I Broke His Heart to Save Him

I was the one who broke Apollo's heart. He was the golden heir of the Sun, my childhood love, and I pushed him away so hard that I drove him all the way to the frozen wastes beyond the North Wind. He stayed there for eight years. Now he was back. He had a new nymph goddess by his side, and they were going to hold their sacred divine marriage right here in our polis. That same week, the temple oracle gave me my final prophecy: I had three months left to live. When my mother wheeled me outside to see him, Apollo's mouth curled into that cruel, mocking smile I remembered all too well. His dark eyes swept over me from head to toe, taking in the wheelchair, the thinness of my arms, and the ghost-like paleness of my face. "Well, well," he said, his voice low and sharp. "Eight years and you look like a shade. Can't even stand anymore?" I tugged my sleeve down, hiding the dark scars—the marks left by years of divine magic failing to save me. I kept my voice steady. "An accident at the altar. A minor divine backlash. It’s nothing." He let out a short, cold laugh. "Right. Anyway, our divine wedding is coming up. You should be Chloe's bridesmaid." I smiled back at him. I had gotten good at smiling through pain over the years. "I'm sorry, but I'm leaving soon. Somewhere far away." I gently patted my mother's hand. She didn't say a word, just gripped the handles of the chair and pushed me back toward the house. I didn't look back. Chapter 1 My mother had just helped me into bed when Apollo's mother showed up. I wasn't surprised. Lady Leto had always had perfect timing—bad timing, depending on how you looked at it. She stood in my doorway with that same expression she had worn eight years ago. Guilt and urgency mixed together, like she was about to ask for something she had no right to ask for, but she was going to ask anyway because she had already decided that her son's divine future mattered more than my life. "Aria," she said, stepping inside. Her voice was soft, almost gentle. That was how she always started. "I need a favor. A very difficult favor." I watched her face turn red. She kept opening her mouth and closing it again, like a fish gasping for air. I didn't let her finish. I already knew why she was here. It was the same as eight years ago. Eight years ago, when I first received the oracle's prophecy, Lady Leto rushed into my chamber before the tears on my face had even dried. I was still trying to understand what a mortal curse meant and struggling to process the fact that my life was fading at eighteen when she knelt right there on the cold marble floor. "Aria, please. Don't drag Apollo down. The High King just chose him for an eight-year campaign in the frozen wastes beyond the North Wind. If he finds out you are cursed to die, he will never leave." I remembered how her voice had cracked, how her eyes had glistened with tears. She looked so sincere. So desperate. "You and Apollo grew up together. You've been together all these years. I'm begging you—break his heart. He is destined to inherit the throne of the Sun, and you are fading. How can you hold him back?" I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat was too tight. She took my silence as permission to continue. "I've already worked it out. I'll find a young mortal warrior—someone from a neighboring polis, someone Apollo doesn't know. You just have to pretend to kiss him down by the bank of the Anphissos river. Let Apollo see. Pretend you betrayed him. Force him to leave." She said it like it was simple. Like breaking Apollo's heart was no harder than casting aside a cloak. And because I was eighteen and terrified and convinced that I was already as good as dead, I said yes. So instead of seeking a cure from the gods, instead of fighting for my life, I spent my first weeks of dying pretending to betray the only person I had ever loved. I forced him to hate me. I drove him to the edge of the world. Now, eight years later, Lady Leto stood in my chamber again. "Aria, don't blame me. I have no choice." She twisted her hands together. "Apollo's new bride, Chloe—she is a high nymph of royal lineage. When Apollo ascends, she will rule alongside him. They are perfect together in every way. I'm begging you—just let them be happy." She paused, and her voice dropped lower. "You know how much Apollo used to love you. He carried you in his heart since you were both children. If he ever finds out the truth about what happened back then... I'm scared. I'm so scared of what he might do." "So please. Just stay away from him. You're dying anyway. It's not like you should be leaving the estate, right?" The moment that word left her mouth—dying—my mother slammed the clay pitcher she was holding onto the floor. Terracotta shattered. Water splashed across the stone tiles. My mother's face was red. Her whole body trembled with fury. I knew she was about to explode, to say things that couldn't be taken back, to burn bridges that I wasn't ready to burn. So I grabbed her arm and shook it gently. A small, silent plea. Please, Mom. Not yet. She looked down at me, and her anger crumpled into something softer, sadder. She bit her lip and stepped back. I turned to Leto. My voice came out calm—calmer than I felt. "Lady Leto, I can promise you one thing. I won't tell Apollo what happened eight years ago. But I can't promise not to see him. I can't stay away." Leto's face tightened. She opened her mouth to argue, but I kept going. "You don't understand. I've spent eight years fighting this curse. Eight years of purification rituals, failed enchantments, and pain that made me want to tear my own skin off. The only thing that kept me breathing was the thought of seeing him again." My voice cracked a little. I steadied it. "So no. I won't hide in this house until I pass. I'm going to see him. Every chance I get. And if that makes things difficult for you and your perfect Chloe, then I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry enough to stop." Leto stared at me. