Even after Artemis and Apollo ascended to Olympus and were formally recognised as Zeus’s children, Hera could not be placated in her rage against her marriage. She sent the giant Tityos – another of Zeus’s bastards, she may as well try and kill four birds with one stone – to rape Leto. When a foetus Tityos grew so vast so quickly that his mother’s womb split in two and the earth had to carry him to full term. Artemis and Apollo made quick work of him with their speedy arrows. Hera should have learnt her lesson.
Apollo & Daphne
Daphne was a pretty basic nymph. Her father was a river god; no one could be bothered to remember who her mother was. She was a devout follower of Artemis and was one of her virgins who traipsed after her around the world’s forests killing miscellaneous creatures, like some sort of trigger happy Brownie patrol. Poor Daphne was in the proverbial wrong place at the actual wrong time. Now Apollo got around the block, he could he was hot. He was also damn good with a bow and arrow. There was no other god that could match him. Always an archer, clinical Apollo did everything from a distance and from a high vantage point, even love. Every now and then Apollo would get cocky, and every now and then someone would attempt to teach him a lesson.
***
“Arrows aren’t to be trifled with little one.” Apollo said.
“I am not little and I am a very good shot.” Eros said.
“If you insist…” Apollo smirked.
***
“But mother he had so little respect for me, for love.” Eros said to Aphrodite, the indignation tripping from his tongue like acid.
“Really darling.” Aphrodite said as she inspected her nails.
“Would it not be exquisite if he died from a broken heart?”
“That it would darling and if not from a broken heart then a least from embarrassment.” Aphrodite said and with that she sauntered off leaving Eros with empty moral space, the little head case.
***
Eros steadied his hand. His targets were in sight. He drew back his bow and fired his first shot, an arrow of pure hate, straight into the heart of Daphne who had merely happened to have made casual eye contact with Apollo. Eros rapidly drew his second arrow, an arrow of deepest love, straight into the heart of Apollo, the bastard. That would teach him. That should have taught him.
***
No one, not even an immortal, sees Eros’s arrow pierce their flesh only the resulting sensation. And yet for some inexplicable reason they all perceived the effect as a natural phenomenon. Apollo took that little love dart to his chest with little dignity. Now first he tried to talk to Daphne, which normally is a very sensible beginning, but of course that did not work. She had taken her hate dart with some poise and had managed to hide her disgust pretty well for the first few weeks at least. This dignity did not serve her well; Apollo read this as charming aloofness. After a week of not getting any closer to her, Apollo tried a different tack: poetry. A good old lyrical ballad always worked wonders for him, he was the god of it after all and his lovers always found it delightful. This of course did not work and Daphne remained resolutely virginal. So Apollo embraced the next tactic in his arsenal: alcohol. That clearly wasn’t going to go down well with such a hair shirt of a girl. He thought she was still playing hard to get. Thus Apollo was left with his last and final option: rape. If Daphne just had sex with him – even if she wasn’t quite ‘aware’ that she wanted to – then of course she’d fall in love with him too. Well after some Benny Hill style comedy chasing involving a sizable erection Daphne lost her shit. She begged her father for help. In obliging his daughter the river god turned her into a laurel tree. Apollo then decided to wear her leaves on his head in a crown. He was only being environmentally friendly. This was the first time Apollo had ever suffered the indignity of such a violent rejection, and he did so very publically.
***
Silently Eros had waited for some form of retribution for millennia over Daphne. It took centuries to happen but he always knew that one day he would have to pay recompense for his overreaction. One day that little favour got called in and he was made to swear on Styx that he would never tell of his involvement in Apollo’s marriage to Liberty. He hadn’t taught Apollo a lesson but more accurately Eros had given him a lucky break. Eros had a niggling feeling about the whole Daphne business that he had never been able to shake although he had not discussed it with anyone. Careless talk cost lives in Olympus. Daphne was a sworn virgin and had dedicated her very existence to Artemis. His aim in choosing her had been to play the twins off against each other but Artemis had not once tried to protect her girl Daphne, even when she was well within her rights, after all her brother had violated her sovereignty. Why did Artemis not stand up to her twin? Eros thought their relationship was strange; and thinking that on Olympus was certainly something.
