All he could think about in that moment, all he could consider, was the fact that Philotes and Philammon were right. Apollo could do. Apollo in all likelihood would do it. Funeral rites were important - to desecrate a corpse, or even to prevent its burial, was one of the worst crimes a man could commit. It put him on the level of a dog, or worse. Somehow he doubted Moros cared about that, but Artemis had to be recovered. Only, Asklepios was never eager to encourage bloodshed. It hardly mattered whose blood it was - combat was an ugly thing, and the after-effects were even worse. Could Apollo best Moros in a battle when Ares had fallen? And the War god had not faced Moros and Akheron in the same moment, had he? Asklepios didn't like his father's chances, if he were to be brutally honest, and in addition he hardly thought that more fighting was going to solve anything.
"Apollo loves his sister," Asklepios stood up slowly, and released Philotes' hand just as slowly. "No one doubts that she deserves a proper burial. I think he'll do whatever is in his power to see that she is given what she deserves."
The words tasted like ash. Not out of concern for his father, but because - for a moment - Asklepios had such ill will toward the goddess that he could imagine why someone would want to deny her a proper funeral. Asklepios was not the one who decided such things, and even if he were decency would prevent him from endorsing such an abhorrent philosophy. But if he could take one step, to have such loathing in his heart for an Olympian and his aunt... he at the very least could see where the second step would take him, into that black realm of hate where Moros and Akheron worshiped false ideals. Perhaps that was the worst part of all, being able to understand - even for a moment - what would drive a god to do such detestable things as deny a funeral to their enemy.
He truly was mad, wasn't he?
"The question is whether or not everything in the Shining One's power would be enough."
And to that question, Asklepios had no answers. Apollo was strong, and sure of his aim, but he was not a fighter on level with Athena or Ares, was he? And both of those had fallen to Akheron and Moros respectively. One deity against two, both of whom had bested Apollo's betters? Did they have the same thoughts? Asklepios was disgusted with himself for being so clinical in his analysis, but his thoughts were turning to the Gorgon's blood which flowed in those snakes, twined around his staff.
One had the power to restore life.
The other had the power to destroy it.
He couldn't give that to his father in good conscience, no matter how dire the situation. Asklepios could never destroy a life. Never have a hand in its destruction. Asklepios resisted the urge to shake his head. Instead he stood, and moved into the kitchen once again.