Hyacinthus and Apollo

Chapter 1 - Clotho

Laughter could be heard across the valley. The grass gently blowing in a soft, warm breeze. Two figures stood across from each other.

Golden hair not unlike honey blew in the soft breeze as one of the figures jumped up, deftly catching the disc thrown their way by their red-headed companion.

"Pass the discus here, 'Pollo!" The red-headed figure shouted, excitement coloring his tone.

'Pollo, as the red-head had named him, did as asked. Pulling his arm back, he threw the discus with a strength most would never expect from him. After all, he didn't look like he would be very strong. He seemed lithe, sure, his tall frame was highlighted by the sun behind him. But, there weren't any obvious muscles on the man. He had the physique of an archer, but not one that was likely to loose an arrow very far. The disc flew through the air and towards its expected target, landing softly in the waiting arms of the red-head.

The two continued their game, passing the discus back and forth. Enjoyment flowed through their veins. Nothing could ruin this moment for the two.

Or, they didn't think that anything ever could or would ruin this moment for them.

The two had forgotten about 'Pollo's notoriously bad luck.

The golden-haired individual was never allowed happiness. It was something the Fate's would always deny him. They would never offer him any happiness, there was no way that a person like him could ever be happy. And, in this moment, there was simply too much happiness between the two of them. Something had to be done.

As a result, it fell into the hands of the Fates'. A woman stood with multiple balls of string surrounding her. Her old, gnarled hands worked quickly at one specific string. Her youthful face stood out starkly in comparison to her old and wizened limbs. It was as if she were both youth and old age combined within one person. White hair was piled in a bun atop of her head, thick strands falling out and into her sharp, gray eyes.

Two other women stood behind her, making sure to stay out of her way. These women looked almost exactly the same as the first, but the dichotomy between their ages was in different places. One looked older only in the face, lines like plow marks in a field throughout. A severe wrinkle stood out more than the other right between her rows, marking an almost permanent scowl on her face. Deep lines surrounded her striking, pale yellow eyes. Her hair reached her shoulders and was a stunning and dark gray with stripes of white throughout.

The other looked old in the hunch of her body and her stooped posture. She seemed to pull herself inwards as if the entirety of the universe was pushing down on her, unlike the other two who stood tall and impassive. She also had more signs of age spread throughout her appearance in comparison with the other two. There were crows feet around her deep, almost black eyes. Her hair was mostly gone, shockingly enough. It was cut short and close to her scalp, the wispy strands a mix of white and light gray. And the skin on her hands and arms hung loosely from her body.

Sighing sadly, the first woman, Clotho as she was known to everyone, spun a new twist into the red-head's string. The poor boy, as he was one to a woman of her age just as 'Pollo was, wouldn't live long enough to do the many things that she had originally planned for him. Anger and resentment at the golden-haired man filled her. It always bothered her when she had to undo all her work. When someone's choice, one that she and her sisters couldn't control, altered their work so severely that they had to rewrite the person's story.

If only he had stayed away from the prince. Then, maybe the red-head would have achieved more with his life. Maybe he would have lived long enough to make some impact like the many heroes that had and would come.

Or, it would have actually followed the path that they had chosen for him.

Mortals were always easier to control, after all. The red-head probably would have done everything he was supposed to. He would have followed the path that Clotho had given him, the path that she had taken more time than was necessary to detail out. Never challenging their authority. Unlike 'Pollo.

Now, though... There was nothing that she could do. His fate was sealed the moment that 'Pollo had first introduced himself to the poor boy.

Taking her time, Clotho spun the string of fate for this poor boy. She poured her sadness at the loss of a life so early into the string, delicately choosing the best course of action from what she had to work with. (She also strung in her hatred at the fact that his life that she had planned was no longer available to him. Pushing as much pain into the short string as she could. She didn't care that this would cause the red-head even more pain than any death might have. Her emotions were a power to fear all on their own.)

Lachesis and Atropos, the third and second woman respectively, watched their sister as she worked, preparing to help her in the next steps. They noticed the pain that their sister was going to bring to the boy, but couldn't find it in themselves to stop her. After all, the boy had disobeyed them. And 'Pollo deserved the pain that his death would bring. They both deserved pain in the eyes of the Fates.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Clotho stopped her ministrations and brought the string towards her sisters. Atropos moved forward with her golden shears, the blades shining dangerously in the little light surrounding them.

With a sudden and sharp schink, the shears swiftly cut through the string.

At the same time, the discus the two figures had been throwing back and forth took a sudden and sharp turn before hitting the red-head with more strength than 'Pollo had ever put behind his throws.

A scream was ripped from the golden-haired man's throat as he ran to catch the other.

"You'll be okay, I promise." He said, desperately mopping at the blood mixing with the red locks, his hands getting stained with the sticky fluid. "I can help you. I will help you. Please, I have to help you." His words were tinged with desperation as he fought to hold back tears. "I won't lose you. We'll be together forever, like we promised each other. Please, I can't lose you."

He likely would have continued to make promises and pleas to the red-head if the other didn't stop him. The red-head clumsily brought his hand up, pushing some of the golden hair out of the other's face. Offering a shy smile stained red with his own blood, the red-head breathed his last breath as his arm fell limply to the ground.

Sobs and screams now filled the pleasant valley as the sun was quickly obscured by deep and dark clouds. The golden-haired man held onto his companion's body in a desperate hug, grief and horror filling each and every part of him. After an unknown amount of time, he finally loosened his hold on the other and moved back. As he did so, a beautiful flower with deep purple petals took the place of the red-head.

"I'm so sorry."