#apollo angst

Two weeks. The plague had been raging in your city for two weeks, and it was on the brink of collapse. Bodies lined up on the sides of the streets, too many to bury, the cries and sighs of the dying to be heard from out of the houses. Louder than the weakened bawling of the sick were the screams of the relatives, losing loved ones, that cut through the horrid symphony of suffering.

Of course, you knew how precarious the situation was. You knew you had an obligation to your people after your father, the king that was supposed to protect them, had drowned them in such misery. He had insulted the god Apollo and now, innocents were dying in the hundreds for his blasphemy. When he had turned to the city's seer, the old man had prophecied that only one thing could save the city: sacrificing you to the god to appease him.

Other than your father, you were ready to give everything for your people, but the thought of your impending death made a cold wash over you, your heart squeezed in an unforgiving panic as tears ran down your cheeks. Without so much as a second thought, your father had ordered you to be locked in a cell until the sacrifice tomorrow morning. It hit you like a flash that it had to be morning already, you only had so little time left, and you were spending it chained like an animal in a cold, moldy dungeon, shivering in terror and crying cold tears over your fate.

Another tremble shook your body and you pressed it into the corner you were sitting in, longing for the smallest bit of comfort. Your stomach was empty, but you weren't hungry, you felt too sick. If only you could have spent your last night in your room with your pets and your instruments, where it was warm and bright and the memories of better times lingered. They hid under the covers, lurked behind the doors and would have brought you comfort. Instead, your end would be thoroughly miserable.

You had overheard what the soldiers had said. Chained up, you would be brought before the city gates to an altar, built quickly to serve its purpose, and an archer on top of the city walls would end your life for your sacrifice to be collected by the god. You sniffled and tried to think of something beautiful as your hand squeezed the place over your heart that would soon be pierced by the arrow. It was as if you could feel it already.

Eventually though, the despair in combination with your exhaustion must have overwhelmed you, because the next thing you knew was that two guards were waking you up, releasing your chains and guiding you up the stairs. Over the night, the cold had settled in your bones, but that wasn't the only reason your legs were wobbly and unstable as you ascended into the palace. Your father wasn't there, but that didn't surprise you. Only a group of scholars, magistrates and officials had gathered to lead the procession out of the city.

The moment you left the palace, still guarded, though you assumed it wasn't for your protection but rather your safekeeping, the horrible smell of rotting flesh and burning bodies hit you. If it hadn't been for your empty stomach, the urge to puke would have overwhelmed you. That would not have been a very graceful last walk. Looking forward, you saw that the people, sick and healthy, but all dirty and with grief written into the hollows of their eyes, had gathered along the sides of the road to watch the procession.

There was no music played, and the usual sound of screams and cries had given way to a haunting silence. Ignoring the piercing smell, you allowed yourself to bask in the bright sunlight for a moment, dwelling in the irony that it would be your downfall.

When you were almost by the city gates and your feet started to hurt, a commotion disrupted the eerily still crowd of onlookers and the procession halted, guards stepping forward to protect it. An elderly woman broke free from the assembly. Her thin hair, sickly complexion and buboes on her face and neck left no doubt that she was very sick. When she called out, her voice was but a rasp. "Princess!"

Surprisingly, the guards didn't stop you when you stepped forward, towards the woman. Though you could see why. Even if you got infested, it wouldn't matter, your life would end before the sun had risen to its peak. Unable to stabilize herself, the woman had fallen to her knees and you crouched down to her. A stifled gasp erupted from the crowd when you placed your hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright," you said, not knowing where you got the sudden calmness. "It's all going to be over soon."

"Thank you," the woman sobbed, cradling your hand as dirty tears got caught up in the deep wrinkles of her face. "Thank you for your sacrifice, princess." Two young women stepped forward and helped her up as the guards took you between themselves once more, and as the procession moved forward, you felt strengthened. That was right. What did your life matter if you could save the lives of thousands?

Only the guards proceeded with you once you reached the gate. You took a nervous look upwards that made fear jolt through you once more. The archer was already in place. The archer that would seal your fate once you were displayed upon the altar.

The alter itself was a few hundred steps from the walls, a quick construction for this purpose only. The guards chained you onto it, so that you were displayed upon it like a sacrificial lamb. How fitting. When they left, you could barely sit up enough that your back didn't bow under the metal pressure, but you wanted to die with dignity. That was why you stricktly forbade yourself to cry, but you couldn't stop the trembling of your body and the racing of your heart, it's beat drumming in your ears, running in its last moments to its inevitable end.

