My name was once Apollo

Now, contrary to popular belief of a golden Apollo who opposed his 'sister' Diana in both matter and appearance (the greatest reason being that he was the personification of the sun while his sister was the moon), Apollo was actually a dark man with ivory skin that had never once been kissed by the sun he so beheld. His hair and eyes were as dark as the raven's wing and he held none of the warmth and jovial like that described of the sun; he was cynical and mocking, less like the soft morning of a spring day and more like the desert sky at noon.

Nonetheless, the man of black and white with his heart buried in ice was Apollo; it was the fault of humans for assuming he was of a personage. Just like they were wrong about Diana being a woman, or even being unwelcoming to all as well as furnished by dark colors when instead he was more like the sun than Apollo could ever (had he wished to) hope to be. Just like they were wrong about Jupiter being a full-grown man with a brawn chest and a fiery temper when, instead, there was only a small goddess of good intentions. Just like they were wrong about Pluto, God of the Underworld, falling in love with a woman named Proserpina when the truth was that the greedy little God had been stolen by a Titan.

Humans were wrong about many things.

Another thing they were wrong about was Trinacria. Trinacria, a small island found after passing the horrifying six-headed monster Scylla, was the home of the sacred oxen and sheep of Apollo, tended to by goddesses.

Most of that was a lie. Apollo was a god who left little to others, and so had forbidden all entrance onto his island. Not even Jupiter, the darling little goddess, was allowed to set eyes on Trinacria. It was, simply put, Apollo's little getaway once Diana had taken the sky.

For many hundreds of years, not a soul was sure what was honestly on the small island; no mortal could reach its shore and neither god nor goddess could see it for the blinding sun that would be directed towards their eyes.

Upon a random day, Apollo was gone from his haven to tend to far away skies; it was on that day that Circe, a goddess of nameless powers, snuck upon the beach and wandered its length then width, searching for whatever it was that kept the Sun God so content. She searched high and low but found nothing.

As she was about to abandon Trinacria, sensing the approaching sun, she at last caught sight of something – just a flash of movement depicting a white tail with a long hairs at the end – such like that of a cow's tail. She supposed to herself, Apollo must keep herds of cattle here. And so she left, content with that.

For 100 days and 100 nights, her home on Aeaea was accosted by darkness, Apollo refusing to light her island for he knew of what she had done.

A hundred years went by and the curiosity of the immortals was stirred again. A cow? Cattle? Could Apollo, a god not of the farm or of the field, have livestock on his island that he so lazed upon in what little spare time he had?

The next to brave the shores of Trinacria was Diana (wrongly named by the humans, of course, but he grew to get over it instead of angry about it for humans were such foolish creatures so quick to forget the truth in their short lifetimes), a man equal of height and strength to Apollo and yet of golden features that the Sun God lacked. He was the God of the Hunt and therefore the moon. He came with the floating, ivory orb to ensure that Apollo would be gone until he could find what kept his twin so enamored with the small getaway.

He searched high and low, even higher and lower than Circe, and then searched the skies and the seas around the tiny island, but found nothing that could have possibly sustained his curiosity.

As he was about to step foot off of the island, aware of the approaching dawn, he heard for just the smallest of moments the sound of wailing – much like that of a sheep's baa. And so he supposed to himself that, Apollo must keep herds of sheep here. And, though not happy with his deduction, left.

For the rest of eternity, he was destined to never again see his twin for Apollo would from then on never rise as he rose or fall as he fell. Apollo had been insulted by his intrusion.

For hundreds of years more, not a thing happened concerning the small island Trinacria. Be it sheep or cattle or both Apollo kept hidden there, they were never again sought out.

And then fate committed its dance and Circe told Ulysses of how to return to his precious home Ithaca after some years of trying to return and failing due to the angry god Neptune. She told him of the sirens, of Scrylla and Charybdis, and then she told him of Trinacria. Most importantly, she told him to not go there. But, she warned, if he had no other choice, he must not feed on the herds hidden there. She feared greatly what would happen to the mortal hero if Apollo were to learn of the killing of his creatures.

Ulysses and his men followed her advice, evading the Sirens' song by plugging their ears with wax and securing Ulysses to the mast; they hugged the cliffs as they avoided the floating rocks "the Wanderers" and rowed on the high of Charybdis's swallow. Six men were killed by Scrylla.

As they neared Trinacria, Ulysses pleaded his crew onward, past the small island. However, his second-in-command Eurylochus, persuaded them to rest upon its shore. Ulysses managed to, in the end, make them vow that they would not touch whatever herds were on the island; his men agreed for they were fully stocked on provisions.

As if the gods themselves were angry at them (but, in truth, it was only Neptune again being spiteful), a storm brewed and outlasted their food stocks. As Ulysses slept, Eurylochus again persuaded the men to commit a terrible crime; they were hungry, yes? What was dying at sea at the wrath of the gods compared to starving?

With that in mind, they stalked into the island's center, searching high and low, beneath every rock and above every tree, for the mythical oxen and sheep. When they came together again, they were even more hungry and thirsty than before; would not the herds of the Sun God be huge and plentiful of creatures? If so, then where would the herds be? Above the skin or beneath the sea for there were no such creatures on land.

According to the myth told by humans, it was Eurylochus who was to find the herds and slaughter the largest one for him and the men to devour while they would slaughter another one to appease the gods.

The truth was much darker than that.

As the men were out, still searching for the succulent meat they hoped to devour, Ulysses awoke to find his men gone. A shock, no doubt, and he immediately believed the worst.

