The Heart of Love

CHAPTER FORTY

Two Thousand Years Ago

Olympus, Greece

Finally, I have found her. My daughter. It took me over nineteen years to find her and thanks to that good for nothing God of Love. The fact my daughter managed to find her way back home is astonishing. Who would have ever thought her soul would be strong enough to break from the enchantment I placed on her all those years ago? I didn't and yet, my little Dewdrop managed to break free and her soul slipped into a mortal fetus.

Lucky for me, she still had the beauty of a god. So of course the mortals would fawn over her. She is a reincarnation of a goddess. It got so bad that Aphrodite noticed her, got jealous, and sent her idiotic son to deal with her. If only he did what he was told. No, he stole her away. Got married to the mortal. It was frustrating trying to find a way to take her back without him noticing. He is a son of the God of War. So, going against him would not be favourable. Unless, I do something a little dirty.

Slipping into Eros's apartment, I grip Thanatos's scythe in my hand. Two imps come crawling in behind me. One jumping on top of the other, slowly morphing into Psyche. I hand them the Scythe, putting a finger to my lips.

"Wait until my daughter is gone. Then cut his wings then his head." I hiss.

The impersonator nods before slinking off into the shadows. I turn just in time to see my daughter get out of bed. She wraps her robe around her body before making her way into the bathroom. I come up behind her, placing a cloth on her nose to muffle the scream. My other hand is on her back, pushing her memories of her previous life inside her. She slowly goes limp in my hands. Her body fades away as it is teleported to the cave I have prepared for us.

My attention turns to the imps who are already on the move. He scrunches his face, moving slightly to dispel the annoyance without opening his eyes. The slight movement pulls at his back, and his eyes flash open, a scream strangling in his throat. With a soundless cry of agony, he forces himself to sit up, as I watch.

Warm liquid is slipping down his back, and he reaches back cautiously, he pulls his hand forward, the gold liquid cooling on his fingertips. Ichor.

Feathers were everywhere. My imps delighted in removing those foolish limbs. The entire floor is covered in them.

With shaking hands he reaches back again and flinches. I bite back a satisfied smirk as I watch, concealed by illusion. He leans heavily on the bed, using it as a support to stand. The ichor trickles down his shoulder, little rivulets of gold sliding down his forearm, pooling around his wrist. He stumbles, falling to his knees when he catches sight of my imps' handiwork.

The appendages lay limp on the floor in front of him, soaked in ichor from where they were cut. Tears fall heedlessly down his face. But my imps are not done, the wings were to prevent him from escaping. Now comes the good part.

He ducks out of the way as the scythe swings towards him, a breath from taking his head. I cut back the hiss that rises in annoyance.

He rolls to the side, forcing himself to press on his injured back. Scrambling away from the threat, he snatched up my bow and arrows. The movement allows him the space to fully face his opponent. My imps took on the face of the one he adores. I will tear his heart from his chest before taking his head.

The face of his wife looms above him, Thanatos' scythe clutched in her hand, the blade coated with his ichor and feathers.

Din and Las, those fucking cats gifted to him by the goddess of mischief, suddenly appear at his sides, snarling at Psyche, forcing her back several steps. His bloodied fingers funnel into Las's fur, gripping it to help him to a stand.

"Princissíka, whatever has happened, we can face it together," he plead, his fingers reaching out for her. Pathetic.

Psyche's beautiful face scrunches into a sneer, and she swipes the scythe at his hand, coming close to taking it. Din roars at the attack, using his large paw to push away the weapon at the last possible second before it hits.

"Princissíka," she snaps at him, "I always hated that you called me that. You never expected that anyone could not fall in love with you? The perfect god of love." She comes closer with the scythe, swiping the weapon at Din and Las, who circle closer to him, protectively. "Well, how do you feel now? Wingless and soon to be headless, at the hands of the only woman you ever loved."

He falls to his knees, this time not in pain but in defeat, bowing his head before her.

"Gods, you're pathetic! You can't even put up a good fight, can you?"

With his head still bowed, bloodied hands clasping his knees, I wait for the final swing of the scythe, for him to pay. The swing never comes. Those two mongrels use their power to teleport him away from Olympus. I let out a strangled scream. I got what I wanted. My daughter. And he won't come looking for her.

My job here is done.