Eros

The new incarnation of Aphrodite, the mortals said, the princess of a Greek kingdom, who was perfect in every way.

Mother sent us, her hounds to hunt her down, to pluck this flower from her garden. She would not be discarded by a girl with parallel eyes and good skin.

I tried, I had slipped into her rooms in the dark, I had drawn a poisoned arrow, only to be disarmed by her beauty while she was sleeping.

I came to her like shadow, drawn to her light, I was careful with my footfall across the polished stone as I crossed to her bed, moving in tandem with her breath, to stand over her and her bed.

Down the hall, I could hear the mumble of drunk men musing over the heroism that died in their youth, when they had good knees and strong arms. No one else stirred. I could look upon Psyche unbothered.

She was like marble, perfectly draped on the mattress. I pushed a curl of black hair behind her ear. Her pulse kicked against my finger as I brushed her skin, and I felt my own heart set to her beat. I exhaled, smiling as she mumbled about a fly before grumbling and falling deeper into sleep.

I was jealous of Morpheus then, he could see what color her eyes were in the dreams he displayed, and in my boyish greed, I kissed her in the hopes to know. Her eyes flashed open, bright as sun, and I evaporated like smoke, pinning myself behind a pillar to not be seen by such precious eyes.

“Who’s there?”

Her voice was wispy from sleep.

I said to the dark, “Your husband.”

Vile rose in my throat. Your husband? Worry prickled my skin. What if I was like Ares, strolling and taking an already bedded bride, or Zeus, no, I did not wish to hurt her with my claim.

“No one has dared to marry me,” Psyche’s voice now sobered, cold, hurt. The mattress creaked as she rose to stand. I tensed, peeking to see her. Her eyebrows darked her golden eyes, her anger pouted her lips, “Who is my husband?”

I sighed. I had forgotten that she had been cursed by beauty, and that no one had dared to touch her, unless be scorned by Mother.

I stepped out, and watched her mortal eyes search for me in the night. Relief swept over me as her eyes passed over me. She would not burn like papyrus in my presence, for she could not see me.

“A god does,” I said. My chest puffed up. I smiled as she looked past me, her eyes rounded in awe.

“Which one?” Her voice was soft, careful.

I strode up to her, taking in my fiancée.

“Cupid,” I said. I held my breath. There were better suitors in the pantheon, Ares, Poseidon, Hermes, Apollo, I was a boy to them, a child that kept losing his arrows.

Psyche’s worry unraveled, she turned her head up to me, her eyes brightened. “Cupid?”

“Yes, for such a beauty, you own the god of love himself - me.” I swallowed.

I took her hand, she didn’t flinch. She followed my grip to look me in the eye. I held my breath as she studied the shape of my face. I smiled as she fretted her brow to see better.

“It is better if you don’t try to see me, I don’t want to ruin our night,” I said. I ran my thumb across her knuckle. She halted in her search for me, looking at my finger.

“What do you mean?”

“Mortals can’t look upon gods, they turn into salt, smoke, nothing, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You must be Cupid,” she giggled, “What a bold thing to say.”

I tensed. “I am sorry, I assumed-,”

“This is what you know,” she corrected, her voice bright with laughter, “I am lonely, and I beautiful, you are Cupid, it is night, we are alone.”

Psyche took a step toward me, her sweet breath brushing over my mouth. I swallowed.

“What don’t I know?”

Psyche giggled, she sighed, then said, “I will have you, because you are honest, kind,” her fingers roamed up my arm, making my muscle go numb with her touch. I swallowed.

“As love should me,” I whispered, to her fingers.

We lost control of our bodies, crashing into each other like water, drowning under each other.

I had deposited love into mortal bodies, I had been sent to execute courtship, I have seen what love did. But to feel it, was to surrender or fear of losing it. My hand combed through her thick hair as she rose above me, her hands on my chest. She giggled, whispering, “I never thought of gods having hearts.”

I gaped at her, transfixed, I craned my neck to kiss her cheek, whispering in her ear, “It is yours.”

