hyacinth

1. The Meeting

I met Apollo for the first time when I was about four years old.

It was an unusually hot Spring, I recall. The humidity clung to the air like a heavy shroud, and all around Sparta flowers and weeds alike bloomed in surplus, rising up through the cracks in the streets and the alleys between properties.

I, being the trouble-seeking, restless child that I was, had snuck into the palace's garden and uprooted about ten of my aunt's carnations. Don't ask me why- I couldn't tell you. Maybe I was bored, or dared to by my brothers. Whatever the reason, I haven't the faintest clue. All I know is that I had infuriated my aunt to a seemingly new level of rage.

So, sensibly, I was darting down the main breezeway, skirting past the guards and ducking into various chambers, all the while hearing my aunt yelling behind me:

"Hyacinthus! Come back here this instant, you brat!" Her voice was shrill, and the many soldiers and maids all but fell out of her way as she marched after me, her chiton swishing about her ankles.

As I swerved around another corner, the carnations' sap leaving my hands uncomfortably sticky, I was beginning to think that the flowers simply weren't worth all this trouble- each time I so much as looked at my aunt's garden, she seemed to appear out of nowhere and tug me back to my chambers by the ear.

My four-year-old self was so absorbed in finding a good hiding spot, that I didn't realize I was about to run into my father and the man walking beside him until it was nearly too late.

"Ah-" I exclaimed, startled, and quickly sidestepped around them. My father gave me a confused look, before tensing as he caught sight of my aunt at the end of the hallway, a loathsome expression twisting up her usually pretty face.

My father suddenly looked tired. "Hyacinthus-"

"Sorry, father, gotta run-" I made to sprint off down the hallway to the maids' quarters (where my aunt would never be caught dead) , when a strong pair of arms plucked me up from the ground, and lifted me into the air. The carnations fell in a wilted heap to the carpet, and I jerked my head toward the man who was now holding me.

"-by tonight, I think- and who's this little anemoi?" The man was saying, examining my face curiously.

"Trouble," my aunt, who had finally reached us, replied. She stooped down, muttering curses under her breath, and snatched the carnations up off the floor. When she rose again, finally fully looking at the men in front of her, her face went pale. She inclined her head, her dark hair falling in front of her face. "My apologies, lord, I did not recognize you."

The man holding me gave a sideways smile. "Not to worry, Desdemona. Please, relax."

My aunt glanced up, her hands clasped placidly in front of her. The carnation's nectar stained her skin slightly, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she was completely and utterly entranced by the man- the lord?- in front of her. I shifted, already restless and wanting to be put down, and my aunt shot me an admonshing look. "You behave, Hyacinthus."

I wrinkled my nose, but stilled, and, now bored, stared plainly out the window before me. The adults started talking, and I let out an annoyed sigh, wishing I was still outside and running around with my brothers. Not here, being held like I was a little kid.

"I'm here because I've got nothing better to do," the man holding me carried on. "It's not all that surprising, I really do come down here quite a bit."

I tilted my head back to look at him as he continued to speak. He was maybe twenty, with light tan skin and curly hair like my own, except that it was a bit longer and blonde. His gold eyes flicked to me as he talked, and he gave me a smile, before again turning his attention back to my father and aunt.