Pairing: Apollo x (poor mortal) reader
Warnings: Angst towards the village people!
Summary: Your village is crumbling under the priests feet from his greed. Thinking that sacrifices, including you, are needed to be made in order for the village to survive is entirely wrong. Apollo rage has been spilled.
A/N: Hope you enjoy this Imagine, might make a part II!
It was a day thick with despair, the sky heavy with ominous clouds, clashing and rumbling like the very heart of darkness. Lightning, fierce and relentless, ripped through the heavens, bringing death to the once-vibrant crops that the villagers had so desperately harvested.
The cries of the despairing rose like a haunting melody, echoing through the muddy streets where anguished souls fell to their knees, their bodies shaking, mingling with the earth’s tears. Livestock bolted in frantic terror, some in a frantic search for food, while others succumbed to the chaos of the storm that raged outside.
Exhausted bodies lay strewn on the sodden ground, their gasps mingling with fervent prayers to Apollo, begging for the gift of life to revive the land that had nurtured them just days before.
The next morning shattered with the dread-laden shout of the priest, “The Plague! The Plague!” His voice trembled with fear, a reflection of the collective horror that wrapped around the village like a suffocating shroud. That day, the devastation deepened as the plague swept through the remnants of hope, leaving behind lifeless forms lying in the streets, drained of warmth, while the living faced the gnawing pain of hunger. The air grew thick with dread, the oppressive darkness suffocating any flicker of light that dared to peek through the leaden clouds.
In the shadows of the desolation, you cowered, a fragile figure pressed against the wall in a forgotten corner where the little ones dared not venture. Barely clothed and shivering, you considered yourself fortunate to have evaded the curse of the plague, but your heart trembled not from the chill, but from the mounting terror echoing in hushed whispers among the terrified villagers—rumors of sacrifices to Apollo, desperate offerings to reclaim the lost sun.
As exhaustion pulled you into a troubled slumber on the cold, unyielding ground, the peace was shattered by the thunderous uproar of an angry mob. “Tie them to a stick and set their bodies on fire!” Their chilling chants pierced the air. Strong hands seized you, lifting your frail form as if you were nothing more than a rag doll. Spirit crushed, you were bound, the cruel ropes digging into your skin.
“Fire, let them burn!” they yelled, and your heart ached at the sight of others like you, innocent souls caught in this twisted nightmare. Was this life, you pondered, truly worth enduring? You ached with the weight of your past—the orphaned child of a broken world destined for a pitiful end.
The mob carried you to the grand temple of Apollo, the air thick with desperation and despair. “Apollo, we pray to you!” the priest implored, kneeling upon the cracked stones, eyes searching the heavens for mercy. “We offer sacrifices for your blessing! Bring us food! Deliver us from this torment!” His voice cracked, but you offered no prayers, only a single tear slipped down your cheek as you bore witness to his anguish.
Now, bound atop a pile of wood, surrounded by stones that promised a cruel fate, as flames danced eagerly around you, you thought of others before yourself. Your heart swelled not with thoughts of self-preservation but with a fervent wish for help for those who needed it more than you ever did. What was your life but a tapestry of misery?
Yet unbeknownst to you, Apollo watched over you with a fire of his own within his divine heart. His muse, you were—beautiful in a way that transcended the cruel constraints of your existence. “How can one consider themselves lesser than others when their spirit shines with such infinite beauty?” Apollo mused, unyielding wrath now rising within him at the thought of your fate as he heard the commands for your sacrifice.
In a brilliant flash, a golden arrow pierced the gloom, striking the ground mere inches from the priest’s feet. The murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd. “Oh Apollo, divine and majestic!” the priest shrieked, begging, “Spare us from this wrath! Save us!” But Apollo, his face as bright as the sun, did not smile; he merely observed with a frown etched upon his celestial features.
With a sweeping motion, he released you from your cruel bindings, holding your fragile form tightly against his powerful chest. “Fear not, my love,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. “I shall heal you.” Even as you lay there, still on the brink of unconsciousness, his comforting embrace wrapped you in a warmth that melted away the coldness of hopelessness.
“Untie them! Do what is right!” Apollo’s voice thundered, rebuking the terrified priest who had dared to challenge divine will. “Why, you ungrateful mocker! Did you think your sacrifice meant anything to me?” Apollo’s gaze bore into the priest, who shrank beneath the weight of his judgment.
