Daphne Unedited

It's hard to play the lyre when you're constantly being rained on.

Even the Maenads had given up, and they were the most hardcore partiers you could ever imagine. He once watched them stuff Silenus head first into a giant olla when he'd gone too far one night. Normally they could shrug off the worst of weather, but even he, a god, had lost count of the days in a row that he'd tried to hold court – and it rained. And poured. And rained some more. Like that place he'd heard mentioned, far north and west, where they wore puckers in their tunics, and walked through briar patches for fun.

The Muses had flat-out refused to accompany him after the first week of torrential rains. Bacchus stomped off in disgust after the second hurricane, with Poseidon whistling innocently behind him. Hermes had just snorted, saying “Dude, you done screwed the pooch this time,” and he whirred off in a blur of wings. The fauns took off with Pan after making all sorts of figs in all sorts of configurations (cough cough). They couldn't resist the Pan – er, pun.

He was alone. No audience to reflect him.

He hated it.

He was allegedly the god in charge of making men aware of their guilt, then purifying them of it. He could feel his own guilt eating him alive, but he was still trying to put the blame on anyone, everyone else. It didn't help that Eros had already apologized for his part, in full council no less.

He was sulking. He was furious at himself. He wasn't going to admit it, but he was miserable. He could hear the Furies giggling at him, though they somehow stayed out of the rain that he couldn't escape.

He was screwed.

He couldn't even go inside to escape the continuous rain. Zeus listened to the impassioned pleas of the assembled gods, and judged the situation, so he was bound to wander – outdoors. And no tree, no roof, nothing solid or shelterable would hold him in the slightest.

Except for one small bush, and that one loathed his very touch.

He was wearing linen fit for the gods, but even that fabric had its limits. He was sodden and clammy when he finally gave up, and crawled under the bush that hadn't existed till he forced the issue. It shivered and pulled away, but the rain could not get through its leaves to soak his skin.

“I'm sorry, fair maiden,” he whispered. “Your mistress is thoroughly angry, and I can get shelter no other way.”

Serves you right.

“It's not my fault,” he whined. It sounded false even to his own ears.

I hate you.

He sighed. “That is a true statement, though I wish it were otherwise.”

You took EVERYTHING from me! You had no right!

“But Eros-”

Tauros scata! All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and not mock his rather considerable skill with the bow! Jealous much?

For someone who had never picked up a bow in her mobile life, this nymph could shoot rather well.

Oh, NOW you've learned I'm more than just another crotch to conquer?

He sighed, and it seemed that the leaves deliberately angled themselves to drip on his head. “I guess I deserved that.”

You deserve all that you're experiencing, and more. I don't belong to you!

“And I think the entirety of the rest of the gods agree I truly belong under you.” He was well aware that the statement gave all sorts of implications of a massive shift in power dynamics. He was still the god of prophecy.

Aww, diddums fall far, O high and mighty one?

Ouch. And he realized his situation was a little precarious here as well, because his position – both physically and socially – put him within range of the little bush's father, and all his paternal rage. Peneus controlled the swollen river tumbling in front of him, and he saw a large wave upstream, gathering speed and size and power, with a giant uprooted tree at the crest, aiming right for him like a giant spear-

He scrambled away from what was about to happen, and bolted for the edge of the river basin.

The wave came crashing down, spraying him with as much muddy water as possible. But the tree trunk fell short of its intended target. Funnily enough, the little bush was not submerged in the torrent.

Somehow, he could still hear her “voice.” Did you forget, oh so powerful god? If you are powerful, then your twin sister is just as powerful. And I dedicated myself to her, not you. You tried to take what didn't belong to you. After mocking another god who is arguably as powerful as you, certainly a quicker shot. Only the greatest of gods can be the greatest of fools.

Ouch.

The rain gleefully pouring down on him did not wash out the mud glops that clung with tenacious ferocity to his clothing. And skin. Ick. How could he smell such rich decaying matter in this deluge?

Ready to face the music yet?

With perfect timing, the river spat out something with a dischordant twang.

His lyre. Well, what was left of it.

Ouch.

He gathered up the golden pieces with a sigh. Maybe Hephaestus would eventually take pity and fix it?

Perhaps it was time. And this would be the difficult part.

He trudged towards a far mountain, its peak shrouded in perpetual clouds. Not that you could tell today, with all the dark stormheads gathered right above him.

*******

This would make such a glorious epic poem! Such wonders, such exploits! You should get the greatest lyricist on the most perfect lyre to tell this legendary saga! Oh, yeah, um, maybe not...

He was still hearing her voice, somehow. He was almost glad he hadn't ravished her; to listen to this sharp tongue for eternity? Because he knew both their fathers would have forced a marriage on him for his actions.

