A/n: bruh these updates are like fire. Haha that probably won't last long. Hey, also this chapter includes some heavy kink smut in the middle, and fluff at the end, so watch out for that. Enjoy!

Melantriche's eyes flew open, her breaths wheezing before she adjusted to the darkness. Apollo. Even in the blackness she could recognize the tiny slivers of light from his hair, the summer sky eyes that stared back at her with a feverish frenzy. It was that which terrified her, even when he lifted his hand from her she felt herself quivering. He put his arms beneath her pits an raised her out of her cot as easily as a child, and as soon as her toes touched the floor he had his arms around her, ushering her towards the door and out of the house. They were going somewhere. Melantriche glances around nervously as they left, wondering why everything was so quiet, why nobody even stirred or why the god was here in the first place.

Despite the sultry heat of the night she felt chilled as they strode down the streets, which were dim other than the occasional lamp that lit the houses lining it. "My Lord—," she finally dared to utter and he shushed her harshly.

"Don't speak," he hissed. "Just come with me."

"O... ok." But where were they going? Perhaps now was the time. He was going to finish her off, once and for all. Panicked, she struggled to free herself from his grip but it was no use. It was like trying to break iron.

"Be calm." He murmured, though it seemed more like he was talking to himself. "We'll escape somewhere nice. Safe and warm and calm." It felt very much like he was reading her mind, which, him being a god, didn't seem like much of a stretch. The idea made her tingle with embarrassment. This wasn't Apollo. At least, not the one she was used to. His face was pallid yet beaded with sweat, and he had the eyes of a warrior about to fight a death match. He was frightening her. What was happening?

They were headed towards the palace. As they entered through the front doors Melantriche wondered why there weren't any guards on lookout, but then, this was a god's sanctuary, not a real city. The truth was that Melantriche had never stepped foot on the palace grounds until now, and was somehow dizzy by the sight of colossal pillars, shiny marble floors and high ceilings, so much so it was basically Apollo dragging her through the halls till they reached a large 2-door entrance. He threw the doors open and pushed her inside. It was a enormous bedroom, grander than the likes she'd ever seen before. The walls were embedded with shiny mosaic scenes of the land and the ocean. A tiger skin rug was spread over the floor in front of an enormous fireplace, burning hotly. The room opened up to a large balcony on its right side, the sheer curtains billowing in the warm night breeze. In the middle of the room on the far wall was a large bed piled over with a myriad of quilts, furs and cushions. Scanning the area, then turning her stunned gaze towards the sun god.

"I don't... I don't understand." His face was totally and utterly blank, in a way that invoked pity in her, like he didn't know how to react to anything. He put both hands on the sides of her burning face, touching her as if she were a curiosity.

"Look at you, so tiny..." she gulped. He had no idea how small she really felt at the moment. Or maybe he did. She had to crane her neck to look at him, after all.

"And you're so big." She managed quietly. "You're scaring me."

"Melanie, are you afraid of fire?"

"I... I don't think so. Maybe?"

"Lie down." Dry-mouthed, Melantriche whispered,

"Ok." She shifted down onto the bed awkwardly, glancing at all corners of the room and not sure where to look. She had to tuck her chin in to see Apollo rummaging for something in the cabinet. He pulled something out, a long cylindrical thing that he stared down at for a long minute. He turned and stuck it into the hearth and it ignited. A candle? They waited minutes, Melantriche's heartbeats continued to pick up speed. She swallowed, the entirety of her body feeling enflamed. How could she be afraid of fire? When he was gonna...

He turned around, his body dark but the light of the fire casting light to the angles of his face, he seemed more like a demon than a god. His whole demeanor had changed, his eyes glittering and his mouth set in a hard line. And, like the first time, his clothes inexplicably disappeared when Melantriche wasn't paying attention. His nakedness, the golden light shining against the right perfect skin of his hips, his thighs, his manhood now sprung like a poised spear was utter perfection. She was speechless, other than herself in the back of her mind screeching with disbelief, with excitement, with joy and terror all roiling together in a single unsteady cauldron.

