Work Text:
Koios should not have been surprised that one of his grandchildren had earned the domains of knowledge and prophecy. After all, he was the Titan of the North, embodying resolve and intelligence— his dear Phoebe holding the domains of prophecy and bright intellect. He shouldn’t have been surprised that his grandchildren had all earned beauty, albeit in different ways. All of his children had been forces to be trifled with, in opposite ways. Asteria had been terrifying, taking after Phoebe in that regard. She would address council members and herd her family members, most memorably, her daughter, like they were simple sheep.
Her daughter, Hekate, had been born much the same. She had been only a toddler when Koios and them were forced into Tartarus, and he knew that he had millions of birthdays to make up to all of his direct family. She was much like Asteria in regards to her temper and life, the whole hands on her hips spiel and direct words. It seemed that Artemis had also taken after Phoebe herself in many ways, at least in regards to her temper and how she acted.
Apollo, however, was much more of a wild card.
He had an act that Koios had no trouble seeing through, and while it was different around multiple family members, it was still an act. He had more domains than most people could even count, but he had much taken after Koios, unlike Koios’s children, even Leto. However, he was pretty enough and similar enough to Leto that Koios had no questions about whether he was Leto’s child or not. For both him and his twin, however, Koios truly wanted to question whether they were Zeus’s spawn, but he was forced into believing that, yes, they are. Apollo’s act was easy enough to see though, at least to Koios.
And whomever was looking.
His bright, blinding grins were easy enough to see through— Koios could tell what was hiding underneath. Cruel and sharp smiles, hidden with pretty thought out words. He rarely dressed down a council in front of people, instead choosing to act through it with words of manipulation and passive aggressiveness. It was something someone learnt because they had too— Koios should know, he had to learn the same, after all. All Koios knew was that Leto and Phoebe were worried that Apollo had been turning out too much like him, so Apollo had, well, created a character that wasn’t like Koios.
And it had worked.
After all, Phoebe didn’t have her prophetic temple to lean back on, and as motherly as Leto was, she even was soothed by sweet words and quiet evenings that her son had played a part of. Koios, however, was not as blind. Not after centuries stuck in Tartarus. Phoebus Apollon and Koios were family, but at the end of the day, Koios didn’t know his grandchildren like everyone else did; he wasn’t used to the acts that Apollon put on for everyone. It wasn’t natural—
It made Koios’s skin feel like it was on fire, like his very essence was burning. For a child so— cheery and born of Zeus, the child was remarkably smart. That was not to say that Phoebe Artemis was not— just in a different way. Artemis was restricted by her lack of welcoming nature to feelings. She was cruel and cutting and did not allow herself to be kind unless it was to her hunters. Apollon, however, was kind and sweet. He was gentle in a way that Artemis herself had not achieved.
The difference between Apollon and Koios was that Apollo did not allow himself to be selfish. As such, it was easy to corner his grandson— who, as a matter of fact, had quickly dropped all of his little dramatics when he found it wouldn’t work on him. While Koios looked at Apollo with a sharp grin and blue eyes, Apollo looked back up at him with a cruel snarl and matching blue eyes. People assumed that his blue eyes were a product of Zeus— they weren’t. They were Koios’s eyes, several shades sweeter than Zeus’s. After all, he never struck his children with anything, especially not lightning bolts. As though hearing what he thought, the scars on his grandson lit up for a second, making Apollon look up at the sky in nervousness.
“Your father will not see what happens here, Phoebus. He is strong, but with two knowledge deities holding this up? It’s doubtful he could even strike my force.” Apollon’s eyes narrowed on his, and he knew that Apollo’s connection to him was deeper than any of the others knew. “In the nicest way possible, he won’t take it lightly knowing that one of his eldest children are— consorting with a titan— in a war, no less.” Koios sent his own sharp grin at Apollo.
“He doesn’t need to know.”
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Apollo knew.
Oh, he knew that he was Koios’s grandson through and through. He never knew him personally, no, but it was obvious. At least, according to the people who saw him without a mask— namely, those being Hyacinthus, Boreas, Polyboea (even though she isn’t and has never been his lover), or past lovers. Even Branchus, for Khaos’s sake! Often remarking that it was similar to how Koios was in ‘myths’, or, of course, they often said Mythos or even tales or stories. Apollo had never known quite what to say when Boreas, a literal Titan who was an employee of Koios, had said so. So, as was customary, Apollo had locked it away within a box in his mind and refused to touch it with a twenty foot pole.
Apollo wasn’t surprised when his soothing, manipulative words and masks came back to bite him.
After all, both Boreas and Hyacinthus reminded him to be careful of that on a daily basis. Less so on Hyacinthus’s part, seeing as he didn’t live with Apollo and Boreas, but— well, the point was made. So, if it wasn’t clear, Apollo knew— more than everyone gave him credit for. He is literally the god of knowledge and the holder of Delphi! But, somehow, it was easy to convince people he was airheaded and stupid. Koios had, apparently, seen through all of his acts within the time he was here— without even talking to him! Honestly, how did his father ever expect to win when a literal Titan saw through his sons acts quicker than any god did.