Psyche tensed, I swallowed. She turned her head, her eyes fixed on the pillow to my left. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you fall in love everyday?”

“Never. I will love you, everyday, Psyche,” I said.

Her face softened. I kissed her cheek and she pressed against my lips, and once again, we unraveled, building ourselves up in the darkness. Her fingers pressed into muscle, the grooves of my rib, weaved through my curls.

Between breath she would ask me questions.

“What color are these curls?”

“Black,”

“What shade is your skin?”

“Tan, like sand in the sun,”

“What color are your eyes?”

“Yours. I am all yours, Psyche.”

*

That morning, Mother met me when I returned to my cage, her home, my feet heavy, my head light, my skin still electric with the touch of Psyche, who I left sleeping in her bed, her hair contorted across her face and the bed, her mouth parted as she inhaled deep in dream.

Aphrodite was a blot stained in the corner of my eye. I turned to see that her arms were crossed, her polished nails pinching her tan skin as she glared at me. We stood on the balcony of her castle, a warm breeze tussled our hair, ribboning through my chiton. I pressed a hand to my chest, remembering the imprint of Psyche’s palms pressed against my body. Aphrodite squinted her eyes at me, I smoothed the ruffled fabric, averting her eyes.

“I gave you sight but alas, you are still blind,” she growled.

A bolt of fear dropped me to my knees. My hands searching for the skirt of her dress, but she stayed out of reach. My fingers dipped into her shadow.

“Ares told me you never reported to him.”

My shoulders tensed.

“I am not a soldier.”

“You are a traitor,” she spat. Her words settled on my skin like brine from the sea. I flexed my fingers. I swallowed. My teeth set against each other. I could feel the muscle of my jaw flex. I inhaled and said to her shadow, “Mother, I am what you made of me. I spread love all over the world. Should I not be in love too? If you listened to my heart beat, you would hear her name echoed throughout my body. ”

“No. To lay in bed with her, to smell of her - what would Zeus say when he hears that you have done this?”

I imagined Zeus watch me as he heard the news of my venture. How he would grin, how the sky would darken, how thunder would growl with hunger in the distance. My stomach knotted.

I dug my nails into the grooves of the tiles, “He will note that I take after my mother,” I whispered. I smiled at her shadow. How it shifted on her feet with unease. I looked at Aphrodite’s feet. How they were as clean as they day she strolled out of the sea, no sign of blood or scratch she caused from war of men fawning over her. How they made her stand tall as she cackled, “Love makes men do crazy things,” all the while sleeping outside of her marital bed, waging war under the sheets.

“Then this dog speaks the truth for its master,” I said to her feet.

“They have taken your tongue and made you a mongrel,” she hissed.

I gripped the floor as she struck me, my skin burning, exposed to oxygen, blood raining on my hands. I winced as she caught my throat, drawing her hands around my throat, baring her nails against my veins as she raised me up with ease. Her beauty made her face more horrific, her eyes dilated like that of her snake, her plucked eyebrows bristled, her pearly teeth glittering with spit, the goddess of beauty was just a masked monster.

She looked down at the river that rushed at the feet of her home. Her nails dug into my skin, my whimpers butting against her nails. The river glittered in the ravine as it churned through the land. Her fingers flexed against my throat. I watched as she stared at the river, her eyes growing wide with contemplation.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her still with Psyche in the world, that her beauty was mine, and that if Aphrodite wished, she could hide her face in her presence. Aphrodite had consumed so many women from wars, from cities who said they were the prettiest, let Psyche be spared.

She exhaled, relaxing, resuming her placid Aphrodite mask, she turned her head to me, still suspended in the air, “I will kill her. Stop me, and I will not be as gentle with you the next time.” she said. She took my gargling as obedience, disposing me on the marble. I reached out for her but her cape slipped through my fingers, as Aphrodite disappeared into her castle.

*

I searched for Psyche. Through the fields, the woods, under the shade, I employed Hermes to track her down and even he could not find her. Had Mother already stolen her away?

