A God's Mercy (Apollo x OC)

Chapter 4

The women of Athens marched in a neat legion across the wide fields. A single-file line of men walked alongside them, carrying torches. Only the men of upper class could escort the women to Brauron. The rest of the people waited in the city. After the ceremony, the women would return and there would be a great feast in honor of the occasion. Melantriche stared around her in utter fascination. Even if she had seen it before, it still amazed her every time. The only nature she'd ever known were the docile houseplants in the garden. Hers were freshly trimmed: vibrant green and exotic flowers. But all around her now was an entirely new world. The grass, which was tall and feral, tickled the girl's feet. Full grown clover and dandelions grew freely around her, and she could see large bloated forests beneath the hills she walked on. The new kind of wind blew outside of Athens, a wild one. It smelled almost sweet. There was so much space outside her home, outside the city, she had to deeply resist the urge to run out of formation. She wanted to run down the hills, into this wide open space that they called the world. When she looked around at her fellow women, they too seemed slightly awed by the new environment surrounding them. The men, however, didn't seem that impressed at all. It was to be expected, of course. They were used to being outside, and being accustomed to all kinds of freedom.

Every virgin in the troupe was dressed as an arkteis, though the quality of the costumes began to dwindle slowly at the back of the line. A majority of the lower class women could not afford bearskins. Instead, they used skins of other animals as substitute, and their chitons were of simple wool that was more of an ugly bleached yellow.
Melantriche marched near the front of the line, a small pouch gripped tightly in her hand. Every woman had come to bear an offering to Artemis. There would be jewels, toys, and foods nestled in each woman's possession to offer her. The food would be taken to the altar, and the other accessories would be thrown in the sacred spring. For Melantriche, she would throw her offering in the spring. A small wooden doll occupied her bag. It was old and worn now, but it had once been a very precious treasure to her as a girl. Since she was approaching the age of marriage, she felt it was only fair that she pass it on to the goddess of children and virgins. Perhaps she would find a deep love for it, as Melantriche had.
By the time they arrived to Brauron, the sun had already gone down behind the mountains. A silly thought came to Melantriche that the sun had set so soon because he also wanted to take part in the ceremony. The married women marched in the front. Leida was only 2 women above Melantriche, and she was easily noticeable by her tall stature.

The walk to Brauron is approximately 45 minutes away from Athens. All the while to their destination, the women sang hymns and prayers to Artemis. Melantriche was never a good singer, so she instead sang a meek, quiet tune.
It seemed like eons until they reached their destination. The summer air returned to being hot and stagnant. Unfortunately for the men and the more common women, the mosquitoes were just beginning to come out, and the ceremony would last until midnight. Melantriche was happy she wouldn't have to stand outside.

A strong hand suddenly touched her, and she turned around to see her father, who had 2 torches in his hand. She suddenly remembered that they had to light the temple braziers. Gratefully, she accepted the torch he held out to her. It was surprisingly heavy, and for some reason, she couldn't help but stare at the fire. It was warm and bright, contrasting greatly with its dark surroundings. However, she found it hard to believe that the flame could be so hot. Rather than just her face, the entire back of her felt as if a beacon was being reflected over her hair, the line of her back, and her buttocks. Turning around meekly, she caught the sight of the beacon.
He was clearly a very important man. He wore breathable, but very expensive robes, similar to her father's, except his were entirely blue. He was seemingly 30, and very handsome. He was strongly built, with a narrow jawline, and had golden hair and large brown eyes. And he was staring directly at her. The gaze was so strong that Melantriche became still, her cheeks suddenly becoming as warm and pliable as candle wax.
"Melantriche." She heard her mother's voice, which was somehow icier than usual. "Come, we must go."
Melantriche was eager to follow her; the man's gaze made her extremely uncomfortable.

The 3 old priestesses who lead the parade went in first, one of them having a heartily fat rooster in her arms. The high class women followed. The temple was actually smaller than most, so only the noble women could go inside. It was their duty to represent the lesser women who came with them.

First was the sacrifice. To sacrifice a pig, chicken, or dog was symbolism for purification. Just as last year, they chose a chicken; the rooster that the priestess possessed. One priestess held it still over the altar as the other brandished a knife. The third chanted loudly. The rooster squawked and shrieked as they slit its neck open, thick black juts of life spurting out if it's freshly open sinew. Chickens could run about even after their heads had been chopped of. It was not pretty. Melantriche cringed at the sight.
When it came to sacrifice, you could not miss a step. Even one slip-up could ruin the entire ceremony. Melantriche couldn't help but be nervous as the dark blood dribbled down the side of the altar. The priestesses were experts, yes, but they were also old and senile. It was eternity before the rooster finally stilled. It was done. The chanting priestess shouted a loud prayer:

"Artemis! Goddess of the moon, virgins, and all wildlife! Fill us with your presence, your purity! Compel these women to chastity and protect them from the depraved hands of men! Great She-Bear! Have mercy on we, the chosen custodians of your house, who are only mere and foolish mortals!"

The women were compelled to chant the words back. They did, and a sensation welled in Melantriche that was so strong she nearly cried. Perhaps it was pride, or the sense of being overwhelmed by the presence of a goddess, or perhaps a sick sense of foreboding dread. She knelt over herself, and tears in her eyes whispered,

"Great Gods, deliver me."