Before the horror could set in, a flash of white out of the corner of his eye drew his curious attention. His horror turned to awe and then his awe to lust.

There, at the ocean's edge not too far away from him but unaware of his conscious state, was a young male with a slim, elegant frame that put women to shame. His hair was sable black, adorned with bovine horns and flickering black-and-white cattle ears (a color he had never before seen for a cow). His skin was pale beige, so fair it were as if pearls had been spun into his flesh and yet so tan as to remind him of the sun's gracious kisses. From the small of his back danced a cow's tail.

At his gasp, the creature spun his head to look at him with wide, alarmed, green eyes that were so like the blinding strikes of the most ferocious thunderbolts. His perfect lips bowed down into a quivering pout as he rushed to his feet and then stumbled back down onto his knees. He had the qualities of a calf! To be so easily frightened and clumsy…

Ulysses, always witty and silver-tongued, urged the creature in a soft voice to not run away. He meant him no harm…

For hours, he bade the creature to come closer and by the fall of noon, he felt the cool strands of the creature's hair between his fingers, so different from his own greasy lengths that had not known a proper wash for a long while. The creature was visibly uncomfortable, skittering a way for a moment before returning to his sultry tone. Every time the creature ran away, Ulysses would take a step backward closer to the ship, therefore dragging the creature closer.

He gave a spare thought for his beautiful wife, Penelope, pleading that the gods forgive him for what he was about to do as he whipped around and grabbed the rope from his ship and lassoed the creature faster than it could run away. The creature wailed and cried and moaned in despair, but there was nary a thing he could do.

Ulysses was quick to sate his desires for the creature, ignoring the guilt that weighed heavily on his heart as the creature whimpered and screamed with not the slightest hint of pleasure.

When his men returned, empty-handed, he directed them to the creature and each of then were as taken with him as he. They, unlike him, molested the creature with not the slightest regret for they were men who had been at sea for a very long time with no one to quell their needs.

When the last man finished and they were sated, the creature still screamed and whimpered as loud as he had with Ulysses. His face was risen skyward and his wrists bled with how he tugged insistently at his bonds.

For the next 10 days it took for the storm to die, they continued to use the creature for their sexual desires, though the creature never once stopped screaming and whimpering. By the 10th day, however, the men were sick of its never ending woes and so, when the clouds dissipated and the sea calmed at last, pleaded with Ulysses to kill the creature.

Ulysses, as tired of its lamenting as the rest of his men, went to draw a sword on the creature.

In the split second between drawing his sword and aiming it for the creature's throat, the sun shone through the fading clouds with scorching brightness.

His men screamed from the very contact of it, their skin boiling as they burst instantly into flames. Ulysses alone was spared for he stood in the shade cast by the boat. Before his very eyes, his men became ash. Not a moment later, his ship also began to catch fire.

He remained where he was, smart enough to know that leaving the shade would mean a fate worse than the raging flames and he would instead be met with the agonizing death his men had suffered.

The sun's heat was so strong, the bonds holding the creature were broken and the creature leaped to his feet and ran out of the shade into the sunlight. He curled there where the sun shone brightest and remained, not a single burn appearing on him; not even a single drop of sweat or salt. He mooed and groaned contently. As Ulysses watched, the marks on the creature left by him and his men disappeared until the creature looked as healthy and flawless as they moment he had first seen him.

In a flash, before him stood a tall man of dark features and alabaster skin who glared at him with eyes as dark as a raven's glower. Ulysses trembled for the pain the man's gaze promised him and he was nearly certain he was facing the God of the Underworld Pluto.

But then the man gestured a hand toward the creature and, with a raised eyebrow, demanded to know why he would dare defile his cow – the very one he had kept in secrecy for hundreds of years. In that moment, Ulysses realized he was speaking with Apollo, for only Apollo supposedly held animals on the island.

Forgive me, Ulysses had begged, for your 'cow' had cast an illness upon me worse than death or torture – he had cursed me with lust and my men and I were powerless to resist him. He had always had a clever tongue, but his clever tongue stumbled over itself to secure his own safety after the gory deaths of his comrades.

Again, a raised eyebrow. And so Apollo smirked with the chill only a winter's storm should have held and spoke to him of his departure – safely… for the most part. He promised Ulysses that he would not die by his hand if he were to go out to sea once more.

Ulysses, clever as he was, knew that, as a god, Apollo would not need to use his own hands to punish him. He left the island on two trees bound together, weeping bitterly as a storm worse than the one before bloomed and sent him back into the vengeful clashes of the "Wandereres".

It would be more than eight years later Ulysses would be able to reach the shores of Ithaca.

And so is the true story of the troubles Ulysses and his men encountered upon the island Trinacria.

Upon the island, Apollo kissed the sacred cow and so cleansed his mind of memories as well as cleaned his body of all evidence. For hundreds of years more, the sacred cow would remain Apollo's greatest and most treasured secret…

~ Author's Note ~

The truth is that you are allowed to hate the story. I'll be honest, I was in Mythology class today and I was ahead about a chapter or two when I read that the sun god kept cattle and sheep upon a small island called Trinacria which were tended to by goddesses. I connected a few dots (sun god – sun arcobaleno - Reborn; sacred cattle - cow - Lambo), and thought that I should definitely make a story for it! … Well, it turned out really weird. For the story, I used only the Roman names for the characters (all of them except for Lambo were actually part of 'The Odyssey'), so please don't be confused. Most of the happenings in the story are true (if what Homer wrote was true), if not twisted a bit.

I love you all~ sorry the story is so awkward.