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she nodded stiffly, turned, and walked out of the chamber. My mother didn't say anything. She just sat on the edge of my bed and took my hand. I leaned my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes. The truth was, I hadn't been entirely honest with Lady Leto. Yes, I wanted to see Apollo. But not because I hoped to win him back. I knew that was impossible. He had a divine bride now. A sacred union ahead. A whole life that didn't include me. I just wanted to be near him a few more times before my time ran out. That was all. Was that really too much to ask? Chapter 2 No sooner had Lady Leto left than I heard Apollo's voice coming from outside the estate. I sat up a little straighter in bed, my heart suddenly pounding. I hadn't expected him to come here. Not after everything. Eight years ago, he had hated me so much that he couldn't even stand to breathe the same air. He had stood outside my door for three days straight, demanding answers. His voice still rang in my head, harsh and jagged, trembling with anger and heartache. "Aria! Come out! Tell me why! Who is he? Who is the man you kissed by the river bank?" I had watched him from my chamber window. He didn't sleep. He didn't eat. He just stood there, waiting. On the third day, I finally went to the door. I didn't open it. I stood behind the wood and spoke through the crack. "I have no love left for you, Apollo. We are finished." I heard him suck in a breath. Then silence. I thought he had left. But when I looked through the peephole, he was still there. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. His face was white. Then he smashed his fist into the temple pillar at the entrance. Once. Twice. Three times. Divine power cracked the stone down the middle, and blood stained his knuckles. He never laid a hand on me. He never threatened me. But after that day, the sight of me repulsed him. If he saw me along the daffodil riverbanks, he turned around and walked the other way. If he passed by my home, his face would twist like he'd smelled something rotten. He stopped going to the Sacred Spring—the place where we had spent every summer evening since we were children, lying on the grass and watching the stars. If someone mentioned my name in front of him, he shut them down cold. "Why are we talking about Aria?" he would say, his voice flat and hard. "She makes me sick." The day he left for the frozen north, I stood in the pouring rain to see him off one last time. I didn't go close. I stayed at the edge of the crowd, hoping he wouldn't notice me. But he did. He looked right at me. His eyes were empty. He reached into his tunic and pulled out the golden pendant I had given him, engraved with my name. He threw it at my feet. After that, he took the scroll of letters filled with every promise we had ever made each other and tore it to pieces, scattering them into the mud. He gave me a grim, dark smile. Then he turned and walked away without looking back. So no. I hadn't expected him to come to my estate ever again. But now, eight years later, he was standing outside. My mother hadn't fully closed the door after Lady Leto left, and I could see him through the gap. He was holding Chloe's hand. She was beautiful, tall and golden, with the effortless confidence of a royal nymph. "My lady," Apollo was saying to my mother. His voice was different now—deeper, colder, more controlled. "Are you still upset about what happened eight years ago? Is that why you won't let Aria help us prepare for the sacred rites?" He paused. "Look, I don't have feelings for Aria anymore. I've moved on. We grew up together—if we cannot be united in divine marriage, we can at least be civil." My mother didn't answer. Her face was stone. Chloe stepped forward, smiling brightly. "Auntie, Apollo has told me everything about him and Aria. Sure, Aria betrayed him back when they were young. But we were all young once, right? He's forgiven her. It's ancient history." She laughed—a light, tinkling sound. "Besides, I should thank her. If she hadn't betrayed Apollo, I never would have found him. He's the best thing that ever happened to me." "So please, don't hold a grudge. It was actually my idea to have Aria help us. We've been away from the polis for eight years. We don't know the territory anymore. And Aria is our age—I trust her taste. She'll pick something beautiful for the divine ceremony, I'm sure." Eight years ago, all I had wanted was for Apollo to forget me. To move on. To be happy. But now, hearing him talk about the betrayal so calmly—like it was just a thing that happened, like it didn't still burn—and hearing that he had told his new bride everything about us, every detail of our life together... my chest still ached. A dull, spreading pain. Like someone was pressing their thumb into a bruise. My mother's face went red. Her lips trembled. I knew she was about to say something she would regret. "Get