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“Where are you going?”
Hyacinthus abruptly froze at the voice coming from behind him, turning around to see his father standing near the gate with folded arms.
Pierus cut an intimidating figure, standing half a head taller than his eldest son, with broad shoulders, chiseled arms, and a face that reflected Hyacinthus’s, if it had been ravaged by the brutalities of war.
A King of Sparta should show nothing less, he supposed.
“Just out for a walk, Father. I’ve finished for the day.” Hyacinthus replied carefully yet casually.
Pierus’s brow knit, and Hyacinthus knew it as the preamble to some stormy weather. His father was known for many things, none could say he wasn’t a good king, but his temper was something to be feared.
Considering how they’d been tense with each other ever since their last spat, Hyacinthus had been eager to try and avoid the man for all he was worth. Luckily any family dinners they did have, he was accompanied by his younger siblings, and his mother was there to deflect his Father’s irritation. Clio was indeed his only defense from his Father’s irritation towards him. Hyacinthus hadn’t precisely been receptive when it came to selecting a bride, and he supposed his father had put a good deal of effort into bringing in some candidates he might like.
Yet the young prince turned each and everyone away.
He said it was for a myriad of reasons. One had a terrible voice, the other was too thin, he was worried he could hurt her, the next had a laugh like a chittering rodent, the list went on. More and more flimsy things that in any other situation Hyacinthus would be more than happy to put up with. In fact, in another world, he’d probably be married by now. Several of the candidates weren’t bad, and he could imagine he could come to enjoy time with some of them, enough to entertain the prospect of being wed.
Yet, this wasn’t that world.
This was a world where the sun god himself had descended from the heavens simply because he’d had an interest in a Spartan prince.
That interest had become infatuation, and not the kind that might accompany force, pain, or possibly transformation into an animal for Hyacinthus.
This was sweet, and tender, and kind. Hardly ever intimate, and when it was, there was nothing else in the world that mattered. Yet it never felt like they needed that. In fact, when they were together, anything was more than enough for Hyacinthus.
Just sharing space was plenty.
But of course, how was he supposed to explain that to his Father? How could he reply when he sent away the next possible bride?
Sorry, Father, I really should have told you sooner. You see, I’m actually the chosen lover of Lord Apollo, and the reason I sneak out and ‘go on walks’ all the time it because I meet him in the forest. Right, like that would go over well.
Hyacinthus ran over these things remarkably quickly, within the span it took for his Father to brood a moment and formulate his next words.
“You will not be going out today. We need to talk.” His voice was deep and grating, and Hyacinthus hesitated.
“Well, alright. Is something the matter?” He assuaged this, knowing Apollo could easily see where he was if he so desired, and wouldn’t be waiting in the field for him without any clue where he could have gotten too.
It was better to miss a day with the god than to risk the wrath of his Father for the next month or so. He’d explain the situation tomorrow or the day after, the next time Apollo could come.
Even though his heart sagged at the prospect of not getting his usual dose of perfection by spending time with him.
Apollo had stopped turning up every time he showed up in the field. He’d said it was because things were getting frustrating on Olympus, and that was all he’d relented.
Honestly, now that I know he’s a god, why can’t he just talk to me? As if I’d tell anyone about the god's drama, no one would believe me, and I’d probably be marked a blasphemer.
He trailed behind his Father into the gates slightly, only just enough to be out of earshot of the guards, before the man rounded on him again.
His brows were knit again, and Hyacinthus tried to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t want to harden his exterior yet, that would only provoke an argument sooner than necessary. If at all possible, he intended to placate Pierus, but if anything he couldn’t abide by came up, he wanted to have some points in his favor that he’d at least been willing to listen.
“I’ve selected your bride.”
Hyacinthus heard a dull ringing noise in the back of his head.
That definitely fell into the ‘not tolerable’ column of his mental checklist when it came to his Father.
“What?” He said it dumbly as if he genuinely hadn’t heard the man the first time.
It must have been convincing because Pierus merely repeated himself. “I’ve selected your bride.” With a bit of a bristle to his tone.
Hyacinthus felt his eye twitch, and that hadn’t even been purposeful. “W-What do you mean, you’ve selected her? Mother said you wouldn’t arrange!”
Pulling Clio into this was something he hated to do, but it was the only counterargument he could fathom at this point.
