A God's Mercy (Apollo x OC)

Chapter 14

The morning dewdrops came fresh and cold at the crack of dawn, taking the first opportunity to attack Melantriche's face, causing her cheeks and nose to grow red from the sudden freeze. A damp fog surrounded the tiny camp, enclosing everything in a thin layer of moisture. Usually, when the sun rose, it would illuminate the dews that settled upon the grass, and they would shine and glow like diamonds. At least, that was what Lyra had always told her.

Lyra.

Melantriche shivered, shutting her eyes even harder. She'd dreamt of her all night—well, all early morning. The 3 of them, Melantriche, Aegeus, and Aglaia, has spent much of their spare time fleeing. They could not risk anyone seeing them, god or no god, so they refused to light a lamp until they were deeper within the woods, where the brush was thickest. It was remarkable, really, how Aglaia could guide them through such darkness without missing so much as a step. Or maybe she did trip and no one saw, because, well, it's dark. Aegeus was just as sure-footed, it  seemed. He tripped about 2 or 3 times—Melantriche was sure of this because she stumbled into him when he did—but otherwise, he was as nimble as a fox. Impressive, for such an enormous man. Melantriche, on the other hand, had no such luck. She tripped so much that on the way, one of her sandals had fallen off, and her feet were sore from running on sharp pine needles. In the dark, she cried out from the sharp slaps of fern leaves around her ankles and the large bugs that flew into her face, and for that, Aglaia snapped at her many times. It was hours before they stopped to rest in a small clearing. As Aegeus built a meager fire and Aglaia brandished multiple cloaks out of nowhere, Melantriche stopped to rest on a rotted out stump, careful not to let her butt fall into the indent. She was sweating buckets; she'd never had such exercise before. She wrestled herself out of the scratchy peplos Lyra made her wear so that she would no longer be trapped in stuffy heat. Looking down at her now exposed arms, they had become a hearty pink and were sticky and damp from sweat. Turning the other way, she lifted her skirt to see the damage which had been done to her legs. Thin strips of red lined her calves and were starting to rash. The bottom side of her feet were filthy and green from the forest floor, and countless little gashes made themselves apparent by oozing black blood from deep within her skin. The edges of her toes were startlingly red and stung when she touched them. She whimpered softly to herself. In her daydreams, she fantasized that she was a man who had many friends to hunt with and to run around naked, completely unabashed in the woods, the way that the maenads did. It was a shameful dream, maybe, but not nearly as stupid to match as it was now, since Melantriche had gotten her taste of true nature. She hated it. She hated bugs and she hated summer and she hated pine trees and ferns. If she had to go through anymore of it tonight, then she was sure that she would die. Luckily, it seemed that they really were stopping for the night, seeming as though the fire was growing ever larger. She saw the glow reaching the farthest reaches of their encampment, but even so, the fire should not have felt this hot on her skin... Melantriche turned around halfway before she froze.

Aegeus. His attention was no longer on the fire but on her. He was examining her features with, seemingly, an artist's touch. Even as she met his gaze, he didn't shy away, but looked her up and down, from her enormous brown eyes to her plump red lips to her flushed cheeks to her impossibly black hair, falling around her face naturally, in snake-like curls. His pupils seemed to grow sharp as his stare reached her legs, revealed by her uplifted skirt. He scrutinized it all, from her perfectly plump white thighs to her slender legs and her dainty toes, the slices of red skimming them making her seem all the more tangible. Hot-faced, Melantriche yanked down her dressing and stood abruptly, and only then did he look away, with only a silent, meager apology passing his lips.

She sat closer to Aglaia, even though the woman was chatty and sharp-worded. She complained of the infernal heat and the mosquitoes and the consistency of the bread which she'd passed around the fire. That, along with a slice of sheep's milk cheese and a few fermented olives. It was true, the bread was uneven and stale, and obviously not the kind of bread Aglaia baked. Even so, Melantriche didn't really care because she hardly had any appetite, so she just wanted Aglaia to shut up for a little bit. Personally, she disliked old Aglaia and her constant whining, and she disliked Aegeus too, for his shameless ogling that she still had not forgotten. She had no idea what Father had planned for her. Would she be watched over by these 2 unlikable people for the rest of her life? Or would they simply watch over her until they found that she had been able to settle into a relatively peaceful environment? Or—gods forbid! When Leida said that Aegeus would take care of her, did that mean he be authorized to wed her? Was that perhaps why he'd leered at her so brazenly? The thought! Melantriche shrunk into herself and tried not the stare at him over the other side of the fire. She definitely didn't like him. He was old-looking and ugly and had too many scars. He had enormous gnarled hands that made him look like the type that enjoyed hurting people. He was unnaturally silent and he was like a shadow over her, making her feel the utmost uncomfortable when he was near.