Apollo & Cassandra
Cassandra was once a priestess of Apollo’s. She was beautiful, as all of Apollo’s women were. Her hair was long and rested on her lower back, and her clothes were always accidentally a bit too tight. She was the daughter of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of ill-fated Troy and sister of Paris and Hector. Now Cassandra committed the worst of all offences, she changed her mind and said no.
***
Apollo loved how Cassandra said her prayers to him: down on her knees and looking upwards. As she was his priestess Cassandra was already Apollo’s in name. He could only watch her going about her scared duties for so long before he could no longer resist. The great irony of this all was that as a priestess Cassandra had taken a vow of chastity to Apollo.
“Excuse me, are you still making votive offerings today?” Apollo asked as he leaned suavely against a column.
“Until sunset, yes.” Cassandra said as she swept the temple floor “Would you like to make an offering to Apollo?”
“Apollo would like to make you an offering.” Apollo was smooth.
“I’m sorry what?” Cassandra asked, thinking she’d misheard the louche stranger.
“If you let me fuck you then I’ll give you the power of prophesy.” He wasn’t in the mood for delicacy.
“Um, yeah.” Cassandra said confusedly, this stranger was bigger than her and she was alone in the temple, no one would hear her if she called for help.
“Great, I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll give you the power of prophecy tonight. My snakes will come and lick your eyes in your sleep.” Apollo hadn’t realised that Cassandra didn’t know who he was. The sculptors who made divine statues for temples often took great artistic liberties with their appearances and she hadn’t recognised him.
When he turned up the next day Cassandra had taken the day off and switched her shift with a surly looking priestess with a moustache.
“Where’s Cassandra?” Apollo asked.
“Oh you’re the guy who came yesterday right? She isn’t going to sleep with you, you know.” the priestess said as she shuffled off. Apollo was livid.
In retribution Apollo cursed her so that all her predictions would be true but no one would ever believe her. Her family thought she was resolutely mad and treated her as such. Cassandra predicted the trouble that that bint Helen would cause, she predicted the entirety of the Trojan War and she saw Troy burning at the end of the whole palaver too. Not that anyone took a blind bit of notice.
Cassandra died a death so tragic. As the Greeks took Troy she fled to the sanctuary of Athena’s temple. As Ajax came for her she clung tight to goddess’ statue. He dragged her away. The statue fell. He raped her on the temple floor. He killed her. Athena wept and sought revenge. Odysseus commanded that he be stoned to death for the sacrilege and yet Ajax escaped retribution. Athena then enlisted the help of her father Zeus and Poseidon. Not many of the Greeks made it back.
***
Eros often observed that everything was Apollo’s fault. A violent death was the fate he subjected Cassandra to. Apollo never could take rejection well and if he didn’t kill you himself, you’d end up dead anyway. Even though in this case all the co
nfusion arose because Cassandra didn’t realise that Apollo was talking about himself in the third person.
Apollo & Coronis
Coronis was a knockout, she was also very flexible. The mortal girl wandered about her father’s meadows one sunny day, very bored. You can imagine in those days everyone was a little bored without modernity’s diversions, but it was particularly so for women: cook, sew, cook, weave, wander around aimlessly outside, cook, marry your cousin, sleep, and repeat. At least men got to go and try and kill each other every now and then. This was where Apollo came in; he was a sizable diversion and a blond haired one at that.
***
“Oh gods you scared me.” Coronis said as she turned to face the figure who had appeared besides her. For a moment she thought he had just materialised next to her out of thin air but that was hardly a sensibly thought, he must have been light of foot.
“Sorry about that.” The handsome stranger said, smiling wide. It was one of those smiles that made girls take a deep breath and recite over and over in their heads ‘don’t say anything weird, don’t say anything weird, don’t say anything weird.’
“That’s quite alright.” Coronis said, ‘don’t say anything weird’ running through her mind at a pace.