Except— maybe Hekate. She had spent too much time with him pacing the floors of her hut and muttering to himself, Circe much the same. But that wasn’t here nor there.
He knew that even though he got his hair and skin from his mother, that was almost it. Maybe his softer side was inherited from her, but his non-act self, as he’s taken to calling it? Not so much. Even his eyes were Koios’s, albeit covered in rings of green and gold, but that didn’t count! His manipulative pretty words were from Koios, using his features as a weapon? Koios.
“You’re smarter than people give you credit for, Phoebus.”
He didn’t even blink at his grandfather’s words, instead choosing to look up at him with blank eyes. People underestimating you because you put on an act? Koios! Boreas’s words rang within his mind, and he grit his teeth. “So are you.” He replies after a moment, slightly shivering at the cool air that wafted over them. The sun and light was not made to be in the cold— Boreas didn’t count. Apollo purses his lips nervously as Koios’s grin widens. “It seems, child, that you have gotten that from me, my apologies. Of course, those acts you put up certainly don’t help.” Like a moth to a flame. Seriously? He was seriously thinking about his lovers favorite quote now?
“What acts?” Apollo says, blinking innocently at him. A part of him hopes it doesn’t work— that he can actually say cruel and cutting remarks without someone saying you’ve changed so much! Because he hasn’t changed. Maybe, just maybe, that would work with his current act, but not now. Seriously, he really needed to get a therapist. Don’t tell Boreas or even Hyacinthus he said that, they’d take him literally. They’ve been trying to drag him to a therapist for centuries. Koios simply raises a brow at him, and he sighs. At least he knows that one person in his family, who wasn’t there for the making of these acts, doesn’t believe his acts. On the other hand— this is a Titan on the other side of the war.
“I’m good at living on the page that he wants me to live on.” He says simply, looking away from Koios to look at the mountain cave they were on. (In?) His blond curls helped obscure his view, but they were already straining against the ribbons they were held back with, so he paid them no mind. His bow laid heavily on his back, bringing him to the present, even as the lightning bolt scarring on his skin prickled and lit up with his fathers current mood. “So was I.” Koios replies, and Apollo can’t help but look up at his grandfather. They were different, but very much the same.
Apollo lets his lips tug into a cruel grin. “I will not fight for you lot.” He says simply. Artemis won’t, so he won’t. Also, the others won’t, and he assumes that Boreas will remain neutral, his loyalty between his employer and his lover. Koios shrugs, managing a carefree look that doesn’t look quite right on him. Is that what I look like? He wonders; like his actions don’t fit his body, like he’s only a puppet on a string? “I won’t ask. Leto already informed me that Phoebe, your Phoebe, is unlikely to fight for us, so you won’t.” Koios gazes at him, and Apollo can’t help but wonder how people feel when he looks at them with the same eyes.
Do they feel scared? Like he knows more than they do?
What about when his eyes gleamed gold? Did his father look at him and see his own father? Did the King God look at him and see a Titan King to be put down, like a dog? He had rarely seen Koios’s eyes, and has never seen Kronos’s, but he also knew that he would never escape the comparison. His hair was shades lighter than his mothers, skin paler than either of his parents, no matter how similar, remarks too cutting and hidden to be from Zeus or Leto. Zeus used cruel and direct words, like Artemis, and Leto rarely spoke badly, but when she did, it was direct and dull. A realization dawned on Apollo, and it felt like he was frozen, hypothermia settling over him despite knowing that Boreas would never let anyone do that, and Koios was much more of a ‘family man’ than people suspected.
“You know you won’t win, don’t you?” He mutters, looking up at Koios with disbelieving eyes. Finally, Koios’s grin falters as they blink at each other. Koios looks away, much like Apollo had done moments ago. “My brother is much like your father, loathe as they both view it.” Apollo pauses, narrowing his eyes and— oh. Oh. It’s not hard to see. Koios wants a legacy. He wants someone that will continue to live after him and be like him, despite knowing he won’t win.
He looks away, the opposite direction of Koios. He finally straightens after a moment, walking past Koios quietly; the scarring on his arms grow more and more furious and fearful as the time goes on. He makes a point to look at Koios a final time before he disappears.
“Perhaps, we live on the same page, you and I, in different fonts.”
Sympathy lay deeply in both of their eyes, even if Koios tries to hide it. Apollo tips his head softly to his grandfather. “I do not know you, but I was born of you, and I am like you.” He disappears before Koios can respond, leaving behind the scent of Hyacinths and honey.
XxXxXxXXXxxxxxx
Apollo has never seen Kronos.
