Scotland, December 1449

Ariana was a token- of appreciation or just plain fear. How her life had come to such a dark demise was at an utter loss to her, but her incomprehensible hatred was dimmed by the drug her kidnappers had made her consume.

The opiate soon dulled her senses and in thirty minutes of swallowing it, it had tamed her anger, blurred her mind and blunted her usually sharp tongue. The smugglers' wives came in to prepare her for her deadly fate. Barely conscious, for the occasional yay and nay, the women washed and dressed her roughly. They put her into a blue silk gown and dragged her out in the cold. She let out a low hiss as her stockinged feet touched the icy ground.

"Aye, that lassie sure can clean up nice." The chief of the village, Byron, said as he picked up Ariana's chin. If she were not drugged, Ariana would have two bloody fingers in her mouth by now.

"You sure are right husband. I'm just glad our son ain't here. She be bewitching him for a while now." His wife, Agnes said with a cold look in her eyes. Ariana wanted to cry. Byron's son, Liam had been her best friend and first love. His parents had disapproved because Ariana was an orphaned child and a bastard. But Liam wouldn't give up. He would give Ariana everything that could make her happy. He once said that,

"If my love was a flower, you have already smelt it. If my love was a bird, you have already caged it. If my love was a fruit, you have already eaten it. But I am nothing but a man, and my love is nothing but a thought, but you always occupy it." Alas his parents sent him on work to another village and he had never come back after that, leaving Ariana a broken heart and a broken soul.

Tying her wrists, they loaded Ariana on a farmer's wagon.

As the wagon started to near its destination, the smugglers grew nervous and chatted among themselves.

"I hear he looks like a beast, cause he was maimed in a accident."

"Aye I heard he has an evil eye. One look can make a chicken give 30 eggs."

"Well the lord sure knows his women though. I hear everyone he slept with was close to heaven."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"Are ya mad! You're a man."

Ariana shut her mind off their mindless banter, which the poppy aided effortlessly. All her belongings were taken by the smugglers. They had asked her for her prized possessions. She had shown them the readings of Aristotle and Plato, at whom they laughed at, taking the few copper pieces she had.

"Awwh lookie there lass, that a be your ticket to hell. Unless he sends ya to heaven first." One of the smugglers winked at her, showing a two toothed smile.

She watched as the Dremburg manor came to view. It was indeed large and luxurious, as it openly invited the smugglers into its confines.

Unloading themselves from the wagon, they marched her towards the entrance. She whimpered as her stockinged feet were dragged across the rough, cold ground until they reached the door.

"Wait a minute, you blustering fools," Byron came trudging toward the gang, "Must remove her ropes." Cutting the ropes, she rubbed her reddened wrists in a fervor. Byron then pounded his fist against the door. The door opened to reveal a impeccably dressed gentleman.

"What do you people want?" he asked with an upturned nose as he gazed at them with scrutiny.

Byron cleared his throat, "Aye Rodgers, D'ya mind calling the lord for us. We have 'im a mighty fine present." The smugglers pushed Ariana into the butler's trail of vision.

Rodgers gazed at her and something in his eyes softened, but quickly disappeared as he replied, "His lord is in the study. I will call for him. In the meantime please come in." He widened the door to let the smugglers and Ariana inside. Leading them into a drawing room with plush seats they sat down. Rodgers left them only to be replaced with an aged maid, who bustled in with tea. Ariana sipped the tea, trying to calm her jittery nerves. The opiate was fading and she became more aware of where she was. She wanted to bolt out of the room, but the smugglers were on each side of her. Defeated and exhausted, she continued to sip her tea, silently awaiting her doom.

Apollo stared at his reflection. Still looking good Lord Dremburg, he cackled at his new name. Once the old Dremburg had croaked his last, Apollo shifted himself into the long lost heir of the Dremburg manor, with a few mind erasing tricks and baubles, he came to have some fun. Or in this case have fun while being in a century old exile. Sheesh! It isn't my fault I walk in on my sister naked. She's my sister, What am I going to do to her? Apollo shuddered as he remembered her reaction. A broken vase, a number of pecking hawks, deadly arrows, and a bunch of freezing ice attacks later, Zeus had proclaimed him banished for 100 years. Not that Apollo minded. No, he was perfectly alright with going to the human world. He liked the smells, the sounds, the humans and most of all, the intimate contact.

A sharp knock broke him out of his musings, "Come in," his butler, Rodgers, walked into the room. Apollo teared his face away from the vanity.

