watching luke castellan die had been completely and utterly tragic and terrifying, and even worse by your brother having been the person to give him his suicide weapon.

at some point in watching luke, and kronos, die, you’d hauled your battered body up onto hesita’s hearth, armor scattered elsewhere as thoughts of ethan nakamura and selena consumed you whole.

not soon after, all the olympians, excluding poseidon for now, had entered their throne room, expecting to find battle but only to be greeted with the sight of a dead luke castellan and worn-looking demi-gods. but apollo’s eyes were only on you, ~~the girl eros showed him centuries ago~~, curled up in a sad ball.

everything else apollo blocked out and strode over to you, at some point having changed his greek armour into jeans and a hoodie with his powers. the god promptly sat down next to you, and mused, “need some help with those injuries, my sunshine?”