Like I would have married your sorry ass? Like your sister, my true mistress, would have allowed it? Perish the thought!

He was also glad he was climbing a rather tricky part of Mount Olympus, because the rocks he was gripping in each hand prevented him from slapping his own head repeatedly to get that voice to shut up.

Hah! As if!

This was difficult stuff, to ascend in these conditions. He wasn't used to this type of rock, all sharp and with tendencies to scale off and slide down, taking him with it if it could.

Sedimentary, my dear sun god. Should have listened more to your sister.

He could feel his hands getting slick with his own blood, but he gripped the rock tighter. Golden sandals scrabbled for better footing, and got shredded in the process.

Ooh, you haven't run barefoot in how long? Should have spent more time hunting in the forest with your sister and I! That's how I kept ahead of you in the running match for so long, till you cheated!

He could have just put calluses on his feet, but it would take some time and concentration to put the proper thickness in the right place. And with that piercing voice in his ear, it was rather difficult to concentrate on anything. Like not slipping and falling off the highest mountain in Greece.

Should have thought of that before trying to take what DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU!

The yelling in his ear was what put him over the edge, literally.

He could feel himself slipping, falling, falling. The shrieking in his ears was that voice, giggling in sadistic joy...

WHAM.

Ouch!

He lay still, taking stock of the broken bits, letting them heal slowly. The giggles continued. So did the rain, mingling with blood and river clay filled with organic matter whose scent still clung to his nostrils.

Ouch.

Eventually the last bits knitted themselves up, and he couldn't put off opening his eyes.

He was on a cave ledge. And the great doors were right in front of him.

Still want to face the music? You could always turn around and spend a wet eternity with me!

He strode to the doors with a swagger he didn't feel. But he stopped and knocked, knowing he'd smash his nose if he tried just walking through them as always.

The door creaked open, and one of the Horae – he could never tell them apart, they were so much alike – appeared in his path. He bowed his head. “Your pardon, I do not know if you are Peace, Justice, or Good Order. May I enter?”

Ooooh, humility!

“I am, appropriately, Justice. You, O disheveled Phoebus, have fallen far from your original estate.”

“I long for my sunlight, but I fear I have more rough terrain to traverse.” He could see inside, where glorious bright beams touched everything with golden rays. “May I come in?”

“We are assembled, waiting for your response.” She wasn't moving.

Ooh! Ooh! Humble thyself before thy gods! She's waiting for the proper response! Ha! You deserve this, you selfish jerkwad!

The voice was right. He sighed, and slowly got to his knees. He may have healed himself, but he still ached. Injuries take time to fully recover. “Dike, Keeper of the Door, may I petition for forgiveness?”

Her perfect eyebrows shot straight to her hairline. “I didn't know you had it in you Apotropaeus.”

Hah! “Evil Averter” my nonexistent foot!

“Then it's beyond time I live up to it. May I?” She nodded and stepped aside. And he, with a gusty sigh, started forward on hands and knees.

It took forever.

It did not take long.

It didn't take long enough!

It took longer than he wanted, because the voice was singing discordantly: Ohhhh, here we come a-begging, begging, covered all in scum! Oh, here we come a-groveling, our wand'ring days are done! Maybe, if this sorry ass can get his butt in gear, apologize so prettily for all the world to hear! Catchy, hunh? If you had an instrument, you should set that to music! Ohhhh, here we come a-begging....

He bonked into a large gilt-covered marble monstrosity, and collapsed in relief. He recognized it, even though he could only see the very base of the throne. He knew the Presence above hm, and could sense all the others surrounding him. And realized he wasn't being rained on, though everyone was shrouded in blinding fog.

“Well, child. What have you to say for yourself?”

“Greetings, Father.” He pulled himself upright, feeling millions of years old. He bowed to the figure he could barely glimpse through the fog. “If I may address some of the assembled?”

“Proceed.”

“Eros?” A cloud flashed, and a winged teen kitted out for the hunt stepped forward. “Cousin, I am sorry I shot off my mouth. I should have never taunted you. I have no excuse, though I would love to give one, or many, out of pride. As you see, my dignity has been rather effectively stripped from me. I would ask to embrace and forgive, but, um... my eloquence escapes me. It must be the swamp funk.”

“Indeed, Cousin, you look the worse for wear. I hope you have learned things.”

“Horrid things, yes. But it does not change my apology. I am sorry for mocking you, and I resolve to never do it again. You and your bow are strong, and your arrows fly true. I am living proof. Forgive me, please.”

