"There are things we don't want to happen but have to accept, things we don't want to know but have to learn, and people we can't live without but have to let go."

-Unknown

Ways of the Wind

I had been visiting a Spartan village when I first saw him. I could tell that he was just coming into his adult years. His eyes were hazel and his shoulder-length hair was dirty blonde and curly. His skin was fair and delicate.

I think I fell in love with him instantly.

He was the son of King Amyclas, founder of Amyclae. I heard him pray to me, asking me to help him learn the art of archery, to teach him how to play the lyre as beautifully as I did, and to show him how to throw the discus as the messenger Hermes had shown Krokus.

His name was Hyakinthos.

I appeared just outside the courtyard where he was practicing with the bow-and-arrow, choosing to remain invisible while I watched. I found myself enchanted by the way he moved his slender hands when he nocked the arrow, and smiled at his mistakes – it was clear he was a beginner. After a few moments, I dropped my disguise and moved towards him.

As I drew closer, he looked up at me and his eyes widened with shock.

"Why do you look at me as though you've seen a ghost?" I asked him, pulling my bow and quiver from my back and setting it to the side. I kept my expression stern and frosty, determined not to show the tenderness I had already developed for the boy. "Did you not expect me to answer your prayers, boy? Speak!"

"No, sir – I mean, yes – I mean -!"

His flustered manner made him all the more endearing. I could no longer hide my smile. "Do not call me 'sir', Hyakinthos. By no means am I your master. You may call me Apollon."

His hair had fallen into his beautiful eyes. I reached forward to brush his hair out of his face, and he blushed prettily.

"When you blush beneath my hands, your beauty doubles," I told him, my voice as soft as the wind. "Now, you mentioned wanting to learn the sport of archery."

He nodded, and I examined the bow he held in his hands distastefully. "This contraption isn't worthy of you," I said, reaching out with my index finger and touching the wooden upper limb. With a flash of golden light, the mediocre wood turned to silver. The weapon was now a replica of mine. I smiled with satisfaction.

"Thank you, Apollon," he said in a voice so quiet that I had to strain to hear it. He uttered my name like the word was a rare treasure. It made my heart ache with longing.

I lifted a hand and put in on his cheek. "You do not need to fear me, or be nervous in my presence," I said. "You are a son of kings. You are meant for great things." As an afterthought I added, "And even if you weren't, I would never do anything to hurt you."

When he looked at me in disbelief, I smiled reassuringly. "I am the god of truth. I cannot speak a lie."

He inhaled deeply, looking down at his feet. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's just – I didn't expect you to be so beautiful. Not in my wildest dreams."

My hand slid from his cheek down to his chin, and I tilted his head up so that he was forced to look at me. His eyes widened upon meeting mine. I knew why.

No mortal had eyes as blue as mine.

"You're – you're really Apollo, aren't you?" he asked breathlessly, setting his new weapon on the ground.

"Of course I am," I whispered, my breath blowing over his face. He inhaled deeply. "From now on," I continued, stroking his skin with my thumb. "I will be your closest friend. No one will ever care for you as much as I do."

I didn't think "friend" was exactly the right word, but there wasn't any need to rush things.

"Really?" he breathed, looking slightly dazed.

"I always keep my word," I promised.

All was silent for several moments as I continued to hold his face in my hands, examining his perfect features.

Then…

"Your presence is intoxicating." He reached out and grasped my forearms as though to hold himself up.

"You'll grow used to it, young one," I murmured, my lips against his ear. "You are not accustomed to walking alongside the gods."

When he seemed steadier on his feet, I let him go and picked up the new bow, placing it in his hands. "Pay close attention, because I don't like repeating myself. This," I pointed at the bow, "isn't merely something you hold. It is an extension of your body. You have to feel the power behind it. You have to know its capabilities. Once you do, your archery skills will have no limits."

"Are all of the gods as sure of themselves as you are?" he asked with a slight smile.

"For the most part. If you think I'm confident, you should meet Hermes." I smiled, thinking of my impish younger brother. "Once he sets his mind on something, there isn't any stopping him."

