close yet so far away, tore his heart in ways he had not yet known possible.
For a long time, Apollo tried everything to be his father's favourite again, to be the perfect child. He agreed with everything his father said and proposed. He made himself dumber, less threating looking, easily beatable. That made his father happy, a tyrant does not like others who are strong, they like those who are weak and that's what Apollo appeared to be.
Apollo knew too much, which is why he knew who Percy Jackson was even before it was public knowledge. He also knew of a girl called Meg McCaffrey, though that name was fuzzier. He knew what this meant interference from the fates. For now, he could only wonder what she’ll end up doing.