Feel the Burning Light by Dewy_Pink_Morning_Roses52

Chapter 7: Flower meets the sun, Icarus falls for the sun, Percy fights a Fury

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WARNING: Gods being gods. Sexual assault(not detailed) consistent with mythology

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Tale of Hyacinthus

In the golden light of dawn, Apollo led his sacred cows through the rolling hills near Sparta. The sun god had a secret purpose for grazing his divine herd here—a purpose that had nothing to do with fresh, abundant grass. His heart now beat erratically for a beautiful prince named Hyacinthus. Apollo had been aware of the prince since the demigod was in the womb of Apollo's own Muse, the clever and logical Clio. But he had never had the chance to meet Hyacinthus. The Fates had seemed keen to keep them apart. Clio, of course, constantly sang praises to her beloved son, but Apollo only half listened. All good and loving mothers heaped lavish praise on their children.

It caused the god to remain unaware of the fairest of the mortals and the darling of the age. Nonetheless, Apollo had seen the beautiful prince now at a festival in his honour. How beautifully had the boy danced to praise Apollo! And how sweetly he had sung! Apollo could not help himself; he had blessed the boy's voice to be even sweeter and smoother.

Normally, Apollo would appear before the object of his desire in all his radiant glory. But this time, discretion was paramount. The beautiful prince was no easy conquest, and Apollo had ill luck with anyone who held firm principles and valued themselves. Daphne's sad fate was a very pointed testimony to that.

Everyone on Olympus knew that Hyacinthus had spurned both Zephyrus and Boreas, the wind gods who had vied for his affections because they were wed, and the prince was adverse to besmirch a marriage. Hera, the guardian of marriage, felt honoured by Hyacinthus's refusal. She had lit upon her son Ares, asking him why he could not show the same restraint when presented with a wedded suitor. The war god, as usual, had ignored his mother's accusations and rebukes on cuckolding his brother. All Ares had to say was that Hera ought to have wed Aphrodite to Ares. The queen had fallen silent.

Artemis had her thoughts, reminding Apollo that despite the prince's age and desirability, he still fell under her domain. His twin, though, was more impressed by Hyacinthus' respect for women. When the prince needed advice, his first choices were his grandmother, the queen dowager, and his therapoon's betrothed, the daughter of Aphrodite.

So, to approach the prince without the risk of being rejected instantly, Apollo disguised himself as a shepherd, his godly splendour veiled by the mist. His sacred cows grazed contentedly on Spartan grass belonging to King Amyclas, unaware of their divine herdsman's ulterior motives. Apollo's heart raced as he approached the field where Hyacinthus and his noble companions practiced gymnastics. Crocus, the son of Poseidon and Hyacinthus' ever-watchful guard, was absent, busy with his betrothed. The youths present were ones that the prince held no fondness for but treated politely for the sake of politics. Apollo could see that Hyacinthus utterly despised at least two well-born youths. The god would investigate that loathing further to see if punishment was needed.

The haughty youths scowled at the interruption, eyeing Apollo's humble garb with derision, but in the same breath, they eyed Apollo's beauty with naked want. Some wanted to challenge the stranger and drag him to desolate spots, but Hyacinthus intervened. With a polite but firm nod, he escorted Apollo to a quieter spot. The prince, mistaking Apollo for a common-born shepherd and thus vulnerable to the ill intentions of high-born lustful lordings, offered advice.