The crowd surged, their voices rising in chaos, yet Apollo’s presence stood unwavering. “You are the cause of your village’s despair, not I! It is your greed that has brought forth this plague, your arrogance that has withered the earth!” His fierce gaze swept over the villagers, lighting a flame of hope among the weary souls.
“Untie them, now!” he commanded, an echo of authority that sent a ripple of fear through the crowd. The priest, trembling, howled as another golden arrow found its mark, collapsing in agony.
Apollo, with a tenderness that belied his immeasurable power, cradled you ever closer. “No mercy did you give to the innocent, and now, your cries for mercy fall on deaf ears.”
“No!” cried the priest, clawing at the dirt in desperation. “I did not know—”
“That is not the point!” Apollo roared, his wrath still simmering beneath the surface. “I have wasted enough time on your falsehoods. You are the architect of your destruction.”
With the flick of his wrist, a radiant flame ignited, engulfing the priest in an unbearable blaze. The pitiful wails of despair filled the air, but Apollo remained unmoved. He had used but a moment to deliver justice, and now he turned to you with profound adoration.
With you still cradled in his arms, he soared down from his divine heights to bless the rest of the villagers still clinging to life, filling the earth with vibrant hues of light and life once more. You were sheltered beneath an enveloping warmth that ignited your senses, as though a sunbeam had chosen to make a nest within your heart.
Awakening from the grasp of darkness, you were enveloped in warmth, a soft blanket cocooning you like a precious dream. Uncertainty flooded your mind. Were you not supposed to find yourself in the underworld, forever trapped in a void of cold despair?
As your eyes fluttered open, they were greeted by the most exquisite temple you had ever seen, majestic and resilient, with cascading waters shimmering like stars tumbling from the sky.
“Are you enjoying the view, my love?” Apollo’s voice floated to you like a sweet symphony, his gentle fingers brushing against your face. His lips, soft and warm, kissed your cheek; the world around you faded, leaving only the essence of him behind.
“I told you not to save me!” you exclaimed, bewildered yet overwhelmed with emotion. “What have you done?”
“Save you?” he echoed, his expression shimmering with warmth. “How could I not save my beloved? You were to be sacrificed, but your beauty is far too precious to be lost to the flames of greed!” Scooping you into his strong embrace, he carried you through the grand entrance of his resplendent temple.
“Your soul is worth more than mere offerings to satisfy petty desires!” Apollo’s heart ached with the truth of his words, his gaze unwavering.
"Did you just say 'lover'?" you stammered, still processing the weight of it all, your heart racing with an unfamiliar joy.
“Yes, my sunshine,” he beamed, settling upon his mighty throne with you nestled in his lap, cradled in his divine warmth.
“Your prayers reached me, a song so heartfelt and filled with love for others, selfless in its beauty,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You did not seek to save yourself—why is that, I wonder?” His voice trembled with an unrecognizable sorrow.
Tears brimmed in your eyes as you questioned your worth, haunted by the shadows of your past. “I am nothing, my lord. I was born an orphan. I have known only the embrace of suffering.”
“Nay,” he breathed out, his eyes sparkling with intensity. “You rose each day, weaving melodies of poetry and music to bring joy to hopeless hearts. That is not nothing! You tried to keep the light alive, even while darkness threatened to engulf you.”
“Was that why I felt no cold or hunger?” you asked, astonished.
“Yes,” he affirmed, kissing your forehead tenderly. “I guided you, sheltering you, keeping the sun’s light close to you.”
“All of this…for me?” You gazed into his golden eyes, overwhelmed with gratitude.
“There is no need for titles, my sunshine. Just Apollo will do,” he reassured you, his expression softening, warmth radiating from him as effortlessly as the sun pouring its light upon the earth. “You have a soul more radiant than the sun itself.”
As days turned to weeks, a transformation took place within you. You found solace in Apollo’s love, the warmth of his presence igniting something deep within your heart. Though you had never truly known a home, moving through life as a wanderer, Apollo made it clear that with him, you belonged.
And as the whispers of the other gods floated through the celestial realm, curious about the one who had captured the heart of the once-raging Apollo after the loss of Hyacinthus, you realized that perhaps in the depths of despair, love’s light shines the brightest of all.
