Page 58 of Charmed By Apollo

He looked up and saw Orthrus, the two-headed dog who guarded the Underworld along with his cousin Cerberus. The divine being padded toward him, his obsidian fur shimmering. “Hello, Lord Apollo.”

“Orthrus,” Apollo greeted and rubbed one of Orthrus’s chins.

“You don’t look well, my lord,” Orthrus remarked.

Apollo offered a weary nod. “I suppose I don’t. It’s been a trying time.” He admired the autumnal scenery, taking in the vibrant colors of the garden. “I must say, I quite enjoy the look of fall here,” he remarked.

“Ah, yes, it’s all thanks to Queen Persephone,” Orthrus nodded his heads. “She likes to mirror the seasons of the Upperworld here in this part of the garden.”

“She has quite the eye for detail.”

Orthrus chuckled softly. “Indeed, she does,” he agreed, before they both fell into a contemplative silence, surrounded by the serene beauty of the garden.

Apollo’s mind flickered with memories of Geri. “Have you seen Geri recently?” he inquired, trying to mask his longing.

Orthrus nodded, his two heads swaying in unison. “Yes. When Queen Persephone goes to the plant shop in the Upperworld, I accompany her.”

His heart skipped a beat. “How is she?” he asked, unable to conceal the eagerness in his tone.

Orthrus responded with a shake of his heads. “She’s not quite herself lately,” he admitted. “I can sense a shift in her aura. Something seems amiss.” One of his heads glanced up suddenly. “Lord Hades is looking at us,” he announced, a hint of deference in his tone.

Apollo followed his gaze briefly, acknowledging the presence of the ruler of the Underworld. He guessed that Hades was standing at the window of his office.

“Thank you, Orthrus,” he said, offering a nod of farewell. “I’ll see you around.” With that, he turned and left the garden, leaving Orthrus behind.

He teleported into Hades’s dimly lit office. The room was suffused with an eerie glow emanating from torches mounted on the walls, casting flickering shadows across the wooden furniture. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient parchment and the faint aroma of brimstone.

Hades sat behind a large oak desk, his form shrouded in darkness save for the faint outline of his figure. His piercing gaze met Apollo’s as the god of the Underworld acknowledged his arrival.

“Apollo,” Hades intoned in his deep, resonant voice. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“What, I can’t just visit my friend whenever I feel like it?”

The god of the Underworld cocked his head to the side. “Well, as your best friend, perhaps I should tell you that you look like shit.”

Apollo burst out laughing—the first laugh he’d had in a while. “Wait, you admit it? I am your best friend?”

The corner of Hades’s mouth tugged up. “What’s wrong, Apollo? Why did you come all the way to my realm to mope?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, scowling.

“Good, because I’m far too busy today. Now you can?—”

Apollo sighed, then sank down on the nearest chair. “It’s all my fault.”

“Glad to hear that. They say acceptance is the first step.” Hades let out an impatient sigh. “What’s your fault?”

Apollo hesitated. “You’re not going to like what I’m going to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because…you just won’t. I’ve done something bad, and you’re going to kill me for it.”

“I see.” Hades leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. “The only reason I would kill you is if you hurt Persephone.”

Apollo wasn’t sure what to say. “Er, no. I mean, not quite.”

“I didn’t really have murder on my schedule today, but I’ll gladly make room for it if I must.” Hades’s onyx eyes pinned him to the spot. “Just say it, Apollo.”

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