Eros nodded his head, but his eyes slid from his cousin's face to somewhere near his ear. He muttered a startled “I am so sorry, Lady,” and faded back into the assembly.

“Peneus?” A darker cloud approached, and an angry father burst out of it with a spray of water droplets. “Sir, I have wronged you and your daughter. She clearly refused me, and in my arrogance, I denied her her own agency. I intended to do her violence, and would have blamed everyone but myself. In the end, it cost her her freedom. And even had she agreed, I did not petition you in the proper manner for your permission. I forgot that autonomy is part of justice and order, which I am sworn to uphold. Thank you for interceding before I committed an even greater crime. Please forgive me.”

Peneus rumbled, the sound of angry flood waters receding. “You are forgiven, Agyieus, but never do it again. No father should go through the terror and desperate transformation I was forced to do.” He vanished in another spattering of water drops.

Now for the hard one. He sighed. “Sis?”

She appeared in her Hecate form. Oh, she was angry! He could never understand her, though they were raised together – he was overbearing light and civilization, she was the pale light leaking through the darkness and wild untamed nature. But they were still twins, and he could feel his mother in the concealed crowd, and her disapproval at his behavior. “Sis, I am so, so sorry. The nymph was yours, dedicated to you, and I, I forgot. I am so sorry! Please, please forgive me.”

“Thinking with your Little Sunshine again?”

Snerk!

“I wasn't thinking at all. Pride can be headier than any ambrosia, and I got drunk on it.” He shook his head. Struck with a sudden thought, he pulled a dagger from his waist that had not been there a second before, and grabbed his long hair. He wore it long as an affectation, a reminder of eternal youth, but it conversely marked him as a perpetual child. With one swipe he cut it, and offered it to his sister. “Youth locks are dedicated to me. But I think it's beyond time I start acting more like an adult. Will you accept my offering, and the promise behind it, to never pull something like this again?”

Hecate the dark witch blurred into Artemis, the huntress twin he knew well. “I will, brother. It will serve as a reminder that none of us should meddle with each other's followers.” Her eyes flicked to her uncle, and Poseidon had the grace to look embarrassed. Athena looked smug.

He realized that he could see the gods and goddesses again. The fog was lifting.

“That leaves one more.” Apollo looked to the crowd. “Peneus, of your grace, would you call your daughter here? I would not demand her presence ever again.”

Peneus chuckled, and Artemis joined him. So did the disembodied voice, a high-pitched giggle that grated on his jangled nerves. “You brought her here yourself!” His sister reached out, past his ear, and plucked some laurel twigs from his hair.

His jaw dropped. “So that's why I kept hearing your voice!”

When you ran from Daddy's giant wave, you didn't watch where you were going. You ripped some of my twigs off in your flight. So I decided to come along for the ride! Get some more well-deserved potshots in, watch your misery from up close. Quite enjoyable!

Artemis smiled. “I hate to say it, follower-mine, but you had a great time riding his shoulders. We could transform you back, but if we do, Eros' arrows will affect both of you again and again. As the laurel tree, you are locked in your father's realm, but worn as a god's crown, you could travel again.”

Ugh! Do I have to be polite to him?

Apollo answered first. “Never! You would keep me in line, in fact. Who else can tell me when I screw up without raining for a year or two on me?”

Well, at least it would be interesting...

“I could make you a sign of my affection. We all used you to our own ends, but maybe we can limit the using, make it useful instead? Say, as a flavoring in food, only a leaf or two? Or as a powerful medicine, but only a twig or two? And if I use you as my emblem, a sacred crown, only my chosen can cut your branches. And you can wield that wickedly sharp tongue of yours on me, constantly.”

Athena smiled nastily. “And what a surprise it will be when he gives you as a prize in a contest, and you get to give the same to his devoted followers! That will be a shock to the athletes and singers wearing the living memorial to a time that Apollo strove, and lost. Irony, thy name is bay laurel. You will have more influence than you ever had as a nymph. Or as a tree on a far river bank in your father's domain.”

Peneus rumbled, but shrugged. This was his daughter's choice.

No burning me if you don't like my comments!

“Deal!” Artemis nodded, and leaned over to tuck the twigs back in her brother's much shorter hair.

The assembly blurred again, and Apollo found himself on the Muses' Plain. The sun was shining, and his companions were back, and there was a glorious feast spread on the grass.

Aside of him were his bow, his arrows, and his lyre. The latter was restored as if it had never broken.

Well, All-Father knows how to dismiss a crowd, doesn't he? What are you going to do first, Mister Smarty Tunic?

Apollo smiled, and popped a grape in his mouth. Its juicy tartness burst over his tongue, and he savored it. “What else, sweet Daphne? I'm going to dry out!”