Shivering and heaving, you awaited the arrow. This was so much worse than if they had killed you right away. It was torture not to see it coming. Managing a quick look back at the city gates, you saw the archer draw his bow. Despite yourself, a fearful sob left your throat and you closed your eyes, waiting. Almost anticipating. Any second now. The darkness was comforting.

The touch on your chin made you jolt. There was a hand, gently lifting your chin. Was it Thanatos, death itself? Death had an unexpectedly gentle touch.

"Open your eyes."

Without thinking, you did and froze. Your heart, that had been beating as fast as a dragon-flies' wings, halted for just a second. A breathless second, because in front of you stood the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. He was no man, he couldn't be. Emitting an otherworldly glow, his hair seemed to be woven out of gold, his skin as spotless as marble and his eyes a golden color. No, he was no man. The bow draped over it's shoulder, with which he had unleashed despair onto your city, sealed the deal. It was the mighty god Apollo himself.

You couldn't read his expression, but it was neither happy nor angry. He didn't present himself as a vengeful, destructive force of divinity, yet his might you could feel in every fiber of your being. His touch on your skin burned, as if you were too close to his godliness. Only now you followed his other arm with your eyes, that was stretched behind you, and gasped. It held the arrow meant for you, as if he had grabbed it out of the air right before it would have hit your body.

His surprisingly soft fingers tilted your chin further upwards, not meeting any resistance. Your body surrendered to his touch automatically. Golden eyes studied your features with such interest that it made you sweat. The weight of his godly eyes on you was almost painful. With a courage you didn't know you had in you, you looked up, right into those hard, unforgiving eyes. They widened slightly as you did and the god tilted his head. When he spoke, his voice shook you to your core.

"Who are you?"

Too caught up in the melody of his smooth voice, the grave sound of centuries and eternities, you almost missed the question. For a second, you contemplated wether you should tell him, but you didn't see what use there was in lying. And you knew you couldn't lie to him. It was time to meet your purpose.

"I am the eldest daughter of the king that offended you, and who's city is suffering the hail of your arrows, Lord Apollo. I am a sacrifice to you. Please-," your voice broke, but you forbade yourself to cry. "Take me, let me die for my city and have mercy on my people." You could have cursed yourself for the way your lip was trembling, and you added a choked "if it pleases you."

They had chained you down like an animal. Apollo knew that the king was a scumbag, but so much of a scumbag that he would leave his daughter to die without a second thought. The audacity to think that he would be satisfied with this, that he would be granted mercy. And such a pretty little thing you were, too. And obviously way more interested in your people than their king.

All you could hear was your heaving breath as you averted your eyes. His hand left your chin and when he lifted it, you ducked under the impending hit, but it didn't come. When you looked up carefully, he had only placed his hand on the altar next to you. Still, his golden eyes studied your face, though you thought that they looked just a little softer than before. His other hand dropped the arrow and came up to your face to brush strands of hair behind your ear. "What is your name?"

You told him, but he showed no reaction. Were you not enough to satisfy his vengeance? "Please," you begged, "accept me as sacrifice and forgive my father's sins."

The god only scoffed. "Who had that idea? What moron prompted you to be sent out here?" Again, you told him of the seer and his prophecy, shaking under the weight of the chains and your fear. "So, he told your father he would be forgiven if he sacrifices you to me?" the god said. "How could such an error happen to him? He is a very skilled seer." He wasn't talking to you but to himself, glaring at your city in the distance. The waves of his godly anger rolled off of him and left you breathless. You cursed yourself. Was this all you could do? Shiver, die, cover?

The god let out a sigh that sounded like a tragic tune. Such grace, even in the most minor of his mannerisms. He spared another glance at you and again, you felt like blinded by the sun itself. "How would you like a new home, Princess?" there was a scornful tone to his voice when talking about your former home. His lips twitched in mocking amusement. "The old one produces such horrid smells."

You felt your chest constrict with a sudden surge of anger. "And who's fault is that?"

Oh gods.

You had not just said that. What had you been thinking? You didn't dare to breathe as both you and him were, for a moment, stunned by your words. Because you didn't want to see the extent of his eternal anger at your defiance, you chose to look on the ground, expecting the death blow any moment now. But no, he would not make it quick for you, not when you had shown such impudence. Would it be a torturous death? But if it was already set in stone...