“I’m Apollo, who are you?” Apollo overawed the girl. You do not need a good opening line when you look like that.
“The blacksmith from the next village over?” No one had told her that the blacksmith was that cute otherwise she would have concocted some metallic need to mope around outside his smithy.
“No, the other one.”
“Which other one? I’m Coronis by the way.”
And that was how Asclepius was conceived.
***
Now when gods have sex with mortals they inevitably conceive. The hyper fertile Olympians all knew very well about contraception but they didn’t bloody use it, despite some of the difficulties this could have saved them in the marriage bed. Their demigod children act as their agents of change on the Earth, performing their parent’s wishes directly. Well that’s a rational explanation, the other slightly more likely one is that they’re ‘lads’ and they need to prove it:
Example One: “Babe, I don’t like the feel of condoms. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” This has been used many, many a time by a wide variety of immortals the world over. The close relative of this is saying that they have a condom when they don’t.
Example Two: “Well we’re going to get married so why not.” Have you told your wife Hera/Aphrodite/Amphrite/Persephone/Ariadne etc. that?
Example Three: “I can’t have kids.” Sure…
Example Four: And then of course there’s the ultimate lad option, not giving her a say. Rape is the most efficient way to breed a small army of human hybrids with super intelligence, strength, speed and agility. Those poor cannon fodder children, used in their parent’s petty little squabbles: Troy, The Crusades, Flanders Fields et cetera ad infinitum.
***
After that one tedium relieving shag three months before Coronis was both bored to death and feeling slightly nauseous. Another beautiful stranger rocked up to her hamlet. Well she’d already done it once why not do it again. Unbeknown to Coronis there were the crows sent by Apollo to watch over (spy on) his beloved. Doing their duty the loyal crows flew back to their master and told him of Coronis’s infidelity. Apollo was so appalled by their report that he turned them black from white for their lies. Then the god realised that the wretched crows had been right.
A foul darkness befell Apollo. He couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed. He couldn’t be bothered to play his lyre. He couldn’t be bothered to cruise gymnasiums for supple teenage boys. Eventually his sister took charge of the situation.
“Look, just kill her already.” Artemis said.
“But, but, but…” Apollo muffled into his pillow.
“Fine I’ll bloody do it.” Artemis said. Apollo lifted his head from his pillow and nodded at his sister. That resolution had cheered him up.
Coronis was outside pegging the washing out. Next thing she knew Apollo popped up in full Olympian glory.
“You’re a whore,” Apollo said “and I want to watch you die close up.”
“What? But I’m three months pregnant with your child.” Coronis said as Artemis’s dart ploughed straight through her breast. That was the end of Coronis. The arrow had shot through a fluttering piece of cloth and pinned it to the girl’s body like a domestic shroud.
***
Apollo felt nothing. As they placed Coronis’s body on the funeral pyre, Apollo felt nothing. As her mother sobbed and beat her fists into Coronis’s father’s chest, Apollo felt nothing. As the mourners said their prayers to Hades, Apollo felt nothing. As the torch approached, Apollo felt nothing. As the flames began to lick her body, Apollo felt something. He did not feel anything for that little hussie but he felt for his own flesh about to burn. He pleaded with his brother Hermes to cut the child out of that ungrateful womb and took him to Chiron, the centaur that trained heroes, to be raised. This was the birth of Asclepius.
***
Asclepius had inherited his father’s gift for healing. The mortals even built temples in his honour. There was one ailment however that he had yet to figure out a cure for: death. He slaved away at the ultimate problem for an age until Asclepius managed to bring back Hippolytus from the dead. Now this was in direct conflict with divine law. When Zeus had overthrown his father he divided the world between himself and his brothers Hades and Poseidon. Zeus took the land and the heavens; Poseidon the sea; and Hades got the underworld and ruled over a portion of the dead. Asclepius had thus offended his great uncle. How dare this young upstart challenge Hades’s rule, if he could resurrect Hippolytus then why not resurrect them all? Where would Asclepius stop?
***
“Brother, I will not have my sovereignty challenged like this.” Hades said, on one of the rare occasion he ventured above.
