A God's Mercy (Apollo x OC)

Chapter 31

     If she were given the chance to go back in time and somehow prevent the horrible ordeal, she would've without a second thought. And yet, as Melantriche snuggled even deeper into her bed with a steaming cup of broth in her hands, she couldn't help but think, I could do a lot worse than this. The pressure inside of her had built up for the past few days and she'd allowed it to pour without holding back. Now, she felt much more calm. It was inevitable that she would have to stand up and face the world again, but considering her right leg preserved in its thick cast, that was still a long ways away. For now, she basked in the attention Karana lavished on her and allowed others to do her chores for her. She felt like a little girl again, sick in bed with fever and her parents worried but also too busy with their own affairs to notice. Aside from the standard temple offerings and prayers that Melantriche would at least make it to motherhood, Lyra wrapped her in soft quilts and spoon-fed her lots of things that were nutritious, but also disguised well enough for a picky child such as herself to eat. As if mirroring the past, Karana scraped the excess off her chin, and all the while babbled about something pleasant for once. It was a shame Melantriche had been too tired to listen properly, but she at least knew that several of Karana's sisters, Tapti, Ganga, Jamuna, and—

     "Brama-, Bramapetra?"

     "Brahmaputra." The woman corrected her—were planning to visit with her, and that meant she didn't have to strain herself to say only nice things while tending to Melantriche in her fragile state. And then while tightening her bandages, Melantriche realized with something of a shock that Karana and Lyra had nearly the same body build. Tall, lean with muscle but also not completely intimidating. Against her better sense she dwelled on this small but new revelation while the remaining light of the room seeped away. Karana blew out the candle, poured her a cup of milk, and wished her goodnight, leaving Melantriche comfortable... and horribly alone.
     She felt nothing but relief at the return to her former conditions. Things would be fine now, she was sure, but for the life of her couldn't explain the melancholy feelings that overtook her. If Lyra, or even Mother were here then she'd be able to tell them these things without feeling guilty. Then she realized that despite the way things smoothed themselves today, she'd hardly been able to get a mouthful in other than, do you feel sore here? Do you need something to drink? Are you hungry? Are you tired? Would you like a bath? ... most likely, it was her exhaustion talking. The prospect of a good night sleep felt like a dream come true. She felt so weary that she wanted to sink into the bed and never rise again. And after a few long minutes of her lightly testing the weight of the cast, that's precisely what she did.

     The first thing she heard was her own gasp of air. Her eyes flew open and her heart beat so hard she could feel it in her throat. What was it... what had she been dreaming about? She couldn't remember at all, except for this strange feeling that she was sympathizing with another person's pain and the feeling of something cold slithering over her chest. Her eyes darted around all corners of the room. Pitch dark, still night. Somehow a bout of fear overtook her that she was back in the black prison again, or that there could be something watching her in the dark. After a few moments of adjusting to the dimness, she saw she was right. From the other side of the room Apollo leaned against a window, his gaze indicating he was somewhere far away. Inexplicably she felt herself shaking. Her mouth parted in a mute gasp and for a split second her brain screamed at her to  get away. He cocked his head regarding her for a long minute, his eyes touching her everywhere as if everything about her was an enigma. They wandered to her cast, which was left uncovered by sheets. The insulting contempt there made her want to duck under the covers. Instead she did the only reasonable thing that came to mind: stared back. Truly, there had never been a more flawless man in the entire universe. The only jarring thing was the quiet anger that seemed perpetually smeared on his face. At least, when he was around her.

     "You're awake." He finally said, voice cutting through the air as easily as lightning. He came and sat on the edge of the bed. "You're always awake when I'm watching you." She said nothing, couldn't have even if she wanted to. Her mouth was too dry. The cup on the bedside prickled in the corner of her vision, but she didn't dare. It would've been rude. When I'm watching you. She would've been embarrassed by any man who said such a thing to her, but with Apollo it was a hundred times worse. Her fingers fiddled with each other and a burst of heat spread over her body. This could also be a dream. A nightmare, maybe. He poked at the thick cast. "Mortal bodies are too weak for my liking."

    "How'd you get in?"

    "I came under the door." He shrugged as if that made sense.

     "I didn't mean to make such a mess," Melantriche found herself mumbling, scurrying over words when he made a pointed look. "I really am sorry. I know—I know that I'm nothing but trouble. You have every right to hate me."

     "At least you know." Ow. "The truth is, you've put me in a delicate position, and it would be easier if you just disappeared." Double ow. A long minute passed, as if he were trying to draw an emotion out of her. He also looked calm, as if this were something he said often. Disturbingly, Melantriche remembered that was probably true. She swallowed. If she was going to die then, she might as well say some last words.

     "I don't hate you." Surprise crossed his face. "I-I mean that, even if you hate me, I don't hold anything against you. You've been so nice to me, and when I saw you today I was so happy. H-happier than I've ever felt in my life, I think, even. So if you want to kill me, I guess that's ok." She licked her lips. "B.. but, I really am telling the truth when Lyra has nothing to do with me. So, if you can do anything, make sure she goes to Elysium, or somewhere nice. I don't care what happens to me." More awkward silence passed. She held her hands did tightly, ready to be vaporized any second.

     "Do you think I care if you hate me?" She winced at the incredulous anger in his voice. "I couldn't give to winks about you or whatever you feel. You're nothing to me." She shut her eyes tight. This was it, the end for her. Surprisingly, she didn't feel as much fear as she should have. Instead the air was so wracked with tension, power, that she felt as if she had a peculiar unity with the god next to her. She could sense his anger, but also a reprieve. He wanted to clean his hands of her, perhaps even spill her guts slowly with a cruel animalism, but something—maybe even the fates themselves—stayed his hand. Baffled, she dared peep one eye open to see his face turbulent with confusing emotions. They stared eye to eye with each other for a few seconds, and finally he leaned back on his perch, sighing a weary sigh and glaring at her as if she had bested him in some way. He gave her an icy smirk. "Noble words for a heretic." He went to stand near the door, opening it. "Let's see how long it lasts." Then he left with a slam. Melantriche stuffed her face into her pillow and wept, a mixture of relief and grief roiling around in her.