You didn't know what prompted you to look up again, but you did, and found him with a stunned expression only making his features prettier. "You hold a grudge against my father because of his blasphemy, fine. Give him the torturous death he deserves. But if you think bodies thrown in the sewers for the rats to eat because there is not enough wood to burn them would touch my father, you are wrong. But it does touch me, and I care about my people. You can do whatever you want to me, and I know you will, but I am begging you to end this punishment!"

You were fierce. Apollo was stunned by your bravery, not many had ever dared to talk to him like that. His sister would like you. There was such clear directness in your words, he could tell you were intelligent, smarter than your father, and you could articulate it even under godly scrutiny. You were interesting. And even more pretty glaring at him. Something tingled inside him, as if you had touched a nerve, but a good one.

"Heh"

It was a slight sound, almost swallowed up by the wind, but it made you look up in disbelief. But it was true. The smile on Apollo's features stunned you, he was too beautiful to be beheld by mortal eyes like yours. Your amazement by his grin almost washed away your confusion about his amusement. Why was he smiling? Why weren't you dead yet?

You flinched away when his hand touched your waist, but you were surprised by how gentle it was. It wrapped around the chains that tied down your whole body and dug painfully into your flesh and they dissipated. A wave of his hand and the bruises that had formed under their pressure healed in front of your eyes. "Hm," he hummed and you looked back at him. "Such a shame, those bindings taking up the view."

"Uh," was all you could say, still half lying on the altar. His smile widened, but it was not malicious. No, it was ... charming. Flirty. Stunningly beautiful.

"Tell me, pretty lady, do you sing?" he asked, leaning on the altar with his two arms caging you in as he leaned towards you. He was so close you could feel it radiating off of him. It felt like heat, only that it buzzed that air in a way that made your lungs constrict. Pure power.

"Ye- I mean, a little," you said, trying to follow his sudden mood shift. "Why?" Because boldness had been the most effective diplomatic tactic so far, and because you felt the strong urge to say it, you added: "Do you want me to sing for you?"

His eyes gleamed with... something. Now, he was truly shining. "Yeah, real interesting," he smiled, leaning even closer. Your heart was racing. "How about I rephrase my previous question, darling. You can either go back to your city and your father, or you can come with me. Your choice. Either way, your city will be forgiven and have peace."

The proposal knocked the breath out of your lungs and the flirtatious smile on his face didn't make it any better. You looked back at your city. Back to your father, who was so willing to sacrifice your life for his, who hadn't even had the decency to see you one last time before sending you out to die, alone and scared, paying for his mistakes. There was nothing there for you, but something was pulling you to the man in front of you that you couldn't quite explain.

"I want to leave with you," you said, surprised by the firmness of your voice. And even more surprised at the way he lit up, emitting a soft golden glow. The stone cold gold of his eyes had melted into warm honey as his arms sneaked under your body and lifted you up. You couldn't help but smile back, as if you were out of control of your face muscles.

"That little smile of yours is almost as irresistible as mine," the god grinned down at you and you felt yourself blush, slapping his chest out of embarrassment as you would have done any man's. For a moment, you were mortified by your own actions, but it turned into relief the next moment because Apollo let out a hearty laugh. A little chuckle left your own lips and for a second, his eyes lingered on them.

The next, he was shielding your eyes with his hand and you could only hear and feel him all around you now. "You might want to close your eyes for a bit. It might get bright."

As you did, he removed the hand, held you gently and looked down upon your face as a hail of golden light engulfed the two of you. Your fingers dug into his tunic but he couldn't have minded it any less. There was something about you that fascinated him. You were interesting, and the god liked interesting people. Eyes still closed, one of your hands found his and squeezed, and he was glad your eyes were closed, or you would haves even the bright pink blush on his marble cheeks.

The sun was shining down on the city's marketplace, unobstructed by clouds. Many people had covered their heads in an effort to protect themselves from this summer's unforgiving heat. Still, the place was packed with people, drawn out of their protective homes by the delicious smells, excited chatter and the many attractions, sprinkled in between stalls with fish, spices, bread, olives and fruit.

Your mother had instructed you to buy olives and oils, the latter you were storing in your basket right now. "Thank you very much," you said, bidding the merchant goodbye to try and make your way to the tight crowd.