out," she finally said. Her voice shook. "Both of you. Get out of my house." Chloe's smile faltered. "My lady—" "I said get out." Apollo didn't move. He just stood there, looking past my mother, toward the hallway where my bedchamber was. Like he was trying to see through the walls. I sat up in bed. My head spun for a moment. I took a breath, steadying myself. "Mom," I called out. "Come help me into the chair. I want to talk to them." There was a long silence. Then I heard my mother's footsteps, heavy and reluctant, coming toward my room. She pushed the door open with wet eyes, but she didn't argue. She walked straight to the vanity, added a touch of color to my cheeks and lips, and neatly combed my hair. She knew what this meant to me. "Thank you, Mom," I whispered. She didn't answer. She just lifted me into the rolling chair and pushed me out the door. Chapter 3 When my mother wheeled me out the door, Apollo's frown deepened. His eyes swept over me again. He took in my hair, the paint on my lips, and the way I sat slumped in the chair because my strength couldn't hold me upright anymore. I saw something flicker across his face. It was probably disgust or pity, and I couldn't tell which was worse. "What is wrong with you?" he said. "You were spoiled as a child, and you are still spoiled now. A minor divine backlash at the altar should have cleared up by now, yet you still make your mother push you around." I smiled at him with the calm and practiced smile I had perfected over eight years of lying to everyone I loved. "The temple healer said the backlash damaged my nerves," I said. "My legs simply will not obey me." Chloe jumped in before Apollo could respond. She looped her arm through his and leaned into his shoulder to stake her claim. "Don't mind him, Aria. He has been in the frozen north for too long, so he is cold to everyone except me." My chest tightened. It was true that Apollo was cold to everyone now. In our youth, he used to carry me on his back along the sunlit riverbanks whenever my feet grew tired. He would whisper jokes in my ear during sacred assemblies just to make me laugh. That bright youth was completely gone now. But once, with me, he had never been cold. Once, I was the only person who could bring out his warmth. I pushed the feeling down and looked at Chloe. "Do you really want me to come with you to help pick the venue and the rings?" She nodded eagerly. "Of course I do. As I said, I trust your taste." Apollo said nothing and simply stared at me with a tight jaw. "All right," I said. "I will come." We made small talk for a few more minutes. Chloe asked me how I had been, which was the kind of polite question no one actually wanted an honest answer to. I gave her the usual lies about being fine and busy. Apollo did not speak again. He stood there with his arms crossed and looked at everything except me. Then they left. That night, I was lying in bed and staring at the painted ceiling when I felt it. A whisper of golden divine power brushed against my consciousness. It was light and tentative, like a soft knock on a door he was not sure would open. I held my breath. My heart started slamming against my ribs so hard that I was sure my mother could hear it in the next room. Eight years ago, after I pretended to betray him, I severed our sacred soul-thread. I did not want him to feel my emotions through the divine bond. I did not want him to sense my guilt, my grief, or my desperate love for him, so cutting him off completely was easier. I thought I would never feel his mind-whisper again. I thought that ancient bond was sealed forever. But now it was open just a crack. He did not speak at first. The divine resonance just hung there, pulsing with a dark energy I could not name. I could feel everything churning behind it, including anger, disgust, and something else that he was trying very hard to bury. It felt almost like longing. No, that could not be right. Why would he long for me when he had Chloe now, a sacred marriage ahead, and a brand new life? I waited. Finally, I sent a quiet thought back into the golden thread. "Apollo?" A long pause followed, so long that I thought he had cut the connection. Then his voice came through. It was low and cold, sounding like the northern wind sweeping across a frozen plain. "Tomorrow. The venue. I will pick you up in the morning." My throat tightened because I had missed the sound of his voice so much. Even now, cold and distant and bitter as it was, it wrapped around me like a long-lost memory that I had been searching for in the dark for eight years. "All right," I said. There was another pause, and I could feel him hesitating as if there was more he wanted to say. Then a woman's soft voice drifted through from his end of the thread. "Apollo, come help me..." It was Chloe. I swallowed hard. "Goodnight, Apollo," I whispered. He severed the golden link instantly. I buried my face in my pillow and let the tears fall. I cried until my head ached, my eyes grew swollen, and the linen was soaked through. I had prepared myself for this and knew he belonged to someone else now. But feeling it, hearing her voice in his private quarters, and knowing she was in his palace and in his life still tore me apart. Chapter 4 At dawn, I was too nervous to eat. My mother lifted a spoon of broth to my lips, but I turned my head away. “You need to eat,” she said. “Later.” “You always say that.” I gave her a thin smile. “Mother, please. Just help me get ready.” She