Apollo sat in the throne room as the other Olympians were either bickering or doing their own thing around him.
Zeus and Hera were arguing about him having an affair with yet another woman. Poseidon was sending glares at Hera, still upset about what his son had been through because of her. Dionysus was, fortunately for them, at Camp Half-Blood. Ares, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus were caught up in a three way argument. Demeter was writing in a journal of ways to be able to see her daughter more often.Hermes was talking to George and Martha.
Artemis turned her head to him and opened her mouth to say something to him, probably argue, he thought. But her mouth quickly closed seeing the somber look on his face. She bit her lip and turned around again, sparking up a conversation with Athena about the benefits of eternal maiden hood.
Apollo leaned back in his throne, thinking about his daughter who had died a few years ago. She was one of the most talented healer and archer, yet it was still a mystery of how she had died. If it was his son he knew Artemis would have told him it was his fault for having an affair with yet another mortal woman in the first place, but this was his daughter. And she had been offered a place in the Hunt, which she would accept on her fourteenth birthday because she hated being younger. If only she had gotten past twelve.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hestia's head lift up, as though she heard something, tearing her gaze from the hearth that she was tending. After a minute or so, she stood up and made her way to the front of the Council.
"QUIET!" she yelled, getting their attention quickly. Everyone looked up to face her as she spoke her next sentence. "The fates have asked me to share some information with you."
She turned to Apollo. "Do you wish to see why and how she died?" she asked in a soft voice.
His eyes widened, that was something he had been wishing to hear for over a decade. And even though no name had been mentioned, the rest of the Olympians immediately knew what she was saying. After all, you don't forget when the happy, cheery, sun God is gloomy for over 2 weeks.
"Yes," Apollo whispers. Hestia's smiled sadly and nodded before waving her hand as darkness consumed the Council's vision.
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A 4-year-old boy was slumped against a wall looking up at the fat man in front of him. The room was old, with broken beer bottles and burnt cigars scattered all over the place. In the corner of the room a woman was on the ground, unconscious, with the shadow looming over her, all that could be seen was her hair.
"P-please," the boy stuttered, "hurt me instead, j-just please do-don't hurt m-my mommy a-anymore."
Smiling cruelly, the man grab the kid by his hair, causing a whimper from the boy, and dragged him into another room. The sound of a lock is heard and less than a minute later the boy's screams could be heard against the man's laughter.
The scene changed showing the same young boy, maybe a year old this time though, limping down a crowded sidewalk all while sticking to the shadows so no one saw him.
But if being paid close attention to, you would see that his face was dripping with blood pouring out of a long cut that ran down his cheek. His face was pale from pain and lack of blood, and the boy's left leg was at an abnormal angle with glass shards stick out from his calf. He was clutching his left hand, which was in an uncomfortable position with a bone sticking out, close to his chest.