As you were pushing through the crowd to escape the packed area, you couldn't help a giddy smile creeping onto your face. The sun had barely reached its peak and your mother was only expecting you back by the afternoon, which left you enough time to meet up with your lover under the pines outside the city, as planned. And the faster you got there, the more time you would have.

It was this prospect that made you speed up, maybe a little too much, because you found yourself tripping over your own feet. Out of instinct, you pressed the basket onto your chest and braced yourself for the impact. But it didn't come. Someone had gotten a hold of your upper arm to stop your fall. Quickly, you got onto your own two feet and picked at your braid in embarrassment. "Thank you very much, sir."

That's when you recognized the man and instinctively took a step back. He, however, didn't seem bothered by the gesture and took a step towards you. "You are welcome. Can't have my future bride dirty herself, can I?" Right. It was Agapios, whom your parents had chosen to be your betrothed, with no knowledge of your current love life that was very much occupied by the god Apollo himself.

"Uh, well, thank you," you said, not knowing how to finally break to this man that he had no chance with you. But why would you? If it weren't for Apollo, your marriage to Agapios would be set in stone. In his eyes, it was. "See you soon, then," you said, a little awkwardly, and turned to leave on the road that lead out of the city.

But when you passed the gates, Agapios caught up to you. "I should keep you company. It isn't right for a woman, especially one your age, to be walking alone outside." You bit back your protests while you thought of a way to get rid of him. Shoving him into the stream that guided your path to the pine trees didn't seem too wise, given that your betrothed was a prominent member of society and quick to claim injury. Not that he would be wrong.

"This is quite the interesting route to take home," he interrupted your silence once again. If he didn't leave you alone till your meeting spot, maybe Apollo would find a way to get rid of him without suspicion. Your lover was quick-witted enough to assess this pesky situation, you were sure, even though he had no knowledge of your betrothal. Not that you were keeping it a secret, but you simply had no ambitions to let this man intrude that part of your life as well when he was already meant to take up your future.

"I like the quiet," you responded after a period of silence, hoping he'd get the hint. To your surprise, he did, showing an unusual social awareness. He stepped in your way and took your arm, the one that wasn't holding your basket. You couldn't help but stiffen up, his touch was wrong and unwelcome.

"Why are you so cold to me?" he asked, or rather, demanded, holding your arm more tightly. "You should be happy I even chose you." Something flashed in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A quick look around revealed that you were only surrounded by grass and trees, no person in sight. "You should be kissing my feet that I am doing you this favor. Otherwise, you would never even be able to hope for someone even close to my level." He wet his lips. "You really should show your gratitude."

"Sorry," you mumbled under your breath, now trying to escape from his company as fast as possible. Maybe you should jump in the river. Miraculously, you managed to break free from his grasp and walk around him in large, quick steps. Maybe that gave you a false sense of hope, because just a few steps away from him, your body was pushed into a roadside grove with such a force it made you trip, but his painfully tight grip kept you up.

You were barely able to process anything that was happening to you when you were pushed again and landed on the hard ground. Unable to soften the blow, you felt a pain on your hip, but that was nothing compared to the panic that set in when you saw your attackers feverish eyes. "Listen, please, I'm sorry-" you breathed and tried to stand up, get on your feet, flee, but he kneeled down and constrained you to the ground.

You should have kicked and screamed for help, you should have done something, you were screaming at yourself to do something, but your body was frozen up as one of Agapios' hands closed around your throat, so tight you couldn't breathe, and the other tried to lift the skirt of your dress.

That was when your body finally gave in to your demands to move, fight, do something. You managed to land a kick on him, but he only laughed and spit down on you. All your kicking was slowed when the lack of air made your brain go fuzzy and your body tingle. All gasping and ragged breathing was of no use when he was so much stronger than you. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you could only sob when you saw his winning grin.

He was about to forcefully pull your legs apart when something happened. Neither you nor your attacker were able to process it: The white flash of pure light that burned up your eyes. Still blinded by the brightness, all you could feel was that, suddenly, the hands were gone from your throat and body, and you took a ragged breath, coughing and gasping for more air.

Breathing past the lump in your throat, you looked up. Your heart stilled and then raced as you beheld the sight before you. You had only ever seen Apollo's human-sized form, only ever felt his gentle gaze and his bright aura. But it had to be him. The creature before you- it looked so much like him, and then again not at all.

