@yharnum was beauty incarnate, putting every golden thing, every shining thing sought by gods, men, elves, and dragons alike to utter shame. he felt it in his throat every time he saw her, just a glimpse, a curl of her hair, the curve of her cheek— the fabric of her gown as she turned a corner, always evading him. there was no mischief in her now, though, no hints of joy at all; just reverent grief and a bowed head. she stood in a garden he was loathe to step into, a rare acknowledgement of her privacy. and maybe he was on good behavior because of what dozed strapped against his divine heart; a warm babe, a son, a child. fitful the last time he’d been here, skin clammy with illness, a darkness that wouldn’t let go. kenneth was healed now, and he owed galadriel every thanks; he’d hauled his heart along on this sacred trip, unwilling to leave him with even his most trusted advisors, his twin offering her watchful eye to no avail.
because the cloth that swathed baby kenneth felt like a second skin now, a part of him, and apollo did not want to stop fussing over his boy. and didn’t galadriel deserve to see what she had done? what healing she had inspired? there was no easing the ache in her, no righting the absences— this he knew. apollo had loved and lost many over the centuries, but he had not understood bone deep grief until asclepius was struck down, stolen from him. then an increase of dead children to pick him halfway apart, wounds and wounds and wounds for a being who’d never die.
they had many differences, he and galadriel, their timing never quite right; but in loss, he thought they could understand each other. help each other, even. kenneth stirred, aware perhaps of a shift in the air, and apollo reached in a silk pocket fixed to his shining cloak for a carefully wrapped block of sweet, fulfilling cheese. he placed it in the tiny unfurled hand a beat before ken actually reached out, anticipating the act, the little grip of his child strong, and he smiled. proud and endeared. and when galadriel turned, apollo never having to clear his throat or speak to get her attention, he inclined his head in acknowledgement.
❛ fair one, i apologize for my untimely interruption. ❜a first time for everything. he thought she might have been finishing with her ritual visit to the trees and flowers and streams, but an interruption was an interruption. and he knew by now to take her seriously when she was solemn. ❛ but i thought you might wish to see the fruits of your labor. come, take a peek. the bundle breathes. ❜
@yharnum <3
