HOW WELL HE WEARS THAT SMILE MINGLED WITH WRATH
Apollo should have known it would not last – the freedom he’d sought from his old life. And, if he were to be honest, he wasn’t surprised. Conceited as he was, and many other things aside, the proud stallion was no fool. All things came at a cost, after all, and if this was the price to be paid for what he had claimed for himself these last seasons, well… In time, Apollo would come to terms with it.
But right now, his blood boiled beneath his skin.
Achilles.
The humiliation he’d felt when that arrogant brute had brought him low…
From his watching-place on the hillside, Apollo shook himself out of his diaspora of misery, and focused on the present, and the one who held within her bountiful hope for the stallion – within her spirit and her womb. Three others had been covered by him – not all willingly – and it would be false to say that he had not thought of them, and how they fared (not so much for their own sakes, but for the offspring they might bear him – but two of them had been so young and vulnerable, one of them blind and so helpless that Apollo pitied her, but not even pity would stop him claiming what he wanted).
He stayed near Cyrene always, careful to respect her need for space, and never forgetting that she was a fierce warrior. And yet, he still found himself growing ever more concerned as her time drew near. Just as with the trouble Achilles and Caspian’s appearance had brought him, Apollo showed wisdom in keeping these concerns to himself. It was clear to him as daylight that the brown, brindle mare did not concern herself with such trivial affairs as old vendettas and the worries that weighed upon his heart, warranted or not. She was a creature of instinct and survival, and strength was what she admired above all else.
And there was weakness in him – he would rid himself of it, one way or another.
Apollo had not seen her for some time (and he worried), the sound of a sudden squeal spurred him into movement. There was no guttural cry of a predator on the wind as there had been that very first day, no any further sounds from Cyrene, and this served to somewhat steady the racing of his heart. It had been so long since it had last been affected so, the organ in his chest that kept him alive. (It had been almost a lifetime since anyone had mattered to him so much as this – of equal importance as himself in his own eyes.)
He stopped at a distance once he caught sight of the pair, and for a moment there was nothing except the drumming of his heart echoing in his ears. A pale, magnificent creature was near the fighting mare, small and vulnerable but already strong as Cyrene encouraged her child to rise.
He risked stoking the new mother’s ire by drifting closer, but did not presume too much of himself to enter her space, or reach for the startlingly bright little colt. “He is magnificent Cyrene,” Apollo said quietly, his blue eyes shining as he savoured the fresh new scent of the boy on the breeze. “What did you call him?” A pause, and then a slight clearing of his throat. “Is there anything you need?” He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what kind of a toll the carrying of a child or labouring to bring it into the world took on a body, even one so resilient and mighty as Cyrene’s. There was little he could do for the colt, but at least he could bring sustenance to her, or serve as a second set of eyes as she relocated herself to somewhere she felt would be safer.
“And I want to apologise. Without making excuses… I haven’t been as present with you as I should have been.” There was no implication in his tone, or in his eyes, that suggested there was any part of him that thought she needed him. But he had made her a promise of sorts, and thus far, he hadn’t done a very good job of living up to it. There was little more that needed to be said – after all, Cyrene had made herself very clear some time ago. If Apollo failed her, she would have no trouble moving on. And despite himself, Apollo knew that if some day such a thing did occur, he wouldn’t hold it against her.
Today was a good day, and he’d not waste a moment more dwelling on the past. Apollo found himself looking to the colt again, marvelling. “A change is coming,” the golden beast mused aloud. “The future is bright, Cyrene. It is beautiful.”  |
|
|