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Destruction is born in the heart of a volcano eruption. Predictably, it causes chaos all around. The natural habitat of thousands of beings is destroyed and ash rains for days. Only later will Perseus be discovered. He will be blamed, of course—How could he not, when he is Destruction deified? Poseidon claims him easily, for aren't all his children monster?
Perseus grows up feared and with the knowledge that all he does is wreak havoc. He makes fast friends of his older sister, the terrible Kymopoleia. Their domains dance around one another, and it is only in the embrace of her sweet storms that he can find solace.
Other gods avoid him, fearful of what he might do, should they offend him. Even Poseidon himself exiles him to a place far from his precious city, a place where he cannot ruin anything, for there is nothing. The bottom of the new found Mariana's trench is empty in a way that unsettles the newborn god. How can he be destructive with nothing to destroy? Destruction doubts itself. His father never visits, Triton hates him and his lack of regard for authorities and he's barely allowed out of the ocean.
And yet, he is called upon by demigods and mortals. Never to help, mind you, except in the heat of battle and even then they prefer Athena's logic or even Ares' bloodlust to the pure and unfiltered destruction he offers. Nobody revels in unadulterated destruction, not gods, not mortals. He receives few offers and fewer prayers. He is called upon to be cursed. He suffers disrespect again and again and has to bear it with a smile. (Or a tsunami, a hurricane, a devastating earthquake. Never let it be said that he is a merciful god.) Yet, he doesn't grow weak. How can he? Destruction, utter dereliction is always guaranteed. The earth will die in an explosion, this he knows, this they all know. Pompeii gives him power for centuries as more mortals than ever fear him. They all fear him, he knows. And yet, he wishes it did not have to be that way. For does Destruction not prelude new birth? Is the earth not fertilized after an eruption? Do new species of fish not inhabit his trench?
It does little. Kym stands at his side as they watch the Roman Empire slowly but surely ruin itself. They never respected the seas, his sister comments, and he nods. The Romans hated disorder, and thus, they hated Destruction.
There's a demigod that shares his name, he knows, and he's gladdened that the hero seems to enjoy a good fate. He's unsure what the mother thought, naming him so unfortunately, but he can't help but look out for him, at least a little.
Destruction has no mother, besides Gaia maybe, but he's never met mother earth and he has a feeling she would not enjoy his impudence.
He meets Apollo on accident, truthfully. He watches as a storm, a hurricane, hits the coastline, watches as hundreds of simple huts are taken in the floods that follow, watches as people die, the earth dries up and plagues descend. That's the Apollo he knows, the one who causes plagues, who harbors a devastation of his own. He greets Plague like an old friend, standing side by side and spectating the human misery below them.
"I don't believe we've met" Apollo says, eyes fiery and pure, molten gold. Perseus smiles. "I don't believe so, Plague"
Apollo bears his teeth. There are a lot of them, and they're pointy and pure white. Predatory.
"I'm Destruction" he offers, and waits for the god to take a step back, to abandon him in fear. He doesn't.
"You know of me, then?" Apollo asks, returning to his beatific, godly, form. He looks just as horrifying as all the gods do, when they don't face mortals.
"Do I know of the Sun?" Perseus teases. He looks up at the fiery ball that causes at least as much harm as it does healing.
"I must confess that I have not heard a lot of you, Destruction. "
“You would not have" Perseus responds bitterly. Nobody wishes for Destruction.
Apollo shakes his head. "I think it is a true tragedy. I find your company quiet agreeable"
Surprised, Perseus searched the god’s face for a lie. Ridiculous. Truth does not Lie, he knows.
"Truly? You would be among the first." Apollo scoffs. "My tastes are far more dignified than most, then"
Perseus grins. "Perhaps."
He meets Apollo more often, after that. Their paths cross in the wake of a terrible fire that ravages a village to the ground, in the ruins of Troy, at the massacre of bandits and after battles. Apollo always shines bright, like a beacon of hope, or a harbinger of destruction.
"You know it's funny, we could've had similar domains" Apollo says, standing above the twisted corpse of a soldier. Perseus frowns. "Whatever could you mean?" They aren't very similar.
"Apollo means to destroy, and so does Perseus, doesn't it?" Perseus knew what his name meant, the mortals had always been quite clear with their intentions. But he'd been unaware of Apollo's meaning.
"Truly?" he wondered. "Truly." Apollo echoed. His gold locks fell against his high cheekbones in the most regal of manners, and as always, Percy felt like a mess next to him. For Destruction could scarcely be contained by something as simple as a comb or a clip.
"And besides, I think the fact that we continue meeting like that, well, it means something, doesn't it?" Apollo asks, or maybe he's just thinking out loud. Perseus has never been good at reading people. He knew too few to truly make as much as an educated guess.
"You command the prophecies, do you not?" He points out. Perseus’ role is not important, in the larger context of the greek —and later roman— pantheon. But Apollo is.
"You speak truth. Perhaps Fate and Destruction are just destined to be intertwined." Apollo mused, turning to face Perseus and raising an eyebrow suggestively. Perseus chuckled, unsure what the god was implying.