He was taller than any of the trees, as tall as the city walls. And he seemed to be glowing. Not in the way you knew, where his breathtaking smile shone like the rising sun. His eyes were filled with fury, his nostrils flaring, his clothing and hair seemed to float around him. Not peacefully, no, they were moving as if violently ripped around by a storm. A storm that was so terrifying and wonderful.

That was when the realization sank in. You were saved. He was here. With shaking hands, you covered your thighs with your skirt. Now, you were shedding tears of relief. The sound of your sobs was the only thing disrupting the ghostly silence. Until he talked.

When he talked, you first couldn't believe it was him. The voice was deep, not only in tone but in gravity. It was old, and it was godly. It made the air hum with tension and your skin explode into goosebumps. The sound of it was so mesmerizing that you almost didn't catch the words, though they cut clear as razors through the air. "What did you just do?"

Apollo was trying to remain calm, for your sake, but his composure was slipping as he tried to think of the most painful way to punish this pathetic piece of garbage that was this mortal. This man who had dared lay his hands on you. He would destroy him, he would make him cry and beg, he would make him pay dearly. In order to remain in control of himself, he didn't dare look back at you, it would only fuel his rage.

"Please!" The mortal man cried out, shielding his eyes from the light of his godly presence directed against him. "I didn't do anything- She wanted it!"

SNAP!

The man screamed when Apollo cracked his bones and contorted on the ground, wallowing around in the mud and sobbing. His eyes found yours and they widened pleadingly. "Tell him it wasn't like that, tell him to stop!" You didn't.

"How dare you talk to hear with your filthy mouth," Apollo said and his words were like thunder, deep and rumbling, filling the air with a tension like in a storm. "How dare you look at her." Agapios whimpered in pain and fear and pressed his tear stricken face into the mud. With slow, torturous steps, Apollo approached him. Your sunny god had transformed into a terrifying monster, all powerful, set on revenge. And yet, you didn't think you had ever loved him more.

"Please... mercy," Agapios sobbed, but Apollo only laughed a cold, cruel laugh. His eyes were that of a madman, crazed with rage and thoughts of revenge. His fist closed around the man's upper body, lifting him up and clenching his fist so that he screamed in agony. Apollo leaned down and breathed into his mouth. It was not just any breath. It was hot and burned the air, like a fireball, like a small sun itself, it entered Agapios mouth. In order to avoid the gruesome spectacle, you averted your eyes, but you knew he was being burned from the inside out right now.

After a short while, the gasping and screaming stopped and it got quiet. Very quiet. When you lifted your gaze, you saw that Apollo had shrunken down to his human size and was looking at you with an unspeakable pain in his golden eyes.

Apollos hands were shaking, all anger had left his body when he was looking at you, twigs in your hair, eyes red from crying and a purple bruise forming on your arm where the bastard had laid his dirty fingers on you. His eyes observed the tremble of your hands, the curling of your fingers, your tense form. But he didn't dare look you in the eye and see the fear in them that he must have inflicted upon you.

Without thinking, he had subjected you to such a gruesome sight. As a god, he had eternally glorious sides, but also cruel and depraved ones. Ones that you were never meant to see. Revenge and wrath had consumed him whole. What if you would be looking at him with the same fear and disgust you had when looking at the puddle of flesh and bones that had been your attacker?

He heard you sniff and his heart seized. No matter if you would push him away, he had to try and comfort you. "Love," he said softly, raising his hands to show you he meant to harm and approaching you ever so slowly. A few feet away from you, he kneeled down to be at your level, hands still in the air. "Are you alright?" Normally, he would congratulate himself on anything coming out of his mouth, but he had to acknowledge that that was a very stupid question.

"I'm alright," you said and sat up. Your voice was hoarse, and only now you fully registered what had happened to you.

Somehow, Apollo looked even more distraught than you did. "Please, love, don't fear m-" But he didn't get to finish his sentence because you had launched yourself at him and landed right in his conveniently open arms. You breathed in deeply and immediately, his arms closed around your as he held you like he never wanted to let you go again.

"Thank you," you whispered, pulling him even closer and he readily obliged, placing you in his lap as he locked his arms around your waist. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I was late," he breathed and touched your chin to lift it from his shoulder in order to look at you. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

He looked so sweet, it was almost impossible to believe he was the same divine creature that had towered over trees and reduced your betrothed to a boiling pile of bones. There was such a softness in his expression, his touch was so gentle, his voice so calming. How could you ever be afraid of him? He had saved you.