Pierus just shook his head. “And you’ve done well to take advantage of that, haven’t you? Turning away every girl I’ve found you without any good reason. You’ll be marrying next month, and that’s the end of it. Be grateful your Mother said I should at least inform you ahead of time.”
Hyacinthus was gaping at this point and spoke with a tremble to his voice.
“What the…no! I’m not getting married next month, not without even meeting the girl!”
“I’ll have her here next week, then,” Pierus replied.
Hyacinthus sputtered, before fisting his hands. “No! I won’t marry some random girl just because you told me too! I understand heirs and generations and whatever, but you can’t make me marry someone I don’t love!”
“You act like marrying for love is a common thing. I shouldn’t have let Clio fill your head with that nonsense, but she was convinced it’d make things easier.” The man sighed.
The only thing he caved to was his wife, but again, that’d been an arrangement that just so happened to work out, which Hyacinthus clearly wasn’t about to fall into.
“It’s not nonsense!”
“Is that it? Are you sneaking out to meet some common woman in the woods? That must be the case…we’ll need to take care of that.” He mumbled.
Hyacinthus swore he saw red.
First of all, if only his Father knew how ‘taking care of that’ would result in the entirely of Sparta being burnt to a crisp on a bad day and eternal damnation in the Underworld on a good day.
Second of all, even if that was the case, and he was meeting some common girl, how dare he threaten harm to her?
The fury built into a raging bull in his chest, and so he spoke with a voice bordering of a shout. “I won’t let you threaten someone like that, and second I don’t think you have any right to assume what I’m doing!”
He saw the give in Pierus’s eyes a split-second before it happened, and he knew he could have dodged, or blocked, or something.
He knew how to do those things, but it wasn’t a good idea.
Taking the hit was always a better move, but instead of a backhand to the face or a harsh shove, like the usual, he received a fist.
A punch that landed squarely into his cheek with enough strength to toss him backward. Stars erupted before his gaze, and ringing blasted across his consciousness, not from anger but from the rattle that seemed to run through his system.
His left eye throbbed and stung, and his left cheek was already coloring red, soon to turn yellow and purple. He’d caught himself on the fall, sitting up and lifting his still open eye to match to his Father’s.
“Now…” Before the man could finish, anger still clouding his gaze, Hyacinthus was on his feet and running.
If there was one thing his Father could never hope to match him in, it was a footrace.
He ignored the enraged screaming of the King from the gates and the clatter of the two guards on duty trying to chase after him.
Perhaps they pitied him because they didn’t pursue with all they had. Or maybe the prince was just faster than he thought. Either way, he rushed into the trees, standing tall, always his salvation. He went pounding along deer track paths in a wild zig-zag, losing the guards and then running some time more. Until his lungs burned but he kept running, and his feet hurt, but he kept running, and the throbbing had crept from the left of his cheek all the way up the side of his face, and his left eye wouldn’t open even though he tried.
The wall of rocks came into view, and he scrambled over, desperate for the safety of the sanctuary.
Clambering down, he skidded to the grass, knees hitting the soft ground as he lifted a hand to his face for the first time since he’d been hit.
To say it hurt was an understatement. His cheek was puffy to the touch, and he didn’t want to imagine how bad it must look. His fingers wandered up to his left eye, gently prodding, and a bolt of pain shot like shockwaves from even the move delicate of touch.
Swollen shut.
His mind was slowly clearing from the emotional fleeing he’d been doing, and as he tried to fathom what he could do now, he felt the familiar warmth of a star lowering from the sky.
He could still see through his right eye and watched as Apollo dropped to the ground in the field, making his way towards the human he’d become so intertwined with.
Golden eyes sharpened, muscular, tanned arms tensed, and the head of golden hair that moved as if aflame tilted as if to further assess the situation.
Then, between the blinks of the eye, Apollo was across the field and kneeling in front of Hyacinthus.
“What happened?” He demanded gently, pulling Hyacinthus’s hand from the side of his face.
His voice had grown more profound, perhaps in anger, but more than that, it held biting concern.
Hyacinthus swallowed. “I…it’s just…”
He hissed involuntarily when Apollo just barely grazed the bruised skin with a finger.
“Hold on.” The god rubbed his hands together, then raised them to his lips and blew on them.
They glowed a myriad of colors, and he carefully cupped his lover's face again.
