Chapter Text
He sprinted through the forest, lungs burning and feet pushing off the uneven ground almost the same instant they touched it. Almost tripping over a root his arms shot out, flailing to keep his balance while he maintained his run, even as he slipped over wet leaves, feeling the sting of yet another branch he had missed in the growing darkness. This would be much easier on four legs, a part of him growled at the back of his mind. And so much faster, too. No. He shook his head dislodging the thought and dispelling the growing awareness of the mossy, earthy scents surrounding him. That was how they got you. As soon as you let instincts take over you'd become stupid easy prey that would fall into one of their traps and panic and die.
Better he keep his head (in a figurative and a literal way) and escape in human form. That way if they did catch him they wouldn't have any evidence. Although, given the baying of hounds and the angry shouts behind him, evidence had stopped mattering about an hour ago when the accusations started flying and he'd had nothing to prove his innocence. An angry mob usually didn't think beyond the reach of its own pitchforks. Dodging around a tree and charging straight through a bush he cursed his short legs for not being able to cover more ground, his pursuers still for too close for comfort. If this kept up he wasn't sure he could outlast them, much less outrun them when he barely managed to stay ahead.
Weighing his options, or lack thereof, he switched directions, heading farther into the woods where the trees stood much closer and higher, blocking out every last sliver of moonlight. If he couldn't be faster than them he just had to be smarter and find a hiding place they'd never find. Not with their torches plunging everything into darkness except their immediate surroundings. The dogs on the other hand – he'd just have to find something to throw them off. Vaulting over a rotten tree his heart got caught in his throat when his feet only found air instead of solid ground, falling instead of running now, the unexpected slope sending him tumbling in an awkward roll, legs refusing to catch him at the wrong angle.
Arms raised to protect his face he felt himself crash through another bush, the branches tugging at his clothes, before he hit something with a dull thud, stars exploding behind his eyes. And this, the sarcastic voice at the back of his mind groused, is why you don't run through complete darkness with stupid human eyes that can't see. He groaned. Maybe if he just stayed here no one would find him. That would be nice if just once, just one single freaking time, the world would decide to not kick him while he's already (literally) laying on the ground.
“Hey, you alive?”
He flinched at the voice for too close to his head, eyes flying open and instantly squeezing shut against the brightness of the torchlight and the sudden urge to throw up. Of course the universe hated him.
“Did you hit your head?”, the voice continued, completely unfazed by the fact that the earth had apparently decided to spin at triple its normal speed and was doing things to his stomach.
“Listen, personally I don't care what you do in your free time but your little stunt really spooked our horses and at this time of night that is just rude. Also if you want to kill yourself, maybe pick a river are at least a ravine and not a ten foot drop. That's just common sense.”
“Ugh.” He blinked a few times, squinting to find an unimpressed frown directed at him at the end of which an unimpressed woman sat. She pointed at him.
“Here's what's gonna happen – when my boss is done with his horsey magic he'll come to check on you and you'll tell him that you are 100 percent a-okay and you're lying there for religious reasons or whatever and then we can all be on our way, capisce?”
He grunted in a way he hoped sounded affirmative. Would have tried nodding but given that he had no idea when his next meal would come he really couldn't risk losing his previous one.
“Good lad. Oh, here he comes – look alive.”
Another figure entered his field of vision, this one much taller, with expensive looking clothes instead of simple ones and long blond hair instead of brunette. The stranger smiled him.
“You gave us quite a scare. Are you okay?”
“I'm fine”, he croaked, clearing his throat. “I'm fine”, he repeated, voice stronger this time. “I was just. Stretching my legs.” At night. In complete darkness. Yeah, right – waterproof excuse, no liability there.
The stranger didn't seem to mind, his smile still in place and one hand reaching for Apollo. “Do you think you can stand?”
The hand spurred him into action, rolling onto his side before it could touch him and pulling his legs under his body.
“Oh yeah, I'm fine, I'll be outta your hair soon, I'll-” A cry choked of the rest of his sentence, jaws snapping shut against the noise when his right leg buckled underneath him, refusing to carry his weight. The ground rushed up to meet him but two strong arms caught before he could plant his face into dirt (a second time that night).
