June 2, 2001
This is for Lise. Not sure if she'll know or read this, but it's for her anyway because she was a big help in researching Greek mythology for me. :) Thanks Lise!
Twisted Arrows: Eros and Psyche
[ Part I ] [ Part IIa ] [ Part IIb ] [ Part IIc ] [ Part IIIa ] [ Part IIIb ] [ Part IVa ] [ Part IVb ]
Cold air, damp with mist and life, wafted in through the open window. The silence of the morning was broken only by the twill of birds and the sound of charcoal scratching on paper.
The tiles beneath Psyche's bare feet were chilled, but she didn't care. She sat hunched over her drawing pad, her fingers black as she sketched, her motions quick and consumed. She had to get his eyes right. She loved his eyes.
It had been nearly a week since she first arrived in the chateau. A week since she'd first met Eli. A week since they spent the night together.
More than just spend the night together. Her cheeks heated in recollection of the memories.
They'd continued to spend every night of that week together. In each other's arms. Kissing. Smiling. Loving.
Psyche gave in to the impulse to hug herself, uncaring that her fingers stained the sleeves of her dress. She couldn't suppress the smile that refused to leave her face; she knew she was glowing. She could see it in herself whenever she looked at the mirror.
This wasn't like her. Never in her life had she been so. . . wanton. She'd always been critical of all her suitors and careful to never lead any of them on. She never let them help in her chores, not even to carry a pitcher of water for her, just so that she wouldn't have to owe them anything. She was an independent woman. She'd never encouraged any man from the village.
Yet she'd done more than encourage Eli. They had joined, the very first night they were together.
Oh heavens.
They'd also managed to break two plates as a result of trying to get to a bed without taking their hands off each other. The next morning Eli had to leave to report the damage to Apollo, but it was obvious from the grin on his face that he didn't mind in the least.
Psyche ducked her head to hide her blushing, even though no one was around to see it in the chateau. She was still trying to get used to the feeling of shy euphoria.
Eli had to leave every day in order to run errands for Apollo, but he always returned at night to wrap his arms around her.
He was so unusual, like no one Psyche had ever known before. Silent and stoic, brooding often, alone. A secret sorrow that made her ache in return. It made her heart swell whenever she succeeded in making him smile. Eli didn't smile enough, as far as Psyche was concerned. She intended to change that.
She would never forget the way his eyes had drifted closed and the way his breath hitched when she ran her tongue delicately over his scars.
His touch was often gentle, as if he were afraid he'd hurt her. He'd castigated himself the morning after their first joining, when he saw the marks he'd left on her body, the imprint of his fingers on her hips. Although, Psyche recalled, he'd also been more than a bit pleased that he was her first.
That first morning, on his return from seeing Apollo, he'd brought her flowers from Olympus. He had been shy in offering them, as if unsure that she'd like them, as if he knew others had tried wooing her with flowers before. He was like a young boy experiencing what it was like to be a man for the first time. And that was crazy, she knew, because if anything, Eli was the most manly kind of man she'd ever known.
Only he wasn't a man. He was a spirit.
Psyche dropped her charcoal and buried her face in her hands. Oh, by the gods, she thought, half-laughing, half-sobbing. I'm in love with him.
She suspected something.
Eros eyed Aphrodite, who was making a big show of choosing a potential couple to disrupt their lives with love. He knew his mother too well, however. She wasn't as intent on the mortals as she appeared. She had been studying him carefully these past days.
She'd asked him if he had taken care of the mortal Psyche. He'd answered, truthfully, yes. He had indeed taken care of Psyche. Was still taking care of Psyche, actually, but Aphrodite didn't need to know that.
She couldn't possibly know. Only Apollo knew that Eros was keeping Psyche in his chateau, and only Apollo had an inkling of what was going on between the two. That was apparent when Apollo commented that Eros had never been so. . . possessive over a mortal before.
Eros had managed to swear Apollo both to secrecy and to never step foot into the chateau without consulting him. In return, Apollo took every opportunity to tease Eros about Psyche whenever the two gods met.
Normally Eros would have growled to anyone who dared teased this new. . . thing. . . budding between him and Psyche, but he allowed Apollo the opportunity only because the god had been willing to forgive the two broken plates. No mean feat, considering those plates were a thousand years old and had been made by a master mortal artisan who was long dead and whose work could no longer be duplicated. Apollo was that pleased to see Eros happy.
And Eros couldn't argue with the realization: he was happy.