“He probably means nothing by it.” Zeus was thoroughly disinterested, as he had recently spotted a shepherdess he liked the look of.
“Do something about it or I will. This could get ever so ugly brother.” Hades stood his ground, he hated living in the underworld but he wasn’t going to lose it either.
“What are you implying, war? Fine, consider the matter settled.” Zeus picked up a lightning bolt and flung it as his grandson with little reflection.
***
Apollo took this very badly, very badly indeed. In revenge for his son’s murder Apollo killed the Cyclopes who fashioned Zeus’s thunder bolts. Now it was Zeus’s turn to take things poorly. He decreed that Apollo should be sentenced to an eternity in Tartarus.
“But darling is that really a good idea?” Leto asked all bedroom eyes and push up bra.
“Such blatant disregard for my authority warrants a response. Don’t look at me like that. Well what else could I possibly do?” Zeus looked Leto up and down, she still had it.
“Well the real question is what can I do?” Leto asked leaning towards Zeus. He could tell she was wearing a cracking bra underneath her chiton.
“I’ll wear a condom this time.” Zeus said, and that was that. Apollo was sentenced to one years’ hard labour on earth. Zeus resurrected Asclepius but under the agreement that he would keep a low profile and wouldn’t live in Olympus any more. That was the first time that Apollo had openly rebelled against his father, but was it because he cared for his son or because the opportunity presented itself?
Apollo & Glory
Glory had been born during the tail end of the Roman Empire. Britannia thought that knocking off Zeus and giving birth to his favoured child would prevent the Norse and the Celts from giving her much trouble. That of course didn’t work and Britannia endured a good few hundred years or so of chaos before her territory was consolidated by the Normans and it was another five hundred years before the Empire could begin seriously. It was what the mortals have come to call the Dark Ages. Zeus had taken his eye off
the ball and the Norse had gained ground on Olympus. Then that Jesus bloke had trumped them all by offering a better afterlife than Hades, Hel, Osiris or any of the other death gods were prepared to provide even if in reality it was all bollocks. Their temples fell to ruin. It wasn’t until the Renaissance that the mortals even bothered to pay any attention to Olympus and even then they didn’t believe it, they were merely trinkets from a previous age and inspiration for self-involved romantic poets. In truth neither Olympus nor Asgard had recovered from the advent of Christianity.
Glory was twenty years old when Apollo finally took notice of his young half-sister. Britannia had kept her under lock and key. When he saw her for the first time he fell in love so hard he thought he’d been punched in the gut by a giant. He even went as far as accusing Eros of malice. To which the youth protested and threatened to shoot Glory with a hate arrow if he continued with such false allegations. Apollo’s allegations relented once Eros had sworn on Styx that he hadn’t an ulterior motive, that Apollo and Glory were a fixed point in time that was always going to be fated, and that it had been a standard procedure. Thus Apollo began pursuing her in earnest. Glory was a virgin. Apollo loved virgins.
Young Glory was idealistic, full of hope and untroubled. Her mother had recently agreed to her betrothal to Thor and she was mentally preparing for her upcoming nuptials. Not that Apollo knew this yet, he didn’t even know her name. Apollo had never seen a more beautiful goddess; she far surpassed Aphrodite because he could see the wit and warmth behind her eyes. This was it, the big one: his wife. He needed to tread carefully, he couldn’t fuck it up like all the others, only Eros (and probably Aphrodite but she was too busy getting laid) knew. The less potential for meddling from the family the better it would work out.
As his initial intentions were pure(ish), for a change, Apollo thought the best possible start would be to formally introduce himself to Glory and her mother, so he called on them in their great hall Avalon. Avalon was a wooden structure like those common to nobles across northern Europe at the time. Though Britannia being Britannia, Avalon was far grander than that and rivalled even Odin’s hall in scale. The beams were intricately carved, the fire always roared when it was cold outside, and they had a beautiful apple orchard in the grounds. Apollo dressed in his most pleasing manner and rode over in his chariot.
The Valkyrie Page 11
