A Wayward Arrow

Chapter One: A Wayward Arrow

In all his years he had done the bidding of the gods. Made matches of lust and love for whichever maiden or man or god or whichever tide of fate that one so wanted. Never had he ever shot an arrow for himself, nor had he taken anyone as his own beyond that of his bed chambers. It was always for someone else. Not that he minded. What would the God of lust do with someone once he had his fill of them? In his palace, enchanted with maids and servants, the son of Aphrodite and Ares, Eros wanted for nothing because no God, not even the mighty Zeus, dared cross him. Though even the god that others feared still did not like to upset his mother or disobey her.

The goddess of love, as cruel and unjust as she could be, was still his loving and doting mother. She would move mountains for her children, especially Eros, for he had bound her beloved Ares to her all those years ago. In turn, the two shared a bond that seemed unshaken. Even so, the gods would joke behind his back that he must still be attached to his mother at the teat. Rendering images of the fearsome Eros as nothing more than a cherub, an overgrown baby. Only to rescind upon their notions when he'd look towards their direction. For Eros was as terrifying as he was beautiful. A temper of fire raged within him, burning bright within his inhuman gaze. For deep within that gaze shone back what lay within, a creature from deep within the void of the primordial celestial body. Far older than perhaps even Uranus and Gaia. A petrifying creature which lay deep within the God of lust.

Even now, those eyes were scanning. Two cerulean-hued iris that circled his dilated pupils. He was looking for someone or something. A hideous creature in order to shoot with the arrow he held in one hand to match for a maiden princess whom his mother had sent him for this task. He knew not much of her. Just her name, Psyche. He knew she was said to be so beautiful that the mortals spoke of her on par with his mother; as if she were the second coming of Venus, even so forgetting their offerings to Aphrodite. That was all it had taken to acquire his mother's ire.

"This Psyche thinks she's more beautiful than I?" His mother had sucked her teeth, "Let her husband be the most vile man to walk this earth! She shall have no happy marriage. How dare she... go and do this bidding for me, my son!"

And so here he was, looking for the most vile thing he could get his eye on, but in the distance he had seen her, Psyche, in all her glorious beauty. Coming forth to the fields as she did every day to gather wildflowers to weave into various trinkets and baskets. The soft splay of golden hair was pulled up but left to flirt gently against alabaster skin. The lavender of her gown that clung to the subtle curves of her body complimented the coloring of her skin. He could almost see the amber of her eyes from here; set into the curve of her cheek bones and the small angle of her jaw to pert rosy-colored lips.

He was leaning forward for a better look, his quiver of arrows beside him all but fell to the cloud he was perched upon. In the mad dash to catch it, the arrow he was intending for the vilest man instead struck Eros. Digging into his thigh and drew ichor. The sweet spicy tinge of it filled his nostrils before the pain registered with a wince of his features. He felt his heart quicken and the intensity of emotions flood into him as his gaze settled on the object of his affliction.

"Fuck!" The God exclaimed in his shock with a shaky breath of adrenaline. All to aware of what he had just done.

In haste, he dashed away from the scene and back towards the mountain, for he could not face what had just happened nor could he tell his mother. Instead, he kept this mishap to himself and hid himself away in his palace in hopes he'd forget it all, but she was hard to forget. Not with his own poison coursing through his veins. The need he had for her. The yearnings not even his own hand could satisfy, despite how often he went about pleasuring himself to the thoughts of her. None of it seemed enough.

----

The years would go by and Psyche would begin to grow concerned because her sisters had married and gone off to kingdoms of their own. Making families and lives for themselves while she still had yet for anyone to claim her hand. Men came from all over the world to visit the kingdom just to catch a glimpse, to look at the gorgeous princess, but none of them had dared to ask for her hand in marriage. Fearing the worse for their beloved daughter, the King and Queen would set off to find an oracle, once upon a time of Delphi.