Instead of inflicting further suffering, warmth spread over Hyacinthus’s face, and the pain melted away.
The throbbing in his eye eased and slowed. He found he could open it again. No long distorted, his vision was the same as before.
“Better?” Apollo asked.
Hyacinthus gave a sigh that might edge upon humor. “Sometimes, I forget you’re the god of healing too.”
Apollo didn’t seem to be eager to engage the usual banter that might accompany such a statement, having not taken his hand away from the prince’s face.
“I wasn’t watching. What happened?” He asked, feeling it was ok to ask now since he’d healed the injury.
Hyacinthus shook his head lightly, the pressure running against the hands still on his face. He lifted his own hand and settled it on the Apollo’s wrist.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Somehow, he knew that telling Apollo about the reality of the situation, and that smaller occurrences of this had come to pass before, wouldn’t end well.
Burnt to a crisp, damnation in the Underworld, and so on…
He considered, and while he couldn’t say he hated his father, he didn’t exactly care for him. To be honest, if he were a selfish man, he’d be fine with Apollo going on a rampage, but he cared for his Kingdom. His mother and his younger siblings. Plunging Sparta into political turmoil just for the sake of himself wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
“Wrong. I’m already worried, so clearly, it’s something worth worrying about. This wasn’t from training, you wouldn’t have let someone hit you hard enough to cause swelling like that.” Apollo immediately nixed his chances of using training as an out. Of course, with some convincing, he might have been able to swing it, but looking up at the god, he was against it.
He tightened his grasp on Apollo slightly and spoke. “It was just…an argument. I’ve told you about my Father, he has a temper, and he’s…”
Before he could even get the rest of the words out, light exploded from in front of him. Apollo’s hair had gone from gently flickering to a literal inferno upon his head. Crackling and roaring like a real flame, and his eyes had caught just the same.
None of the heat reached him beyond the tingle that ran up the gods arms, but nonetheless it was terrifying to see up close.
When he recoiled on instinct, the flames died out somewhat. Not all the way, but enough to reduce the startling brightness.
“He hit you?” It wasn’t an inquiry so much as a demand of the answer, whispered in a sense that was the opposite of an enraged shout.
Yet it echoed far more seething fury than anything louder could hope too.
Hyacinthus inched a bit closer, wracking his brain for ways to calm the Olympian down.
“Well, yes, but I…it’s just, I mean…we’ve been arguing a lot. Sometimes he’s hit me, but…”
“He’s done it before?” Another burst of uncontrolled anger ripped up the flames of hair, and this time it didn’t settle.
Oh no.
Hyacinthus considered, quickly releasing Apollo’s arm in exchange for wrapping his arms around his torso.
He could feel the heat under his skin, and tried to line up his words in a preferable fashion.
“Yes. Today he told me he’d picked my bride, and we argued. He just, I’ve tried to explain to him I don’t want to marry, but I can’t get through to him. I’ve been using flimsy excuses to send off all the other candidates. He’s gotten irritated with it all and decided to go ahead and decide for me. So I’m not sure what to do about it, but I did rile him up, so…”
“And that is an excuse?” Apollo practically hissed, before standing up, Hyacinthus’s grasp on him falling away as he rose.
Then he started walking towards the edge of the field. “Wait, where are you going?” Hyacinthus demanded.
Apollo turned back to him slightly. “I’m going to make sure this never happens again.”
Then he was walking again. “Wait, wait! Apollo, hold on! Please!” He exclaimed, convinced the gods intentions were the kill his Father in retribution.
That wouldn’t be a stretch. Apollo might be one of the more peaceful Olympians as far as his myths went, but he’d certainly inflicted acts of his rage on the land before.
He seized Apollo’s hand, refusing to let go and forcing him to a halt.
The god turned his eyes back to the prince, who was clinging on with determination.
He recognized the expression, and paused.
The anger that had been explosively rippling about his appearance was sated somewhat, and his eyes widened. “You think I plan to kill him?”
Hyacinthus blinked. “You don’t?”
Apollo shook his head, though his hair betrayed him and continued crackling like a massive bonfire.
“Of course not.”
He flexed his other hand, the one not held by Hyacinthus. “Killing him would only make a bigger mess.”
Hyacinthus’s shoulders sagged, but his eyes expressed his confusion.
“So…what do you plan to do?”
Apollo just pulled his hand free gently.