"What's he like?" he asked, his eyes alive with curiosity.

I reached over my shoulder and fiddled with my braid, trying to decide how to describe the sibling whom I loved and loathed at the same time. "Hermes is an annoying brat, but everyone adores him. There isn't anything he can't do. He's so funny he can make Hades laugh. He likes to steal from Ares and tells me I need a haircut at least once a week." I smiled fondly before shaking my head to clear it. "Back to archery.

"This is the sport of men," I continued with my lesson. "Now take your stance."

He did so, taking the bow in his right hand with his right side facing the target. He held the arrow and string in his left hand.

"No, no, no," I stopped him with a frown. "Are you right-handed or left-handed?"

"Right-handed," he answered with confusion. I stepped forward, standing directly behind him.

"Then you want to hold the bow like this…" I placed his left hand on the handle and his right hand on the arrow and string. "Using your dominant hand to draw the bowstring will give you more power behind the shot. Now, what do you use as your anchor?"

"My cheek," he responded, and I smiled. "Then you are not pulling back far enough. Use your ear."

When he had reached the correct anchor point, I reached forward and rearranged his fingers on the bowstring and arrow. "Make sure you keep your index finger above the arrow, and your next two fingers below. Always use three fingers. Never more, never less. Understand?"

He nodded.

"Alright. Now, keep your feet shoulder-width apart…" He did so. "And…release."

After that, Hyakinthos was my lover as well as my closest friend. We practiced archery together and played games in our spare time. His eyes were always filled with laughter, and I found it difficult to stop smiling whenever I was with him.

I had him memorized – the way he looked at me with adoration in his eyes and reached for my hand when he asked me a question, how his lower lip stuck out in a pout when he didn't understand something and how he prayed to me each night; it was as though he were whispering in my ear.

There was a night, several months into our relationship, when we fell asleep in in a field beneath the stars. We needed no blanket; the heat which radiated off my body was warmth enough.

I knew that several gods were up in the heavens, staring down at us with happiness. He's finally found someone that he loves, and that loves him back, they were all thinking. Perhaps this relationship will last. What I didn't know was that another god was here on Earth, emerald eyes filled with betrayal as he glared down at us.

To this day, I don't know if West Wind's murder of Hyakinthos was of his own doing or if it had been a favor for another god. I'll probably never learn the truth.

It happened when we were throwing discus. The goal of this game was to throw the stone slabs as far as we possibly could. Hyakinthos was out in the field, watching me. I gripped the discus in my right hand, making sure my fingers were an equal distance apart. I swung my arms in front of me, getting use to the weight, and then took my stance, facing away from the field.

I swung around once, then another half-turn, before releasing the discus. I didn't hear the swoosh as the discus took flight, because just at that moment, a strong gust of wind blew through the air. I spun around in order to see where the discus would land, but the sight I was met with wasn't the one I had expected.

The gust of wind caught the discus in mid-flight, and the stone slab began to soar in a completely different direction – right towards Hyakinthos.

"Hyakinthos – move!" I shrieked, but my voice blew away with the wind. I watched with horror as the discus began to descend, still moving at full speed.

The wind died, and I heard the sickening thud as the discus connected with my lover's head. I saw his neck snap backwards and small beads of blood fly through the air.

"Hyakinthos!" I cried out in horror. I was at his side in the space of a few seconds, but it was already too late. His skull was crushed in from where the discus had slammed into his head. Lifeless eyes stared up at the sky. He was already dead; I couldn't heal him.

"No!" I cried. "No – Father, don't do this to me!"

Tears began to fall from my eyes as I leaned over his body; the drops fell onto his wound, mixing with the blood that was still dripping to the ground.

And right before my very eyes, a flower sprouted from the ground. It was beautiful, with hundreds of white petals growing from the same stem. But I wasn't comforted.

This can't have been an accident.

I looked up upon hearing the sound of sinister laughter. And there, perched in a tree, was West Wind. His wings were wrapped around him, and his dark eyes were laughing at me.