The oracle in question was an aging woman who had long left the temples and instead sought her solitude away from prying eyes. With greying hair and a hunched over form. Said to be as wise as she was old. Her home was deep within the forest. A day and a half's journey, but for their beloved Psyche, it was well worth the journey. Her parents packed their provisions and headed off, leaving their daughter behind and sought out the oracle in question.

While Psyche tended to herself, her parents made their way to the oracle. Taking the winding path through the forest till they were nearly lost within the denseness of the surrounding trees. Only then did they spot the hut off in the distance. Billowing with smoke from the chimney and giving off an aroma of cooking meats. As they approached the hut, the door was wide open and inviting to strangers.

"Come inside." An old voice fleeted out towards the royal couple. "I have been expecting you."

The King and Queen would look at each other in awe and indignation. Unsure if they should enter, be it a trick, but after a moment, and with desperation for their beloved Psyche, they entered the old woman's hut. Inside the hut was cluttered with various things. Trinkets and odds and ends. Taxidermized critters and all sorts of strange objects and precious stones. It was a wonder all of it fit inside the tiny hut. The old woman was huddled over the cauldron that sat above the fire. Stirring the soup where the tender smell of cooking meats had been coming from.

"Please, take a seat at the table. I'm sure after your journey you are hungry. As my guests, let me feed you before we speak of any business." The old woman spoke. Taking a poker to the cauldron to pull its bubbling soup off of the fire to rest beside it.

The couple took their seats at the table near the hearth. Removing their traveling cloaks and gloves as they settled into their seats as guests into this hut. Wary of their predicament but not wanting to be ungrateful guests. Their meals were placed down in front of them along with some bread and the old woman would join them at the table. Offering them a toothy smile that shone through her greying eyes. Her wrinkled mouth would pucker, blowing upon her spoon, and then she would begin to eat. Signaling to her guests to do the same.

The sun outside was just beginning to peak out from behind the clouds and the shrill winds were beginning to pick up as if in song of which direction they blew. An omen, it seemed, which only brought word of it's whispering hymn to the oracle direct from Apollo, with haste words guided by Eros. If they were seeking council for Psyche, council they would get and perhaps everyone's woes would be dealt with swiftly. The oracle listened as everyone ate their meals, but as soon as everyone was finished, she'd remove the bowls to look across the table to the King and Queen. For a moment, she was silent, then took in a deep breath as worry came across her brow and stole the light from her greying eyes.

"You came to me about your daughter. The most beautiful Princess, Psyche. Is that correct?" The oracle started her line of questioning.

"Yes, that is correct." The King responded.

"You come to seek guidance about the future of her hand, as to why no man has sought her hand in marriage?"

"Yes... Please tell us why no man has come for her."

"That is because your daughter, Psyche, is not destined for any mortal man, for her hand belongs to that of a god. A most fierce winged beast does lay its claim upon her. One feared by all beings, even the deathless gods themselves."

There was a gasp from the Queen as she shot a look to her husband. "Surely this isn't right?" She leaned forward, reaching out towards the hands of the oracle, but caught herself right before touching the Oracle. "What if we refuse this winged beast of a god?"

The oracle looked up towards the ceiling, closing her eyes. "Psyche will always be loved and admired from afar but will never marry. She will never find happiness or true love and will forever spend her days alone, and in longing. If you are to defy this prophecy of Apollo, your kingdom will fall out of favor of the gods and Apollo himself will turn his gaze away till a new generation long past that of your children's children has taken hold and your blood no longer governs any territories."

"No!" The King gasped, looking to his wife, "We cannot allow that to happen. Please, tell us; what does Apollo want us to do?"

"Take her to the top of the mountain, dressed in her finest black gown and leave her for her husband to come take her. This is Apollo's decree." The oracle spoke.

"It shall be done."

"How will we explain this to her?" The Queen asked, beside herself in mourning of what essentially would be the funeral of their dear beloved Psyche.

"We don't... I fear."