A God's Mercy (Apollo x OC)

Chapter 8

It wasn't very often women could stay around for feasts. Their place was in the women's quarters while the men partied below to their hearts content. This festival of women had been the brief exception of course, but Melantriche was just too tired to throw around her rights as a woman now. Like said, she was never one for crowds. And so as soon as she'd successfully sated Belenis in his intentions to escort her back to her room, she faceplanted eagerly into her bed. She sighed deeply.

What a day. First the festival, then a party, and even a proposal thrown in. She'd never been wooed before, unless being complimented by raunchy old councilmen counted as wooing. Belenis, on the other hand, seemed like a very prime specimen: strong, brave, handsome and well-off. And he was interested in her, in love with her even. In a way, Melantriche was honored, and just as pleased with herself for catching a fine bass in this great sea of men, but she was unsure. She didn't dislike Belenis, no, but she wasn't in love with him. Even so, what could she do? If Belenis approached her father, which she was sure he would, then Adrianis would most likely be very pleased with the arrangement. Melantriche tried to imagine herself being swept off in a chariot down the street, swathed in flowers and veils, being followed by maidens singing praises of good will as they tossed handfuls of petals and rice behind them. The idea was so foreign, so surreal to Melantriche that she had to stop herself from thinking anymore of it. This house of Adrianis the councilman has been her fortress her entire life. Festivals and marriages had been one thing, merely short outings that stole only for a day, but to leave this place forever?

Melantriche's head throbbed. She wished she'd could just fall asleep there and then, but there were errands to be done. After a long minute she stood up again lazily, walked across the room, grabbed a towel and soaked it in the basin. Wringing it out thoroughly, she started to wipe her face. Wearing makeup, she realized now, was somewhat uncomfortable if prolonged for a long period of time. And besides, with how muggy it'd been, she'd been repeatedly worried that it was running. But now it seemed more eager to cling to her face now that she was trying to take it off. With great effort, she scrubbed with her nails bared through the thin cloth, which after about 10 minutes seemed to do the trick, but also left her face raw from the rough treatment. She frowned as she stared into the mirror but then shrugged. Oh well. It wasn't as if there was another tomorrow to show off her face. With 1 swift and incautious motion, she shrugged her chiton over her head and tossed it onto the table. Someone would fold it tomorrow. But she handled the jewelry carefully; her mother was exceedingly frightening when in a rage, and Melantriche was in no mood to be disciplined for breaking some measly pins. They came out surprisingly easy, emphasis on "surprisingly" because her hair was one that tangled easily. And with the pins came the braids, uncurling themselves like magic around her shoulders. It was the earrings that she had to worried about. She fumbled with one of them, which for a brief moment got caught in her ear. She flinched at the sharp prick to her earlobe. She pulled the earring off and scowled at it. The studded emerald winked up at her in the candlelight, as if to mock her. For a moment she truly thought she saw a face reflected it, flashing a teasing grin. Resisting the urge to throw the damn thing, she gripped it in a small fist before setting it down on her chiton. An eye caught her mirror, and she ended up settling her gaze on it against her will. She never liked her reflection, never would. But something about how she looked made her stop and stare. She was naked and just a moment she'd been tressed up in finery. One day she'd look at herself like this in the mirror yet again. Belenis would be standing beside her then. She shivered as she imagined him leering over her as he'd done today when their eyes first met. Would that necessarily be a bad thing?

A sound made her break contact with the mirror. It was faint and far away, but loud enough to break the silence. Her ears might have been deceived, but she thought it might've been a woman screaming. Not urgently, but as if in rage. It'd been a disturbing sound, enough to make Melantriche's heart quiver and her skin shrivel. It must've been a kitchen servant berating another for some reason or other. She could think of no other reason. But now that her ears were perked, she could hear more voices. They were in exclamation, and terribly muffled, but Melantriche could tell there was arguing. She edged to her door and became deathly still. She listened. Indeed, something strange was happening down below. Had one of the slave women enraged the guests?

Silently, Melantriche crept away from the door. This sounded like something she wanted no part of, and she had enough weighing down on her mind as it was. Maybe tomorrow all of her worries would blow away, and she would ask Lyra about the occurrence downstairs. For now, she'd sleep. She swept the sheets aside carefully, so that they'd be arranged smoothly and with nary a crease when she crawled into them. As she snuggled beneath her freshly-washed covers, she sighed yet again. Today had indeed been a happy occasion, but it had awakened the feeling of responsibility within her. She knew that one day she would leave this house on the arm of a rich man. Even still, Melantriche didn't know if she could fulfill his expectations of a lover or wife. She definitely wasn't assertive like her mother, nor could she say that she was bubbly and cheerful like her father. Hades, she wasn't even strong like Lyra. Now thinking about it, what kind of person was she, even? How did others see her? If someone thought of "Melantriche" what would be the first thing to come to their minds?

Boring, no doubt.

She'd leave this house one day. Soon, most likely.

She just had no idea how soon it would be.