The Heart of Love

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Two Thousand Years Ago

Olympus, Greece

Eros

I'm fucking pathetic, aren't I? I've been brought low, by a mortal. Not just brought low, I've been utterly decimated by her. I should be able to snap out of this, gods are known for our resilience, aren't we?

We can heal from wounds which would fell mortals ten times over, the blood that drips from our veins is turned gold by ichor. Speed, strength, senses, powers, yet all of us are cruel and feckless. Brought low by our whims. We don't deserve to be gods. I don't deserve to be one.

Yet, I am.

The one thing that mortals worship and beg for, dream of, fight for, is out of my reach because I am a god. Gods and mortals don't mix. Those stories never end well, Adonis and my mother, Zeus and any number of mortals, the list goes on and on.

Now I'm added to the list. What will the story of Eros and Psyche be? How the god of love was too selfish to risk everything to have her? Too fearful of his mother's retribution to simply announce his feelings for a mortal? I don't deserve her. God or not.

Cruel son of Aphrodite, plays with the hearts of all on a whim. Pray you never are the focus of his eye or all your laments will end with a wistful sigh. This wine is making me poetic. Or rather pathetic.

Glaring at the remains in my amphora, my eyes are blurry when I hear a new voice, "Gods, you really are pathetic."

Am I thinking out loud again?

But when I focus my eyes enough to make sense of the shape in my apartments. I don't know what sobers me up more, the sight of all black on Olympus, or the hate filled face of my brother.

"Dinlas?" I slur. "You're not supposed to be here."

I'm definitely hallucinating. Did I mix up the wine and ambrosia again? Dinlas would never step foot on Olympus, not since my mother cast him to Tartarus. And she forbade me from ever visiting him when I was young. Yet another one of her whims that I tacitly went along with. Am I just her puppet on a string? Her faithful and unquestioning acolyte? Her dutiful son?

How many times have I done her bidding without question?

"I'm here as a favor," Dinlas snarls, moving over to me, slinging my arm around his shoulders. He yanks me to my feet. I barely keep hold of the contents of my stomach inside as he pops us to a tavern in Macedonia.

I shove off my brother, landing in a patron's lap. Thankfully the man is too drunk to even understand. Dinlas yanks me up and shoves me into a corner table, and I wince when I hit the back of the wall.

"What in the name of Rhea-" I hiss.

"Don't bring our great-grandmother into this, prick." Dinlas snarls.

I shoot him a look, but I glance up as the barmaid brings us two drinks. I start to charm her, but Dinlas covers my face before I can speak. Dinlas snarls at the barmaid, and she skirts away, avoiding our table.

I shove his hand off my face, "The fuck was that for?"

Dinlas throws back his drink, "She didn't deserve to be subjected to your charms."

"That's not your call," I hiss back.

"Do you even know her name? Or what would happen if you did charm her? She's waiting to marry the love of her life. But she has doubts. One sight of your fucking face, and she would have thought it was a sign from the Fates."

I blink at him, glancing at the barmaid then back to Dinlas. My eyes narrow. Unlike me, my siblings maintain the ability to lie. Adrestia considers herself too honorable to do it most of the time, Harmonia too gentle. Deimos and Phobos are too meatheaded to pull it off.

But I don't know Dinlas well enough to tell if he's lying or not. I let my mother keep us apart for millenia.

"I'm sorry." I mumble, touching my own lips in shock when the words stumble out.

I don't know who looks more shocked by the words that spill out, me or him. His black eyes blink repeatedly, his mouth opening and closing, trying to formulate a response.

"I'm the older brother, I'm sorry I wasn't better at it." I blurt out. Again touching my lips, shocked at the words coming out.

Dinlas grabs my drink, sniffing it, "No drugs."

I shake my head, but it makes my vision extremely blurry. Yet the truth keeps spilling from me, confession after confession. "I tried to visit you as a kid. Miteras caught me. Forbade me from ever returning. I still tried. I kept trying until..." I throw back the drink, hoping to suffocate the avalanche of truth. "By the time I finally got to see you, you broke my nose. Said you hated me. I stopped after that."

Dinlas looks at me, his mouth finally in a thin line, snarling, "I don't believe you."

I can't let out the incredulous laugh, I forget sometimes that my truth telling is a closely guarded secret. Why isn't that the secret coming out of my mouth? He wouldn't believe me anyways would he?

It's too little too late.

A few thousand years too late.

Dinlas grits his teeth, standing, "You know I thought we could bury the hatchet. Maybe see what she sees in you. But you can't stop being an ass to even try."

I reach out for him, trying to formulate an apology, or something, close to it. But nothing comes out.

And then he's gone.

And I'm alone again.

I signal for another drink, but I keep my face averted.