I figured that since Apollo hasn't much to post about because he's too busy being a whiny, angsty bitch about beating the crap out of Eros and Blackout, I thought I might go OOC and post something happier. ♥
This is something I wrote in response to
bloodiedrebirth's lovely little
ficlet. I suggest that you read that first, so that this follow-up makes sense contextually. Like she said in her own post, this is vaguely DDD-verse, though obviously set long, long before the internets or any of the silly pleasures of modernity. 8D
Oh, I guess I should note as I did when I sent this to Hyacinth-mun that Apollo was kind of a pompous dick back in the day. Hahaha. :| ♥
After admitting a willing defeat at Apollo's hand, Hyacinthus had reclaimed his spot on the rock and watched as Cynortas challenged the stranger to another round. Circling the taller man, Cynortas called out - to a round of cheers and hollers - that he would not lose so easily this time. But Hyacinth was distracted, completely oblivious to his brother's bragging. To say that the young prince was captivated by the newcomer was a vast understatement - he had noticed his soft brown gaze flicker in his direction several times now, and every time Hyacinth caught the man's glance, butterflies fluttered in his belly and his heart sped. He was handsome, more handsome than any man the prince had ever seen, and tall and well-built, as well. There was an ethereal aura about him, warm and friendly, like the light of the sun. He couldn't help but return the playful grin Apollo flashed when he caught Hyacinth looking his way. Gods, who was he?
Zephyrus, too, was captivated by Apollo, but for an entirely different reason. He glared at the sun god, knowing of the pompous Olympian's penchant for young men. There had been rumors - for gossip floated on the winds, there was no way for Zephyrus not to know - that the sun god had recently been drawn to Sparta because of the fair prince. Apparently, such rumors were not to be ignored. He merely crossed his arms tightly over his chest and stood below Hyacinth's perch, watching Apollo, willing him to trip up, to lose his footing and admit defeat to Cynortas. But with a holler of victory, Apollo pinned Cynortas again, making Hyacinthus above him laugh lightly.
"What is it?" Zephyrus asked gruffly, tilting his head up to Hyacinth.
"Nothing," The prince shook his head, watching Apollo let up on his brother and helped Cynortas to his feet. His cheeks warmed when Apollo looked at him, his eyes seeming to flash auburn-gold for a moment. It must have been a trick of the light, for when Hyacinthus looked again, they were brown once more. So strange!
"Stranger, you must have traveled long, for I have not seen you here before... Would you like to join my friends and myself in a banquet at my home? I cannot send you away before giving you a victor's feast."
"I would be honored, prince," Apollo bowed his head slightly, making Zephyrus snort. What an act, the god Apollo would never bow to a mere mortal, much less a prince! His annoyance with Apollo only grew as the afternoon faded into evening, coming to a peak when Hyacinth placed Apollo at his right, a spot normally occupied by the West Wind.
By the end of the evening, Apollo had managed to charm all but one boy. A lyre had been passed around after they ate and most of the boys played crude, off-key songs that made the rest of the group howl with laughter. Zephyrus looked on, unamused, as the music god modestly took the lyre and apologized in advance that he knew no songs quite like those the others sang. All noise was extinguished when Apollo slowly began to sing, fingers plucking the strings of the lyre as if it were invented for his hands.
When the song ended, he was awarded with applause, most of all from Hyacinthus. "Stranger, you could play for the god Apollo and even He would admit to your talent." He praised him, to which Apollo merely smiled and bowed his head. "Do not say as such, Prince. He may hear; I would not enjoy ending up like Marsyas."
Zephyrus could no longer resist the urge to hold his tongue and burst out, "Apollon cheated. He tricked Marsyas into losing, because he knew he could not play his flutes upside down the same as Apollo could his lyre."
The West Wind regretted his outburst immediately when Hyacinth gave him a dirty look, but Apollo merely laughed it off, waving a hand in Zephyrus' direction. "Apollon won because he could sing while playing, while Marsyas could not. That is not cheating, the Muses would not have declared Apollo the winner if he had done so. Do get your stories correct, Zephyrus." The wind said nothing as scattered laughter spread through the group, his heart sinking when even Hyacinth hid a slight chuckle behind a hand.
Soon after, the party broke apart, with the boys retiring to the rooms they were staying in at the palace or heading off for home out in the city. Apollo remained until he was nearly alone with Hyacinth, save for Zephyrus, who was - in the god's opinion - obnoxiously lingering about the banquet room, picking at the remains of the meal, walking in and out every few moments. Despite this distraction, Apollo and Hyacinthus were very much enamored of each other, sitting closer than before, legs nearly touching as they chatted, their discussion punctuated by the occasional joke or jibe, sending them into a fit of laughter every now and again.
Perhaps it was merely wishful thinking on Apollo's behalf, but Hyacinthus seemed to be edging closer, tilting his head higher, eyes lingering on the god's mouth as he spoke. Apollo was all too aware of his own heat flaring up when the prince's eyes met his own, when an ankle brushed his or a sun-kissed - oh, how he wished to make it so - shoulder brushed against his arm. A hand lifted, intending to stroke the boy prince's cheek, but a pointed cough made Apollo's hand drop, reminding the god that they were not alone. He frowned when he was caught in the glare of Zephyrus. Beside him, Hyacinth was frowning back at Zephyrus, annoyed that he was so rude and abrasive towards the man. He wasn't doing any harm! But the moment was gone, and Apollo pulled away, glancing out into the courtyard. Artemis' light was high the sky now, surely she would scold him for straying out so long when he came home to Olympus.
"I must be going, Spartan prince." Apollo smiled regretfully, touching Hyacinth's arm with a warm hand. "Will you allow me to visit you again?"
"Of course," Hyacinth leaned into the touch despite himself, sorry to see his new companion go. He gave Apollo a smile as the god rose, tilting his head as he regarded him. "But only if you tell me your name next time."
"Very well." Apollo laughed and, after giving Zephyrus a burning look, strode from the wide banquet room and out into the courtyard, taking long strides down the steps of the palace and down to the dirt road beyond. He walked normally until he was beyond sight of the palace and nearly vanished when a warm wind swept about him, temporarily immobilizing the god.
Apollo gave an annoyed grunt and caught a handful of the swirling wind, forcing Zephyrus to resume his corporeal form. "What is your qualm with me, Zephyrus!?" He growled, squeezing the wind's wrist with a threateningly hot hand, causing the much smaller man to gasp in pain. It was only now that Zephyrus realized that Apollo towered over him, proud and beautiful, but most of all: angry.
"It's you," He frowned up at him, jealousy blinding him from the fact that he was a minor deity picking a fight with one of the Olympian Twelve. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Showing up, acting like a simple pilgrim and charming all those boys, especially the prince, with your pretty words and song?"
"I did not see you doing anything to stop me, fool wind." Apollo replied smugly, giving Zephyrus' wrist another hot squeeze. "The bit about my defeat of Marsyas was clever, but it is a pity your harsh tongue did nothing to endear Hyacinthus to you. In fact, I believe you may have lost his favor." He tilted his head, mocking the smaller man with a bitter grin. "Poor, poor west wind... You have little chance against me."
He flung the West Wind to the ground disdainfully, giving him one last frown before vanishing. Shamed, Zephyrus lay on the dirt road, the pain in his arm and side nothing compared to the hate in his heart.
Apollon would pay.