As he was in every other act he too that involved his love.
“I plan to take care of things. Can’t you trust me to do that?”
Hyacinthus hesitated. “I…you won’t hurt anyone?”
“Never.”
“…ok.”
“Good.” Apollo put an arm out to his side, and a familiar worn green cloak appeared from the air.
Tossing it about his form, he shrank, and within seconds, the god was gone, and here stood the shape of the human Hyacinthus had thought he was for so long.
“What are you doing?” He asked, following behind Apollo as he quickly scaled the boulders and headed in the direction of the city.
“It will be like I said…I’m going to take care of things.”
The Castle.
To say Pierus was furious was an understatement. Not only could no one find Hyacinthus, wherever it was he’d run off to, any demands of anyone having seen him with someone he might be in a relationship with turned up blank. Either the entire town was covering for his son, which he doubted, or he’d been doing an impressive job of keeping his relationship a secret.
Only one thing had come up. Someone had seen the prince in the forest, walking with a young man no one had seen in town before. But this had been months ago, and Pierus had brushed it off as an acquaintance.
That is, until, striding as if he owned the place, here came a young man matching that description, down to the worn green cloak, walking with Hyacinthus slightly behind him.
Pierus didn’t connect the fact that his son’s face sported no signs of the punch he’d taken only a few hours previously, and stood from his chair, livid.
Hyacinthus was allowing some commoner into the family chamber of the royal residence?
“What are you thinking, boy?” He snarled.
His control was quickly waning, and Clio, who had just returned with a drink hoping to calm her husband, spotted the new arrival and looked between the two with uncertainty.
Hyacinthus opened his mouth to reply, but the strange young man spoke first.
“I understand you’ve been taking your pathetic temper out on Hyacinthus. Is that right?”
The King’s eyes almost bulged. “You, who do you think you are? You dare talk to the King of this land like that? I’ll have you executed!” He shouted, already moving forward.
“I’d welcome you to try.”
That was an odd statement, and before Pierus could say another word, screams suddenly came from outside.
As, from the middle of the day, the world was plunged into darkness.
The sun had simply gone out.
Pierus, blind in the dark, felt his heart spasming, terrified.
This man, does he have a debt with Lord Apollo?
No.
That wasn’t quite right.
Light was returning, but it wasn’t coming from the sun.
Or was it?
The young man before him was changing. His form was growing more muscular, tanned skin stretching as the cloak fluttering to the ground, and his hair and eyes went up in flames.
“…now, shall I answer the question of who I am to dare speak to you? Or should I ask, who are you to dare to speak to me in such a fashion?”
No doubt.
Flaring heat, golden trimmed clothes, eyes afire, and hair like an undying blaze.
The wine cup Clio had been holding clattered to the floor, wine spilling on the boards. She dropped to her knees.
“Lord Apollo.” She was the first one to say it.
The words trembling from her mouth, and Hyacinthus edged around the god as if he was more than used to this figure.
Which made sense.
All of it suddenly made perfect sense.
Their sons weak excuses to avoid being wed, why he was always sneaking out into the woods, why he was so tight-lipped about what he did out there.
A god had taken fancy of him.
How could he ever hope to explain such a thing as that?
“Mother.” Hyacinthus dropped next to her, scooting her over so she wouldn’t be bent upon the wine she’d just spilled. Her gown was stained red.
Pierus, meanwhile, was so stunned he wasn’t even moving.
He stood rigid, face-to-face with a figure he’d had grand statues erected of, hoping to gain the favor of the sun upon their harvests.
The same sun that had just been blown out like a flickering candle from outside.
Apollo tilted his head lightly, crossing his arms. “You have nothing to say? I’ve been told you’re usually quite the loud-mouth. Not a surprise, I suppose, it doesn’t seem like you have much going on up there.”
Despite being forwardly insulted as he was, Pierus still took a few moments more before he managed to bring forth his voice.
“L-Lord Apollo.” He stuttered out.
The sun god raised an eyebrow. “Yes, we’ve established that. Now, why don’t we move onto the topic of how you’ve dared to abuse someone I adore beyond anything you mortals could comprehend.”
Apollo flexed a hand, fire dancing from his fingertips. “I’m tempted to light up your beard and see how long it can burn for.”
Hyacinthus seemed about to speak, but he remembered how firm Apollo had been about not harming anyone, and stayed quiet.
