A God's Mercy (Apollo x OC)

Chapter 2

Melantriche could hardly sit still in her seat.

"Lady," Lyra giggled as she laced her thin fingers into Melantriche's black hair. "It's ever so hard to braid if you shake like that."

"I'm too excited, I can't help it!" Melantriche tittered. It had taken nearly half the day just to get ready. Lyra had bathed her extra long this time, so as to make her lady look the finest. Her father had bought a new perfume for her. It was meant to be the smell of cypress, mint, and Olympian anemone. They had to have her saffron chiton readjusted to fit her now mature size. The bear skin was also being refurbished. Over 7 hours from dawn, Melantriche had been oiled, shaved, buffed, and perfumed. To her, it had been a very tedious process. She was sure none of the more common girls had to go through this little bathing ceremony, and she was almost jealous of them.

"Oh, this is so boring." Melantriche whined softly, childishly swinging her slender legs back and forth. "I want to hurry and go outside!"

Lyra laughed. "Oh, I know, sweet Lady. But I beg you, please have a little patience. At least until I finish your hair."

Melantriche pouted as she stared into her mirror. She hated looking at herself like this. The people around her always remarked about her astounding beauty, but she couldn't see any of that.
Beautiful indeed, Melantriche thought, annoyed, as she glared at herself. Many believed paleness was a sign of wealth and beauty. She thought so too, but there was a difference between ivory and ghostly green. If she eyed herself properly, she could see her blue veins protruding against the inside of her skin. Blondes were the most popular beauties in Greece. Blond with blue eyes were the idealized beauty. But Melantriche had black hair and brown eyes, hence the name her father had given her: Melantriche, meaning black-haired one. Her face was too chubby, her lips too plump. She was too skinny, and had no breasts. How could anyone find someone like her beautiful?

Suddenly she saw Lyra's face next to hers, scrunched in displeasure. She recognized that expression.

"Please don't judge yourself, Lady." She insisted as she put her hands on her shoulders. "We humble folk always see faults in ourselves. It's like when you look at a word for too long and it starts to look wrong, like. Personally, I think you're the loveliest little maid I ever saw."

It didn't make much sense of Melantriche, but it still made her feel better. A tiny smile pulled at the edges of her lips.

"Thank you."

Lyra wasn't what you would call beautiful, either. She wasn't horrible to look at, but Father certainly hadn't bought her as a concubine. Rather, she was just plain. Her hair was a dirty blond, her eyes only a dull blue, and her skin was far from perfect; it had all kinds of scars, blemishes, and freckles. She was a tall and skinny woman, having no particular curves to boast of. But Melantriche always admired the fact that she looked strong. She had a deep neckline, a firm grip, and sturdy body. If Melantriche could ever remember a time when Lyra was beaten for disobedience, she could remember that Lyra hardly ever cried. Even when she hurt herself or got sick, she worked without a complaint. She'd never broken a bone, nor had she ever sprained her ankles—unlike Melantriche, who always got hurt one way or another when climbing the trees in the garden. She had always been somewhat fragile, like a doll.

Melantriche was silent for a time before whispering softly, "I wish I were strong like you, Lyra."

"I'm sure you do, Lady. But to be honest, I'm not that strong."

"You are. You have muscles and you can do anything."

Lyra smiled and patted Melantriche's shoulder.  "That's men's talk. Muscles can only take you halfway. If you start thinking like that, then you'll be as stupid as men, Lady, pardon if I could say so. But I think there are other ways of being strong. I think you could be strong too, Lady, if you put hard work into it."

Melantriche raised an eyebrow as she turned her head. "What are you meaning?"

"Ah, please don't move so, Lady! I still haven't finished." Melantriche obeyed and became completely still.

"But you know, the Lady Aphrodite doesn't have muscles. No muscles like the Fierce Ares, but see how she is honored! She commands love, the fiercest element in the human heart, and does what she pleases without her husband to rule over her."

"You say that it is strength to-" Melantriche was quick to catch herself, afraid of the hubris that could've slipped off her tongue. 'Forgive me, Great Aphrodite, I didn't mean it!' She thought nervously to herself.

"No, no, Lady, great Heavens! What I mean to say is that following your path and not caring what people think could be a strength. To endure scorn and shame is a strength, too. I hope to Great Zeus that you will never have to endure the hate of others, but if you should ever find yourself in that situation, you must remember to be strong. If you can do that, then you can do anything—and I believe that you could do it, if it happens."

It was then that Melantriche realized the secret of Lyra's strength. War was never an opportune time for women, unlike the men who started them. And what was more, slaves were produced from war.

A melancholy sensation filled Melantriche's heart then.