"You truly think so?" A redundant question to ask Truth, Perseus knows.
"I think so, yes." With that, Apollo tugs on his chiton, leading him away from the blood-soaked battlefield and towards the Sun Palace, which is bathed in the fitting blood-red of the drowning sun. Perseus goes willingly, and experiences a different kind of destruction.
He leaves days later, exhausted but satiated.
Destruction tells no one of their union, and neither does Truth. And yet, they meet again, and again, until Kymopoleia asks him straight up if he has found a lover. His skin—previously pearly white, like much of the creatures of the deep sea—is now positively sun-kissed in the most literal of senses. A laurel sits on top of his unruly mane, and his chitons are fastened with golden needles, adorned with suns. He isn't exactly hiding his dalliance. And yet, he's reluctant to admit it.
The daughters and sons of the Sea have experience with sun deities and none wish for a similar fate to Rhodes. Ichor burns high in his cheeks when Kym finally gets him to admit it. His sister, predictably, squeals in delight. Her husband is unwanted and Perseus knows it. As a man, a son of Poseidon at that, he has certain privileges his sister lacks, and he's grateful for it. He gets to choose the Sun before anyone else chooses for him. And Kym does so love to gossip.
"Are you engaged then? Promised to the Sun for all of eternity?" His sister asks, eyes as wild as ever. She looks frightening, in truth, but Perseus loves her dearly.
"We haven't talked about it.“ he admits, although he desperately wishes they had. He'd known from the beginning that this was no mere dalliance for him. He hopes Apollo sees it like that as well. The god has a certain reputation, of course, but Perseus isn't worried. Not many would miss him, and as a god he's much less likely to die anyway.
Above them, a ship crashes into a cliff, killing most of the crew and sinking the loot. Neither of them glances up.
"Oh Perseus" his sister says, and wraps her large arms around him. Despite his domain, Perseus had always had a rather small form, at only eight feet. Kym was at least 12, but that changed depending on the day—and the size of the current storm that followed her relentlessly. In her arms, he felt at home.
"Father will not like this" she cautions. Perseus looks at her incredulously. "Since when does he care?" he asks, aware just how impudent the question is. Kym shrugs. "Since it's an Olympian, I think." Destruction hummed, causing an earthquake that wreaked through a town a few miles south.
"Perhaps" he allows. He hadn't spared a second thought to his father. The Sea cared scarcely little about destruction. It might cause it, it might call upon it like it does his sisters and brothers, but it lets him leave, it calms and Destruction becomes unnecessary, bothersome.
Apollo is enamored to say the least. He dreams of the sea, and yet gods do not sleep. He paints with a newfound fervor , relentlessly for days, weeks and months. His sunsets turn as bloody red and purple as he dares, taking delight in the knowledge that Perseus observes them each night. They speak often and Perseus blossoms under his care. The boy he had first met had been unsure of his role, of his powers. He'd been cowed by other gods, made to feel ashamed of his domains. Apollo thinks them weaker for it. For how can you look at Destruction and not see beauty? Perseus is the most beautiful god he knows. The way his hair sways when he raises his arms and brings about the end of earthly things? Enchanting, like a siren's call. And Apollo runs towards his lover all too happily. He has not been lucky in love so far, but that hardly matters. His love is a god, and with that comes the inevitability of forever—Apollo looks forward to it.
It's only natural he petitions his uncle for Perseus’ hand. His uncle is surprised, he can tell, and it sets his teeth on edge. How dare they all underestimate his love?
He gets the required consent, though he does not need it. He knows well enough that Perseus cannot be bound, cannot be made to do anything he does not want to. It is gratifying then, that Perseus jumps into his welcoming arms once the news reaches him. The earth tremors below them, mountains caving in and others expelling hot, burning magma at unforeseen speeds—Apollo laughs, throwing his head back in joy. Oh, how he loves Destruction. For how can he heal without destroying? How can he be Apollon Epicurus, the Healer and Apollon Alexandrius, Averter of Harm, if there is no destruction to avenge? If there is no destruction?
Most of all, he is Oulios Apollon—The god who punishes and destroys. He is vengeful and bitter, and once is arrow is let loose, it does not miss. And he would shoot a thousand arrows for the chance to have Perseus in his arms.
Artemis won't admit it, but he thinks she's pleased—If only because he will stop hunting maidens. Hermes cannot understand his change in heart and neither does his Lord Father. But they do not have to, for he has Destruction to court and favor above all else.
Perseus moves into the Sun Palace upon Delos, though Artemis is hesitant to allow it, she does not prohibit it. No destruction befalls Delos, just as Apollo knew it would not. Destruction does not mean purposeless or without target. Perseus is a god, he knows how to rule a domain without getting ruled by it.
Together they produce Mourning and the Horizon and dote on both endlessly.
Nobody prays to Perseus, nobody dares to. No gods, demigods or mortals dare to call upon him. And yet, his husband worships at his altar every night. Perseus is happy.