"What is it Rodger's, my good fellow?" He said walking over to the aging man. Rodgers smiled as his green eyes twinkled. The old butler had instantly been charmed by Apollo's good nature as did the rest of the staff in the dreary manor.

Rodgers cleared his throat, "My lord there are a pack of wolves downstairs in your blue room. They have a 'gift' for you." Rodgers said in disdain. Apollo's brows rose.

"A pack of wolves? Really?" Apollo asked quizzically.

"No, well, a band of barbarians if I must be kind, but wolves fits them appropriately," Rodgers replied coolly, "Would you like me to send a man servant with your appearance or will you suffice by yourself?"

Apollo shook his head, "I will suffice, I will be down in a quarter of the hour. Keep our guests entertained," with that, he ushered Rodgers out of the room.

Walking into the washroom, he went to his basin. Murky brown water reflected his face. He looked on in disgust. Too bad he wasn't allowed to use his godly powers to make the water clean. Cringing, he placed his hands into the basin and cupped the water out. It dripped down his shirt front as he splashed it over his face. Keeping his mouth and eyes tightly shut, he repeated the process a few more times and wiped his face with his dirty shirt. Then peeling away his wet shirt and muddied breeches, he went for a crisp white cotton shirt and tan breeches that sculpted his muscles. Raking his fingers through his hair he smiled at his reflection in the small mirror next to his clothes. Now to see those pack of wolves Rodgers was so feisty about. He walked out of his room only to collide with a maid.

"Oh dear! Pardon me sir," she curtsied and ran away blushing. Ha now I know I look good, he chuckled when he remembered the maids red face.

He put a swing in his walk as he neared the blue living room. The door was open a peek so that the light of the lamps filtered out. The smell of tea wafted out in hefty waves. Ushering at the nervous footman at the door he asked, "Is there no whiskey in our confines?"

"S-s-sir you would like to g-g-give these barbarians your fine w-w-whiskey?" The servant stammered out, alarmed at the masters wish for something so atrocious.

Apollo smiled, "No matter what, they are still our guests," with that said, the servant scurried off to the cellar. Apollo straightened his back and took a deep breath, entering the room.

The room was surrounded by huge men who were engrossed in a conversation too important to stare at the god in front of them, and oddly the room was green. He heard the footman come in and in a low whisper asked, "Is this the blue room?"

The footman looked at him as if he had three heads, and nodded.

Well here goes nothing, Apollo cleared his throat and all eyes were upon him. Giving his debonair smile he asked in a creamy voice,"What is the business we have at hand?"

Ariana heard a throat clear and all the men grew silent in the room. Then she heard the most beautiful voice that had ever graced her ears, "What is the business we have at hand?" It sounded like the song of the birds in harmonic symphony of the baritone sort. The deep voice reverberated in the room and Ariana felt her spine tremble with pleasure.

Byron hoisted himself out of the fine sofa and spoke, "We have a present fer 'ya m'lord, we hope that you will help us in the near future with any problems and that ye' might accommodate us if any ill might fall upon us."

Ariana heard the man murmur something to Byron, who then turned to his men, "Show him the lassie!" She was roughly pulled off the sofa and pushed into something hard and undoubtedly male, that helped break her fall. The body roped its arms around her protectively and held her steady. Looking up, she gazed into crystal blue eyes that shone with amusement and worry. Her eyes roamed a face that was sculpted with the beauty of Apollo. Fair blond hair flipped over his eyes and a chiseled jaw held a pair of full lips that were turned upwards in a merry smile.

"What is this?" The man, no Lord Dremburg asked, his chest reverberating beneath her tiny build.

"That m'lord is ya' gift," one of Byron's men answered, cackling.

"Take her to my chambers," the lord gestured to a maid who took the Ariana out of his grasp. She shuddered as she felt his warmth leave her body. The maid took her through a large hall decked with different doors probably leading to different rooms, Ariana couldn't really think straight as she stumbled on the cold tile. The maid led her into a large room and left her there, making sure to lock the door if the lass got any ideas. Ariana stared at the room, which was undoubtedly male. A bear pelt lay on the ground as a carpet whilst a single chair and armoire surrounded it. A large bed dominated the room as furs were layered on top. Ariana took a look at the bed and shied away instead sitting on the chair. She stared into the room as sleep came closer and Ariana soon forgot the reason she was in this room, in the castle, when she was about to be eaten by a wolf.