"I want to give you a valuable experience." He whispered lowly, huskily. Melantriche couldn't help but squirm as he drew closer. What, they were doing this now? So suddenly? What on earth was the candle for? He crawled onto the bed with her, his weight shifting. Something grabbed her wrists and she thrashed at the sudden feeling, her gaze shooting towards each end. There were ropes coiling themselves around the ends of her limbs like snakes, tightly. She gave a weak attempt at resisting them, and sure enough they wouldn't budge. She threw a frightful glance at the man above her and he pressed a hand to her mouth. "Be calm," he said again softly. "All will be well." His thumb stroked against her lips, pursing them, to her cheek and her neck. His touch had a slight squeeze to it that made her heart race. Then he lifted the candle.

The flame hovered just inches away from her face. The acridly sweet scent seared the sensitive hairs in her nose and she couldn't help the tears that began to well in her eyes. Terror jumped up and down her throat as she twisted her head desperately to avoid the dripping wax, but it was hardly any use. The chains that bound her limbs wouldn't give an inch. She felt a wet scalding splatter across her nose, her cheek and she gave a sharp cry. It hurt so much! Some of it landed in her hair— a curious contrast, flecks of white against pure black. How delicious, she was crying now. Bawling.

Apollo only watched, amusement twitching the curves of his mouth. A humorless chuckle bubbled from his lips.

"Let's play."

He tipped the candle down. A searing sensation spilled over Melantriche's neckline and she screamed. It was painful. Nearly excruciating. A dim part of her mind recalled a memory of when she was small and liked to play with wax. The melted wax burned her fingers and it hurt, but it was never like this. "Why?" She found herself blubbering. Had she done something wrong. He gushed her again. His hands were stroking over her body, stripping her naked.

"Give it a minute." And he blew against the place he had burned. She felt the wax gardening against her skin and then he reached for it. With delicate fingers he peeled off the semi-hardened wax and leaned forward to press his lips there. Melantriche gasped at the sensation, his tongue shockingly cool suckling the raw skin. It shouldn't have felt so nice but it did, somehow. She wished she had the decency to push him away or tell him to stop but she wouldn't. He pulled away and she whimpered, aware of her nakedness and his slow observance of it. Her heart thumped when she read appreciation in his eyes, his hand stroking her neck and her ribs all the way down to her breasts which his cupped and squeezed gently as if they were precious things. He repeated the act of applying candle wax to them, Melantriche sobbed again as she felt the searing wax make contact with her nipple. And he gathered her close, hushing her cries with passionate kisses and only withdrawing to lick the salty tears off her face. He peeled the wax off and took her whole breast into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the abused nipple, withdrawing, then blowing cool air onto it. His hand attended to her other, flitting his finger gently over her areola. Melantriche shivered. And so it became the constant of him spreading wax over every sensitive part of her arms and stomach until she was dizzy with the constant switch of pain and then pleasure. She moaned and twitched, her body arching and flailing against the ropes with a roiling sensation shooting to below her belly. She couldn't believe she found this a rousing, she just couldn't believe it. If anyone found out...

She felt Apollo falter. He had pulled away so that he was seated above her at her entrance with her legs spread wide. There was a dangerous tick in his eyes and he still held the candle with the messy wax running down his fingers, but he didn't even wince. No, he was staring at the soft mound in between her legs, and that's when Melantriche panicked. "Don't!" She shrieked. "Apollo, don't, please!" He flinched, blinking with large eyes as if she'd broken a spell on him. He stared hard at the candle in his hand, then after some heart-twisting moments of terror, he tossed it behind him.

"To hell with that," he growled, jerking her closer to him by her thighs, and he bent down between them with his mouth open. Before Melantriche could protest he had hit his mark. She threw her head back and squealed at the sensation of him kissing the folds of her womanhood. The sensation was so strong she trembled and moaned and sobbed, beads of sweat dropped between her breasts and her toes curled when she tried to strain against her bonds, yet somehow it only helped Apollo in delving further, his tongue reaching deeper than it ever had. Melantriche hands were fisted, her nails digging deep into her palms till they stung but the pain was pleasure now, only serving to intensify her ecstasy. Only, when she felt that she was about to go over the edge and the first spasms hit her, he then pulled away causing her to whine with need. He adjusted himself on top of her and the restraints died as his tongue was very quickly replaced with his cock as he rammed it into her with such strength the entire bed shifted. Still, it hadn't hurt at all, instead Melantriche took all of him readily with slick walls and the sudden friction against her womb caused to tighten. She was simply overwhelmed as her climax overtook her with wave after wave of spastic pleasure. Finally limp, she lay there with her arms drawn tightly around him as he thrusted in and out of her, then finally at his own climax he groaned erotically. She gave a weak cry as he pumped her hard, each thrust filling her even further with his essence. Then at last, he fell limp against her.

