𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐈

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒

I wonder how long he stood there looking at me.

I squirmed and his eyes wandered from my red face towards my sunburned skin and halted at my dirty hands. His stare made me nervous, so I let go of the small shovel and started flexing my fingers and rubbing my palms as light pain shoot through my hand. I look down and fresh blisters covered my dirty palm. I grimaced at the sting and started blowing air on my palm, trying to soothe the ache. I need to wash my hands but I can't leave without finishing my work first.

I looked back up and he was gone. The place where he once stood was empty of him. I try not to seem too sad and disappointed as I get back to work. As I was about to take the shovel, a woman dressed like me appeared and walked towards me, and halted before the first stair.

"You're done."

My face morphed into confusion as I proceeded her word. I'm done? But I still have work ahead of me.

"But Madam said-"

"Madam said you're done." She scowled in annoyance and placed her hand on her hip. She turned around and started walking away without glancing back.

I stand up carefully, wobbling in the process from the stiffness of my legs. I rubbed my hands lightly to get rid of the garden soil that stuck to my skin so I wouldn't drag it with me inside.

Entering the palace, I padded through the luxurious halls where a basin out of porcelain filled with water was anchored into the wall, a pole above it with water streaming out.

I stood before it and brought my muddy hand under the water stream. I winced as a few drops forcefully land on the blisters, my hands kept shaking. As I was bringing up my hand to clean the blisters a strong hand gently gripped my wrist, stopping it. His thumb drew circles on the inside of my wrist as my back was pressed against his chest.

He must have taken off his armor because instead of a hard surface, there was warmth and softness. A strong earthy scent embraced me. He smelled like smoke with a metallic edge. Like blood. His skin must have absorbed the blood he has spilled for decades, never able to wash off. And surprisingly it didn't phase me.

I knew it was him. The man who has been on my mind the last months since our first encounter.

He scooped water into his hand from the basin and let it pour on my palm carefully, cooling off the blister that now became red around the edges. Tenderly he cleaned off my hands, his fingers brushing against my knuckles, stroking the red skin. At some point he held the weight of my hands as I leaned against him, his chest touching my shoulders, keeping me warm and guarded.

He was done cleaning my hands and caring for my blisters. He started scooping more water and poured it on my shoulder, flowing down my arm and pooling on the floor, cooling the burned and sensitive skin, and doing the same on the other side.

The tip of his fingers drew patterns on my skin, calming me down from the tension my body once was befallen off. I know his hand alone was enough to kill a grown man, to destroy a whole village, which he kind of did, and got in trouble with the other Gods.