Eros rose from his slumber to the sounds of his mother’s voice raising up in the distance. Aphrodite had been ranting about Psyche when he had drifted off to sleep. It seemed only yesterday when he learned not to cross his mother during one of her tantrums. He had thought –hoped—that if he brought up the subject of his love for Psyche while she tended to his injury, it would help her understand that this was not a passing fancy, that he did not wish to toss her aside as Zeus did with his mortal lovers. She either hushed him or became enraged yet again. So he kept his lips tight on the subject.
If he could only find where his mother sent his beloved this time. Eavesdropping on his mother as she stormed through her palace had gotten only vague hints on where Psyche had gone previously. He gleaned more on his mother’s own hopes that she wished that “the foolish mortal child” would become too discouraged to continue or die in her efforts. That Eros, like so many of the other gods, could not enter the Underworld seemed to give his mother great pleasure. He despaired that the goddess’s impossible tasks would end terribly for Psyche, that she might become locked in Hades’ dark realm for the rest of eternity.
It did not bother him that he had fallen in love with Psyche, that her mortality would bring a premature end to their love. He had enjoyed their nights together despite knowing that as the years passed, her face would become so wrinkled that it would displease his eyes. It was a small price to pay so that he could spend time in her company. And despite his promise that he would leave her side if she set eyes on his face, it had been just a ploy. Eros had wanted to earn her love by her getting to know him for who he was, not that he was a handsome god.
Curled up in his bed would not help find where his beloved Psyche was. He pushed himself out of bed and dressed as he listened to his mother continue her raging. As he crossed the room, he gathered both his bow and quiver from where his mother had hung them on the wall. He left his bedchamber to the sight of servants scampering to get as far from Aphrodite’s presence as they possibly could. Not that the goddess ever intentionally hurt any of the minor gods who served her, but when she was in the mood to break vases, the shattered pieces often hit those in the fragment’s path.
The servants were coming from her receiving room so Eros headed in that direction. At the door, he found a servant holding a tray of refreshments in his trembling hands; both his face and his knuckles were white. The god of love came to the servant’s side and placed a hand on the god’s shoulders. The servant turned his face towards Eros.
“She asked for refreshments over an hour ago,” the god told Eros in a trembling whisper. “I fear she might send me away or throw something at me if I enter now.”
Eros smiled as he slid his hand off the servant’s shoulder. “Here, let me take it inside for you.”
The servant nodded and pivoted towards Eros who extended his hands. It took a few moments for the servant to remove his fingers from the platter once Eros had a firm grip on it. As soon as the servant had taken his hands from the tray, he scampered away from Aphrodite’s receiving room. Eros took a deep breath and stepped inside. He remained near the door until his mother noticed him standing there. It might be several minutes or the rest of the day before she even looked in his direction. She kept her back towards him and her eyes out the long window that took up the opposite wall and the wall to his right.
