Chapter Text
The Sun God sees all on the earth, and all on the earth try to reach the Sun, enraptured by his beauty, by the need to be pleased, be seen.
⛮ The Sun went up, rose over the horizon, his eyes roaming the earth, his rays caressing all creatures. Clytie longed to be in his presence.
⛮ Clytie looked up to him, her eyes set, turned to the blazing light. Freckles bloomed on her face, her skin ablaze, a red hue on her cheeks.
⛮ She loved him. How could she not? He was the light of her world, the salvation of everything made with the Breath of Life. He was the harbinger of warmth, a radiant light, the Eye of the World, everseen, allsighted.
⛮ She was a princess of Babylon, a noble lady, the daughter of a great man, a bride to be. A sibling of many, born and raised in a golden cage.
⛮ He was the light, far upraised, elated. On light feet, he danced across the sky, his warmth kindled the world. Life-giver. He was out of reach for the mortal, bound to earth. She was doomed to be consumed by her longing.
⛮ He was quick to slay down those who wronged him. A cruel heart, a virile mind, swift fingers on his bow. Born and raised to protect and avenge his mother.
⛮ He and his twin killed Niobe’s children one after another, even when the grieving mother desperately pleaded for the life of the youngest. But nothing escapes the unyielding eyes of the Sun.
⛮ It is not beneath him to see the misdemeanour of his kin, to taunt the cuckold and punish the cheating wife, though the Sun-Bearer never hesitated to reach for a beautiful Maiden to warm his bed.
⛮ But none of that crossed the mortal's mind. And as the Sun has crossed the sky, he now sank towards earth, a long-awaited union. Clytie followed him with her eyes, loyally locked on him.
The Sun’s eyes wandered over the earth, day after day, from the moment he rose in the east to the time he descended in the west, to rest the steeds. And while traveling, he saw her: One of the daughters of the King of Persia, a princess of Babylon, more beautiful and graceful than any woman before her. Her hands were skilled with the yarn, her voice soft with her maids and sisters, her eyes ablaze with kindness, a light within. Apollo was enthralled and cursed by the revengeful Venus: Every morning, he rose quicker to the sky, and in the evening, he delayed the sunset, only to be able to let his eyes roam over Babylon, to let his rays caress the princess’s skin. Winter came late, and light stayed longer than it should, because Apollo dawdled and slowed his route across the sky. With the deferred seasons, growth halted, and harvest failed when the earth burned and burst open. The Sun so often generously poured his love to various creatures, directing his gaze to more than one Maiden. But none of that happened now, Leucothoe, and she alone captured his eyes, his attention, his mind.
Swiftly, Apollo approached his beloved, clad in her mother’s skin, his light diminished, his godliness obscured, soft and familiar and safe, to be trusted. Leucothoe welcomed him, and in the confinement of her chamber, he let his light swell to reveal his eternal radiance. First, the Maiden was afraid and overwhelmed. Some say, the warmth of the loving embrace called to her heart, but who was she, a mortal Maiden, to fend off an infatuated God’s approach?
Neither Leucothoe’s cries nor Apollo's radiance could be missed, and so Clytie, the sister, witnessed what was not meant to reach her ears. Oh, what despair love leads to! The harm a wretched and spurned soul can cause!
The wickedness of mortals parallels that of the eternal Gods and Goddesses, and a harmed Maiden is as resourceful as a scorned Deity.
This is how it transpired.
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"Did you know, my sister, yes, my sister Leucothoe, at night, she’s not alone. Didn’t you hear them? What a pity, what a shame, what a desecration! Oh yes, Leucothoe."
When the rumors spread, they reached the king, mighty and high on his throne and with harsh words, he condemned his daughter for her wrongdoing on propriety and morale and buried her deep underground, where the Sun never reaches, never listening to the accusation she hurled at the God desecrating her.
To rescue rushed the blazing Sun, infatuated with the love Venus bestowed upon him, and quick were the steeds, and nothing is faster than the rays of light.
Apollo, the light-bringer, was quickly at his lover's side, yet it is not magic that rules this world, but piety and miracles – and those have limits. Death is death, even to the Gods and Goddesses, and while the Sun caresses and encourages life, he doesn’t create it. It is not his to breathe the breath of life into mortals.
The Sun despaired over his loss, and nevermore did he stray from his path, and he withdrew all his light from Clytie, the malicious sister.
In her despair, Clytie sat down on a rock, cold and bare, watching the light of all life from afar, rising and climbing over the sky, up and gone, up and gone, days without cease, without rest, without water and food and warmth and love. Only tears were her company, and the longing for a love she never gained. Until finally, her feet became roots and her face a flower, and round and round she turned.
Round and round she turns, a pretty flower, even today, to follow the Sun on his way across the sky, to seek what little warmth and light she can receive.
Her love unchanged.