"It's okay," you answered. "Thank you."

He groaned and tapped his forehead against yours, letting his full lips ghost over the skin of your cheek. "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you, only out of selfish rage and revenge, and now you have to fear me."

"I don't," you said, firmly. "And i don't believe that. Because you care. Because when you turned around and saw me, you were about to cry. Because you hold me so gently. Because I know you, and I also know you would never hurt me. I'm not scared, and I can decide myself wether I fear you." You didn't break eye contact, you had to make sure he understood.

And he did. Apollo nodded, cupped your cheeks with his and pressed featherlight kisses up your jaw. As the tension began to leave his body, and yours, he let out a sigh and it was hot against your skin. "No man will ever hurt you again," he promised, so gravely that you didn't dare point out the improbability of that statement, or the tone of his voice made you fear he would eradicate any man from this earth until only he was left to hold you, caress your bruises and kiss them away with his healing lips.

You locked your hands with his and kissed his temple. "Can we go some place else?" In this spot, on this path, you would never feel safe again, that Agapios had taken from you.

The room was warm with the lingering heat, droplets of sweat tickled your back and were wiped away by the gentle hand of your lover. You were lying on your stomach, head resting on a pillow, and admiring the sight before you; your bare god looking down on you lovingly, your fresh marks adorned his neck and shoulders, his fingers gently tracing the testimonies of love he had left on your body.

He was propped up on one hand, so that you could admire him fully. Your hand, still a little shaky from the bliss, found his golden locks, damp and sticking to the back of his neck. Under your touch, he closed his eyes and smiled, leaning into your hand that guided his head down to your pillow. He settled next to you, a loose arm around your waist and your eyes locked. Their expression was no longer heated, no, his eyes were warm honey. Soft, golden, overflowing with adoration and love.

"I love you," you whispered. It had slipped out just a few minutes before, you had never said it before. But now it was out and you didn't wish to ever take it back.

His soft hand came to your neck as his expression was overrun with emotion. A shuddering breath left his lips and you saw a sort of desperation in his eyes. You knew him too well. "You don't have to say it back," you whispered and pressed a soft peck onto the tip of his nose.

"But I do," he breathed, running his thumb over your cheek with a care as if he was handling fragile glass. "I do so much. More than you-" he tapped your forehead tenderly, "could ever comprehend. More than I should."

"Because I'm mortal?" you asked, not breaking eye contact. "Because I will get old and die?" You saw in his expression that he was pondering something and inched even closer so that your noses almost touched. "You can tell me, Apollo. What's wrong?"

Another shudder of a breath. His arms tightened around you and his expression was pained. "I want you to grow old. And be with you all the way."

"Well, good that we aren't being seen in public anyways then, can you imagine the stares?" you giggled and he could bring himself to laugh a little. Tenderly, you brushed the damp locks out of his face. "Are you worried about me, Apollo?"

"Many of my lovers died." It broke out of him like a confession he had been holding in for a while, pushed down, but now it was out and he looked upon you with such vulnerability. "I cannot stand the thought that it might happen to you. It's the reason I'm keeping you my secret. Every time I close my eyes and you are not around, I am plagued my visions, dreams, images..."

A drop of sweat made its way down the side of his face- or was it a tear? You cradled his face in your hands and Apollo pulled you even closer, until you could feel every inch of each other. Somehow, it was even more intimate than the sex. "Nothing's gonna happen to me, Apollo," you said, wishing you could just erase all that worry from his mind. "Don't worry, do you think you can get rid of me that easily?"

He didn't answer, so you kissed him, deeply, with all the love you had for him. And still it was no match for the intensity with which he kissed you back. When you parted, you were all out of breath, tracing little patterns on his skin. "I trust you, Apollo," you whispered as you painted your love on him with invisible brushes. "More than anyone."

"I love you," was all he answered, body's intertwined so tightly you didn't know whose legs were who's anymore. "I'll never let you go."

And he couldn't. He couldn't let you go. He couldn't be too late. This couldn't be happening. Why, oh why, had his pride compelled him to inflict that plague onto Carthage, Hera's holy city? He had to get to you before she did. How stupid of him to think he had taken all the proper precautions to hide you, keep you a secret. The look on Hera's face when she had entered his palace, said your name and that you would pay for his crime, it haunted him. It was all he could see as he raced towards the mortal realm, in search of you, you, you.