I retired underneath an elm tree, at sunset, the world was peeling the blue from the sky, lashes of purple and pinks unfurled in the air, I looked down at a meadow bright green with waving grass, electric with the trill of cicada. I wept to the bugs, thinking that they could keep my council to themselves as they slipped back into the earth for their hibernation, maybe they could speak to Psyche if she was already in the dirt. My chest ached. A tear slid down my cheek at the thought of my Psyche not being in the light.

“Psyche,” I said to the dusk, “I can’t save you.”

“Cupid.”

I looked up to see her peering around my leaning. Her eyes blinking down on me in their golden way. Her face turned in as she noted my scars, kneeling beside me to inspect how deep they were driven into my skin. She kissed my throat. Her tears stuck to my flesh.

“Cupid, I am so sorry.”

My arms clutched her, I pulled her in, breathing in her scent; wind, salt, olive, leaf litter from the woods.

“I can’t save you Psyche, I - I am not -”

My chest grew tight, the rest of the words I was going to say became tears that I transcribed into her chiton. Psyche reined me in with her nails twisting into my curls. A wail caught in my throat. I looked to her worried face.

“What is it?”

“Cupid,” she whispered sullenly, “Look at my chiton.”

I opened my eyes to see silver. The color of the moon. I lifted the fabric to my eyes, watching the silk drape across my fingers. I looked up at Psyche, she nodded to me, her face washed with tears.

“You committed to Artemis.”

“I did.”

She fell to her knees, taking my hands into hers. She wouldn’t look me in the eye as she said, “She told me Aphrodite knew that you had found me, and I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Breath caught in my throat. “Look at me.”

She did, and she did not burst into flames.

“You’re not -,”

“May your eyes always see for may you always make your mark.”

In the shadow of the elm glowed dapples of silver. Branches broke under feet. A set of antlers glowed in the light.

Her name dripped out of my mouth, “Artemis.”

The goddess strode of the dark, solidifying in the light. She wore the same silver chiton as Psyche, but a dark gray cape that draped over her shoulder with a chain that looked like dew drops. Her collection of arrows were strapped to her back, and to her side, the Horn of which she called her maidens. Artemis was beautiful, one of the most coveted virgin goddesses in the Pantheon, with the silver flecks that glinted in her tanned skin, her black hair, her golden eyes. She stood above Psyche and I, her head raised as she looked down as if we were prey. Her pupils dilated like a cat’s as she smiled down on us, a crescent grin.

“Artemis,” I gaped, “Why?”

Artemis chuckled, “A wolf and hound are siblings by their teeth,” her eyes darkened, “I was in love too.”

My shoulders fell at the memory of Orion, the only mortal that came close to felling prey like Artemis. Aphrodite put her under a spell to fall in love with a man as a punishment, and yet, Artemis helped us for love.

“Thank you,” I said.

Artemis nodded, tilting her antlers down to me, “Your love is now in the light, the Moon has said it so. Aphrodite will not harm your girl. I will not let her.”

Artemis snapped a finger, from Psyche’s back sprung two wings, large and round like that of a butterfly, the color of smoke edged with a purple that burned bright in the light.

“My Hunters are protected.” Artemis said with a nod, as if to herself.

Psyche craned her neck to see her new wings.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered, as if afraid to scare them off. I ran my hand over the wing.

“They are strong,” I said. I unfurled my wings and pumped them as if in greeting to hers.

She turned to me, her eyes bright. “We can fly together.” She gripped my forearms. I looked at her fingers on my arm. I swallowed. She felt my hesitation and pressed her finger tips against my veins.

“Cupid?”

“He can’t leave, Psyche, not yet.” Artemis watched me, her arms crossed, her eyebrow fretted.

Psyche’s eyes rounded, she stared at me in horror. She shook her head.

“No. No, Cupid, please, we can leave now,” her wings flashed as they flexed.

Mine stayed still.

“No. I have to do this, Psyche, for us. If anything happens,” I looked to Artemis, her eyes dark now. “Look for me at the river.”