Not in a true form, but it was still there. He knew that even when people looked at him and saw Koios, because that is who Leto looked like and that is what he looks like, but he knows that because Kronos was cunning and Koios is intelligence, he manages to look like both of his grandfathers. His mother and grandmother and aunt and uncle looked at him and saw a Koios so he changed to fit the opposite of that ideal, and he knew that his father and Hestia and Poseidon and even Hades and Hera looked at him and saw Kronos, so he tried to change that.
It never worked.
At the end of the day, he was still KoiosKronosKoiosKronosKoiosKronos and he could never change that. He knew he wasn’t them, but they were also almost one in the same. Kronos had a temper, but not in the same ways Zeus did. His temper was unpredictable and cruel and cutting and although it was rash it was also harsh. Zeus’s temper was loud and angry and while it was harsh it was predictable. Koios had a temper like Apollo’s, it was unpredictable, harsh, angry. He had picked it up from Helios, but he also knew that it was Koios’s own temper running into his ichor. He knew that, at the end of the day, he was both of his grandfather"s grandson.
He knew it the day that he and Artemis met his grandmother Rhea and she looked at Apollo like he was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out, like she didn’t know what name to call him. The others said that it was because he was vain, that he had too many names; there was also no mistaking the pure recognition in Rhea’s eyes when she gazed at him. He knew it the day that he and Boreas actually talked about what they had going on. “I keep expecting you to be like them, to explode at me and explain that I need to do better.” They never said the names explicitly, but Apollo wasn’t stupid, nor idiotic.
He knew who he looked and acted like. Oreithyia said that sometimes she couldn’t help but be relieved he didn’t use scythe’s and swords to fight, and his uncle Lelantos had been the one to desperately press the bow and arrows into his hands, while he gave them to Artemis like an uncle"s gift, he gave them to Apollo like he was preventing something. “Lelantos is not all-knowing. My son is smart, but he also fears what you could be, Phoebus. He is rash because he is scared of you. Use that advantage.” Koios’s words unwillingly echoed in his head. His grandfather had searched him out, and Boreas said that it was a form of comfort.
That, even in Tartarus, Koios had a legacy running around. Apollo knew, oh, he knew, that everyone had tried to purge him of his Kronos and Koios like tendencies as a child, and he listened. He played an act, like a puppet on a stage. (His domains had him wrapped around their fingers, Khaos’s cruel and cold fingers and essence and breath soothing his curls and whispering in his ears, Ouranos’s cruel eyes blinking down at him from the sky, like he was sketching out Apollo’s future before he had even gathered a single domain.) He pretended like he didn’t notice his family sighing in relief as he pulled the air-headed act, like they didn’t grow annoyed at his fancy words.
After all, he was a manipulator at heart, as vain and stupid as it was. It wasn’t like he was stupid, he had, after all, played the game with Python for hours, twisting and turning and taking turns with their sweet words and control. Each form the earth spirit had taken, a serpent or dragon, he had been there to avenge his mother and grandmother. Fighting Python was not just physical strength; one needed to be strong enough to mentally get out of Python’s grip, to look away from the images he projected. Apollo had been better at controlling his anger as a child, he had grown up with his aunts and uncles and mother and sister but he had also grown up with Khaos whispering in his ears, with Ouranos gazing down at him.
Judging him.
His father had exiled him for killing Python, and Apollo had grown quiet. He had gazed up at his father, and for the first time, he didn’t have Khaos terrifying (comforting) whispers, he didn’t have Ouranos’s cruel (relying) eyes rooting him to the spot. His temper had soothed, even as he stormed out of the throne room, even as Artemis, his sister, hadn’t helped him. After all, in technical terms, he and Artemis were Zeus’s oldest children. Hera’s children came only a little later, compared to them.
And Apollo had always understood that Hera was threatened by him. She looked at him and she saw her father and uncle, she looked at him and saw a threat.
“You have your pondering face, my dear.” Boreas’s voice startled him, and he just barely managed to not mess up his braid. He sent an annoyed glare at his lover, and Boreas only laughed, far too used to that. The air grew colder as Boreas settled near him, and he was glad that mortals had created far more warm clothes. “Drachma for your thoughts?” Boreas whispered to him, settling sweetly next to him and taking over the braiding process— it had almost been an hour, either way. Apollo sniffs haughtily, wishing to stick his nose up but unwilling to mess the braid up. “My thoughts are worth far more than a single drachma, my dear Boreas.”
He could hear the grin in Boreas’s voice as he hummed in response. Their relationship had changed over the centuries, especially when Apollo was Lester, but Apollo wasn’t sure that it was bad. After all, he and Oreithyia still teamed up on annoying Boreas, they all still sat down in their quarters at the end of the day, whispering to each other. There were bad days, but he knew that there was something on the horizon he couldn’t see, and he was growing impatient with the wait.
“Of course, my dear Apollo. I apologize.”