What happened to the god who was bitter, jaded, didn't believe in love? Surely he still didn't believe in that emotion? After all, he was a constant witness to the fact that Aphrodite was the one who controlled which mortal loved whom. Nothing ever happened "naturally."
And the fact that he looked forward -- was extremely impatient -- to return to the chateau each night was due to nothing more than lust. And a bit of affection. That was all.
But Eros couldn't find the ability to voice those words aloud. Those two descriptions seemed to. . . cheapen whatever it was he was feeling. Surely mere lust wouldn't let him be content with just holding Psyche's hand whenever they walked through the chateau gardens. It couldn't be the source of his satisfaction in just resting his head on her lap as he went to sleep.
He'd experienced lust many times before. This was different.
"Those two," Aphrodite said, breaking into his thoughts.
He swung his glance at her and saw her pointing at two humans. They were harvesting their fields; neighbors, most likely, who worked side-by-side as they shared their workload. Young. Their parents were working not too far away.
Eros placed his hand on his pouch but hesitated.
Aphrodite looked at him sharply. "Well?" she asked.
He looked at his mother. "What would happen if we. . . left them alone?"
"What are you talking about?" She gestured impatiently. "Go on, do it. Those are the two I've chosen."
"But what would happen?" he persisted. "If we left them alone to their own devices, would anything develop?"
Aphrodite's eyes narrowed. "I thought we settled this years ago. We are the god and goddess of love, therefore it is by our decree who shall fall in love. Why are you bringing this up again? And now?"
He bit his lip and shook his head. "No reason."
He hoped she would turn away and seek her next victims, so that he wouldn't have to throw the arrows in front of her. Wouldn't have to throw the arrows at all. But she stood there, watching, her eyes seeing too much. Waiting.
Eros slipped his hand inside his pouch and grasped an arrow, its shaft curled like a snake. He began spinning it. His breath grew heavy and he almost squeezed his eyes closed before throwing, but she was watching him, watching too closely, and he had to pretend nothing was wrong. That he was still the same.
But he wasn't, he realized as the arrow zigzagged its way to the human. He wasn't the same anymore.
Eli had been quiet all night, more so than usual, and Psyche didn't know why.
His touch was more urgent that night, desperate, even, and when she glanced up at his eyes she was stunned by the stark need shining in them.
"Tell me this is real," he whispered as he pulled her dress off her shoulders, as he ran his hands over her skin as if this were the last time they would ever be together. "Tell me this wasn't engineered by the gods or the Fates or by anything in the stars. Tell me this is just us."
"It's just us," she said, confused, wanting to comfort him but having no idea how. Then she showed him, without words, and as he slept with his head on her breast that night, she looked at the ceiling and wondered for answers.
Aphrodite had never felt such rage before.
Betrayal washed over her like Poseidon's oceans. She watched the two lovers through their bedroom window, sleeping, and wanted badly to scratch the female's eyes out.
Psyche had seduced her son. The marks of her fingernails on Eros's back, symbols of her passion, were obvious even from where Aphrodite was standing. The mortal thought herself so clever as to flaunt her beauty and seduce a god, and for that she would pay.
Aphrodite turned to pay a visit to Aello. She bore the Harpie no goodwill for the scars she'd given Eros, and had long exacted vengeance on the hag. But in this, in this, they would unite. Psyche would rue the day she ever cast her sly designs on Eros.
The gods are known well for the ways they wield their wrath.
Zeus, even-tempered but instilled with his own sense of justice, uses thunderbolts to display his displeasure. Usually, however, he allows others to take action, so that he can wash his hands off the affair.
Poseidon, his hot-headed brother, is jealous, possessive, and mighty. Some whisper that his domain, the ocean, is bigger and more powerful than anything Zeus commands, but all he wants is peace. Ironic that his name is associated with anything but.
It is the women, however, the goddesses, whose cunning are the most dangerous. Artemis has more than once set her hounds on men to tear apart their flesh, punishment for their disrespect of the female body. Hera is notorious for punishing anyone who leads her husband astray, though reports of her anger are vastly exaggerated.
Aphrodite is also possessive, dangerous in a mother, more so because she knows that human or god, everyone has a weak point, a chink in their armor. She does not hesitated to take advantage of it.
That night she went to Aello to begin her plan. Aello would assume the guise of Psyche and be wrapped in the arms of another when Eros found them. She would show Eros just how faithless mortal emotions could be.
As for Aphrodite, she would pay a visit to Psyche. In person, goddess-to-woman. She'd long wanted vengeance against the crafty witch, and this was her chance.
Part V twisting its way towards you
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