"You!" I hissed, straightening up. "You killed him!"

"'You killed him!'" he mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Of course I killed him. He chose you over me!"

I had no idea what he was talking about, and I didn't care. I seized my bow, thoroughly prepared to kill him – but he vanished before I could release the arrow. A gust of wind blew through the air, and I could have sworn I heard the sound of mocking laughter.

With a sob of frustration, I threw down the weapon and fell to my knees. "I'm sorry," I whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

I sat there for several moments, staring down at his blood-stained face. I only looked up when a flash of bright light temporarily blinded me.

Athena, Aphrodite, and Artemis were standing behind me. All three had tears running down their beautiful faces.

"Brother, I'm so sorry," Artemis whispered, reaching out for me. I leaned into her embrace, burying my face in her stomach and trying to stop crying.

"We came to take him to our uncle," Athena's voice said. In the back of my mind, I wondered why the three goddesses were doing Hermes' job, but nodded instead of asking. I pulled away from Artemis and opened the pouch that was tied around my waist, producing two coins. I closed his eyes and then placed the pieces of silver atop the lids.

"There," I whispered, motioning for them to take him.

Before leaving, Athena offered me her hand and pulled me to my feet. "You need to rest," she said gently. "Go home, Apollon."

I nodded and closed my eyes, willing myself to Mount Olympus.

Hermes and Zeus were the only two in the throne room. Zeus eyed me sadly. "I'm sorry, son," he said. "I really thought this time would last…"

But I wasn't listening. I was staring at Hermes, who was sitting at the foot of the throne. He looked horrible. His winged cap was missing, and there were twigs caught in his dark hair.

I moved closer until I was mere inches away from him. "Where were you last night?" I asked coolly. "And why are the girls taking Hyakinthos to Hades instead of you?"

He remained silent, refusing to look at me, but I thought I saw a light flush color his pale face.

I was struck by a sudden flashback, in which I was in Hermes' place. It was after Krokus, Hermes' lover, had been killed in much the same manner as Hyakinthos. Hermes had accused me of killing Krokus. I had lectured him about how it was folly to love a mortal, because mortals will always die one way or the other.

I cringed at my hypocrisy.

He stood up before I could say anything else. Though I was taller than him by several inches, I felt as though he were towering over me.

"I was on Earth last night, the same as you," he said coldly, crossing his arms. "I was watching you, wondering what you were thinking. It is folly to love a human, Apollo, because we are immortal. We are strong, and they are weak. To continue to love them would be your downfall."

He was quoting my own words back at me, staring at me with hurt in his eyes. Hermes, my youngest brother, had looked up to me and listened to my words, taking my advice. In turn, I had betrayed him, going against my own words and falling in love with a mortal. I had dared to appear before him with hurt written across my face, expecting comfort, after I had reprimanded him when he had been in the exact same position.

I took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eye. "I can't change the course of destiny," I said, quoting myself. "Hyakinthos was meant to die, and so he did." I paused, and then murmured, "It is folly to love a human, indeed. Forgive me, Hermes."

I bowed my head.

It was at that moment that I wondered if Hermes had asked West Wind to perform his deed in order to teach me a lesson.

But that thought flew from my mind when slender arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me into a hug. "It's okay, Apollo," he whispered against my neck. "All of us make mistakes. I can't expect you to be perfect, however close to flawless you may be."

Hyakinthos was the last human I let myself love, but now I can look back upon his memory with happiness rather than grief. Hermes reminded me of my own lesson: Humans are not immortal like we are, and are therefore susceptible to any manner of death. So I will remember the good times I had with Hyakinthos instead of focusing on his untimely end, because it was, in fact, his destiny to die.

But I will try to ensure that others do not suffer the loss of loved ones as I did – at least not by unnatural means. Their time is already short enough.

Remember this, reader, and hold it close to your heart: Phoebus Apollon, Punisher of the Wicked, is watching over you.

End

"No smile is as beautiful as the one that struggles through tears."

-Unknown