sighed, a tired, heavy sigh that had become her signature over these eight years, and went to fetch my cloak. I asked her to wheel me down to the sacred marble arch by the riverbank before sunrise. The morning air was cold and damp, the wild grass glistening with heavy dew. The ancient white pillars stood tall against the pale sky. This was where I had first kissed Apollo when we were fifteen, too young to understand what divine destiny truly meant. This was where Lady Leto forced me to pretend to betray him, driving him away to the north. And this was where I had waited for him a thousand times before. So I waited again. The sun rose higher. The dew dried on the stone steps. Riverbirds called through the reeds. Apollo didn't come. Noon passed. The sun sat high overhead, and my mother shifted restlessly beside me. "He's not coming," she said. "He said he would." "People say many things." I tried reaching out through our frayed golden bond. Nothing. Just a cold, empty void. Maybe he had severed the connection again. Maybe he had changed his mind. Or maybe Chloe had whispered poison into his ear while he held her in his palace. My mother urged me to go home, but I refused. "This is destroying you," she said, her voice tight with grief. "You're going to collapse." "Then let me. At least I'll collapse here, by the river, where I waited for him so many times before." She didn't argue. She simply sat beside my chair and held my hand. Finally, in the early afternoon, a cold whisper brushed against my mind. Two words: On our way. My mother saw my expression and knew. She stood up, brushed off her dress, and forced a brave smile. She loved me too much to say no. When the golden chariot pulled up, Chloe leaned over the gilded railing with a lazy, triumphant smile. Her hair was softly undone, Apollo's dark cloak draped over her shoulders. "Sorry we're late, Aria," she said smoothly. "Apollo didn't let me get much sleep last night." She said it casually, flaunting her place at his side. I pressed my fingernails into my palms until it hurt. The sharp pain kept me grounded. Apollo stepped down. He lifted my chair into the rear compartment without a single glance at me. Then he took the reins, and my mother helped me into the back carriage. He caught my reflection in the polished bronze frame—just a brief, cold flicker of his eyes—and said to Chloe, "Why explain anything to her?" Chloe shrugged, her golden bracelets chiming softly. "Just being friendly." I looked down at my lap, unable to stop my hands from shaking. Apollo drove fast—far too fast. The chariot jostled violently over every stone, and my weak body couldn't brace itself. I slid across the bench with every sharp turn, my aching joints slamming against the wooden frame and the leather strap digging into my chest. I remembered how he used to drive when we were young. Gentle and smooth. He would reach back with one hand to hold mine, slowing down before every turn. He knew I grew faint easily, and he never wanted me to suffer even a moment's discomfort. Now he snapped the reins hard into a sharp turn, throwing my body against the side of the carriage. A faint whimper escaped my throat over the thunder of hooves. He heard it. A short, dark laugh escaped his lips. "Did you think I'd go easy on you?" he said, staring straight ahead. "Those days are long gone." I quickly wiped my eyes before he could look back. "No," I said quietly. "You should drive carefully for Chloe now. She is your bride." He laughed again, harsh and bitter. He whipped the reins harder. The chariot lurched and my head cracked against the wood. But I smiled anyway. At least he still hated me. At least I still took up some small space in his heart, even if it was filled entirely with rage. That had to be enough. We reached the venue—a grand divine pavilion on the cliff, famous for its view of the sacred mountains and private dining chambers. Apollo stopped the chariot and stepped down. He opened the carriage door and lifted me out. For one dizzying second, I was in his arms again. Warm. Solid. Heartbreakingly familiar. His scent hit me—sun-warmed cedar, golden nectar, and that distinct trace that belonged only to him. I had dreamed of that scent for eight years. I had tried to recall it through long, painful nights when the curse made me forget what warmth felt like. And now he was holding me. My throat locked up. My eyes burned. But he set me into my chair quickly—far too quickly—and turned to Chloe. "Give me the purifying water," he said. Chloe handed him a crystal flask. He poured the scented water over his hands and scrubbed them with a linen cloth. Then another. And another. He wiped his skin as if he had touched something vile. Chapter 5 Chloe let out a light laugh. "Don't mind him, Aria. He's very particular about his divine touch now. He can't stand anyone else brushing against him—a habit from the northern wastes, I suppose." I watched him scrub until his knuckles were red, forcing myself to look away. It wasn't about cleanliness. Eight years ago, whenever I touched him—holding his hands, wrapping my arms around his waist, or falling asleep against his chest—he had never pulled away. He had never flinched. This was deliberate. He was showing me that every inch of skin I had ever touched now repulsed him. He was erasing me. We entered the pavilion, and the host escorted us to a high terrace chamber overlooking the winding Anphissos River. Apollo ordered for the table, calling for rich northern