“Cupid please. I can’t stand it if she touches you -,”

I grabbed Psyche’s arms and kissed her.

Psyche shook her head, she turned her head to her patron, who frowned at our display.

“Artemis, please, do something.”

Artemis watched the tears drip down Psyche’s face, she looked to me, her arms crossed. I held the goddess’s gaze.

“He has to, Psyche, he has to finish this, or wherever you go, she will follow.”

She strode over to me, and with care, cradled my throat in her ringed hands, inspecting my scar.

“Weak shot” she hissed. She looked me deep in my eye. She grinned.

“You won’t make that mistake.”

*

“So, you’ve decided.”

Aphrodite, stood in the center of her balcony. Her eyes black and lips pulled back in a snarl. I held myself under her gaze, wilted over the railing, letting her growl.

I armed my bow, pointing an arrow at her.

“Yes,” I said.

“I will not be a fool. Not to a blind boy.”

She took a step forward. Her teeth shining. She bared the pedicured nails of her right hand. I could still see fibers of my skin still under her claws.

“I don’t think of you a fool, Mother,” I said. I pushed myself up to stand, standing equal to her, “I think of you as a viper.”

Her muscles flexed under her tanned skin. Her eyes widened, she gritted her teeth, and bolted to me, her right hand raised like a scythe, ready to plow.

I drew the arrow back, I could feel the muscles burn in my arm as I waited, watching as she charged toward me.

“You will not touch her, or me, ever again.”

I closed my eyes and exhaled. My world went dark, filling with the thunder of the goddess’s heels hitting against marble. I take in a breath, the bowstring creaks, the arrow skims across my flesh as it flies.

An arrow thuds against muscle, blood squelches.

“AHHHH!”

I open my eyes to see Aphrodite still. Her eyes wide in horror. An arrow rose from her chest. Bright blood stained her white chiton. Her hands went to pluck it, her fingers trembling. The arrow shuttered, but didn’t surrender its mark. More blood pooled from its font.

“I loved you,” I whispered.

Her pupils turned black. Her chest washed with red. “Look at what your dirty love does,” she spat, she held out her hands to me, washed with blood that dripped down their fingers to the stone.

“Aphrodite.”

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and with a sigh, she fell back over the cliff.

I stumbled up, padding on the blood slicked marble as I hurried to look for her. The babble of the river churned louder, and down below I could see shadow and light dance below. My wings rose in preparation as I neared the edge to be ambushed by a wave of white doves breaking above me in droves. They clawed at my hair and tugged at my wings as they flew away, their flock coming undone over and over in the blue sky, until they dissolved in the distance.

“Cupid!”

Psyche was on me like breath, picking over my chiton for any wounds before she tended to my face. She combed my curls out of the blood that caked my face, cooing, “My beautiful, Cupid, so handsome, so beautiful.”

I offered a smile to her. I lifted her head by my fingers, like any other sweet fruit, drawing it to my mouth and kissing her.

“Congratulations.”

We parted to turn to her. Psyche tucked her head under my chin as she looked at her patron.

“Eros, and his wife, Psyche,” Artemis nodded her crowns to us.

A white wolf stalked behind the goddess and sat at her side, staring at us plaintively.

Psyche said, “Eros?”

“Yes,” Artemis nodded. “May your arrows never miss their mark. You are no longer hers, Eros.”

“Is she dead?”

“No, Psyche,” Artemis shook her head. “Wounded, mostly in her pride. As a wedding gift, take one of my wolves, Zephyr, she will help keep you safe.”

Zephyr padded toward the couple, a large beast with that exhumed a power with every step it took until it sat before us.

“And this,” Artemis shrugged off her quiver bag, which held her blessed arrow, each with a fletch the color of a moon phase; black, charcoal, gray, storm, slate, and silver. She held it out toward me.

“Artemis,” I said.

The goddess blinked, unphased, “I would love to have one of my arrows strike Aphrodite’s heart,” she said, smiling “Happy hunting.”