“That doesn't look fine”, he heard the other man say as he was lifted into the air, vertigo jumbling all further noises beyond recognition and the swaying more or less shorting out his vision. He was dimly aware of being put into a carriage before the lights went out.
When he came to he felt something wet brush his cheek, careful but insistent and he hissed against its sting.
“Ah sorry, I have to clean this.”
The stranger's face swam into focus again, a rag held in his hand and candlelight glinting off his rings.
“Uh?” He glanced around the lavish, lavish room realizing he was lying in an equally opulent bed.
“You have quite a few cuts and scrapes, ja? Can't have those getting infected.”
The rag closed in on his face again and he couldn't help but press further back into the mattress, away from where it hovered in the air.
“I'm just going to clean it”, the man laughed. “I won't hurt you.” He tilted his head. “It will probably sting, though”, he added almost as an afterthought raising an eyebrow him and then gazing pointedly at the rag, waiting for Apollo's permission to continue.
“So, ummm”, he dragged out the syllable, eyes glued to the stranger's unmoving hand and body still buried as far as he could in the fluffy mattress.
“Ach, let's try this again, shall we?” The stranger sighed before giving him a bright smile. “My name is Klavier. You crash landed in front of my carriage so I took you to my place to treat your wounds. I know a thing or two about medicine so if you could just allow me to clean this?”, he said, voice lilting into a question.
“Apollo.” He glanced at the cloth. “And thanks.”
Klavier's smile widened as he reached out. “You're very welcome, Apollo. Once I'm done you'll be as good as new. Or almost. I'm afraid your ankle will need some time.”
As if on cue he a throbbing pain settled itself in his foot.
“I don't think it's broken”, Klavier continued. “Just sprained but you should keep weight of it anyway. Look, I've got you this nifty bell if you need anything.”
True to form there was a small but ornate silver bell on the bedside table next to his head, probably costing more than anything he'd ever owned and really raising the question of how much disposable income Klavier had if he would just leave a perfect stranger unsupervised with such a valuable possession. Not that Apollo would touch silver if he could help it but still. It was the principle of the matter.
He watched Klavier as he cleaned his cuts, only closing his eyes when he got the a wound on his brow. Then again, how far could he really get on a busted ankle? Maybe Klavier had simply assessed his injuries and determined he'd never make it on his own. Maybe it was all calculated. Maybe the silver was, too. No. If he wanted to test that he could've simply tried it while Apollo was unconscious without having to bother with an elaborate ruse. He frowned.
Unless, of course, Klavier was one of those people with too much time and money on their hands that liked to make a game out of everything and now he was overjoyed at the idea of an injured and helpless prey. No one in their right mind would pick up a suspicious stranger that was obviously on the run after all. That wasn't good.
“Anything on your mind?”
Klavier's voice startled him out of his reverie, blue eyes pinning him to the spot like an insect in collector's box.
He really needed to work on his poker face lest his lack of it get him killed one day.
“Why did you help me?”, he asked, the question almost an accusation and he went ahead and added conversational skills to the list of things he'd need to master.
Klavier wasn't insulted though, simply shrugging and giving him another one of those bright smiles.
“It's what you're supposed to do isn't it? Help people in need? Also”, he glanced out of the window, eyes far away for a moment and hand toying with his bangs. “I figured if it was me I would want someone to help me.”
A look of something shivered across his face but it was gone before Apollo could properly identify it. At the very least he seemed to be genuine about wanting to help and he hadn't lied as far as Apollo could tell, his bracelet not having reacted at all. Klavier's attention snapped back to him when he noticed Apollo fidgeting and whatever thought had occupied his mind evaporated with another smile. Klavier really smiled a lot, the voice at the back of his mind observed, for once without its sarcastic edge. He would write that down as historic occurrence but it might've just been the concussion.
With that jolly thought in mind he occupied himself trying to remember the do's and dont's of head trauma until Klavier unannounced he was done, only needing to give him something for the pain before he could get some rest. Helped Apollo sit up – for a certain value of the word help anyway for Apollo had no strength to move on his own – Klavier held a cup against his lips, coaxing him to drink. A somewhat bitter taste was all that registered before things went dark again.