Folke || Folkelore

♥︎ 6 ♥︎

"What are you doing?" I fume, pushing him away.

"I have a better plan," Apollo declares, winking at me. I stare at him, waiting for him to explain it, but he just walks off.

"Aren't you gonna fill me in on this plan of yours?" I demand, following after him.

He shakes his head without stopping or turning around. "Not at the moment, no."

I huff, planting my feet and folding my arms. "What happened to the whole we're married now, married couples talk about this kind of stuff?"

He pauses, swiveling his head to look back at me. "I'll tell you soon, but at the moment you'll slap me if I tell you, and I'd rather not be slapped at the moment."

"Who says I won't slap you because you won't tell me?" I smirk as he sighs in frustration.

"Just trust me, ok?" He mumbles, turning back without waiting for me to respond. Eventually, he stops and flicks his wrists. I gasp, stumbling back as I witness thick trunks of pine bending into a hull, spruce trees form a deck and post as leaves and pine needles intertwine into a single large sail, and small branches along with more leaves fill in the gaps in the hull and make a ladder. Apollo had just made a huge black ship right in front of me.

"I didn't know you were a craftsman."

"Everyone has a gift, Calla." He grabs a hold of the ladder attached to the side and starts climbing. "Come on, we've got a long journey ahead of us."

With a sigh, I climb up behind him. Apollo moves towards the back of the ships, so I decide to do the opposite. Strolling below deck, I run my fingers along the wood. It's smooth to the touch. I find a small room, furnished with only a small table and chairs unlike the bedrooms stocked with hammocks and mirrors. I have no idea how he managed to create things inside the ship let alone the ship itself.

Settling down in one of the chairs, I slip the map out from under my tunic and spread it out on the table. The Sclian sea looks tiny on the map, but in reality it stretches a great distance. Many architects have tried to create some sort of bridge between the mainland Courts and the ice Court, but all have failed. Perhaps it's a sign from the Gods.

I snort, why would the Gods be worried about us?

"What are you doing here?"

I look up to see Apollo leaning an elbow against the doorway and shrug. "I'm thinking. Needed a quiet place where someone wouldn't disturb me."

"Who hurt you, Calla?"

"Where in Extier did that come from?" I look away, tracing my fingers over the map again. "Did you hit your head up there or something?"

"Calla, I didn't forget about the ball." I feel his hand wrap around my wrist, and I turn to face him, slipping my hand into his unconsciously. "What happened?"

"I told you I need quiet to think. If you want to stay then you can't bring it up. Or talk period." His brows furrow, probably trying to figure out why I avoid the topic so much, but he nods anyway. He gives my hand a quick squeeze, and I pull it away so fast you'd have thought he had burned me.

"We all have our demons, Calla. There's nothing to be ashamed of," he whispers, giving me a gentle but stabbing look. I look away, my brows furrowing.

"I'm not ashamed! You have no idea what happened, and you've never cared to know until now. You can't walk into my life and expect me to all of a sudden have a thriving relationship with you!" I stab my finger into his muscled chest. "Don't act like you care when you don't."

His eyes close, and his head tips up, almost like he's holding himself back. "I've always cared, Calla. Always."

"Oh yeah?! Then where were you seven years ago, Apollo?" I shout, throwing my arms out and blinking back tears.