delicacies—spiced mountain game, frost-berries, and heavy honeyed wine from the polar lands. A lavish spread. He had hated those heavy, bitter flavors when we were young. So had I. We used to prefer fresh figs, soft bread, and light mountain honey. Yet here he was, ordering northern food as if it were his favorite in the world. He wasn't ordering it for himself. He was ordering it for Chloe—who smiled delightedly, leaning against his arm. I didn't want to cause trouble. My stomach could barely tolerate food anyway. So when the attendant turned to me, I asked softly for a clear vegetable broth. Apollo snapped. "You're already thin as a shade," he said, his voice so sharp the attendant flinched. "Now you're starving yourself? What is wrong with you?" A bitter, aching warmth flooded my chest. He still noticed. Even through his anger, he noticed. I kept my voice smooth. "Theron prefers me delicate." Theron. The name of the young warrior Lady Leto had hired eight years ago. I had seen him for five minutes before he disappeared forever. I didn't even remember his face. But the name still worked. It always did. Apollo went pale, then flushed with rage. His jaw clenched tightly. He shoved his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor. "I'm stepping outside," he said coldly, turning on his heel. Chloe waited. She waited barely two seconds—just long enough for the heavy doors to close—and then threw a goblet of ice-cold spring water straight into my face. The shock made me gasp. Cold water dripped down my cheeks, soaking my tunic. "You pathetic shade," Chloe whispered, her voice dropping into something dark and cruel, entirely different from her sweet tone around Apollo. "Do you think playing fragile will win him back? Do you think looking broken will make him forget me and our child?" I sat there dripping, my hands trembling violently in my lap. She leaned closer. "Apollo is mine, Aria. He has been mine for years, and he will rule the Sun with me. Don't think for a second that being his childhood romance gives you any claim to him." I said nothing. She slapped me across the face. The sharp crack echoed off the marble walls. My head snapped side-ways, my cheek throbbing with heat. The cold water I could endure. I felt I deserved that much for clinging to these last moments with him. But she couldn't strike me. Without thinking, I reached out to push her away. My arms were so weakened by the curse that my palm merely brushed her shoulder, nudging her back half a step. Then she collapsed. She dropped to the floor like a wilted flower, screaming out. "My stomach! Someone help me! She attacked me! I'm carrying Apollo's heir!" I stared at my trembling hands, then at her writhing on the marble. I couldn't understand it. I was so weak I could barely hold a spoon. How could I have knocked her down? Apollo burst back in. He rushed over and saw Chloe on the floor, her face twisted in agony—fake agony. For a split second, her eyes flicked toward me, her lips curling into a subtle, triumphant smile. Then, seeing Apollo, her expression melted back into terror. "Apollo!" she sobbed, clutching her abdomen. "Help me! She pushed me! She tried to harm our child!" Apollo turned to me. His face was carved of ice, his eyes burning with pure hatred. "Aria," he said, his voice dropping dangerously low. "What did you do?" "Apollo, I didn't—she's lying—I barely touched her—" "You barely touched her?" His divine aura flared, heavy and suffocating. "She's on the floor, Aria! She is bearing my heir!" "I know, but—" "Eight years ago, you betrayed me! You threw our vows into the mud!" His voice shook the room. "And now, when I've finally rebuilt my life, you try to harm my bride?" I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. What could I say? Tell him the truth about Leto? Tell him I was dying? He wouldn't believe me anyway. Apollo stepped closer, his heavy footsteps echoing against the stone, stopping right in front of my chair. Then he struck the frame with his divine power. The chair rattled violently. With a ruthless shove, he sent the chair rolling backward. The wheels spun out of control across the slick marble, crashing hard into a heavy pedestal before flipping over. I hit the floor hard, my head slamming against the sharp edge of the marble table. A sickening crack echoed in my ears. Something thick and warm began trickling down my forehead, blinding my right eye. Blood. I lay on the cold stone, surrounded by shattered goblets and spilled wine. My ears rang deafeningly, my vision blurring into streaks of gold and red. Apollo didn't look down at me. He gathered Chloe into his arms, holding her as if she were delicate glass. He kissed her forehead, whispering gentle words against her hair. Then he carried her out of the chamber. He didn't look back once. I lay staring at the painted ceiling as the host, attendants, and guards rushed in. Someone called for a healer; someone else tried to press a cloth to my bleeding head. I reached out, clutching the cloak of a guard who recognized my family. "Tell my mother..." my voice was barely a gasp. "Tell her not to blame him. Tell her... it was my choice. Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer." The guard's face went pale, nodding rapidly. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness sweep over me. Eight years. Eight years of enduring the curse. Eight years of holding on, wishing only to see Apollo one last time. I had seen him. That was enough.