Chapter Text
Mount Olympus is beautiful. With its tall buildings carved from the brightest of marbles and gilded with gold, stairs upon stairs of bounty from the very mortals that are now causing its destruction.
Olympus was built with the faith of the mortal beings that they had blessed and adored. The very humans that Prometheus carved from stone. The very humans that Athena bequeathed life to using Hephaestus' fire. The very humans that gave them strength and power.
Olympus is and has always been beautiful, despite the crumbling of it with every step that the Gods took.
Apollo looked around the throne room, cringing when another temple crumbled into nothingness, knowing that his father would no doubt react to it, despite the temple being that of a minor god that even he himself couldn't remember the name of.
Sure enough, Zeus roared in anger as their numbers dwindled down again. Minor or not, there used to be thousands of them. Now, there was only 15 left.
Zeus. Hera. Aphrodite. Artemis. Athena. Poseidon. Hades. Demeter. Ares. Dionysus. Hestia. Hermes. Persephone. Hephaestus. Apollo.
15 Gods and Goddesses left, and Olympus is in shambles, crumbling faster than they had expected, even when they caught wind of the Romans making their way towards Greece. As one of the ancient pantheons, Apollo knew that their legacy would most likely continue on or adapted into another pantheon, and yet...
Apollo couldn't bear the thought of letting go of his Greek persona. If he couldn't, he could only imagine how the others felt. Even Dionysus hasn't held a bottle for days, although that might be because the humans hadn't offered him wine for weeks.
"How dare those mortals forget us!" Zeus roared in anger, his hands itching to reach for his lightning bolt that already lost its power. Apollo knew that all his father wanted to do now was wield that bolt and show the humans the might of the Olympians, but ancient artifact had been one of the first ones to lose its use.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Athena kept her mouth shut as their father raged, Aphrodite right behind him. Even she couldn't believe the audacity of their rage over being forgotten by the very humans they all had treated like insignificant ants. Ares looked at Athena, knowing just how well his half-sister thinks. He knew, despite her anger, that she was logical, and that she couldn't fault humans for forgetting about them.
He also knew that she would be too proud to say it. And he was about to, when Hestia came running in from gods know where. For only Hestia would be running around Olympus while it was crumbling.
"I have collected the remaining vials!" She called, drawing everyone's attention to the clinking glass vials filled with a golden liquid with the viscosity of honey.
Ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods. Magical wine created from human faith and is the source of their immortality.
Zeus' anger quickly diminished at the sight of his beloved oldest sister. Not only was she his favourite, but she also brought him what could be the answer to their problems. Hestia gave them all a vial each. It's enough for just a mouthful, and Hades knew that it wouldn't be enough to keep their bodies going for however long they may need with whatever is left of human faith towards them.
"This will be enough to keep our souls from leaving this plane of existence completely." Persephone said beside him, voicing out his own thoughts. Hades can't help the loving glance he sent towards her. Gods, does he love her so much.
Before anyone else can say anything, 8 of them already tipped their heads back and drank the ambrosia. Hephaestus raised his brow before drinking his. The greed of the Gods astound him, truly. Apollo waited until everyone else drank theirs before he did, eyes watching as they all disappeared one by one.
As each one of them disappeared and each temple crumpled even more, Apollo stood up and went towards the remaining balcony left, golden eyes surveying the lands that they all used to rule.
As he felt the balcony crumble under him, and felt himself fall down, he heard voices in his head.
Faith has changed, time has come.
Nothing can stop what has become.
Fear not, Gods and Goddesses, we have a plan.
Reborn. Rebirth. The curse of reliance on the human.
One day, it shall come, the day we reunite.
Same generation, gender and location, it'll be quite a sight.
~Moirai
As Apollo disappeared, he couldn't help but chuckle.
For years, the Moirai had scoured for someone that they could trust. Someone capable. Someone that can hold the weight of the world on their shoulders. Lachesis' plan had been to place the soul that they currently have in bottles in bodies that are already existing. But they could never find someone, anyone that could carry such a weight.
Clotho, tired of her sister's shuffling, took a bottle and spun the soul into life thread, ignoring Lachesis' indignant inquiry.
"We are running out of time, Lachesis. There is no suitable host. So why not make one?" Atropos said, agreeing with Clotho.
"...Fine." Lachesis responded, knowing full well that it was the most viable option. They have no time left. They must send the souls back into the Mortal Plane.
Before it's too late.
"Oh my goodness, Yuki! Look at our baby!" A brown haired man with honey eyes said as he held onto the baby that his precious wife just birthed.
"Oh, Yashio... He's beautiful." Yuki said, thanking the nurse that was wiping the sweat away from her forehead, and pushing her ginger hair back."What shall we name him?"
Yashio looked at his sun, with his already full head of ginger hair, a glimpse of golden eyes, and the birthmark on his shoulder.
"His name is Shouyou."