July 10 - a higher power
Title: I Swear by Apollo the Physician
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD Canon
Rating: PG
Warnings: potentially heretical
Word count: 500
Summary: Take care when you swear by someone’s name. Someone might be listening.
Prompt: July 10 - a higher power
Deities come, deities go. That has always been the way of it, Asclepius knew. The new supplants the old, which in turn becomes old. It was only through worship that the deities existed at all. Once mortals forgot about a god, that god ceased to be.
Most of his divine family had dwindled and faded into obscurity. His Aunt Artemis no longer hunted through her moonlight; his Great-Uncle Poseidon no longer commanded the waves. Some of them, though, retained a drop of power. Any time a mortal cried “By Jove” in surprise or plied an intended conquest with aphrodisiac foods, that relative survived just a little bit longer. Asclepius was relieved on a paternal level that two of his daughters, Hygieia and Panacea, would live on through words derived from their names. His other three daughters . . . well, not even a god who had mastered the art of resurrecting the dead could bring back into existence a god that no mortal recalled, let alone worshipped.
As for himself and his father Apollo, remembrance came from the most unlikely of places: an oath sworn by scores of mortals ever year. Not that any of them believe in him or Apollo, let alone worshipped them. Yet the oath kept their names, and thus the deities themselves, alive. Moreover, every time one of the mortals who had sworn the oath remembered it or took pains to uphold it, Asclepius felt a faint whisper of the power he had wielded thousands of years ago.
Gods did not invade the territories of other gods unless their worshippers brought them in. That was how Asclepius found himself in so many strange countries and climes so far from his homeland. That was how he came to be in a hot, dry, sandy place where the sun (no longer driven by his father) beat down mercilessly on the mortals below. Their activities were nothing to Asclepius unless they affected him directly. Besides, the mortals he had such a tenuous connection to worshipped not him but a god who hailed from another sandy country far from here.
Even so . . . Asclepius’s attention was drawn to one of those who had sworn the oath in his name and was, even now, trying his hardest to fulfill it. The god of medicine couldn’t help but smile, then frown as he noticed a mortal in the clothing of the opposition aiming a weapon at the oath-maker. Gods did not interfere with the worshippers of another god, but they did have the right to protect their own.
Asclepius lightly flicked the tiny metal projectile as it flew so that it merely wounded instead of killed. He did not have the strength to do much more, nor did he dare to. If the oath-maker’s deity -- Yahweh, was it? Or was Jehovah? Asclepius had never been certain and now didn’t seem to be a good time to ask - meant for this mortal to die there would certainly be other opportunities.
Author: Pompey
Universe: ACD Canon
Rating: PG
Warnings: potentially heretical
Word count: 500
Summary: Take care when you swear by someone’s name. Someone might be listening.
Prompt: July 10 - a higher power
Deities come, deities go. That has always been the way of it, Asclepius knew. The new supplants the old, which in turn becomes old. It was only through worship that the deities existed at all. Once mortals forgot about a god, that god ceased to be.
Most of his divine family had dwindled and faded into obscurity. His Aunt Artemis no longer hunted through her moonlight; his Great-Uncle Poseidon no longer commanded the waves. Some of them, though, retained a drop of power. Any time a mortal cried “By Jove” in surprise or plied an intended conquest with aphrodisiac foods, that relative survived just a little bit longer. Asclepius was relieved on a paternal level that two of his daughters, Hygieia and Panacea, would live on through words derived from their names. His other three daughters . . . well, not even a god who had mastered the art of resurrecting the dead could bring back into existence a god that no mortal recalled, let alone worshipped.
As for himself and his father Apollo, remembrance came from the most unlikely of places: an oath sworn by scores of mortals ever year. Not that any of them believe in him or Apollo, let alone worshipped them. Yet the oath kept their names, and thus the deities themselves, alive. Moreover, every time one of the mortals who had sworn the oath remembered it or took pains to uphold it, Asclepius felt a faint whisper of the power he had wielded thousands of years ago.
Gods did not invade the territories of other gods unless their worshippers brought them in. That was how Asclepius found himself in so many strange countries and climes so far from his homeland. That was how he came to be in a hot, dry, sandy place where the sun (no longer driven by his father) beat down mercilessly on the mortals below. Their activities were nothing to Asclepius unless they affected him directly. Besides, the mortals he had such a tenuous connection to worshipped not him but a god who hailed from another sandy country far from here.
Even so . . . Asclepius’s attention was drawn to one of those who had sworn the oath in his name and was, even now, trying his hardest to fulfill it. The god of medicine couldn’t help but smile, then frown as he noticed a mortal in the clothing of the opposition aiming a weapon at the oath-maker. Gods did not interfere with the worshippers of another god, but they did have the right to protect their own.
Asclepius lightly flicked the tiny metal projectile as it flew so that it merely wounded instead of killed. He did not have the strength to do much more, nor did he dare to. If the oath-maker’s deity -- Yahweh, was it? Or was Jehovah? Asclepius had never been certain and now didn’t seem to be a good time to ask - meant for this mortal to die there would certainly be other opportunities.