Olympus was where he belonged, he was supposed to be on his throne with the other gods, so why did this feel so wrong? Why did he long to be amongst mortals? Had Lester Papadopoulos changed him that much?

When he looked in the mirror was the person he saw looking back at him truly who he was meant to be? He was a god. He was Apollo. He, well, he had it all, nymphs fawning over him, daily sacrifices, a sun chariot, and a beautiful mansion. So, why did his mind return to that little camp on the north shore of Long Island? Why did his mind return to that strange demigod who changed him and his life?

Before this he would’ve taken in all of their flaws, imperfections, and quirks. He would’ve scoffed and turned his head away, so why did he allow his mind to drift off when he is sitting on his throne amongst the other gods, why did he fantasize about his hands brushing against their flawed skin, gazing into their eyes, dreaming of a mortal life with them?

“Apollo, Apollo? Are you alive?” Artemis asked, his twin sister had snapped him out of that daze as she nudged his shoulder.

“Yes, I..” Apollo paused, was he fine? Was he okay? Could he continue with this life after everything he saw and experienced? After meeting who he had met?

“Apollo.” Zeus’s voice rumbled like thunder over the room, demanding all of the gods’ full attention, and that’s exactly what he recieved from all but Apollo.

“I need to go.” Apollo said, rising from his seat and began walking. He was a god and he could appear wherever he wished, but he had spent months as Lester Papadopolous walking wherever he needed to go, and that’s what he intended to do. He had loose ends to tie up, and a few he would like to leave untied for the foreseeable future.