The way he rushed past cities, realms to get to you, now, fast, before she did, all he could do was think please. Please. The wind rushed in his ears, his heart drumming up a storm, fueled by his desperate panic. He couldn't allow himself to think, he just had to find you, get you to safety, never let you out of his eyesight again-

Suddenly, he spottet you, and his heart stopped as abruptly as he did. For a split second, the skies opened and deceiving, stupid hope filled his chest. For just a second, it was all well, because there you were, in your springtime dress on your walk. Unsuspecting, beautiful you. It was a scene right out of a dream, the way you shielded your eyes from the sun, looking in his direction, as if a magic bond had pulled you towards him. Your eyes widened when they locked with his, and you smiled.

The dream was ripped apart.

Even with all his godly senses, it came too fast for him to see. One second, you stood, the next, you collapsed on the ground, struck by the invisible, deadly hand of the highest of goddesses.

Too late. In the back of his mind he knew he was too late, but that didn't stop him from inspecting the wound the moment his feet met the ground. A gown of blood was already draped around you, your former green dress now the color of scarlet. Shaking fingers pressed against the wound, but the blood kept spilling. Too much blood. And it mixed with the tears Apollo hadn't even realized were falling from his eyes.

His hands were frantic in their attempts, but they couldn't save you. You were slipping, and he knew it. A panicked sob left his lips, more tears were wetting his cheeks when he cradled your face in his hands. Your eyes were wide, full of fear, and your breaths were but strangled cries for help. A lung, he thought in the back of his mind, maybe both. And he couldn't fix you.

Admits it all, he wanted to say sorry, but no word left his lips as he saw your helpless eyes, eyes that were usually full of love, reassurance, warmth and tenderness. What had he done?

"'pollo" you managed to chocke out, along with a violent cough that had you spitting blood. The metallic taste filled your mouth. You wanted to move, but you couldn't. That was when you realized- you didn't feel your body anymore. But if you didn't feel your body anymore, why was there so much pain? You barely registered how Apollo lifted you up into his arms. "Don't talk, shh.."

"'s important," you slurred and he brushed your hair out of your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out but another bloody cough. Your eyes widened as his heart stopped and you both came to the same realization: you were chocking on your own blood. Another coughing fit. "'Apollo, 'need to tell you-," you gasped and buried your fingers in his tunic so hard it hurt. They were too cold. And he couldn't move. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to move, do something, but he was unable to do anything but hold you in his arms as you died.

"'s not your f-" but you didn't get to finish your sentence. Blood painted your lips red. One second, your eyes were panicked, the next, they were empty, devoid of life. Your grip on his tunic loosened and he managed to break free from his paralysis to grab your hand and desperately press it to the spot you had been holding onto, as if that would return the life to your limp body. But you were gone. And all he could do was cradle your lifeless body in his arms and bury his head next to your still heart.

"No" he whispered, "no, no, no!" Another sob broke out of his trembling lips and tears wet your collarbone. Where he once had put his lips in adoration, you were now covered in your own blood. Your beautiful body, destroyed, and you, gone, in the blink of an eye. Because of him. He breathed in as terror washed over him. To look down upon the destruction he had caused, he raised his head from your fleeting warmth. The last warmth he would find in you. He would never be able to hold you again. And it was his doing.

Next was the rage. He yelled for Hera to come down from her divine realm, to face him, he would destroy her, he would avenge you. But ultimately, there was no sign of the goddess, and he had to see that it wouldn't bring you back.

So he screamed for his uncle, to have mercy, to give you back to him. Down in Hades, the god heard his nephews cries for help, but he couldn't make a difference. You were a mere mortal. He should have known better. There was no answer from Hades.

So, he was left there. By now, his body was drenched with your blood as well, covering his tunic, his lips from when he had tried to kiss you back to life, and his hands. That was right. It was his hands that were bloody, sullied with the guilt. Again. This should have never happened to you. If he had had mercy, if he had been strong enough to leave you alone, you wouldn't be here. Destroyed by a goddess whose anger was directed at him. He was your murderer.

It took a time until he rose. Still, you were cradled in his arms, your head supported against his chest and your eyes closed. Once he had cleaned you up, one could almost think you were sleeping peacefully, if there weren't the memories of your panic in your last moments. Those widened eyes had burned themselves into his soul forever, an eternal scar.