~*~

The experience had been so intense it sent Melantriche over a wild haze of bliss that she couldn't even remember dozing off from. But she opened her eyes again and was drowsy from slumber. The world outside was still dark, and Apollo still lay beside her asleep. She watched him for a time, admiring how young and sweet he looked with all manner of hardness gone from his face. She admired the way his limbs were relaxed, how beautiful his thick eyelashes were swept over his lids and how they glowed with light from the fire, which was now a little dimmed but still burning heartily. She sighed, feeling perfectly happy next to this lovely man who she couldn't deny she was completely and irrevocably in love with. Even with the sore sensation of the burns over her body. Well, to be honest, compared to all the other injuries she'd sustained from the last month, she figured this one was certainly not the worst.

He stirred. His eyes fluttered open, revealing the sky blues underneath, bright and beautiful even in the darkness. It occurred to Melantriche that she had never woken up to the sight of him before, or even saw him asleep. He left very abruptly before. That thought made her suddenly very self-conscious of herself, still naked. She pulled the covers tighter around herself, giving a small shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi." He said back. He reached out slowly and touched her face. "How can you stand being so small?"

"I've always been small, but I don't mind."

"I would mind. If I were mortal, and small, I'd be terrified." She frowned. Again, he wasn't the same Apollo she knew from yesterday. He seemed numb, anxious, possibly desperate.

"Are you ok?"

"No." He whispered hoarsely, shutting his eyes right. "Something terrible happened."

"Tell me about it." Quickly, she added, "If you want. I can listen." He exhaled through his nose, and didn't respond for a minute. Just when Melantriche felt embarrassed for even asking and decided to forget about it, he spoke without opening his eyes again.

"There was a boy." A boy. Melantriche nodded, though he didn't see her. "And I liked him very much. He was a prisoner, poor boy, but every day he watched me as I drove my chariot across the sky.

"I was doing just the same and... I never saw him coming. He had created wings of steel for himself, and they were put together with wax." Wax. Melantriche shuddered. "And he fell. Because he was trying to get to me, I melted the wax and... I killed him."

Melantriche started suddenly, recognizing the story.

"You're talking about Icarus?" He opened surprised eyes at her.

"How do you know about that?"

"That's a famous story. Icarus, the son of Daedalus. He flew too close to the sun and so he fell into the ocean." Apollo frowned, eyes moving around downwards as if trying to remember something, then sighed and draped an arm over his eyes.

"Right, I just remembered. That was centuries ago."

"But what could that mean?"

"I don't know. To be honest, I don't know. Funny thing, gods. We boast of our power when half the time, we don't even know their limits. Where they begin or where they end. Melanie, I'm a god of prophecies. But sometimes I remember things so vividly, it's like I'm recalling it for the first time. And I can't tell whether it's the past or the present or the future." Melantriche pondered this, her fingers trailing over the embroidery of a pillow. Apollo gave a harsh laugh suddenly. "Wings made of steel, can you imagine? That foolish, intelligent boy."

"That sounds like a pickle." Melantriche said. Gently, she added, "but maybe it's not such a bad thing that Icarus died." Apollo raised his arm to stare at her.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, it's like... to you, the past and present are like a big top that spins over and over, and you just can't tell which one. Maybe.. I mean, maybe since you've burned Icarus into legend, another you is holding him. In another time and place." Realizing that she was rambling, she ducked her head and flushed. "At least, that's what I think about it." Some silence passed, and Apollo shrugged.

"Another place, another time." He mused. He scooted closer to her, touching her ribs beneath the covers. "Perhaps that may very well be true."

"Lord Apollo, I'm in love with you." Melantriche said, not really thinking because she felt sleepy again. "I like you more than anyone else in the whole world." She closed her eyes and felt his hand stroking her head.

"I like you, Melantriche. You're a cute and funny mortal." She held onto those words as she drifted back into sleep.