Pierus finally seemed to get it into his head he was still standing, and fell hard to his knees. Such a massive man crumbling like that was an impressive thing to see. Of course, with the monumental power before him, none could truly blame him.
“My Lord, please…forgive me, I didn’t realize you…I…” He was grasping for an escape, and Apollo cut him off.
“I’m not the one you’ve been hurting. That’s who you should be apologizing too.”
A moment passed, before Pierus seemed to connect what was being asked of him, and turned his head to the side.
Hyacinthus was still holding his mother, who was shaking like a leaf without the knowledge that Apollo had no intention of harming them, or anyone else.
By the stunning brightness emitted from the sheer presence of the god, shadows dances on the King’s face as he bowed his head.
“I-I…please forgive me for how I have treated you, my son. I shouldn’t have tried to force you into anything, I shouldn’t have struck you. I…please forgive me.”
It was all painfully forced, because the man had never had to apologize for anything in his life.
Hyacinthus looked between his Father and Apollo.
His lover merely raised an eyebrow.
Up to you.
He could almost hear that voice saying this.
If he refused the apology, Apollo would be more than happy to exact any form of retribution the prince deemed necessary on his Father, who was already crumpled defeated on the ground.
Of course, he didn't need that.
His poor Mother was already scared enough, and this was plenty to avoid having to deal with those most painful parts of his life again. If his Father did step out of line, then, well, Apollo wouldn’t be as kind.
So that was enough.
“I accept your apology, Father.” He said it stiffly, because it was such a weird thing to say.
He also didn’t want to say ‘I forgive you’ or ‘it’s ok’ because it was neither of those things. He didn’t want to pretend this was going to make everything better.
Another tense moment of silence.
“Well, then I suppose that is all I came here to resolve.” Apollo broke the silence again, unfolding his arms and planting a hand to his hip.
“I see everything under my sun. Everything under my sister’s moon. All beneath the sky, I see. If you go back to the ways before the apology you’ve given today, then I’ll ensure you’re no longer capable of harming my dearest one, is that clear?”
“Y-Yes, my Lord.” The King sputtered out.
Hyacinthus carefully released his Mother, ensuring she could support her own weight. He moved to Apollo.
The god turned his gaze to him. “Do you want to stay?”
Hyacinthus nodded slightly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“If you’re sure. In that case…” He raised a hand, the cloak swept from the floor into his grasp.
“Um…”
Apollo glanced back to Hyacinthus at this noise, and followed the jut of the princes’s chin to the window.
“Ah, right.”
He flexed his hand again, fingers tensing and relaxing a single time.
Sunlight erupted across the sky, racing itself into the window and sending dappled shadows onto the wooden floors.
People cheering came from outside, because whatever horrific occurrence of the last few minutes had blotted out the sun had come to pass without any major injury.
Then Apollo looked down to Pierus again. “I’ll expect you to remember this. If you don’t, whatever I decide to take as retribution will fall on your shoulders.”
It was a last ominous warning, and yet when Apollo leaned close enough to Hyacinthus’s ear for his breath to tickle and spoke, it was comedic.
“You think I was scary enough?” The words were barely loud enough to hear.
Hyacinthus tried to stifle a chuckle, keeping his face neutral as he turned more towards him. “A stunning performance.” He replied.
To this, Apollo smiled with that sense of tenderness the prince had clung to since long before he’d known who was truly before him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, and then he took a step back.
A pillar of flame went up to the ceiling, and yet, when the blistering wave of heat faded, Apollo had vanished, not leaving even a single mark of his presence.
No sooner was he gone, did Hyacinthus turn to Clio.
“Mother, are you alright?” He asked, moving to her again, grasping her arms.
“W-What…how…?” She was still trying to wrap her head around what had just occurred.
Hyacinthus cared little for his Father, still kneeling ashen and soaked in a cold sweat on the floor.
“I’ll try my best to explain it later, alright? Let’s get you into a clean dress.” He helped her to her feet, and together they left Pierus to his devices.
The next day, a massive banquet, sacrifice, and multiple games were held in the honor of the sun god, for defending them from the blotting of the sun the previous day as the King so said.
After the festivities, though, the eldest prince was no where in sight. He’d gone out to the forest, and from the King’s mouth himself, it would be hell upon anyone who tried to stand in his way.