Eros 7

Eros stood in front of the door, knowing, feeling, understanding the very power beyond. The God of chaotic war was someone that held no council, no favour, when conducting the nefarious plans of his. He could manoeuvre anyone, anything, to wherever he chose. The artist, the malevolent dictator that assumed complete control. His vision extended to a thousand souls, a million, all but a set of chess pieces within his game of life. Eros laughed at the thought, shook his own head, as life was hardly a concern to one such as Ares. Death, above life, was his main concern.

Eros held the handle, wishing for another path, but this would be the end of all endings. Eros loved his life, witnessed the birth of a billion souls, each with the capacity to love and hold. Yet, upon the very same day, he heralded the vision of a thousand deaths and the start of war within all things. Each of the mortals, constantly, never-endingly, fighting to retain balance and structure within their lives. The flailing of emotions, the solitude of hearts, all echoed from the heart of a God called Ares.

The God of love, no longer holding sway over the mortals, knew that the God of War still held all of the cards, within whichever war he chose. Eros opened the door and walked into the room beyond. His eyes, adjusting to the light, quickly looked across the room. Clean, sparse, with only one solitary desk in the middle of the large area. For some odd reason, which he’d hoped would be explained, this God of war had constructed a small building within the middle of the desert.

Across the room, standing in front of the large window, stood Ares. He was, would always be, a sight to behold. A strong man, a stoic character, a menace to never trifle with, unless one had no worth for life. Eros walked across the silent room, to stand next to Ares, looking out into the seemingly vacant void of rock and sand. Both, completely silent, with minutes stretching ahead.

Eros, still not sure what to say, or to do, or how to proceed, watched as a door opened across the room. A single solitary man walked in, placing a chair near the far wall, as another brought Sandra. The man forcibly placed her onto the chair, with Eros wishing to run to her, knowing that his actions were no longer his own. The game, all but started, with no part of the play within a script of his choosing.

He felt the creeping dread within his soul, the influence of Ares moving through him, with his own love begging for life. The mortals would fight for such a thing, for love, which meant that his influence would be minimal, to a being such as Ares. He would, no matter the consequence, at least try.

“Brother,” said Ares, finally breaking the silence, “I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came to me.”

Ares glances across to Eros, noticing the weathered weight of the world upon his shoulders. Ares had a task to complete, an instruction of chaos, to which he would endure no matter the cost. War would be inflicted upon this world, but in a different way than Eros might believe.

“You might be wondering why here, why this building? Let me tell you Eros. Wars are fought by men, usually with tanks and guns. The knives being the cruel blade that cuts the throat of many, silencing all but the few.  I decided to fight a different war!”

Eros, once again glancing to the side to check if Sandra was okay, returned his gaze to Ares. By now Ares should have snapped his neck, stamped on his heart, or severed his arms and legs. This was unlike the God he knew and loved. No matter the nature, no matter the cause, he accepted all of his Brothers and Sisters as they were.

“I am about to wage war upon this very mortal domain. I shall wage war and own this planet. Whomever owns the actual power of this world, owns all!”

Eros, confused, turned slightly, “Brother, I do not understand?”

“How could you. You blindly love all of them, while they’re tortured by the very world they elected. Solar power, Brother, will replace all other power sources upon this God forsaken earth. A different war. I will then own every single soul.”

Eros, still confused, wondered how Ares’ plan would negatively affect the world upon they stood. The plan was a sound plan, a just plan, a work of wonder that would only improve the lives of many. He simply did not grasp the magnitude of the words.

“There will still be a war. Many wars. You think that the mortals will bequest their wealth? This world will burn. A price to be paid as dead hands let go of their past fortunes!”

Eros, still silent, opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Brother. You’re not seeing the bigger picture. Millions will die. We will then rise to the stars and wage war across the universe. I'm tired of the simple trifles of Man. There are a million planets full of life, yet we only view this place due to the mortals being made in our image!”

The grand plan, the major event, the war of worlds in front of his eyes. Starting upon this very day.  Ares continued, “You can have your life with your mortal bind. I ask one thing from you, Brother, that you bow down and state that you will not interfere!”

Eros stood, not moving, knowing what would happen next. He would never bow to the God of war. He could not let billions of people die. He loved them, all of them, despite his heart firmly wishing to be with the one. From the other side of the room, the door opened, and another man walked in. He carried Ares’ sword.

“Bow to me, now, or you will die!”

Eros watched as Ares unsheathed the sword. It would cut him in two, with ease. Ares, looking stern, lowered his head, truthfully knowing that Eros would never bow to him. He would never stop loving the idiotic mortals no matter the bribe placed upon a thousand tables. Eros knew that he couldn't win against Ares, the bringer of war. The love Eros held within, would be worthless at a time such as this.

Ares closed his eyes, tired of such moments, as his inner monologue asked if he wished to do what he intended to do. The thing with love, no matter the person, the hatred, it was still within the most horrendously evil person. Ares wasn't evil or, at least, he didn't see himself as being evil, but the whispering love for his Brother would not taint his options.

Swinging the sword, as his eyes opened, he just caught Eros’ chest as Eros moved backwards. Eros felt the slight cut, placing his hand to his stomach, as the blood started to move. Another one, another Brother, willing to harm him. His love, his fear, changed within his heart to pure hatred as he leapt forward, smashing his fists into Ares’ face. Ares stumbled backwards, twisting, as his left hand grabbed Eros. With one smooth motion Ares threw Eros across the room, turning, as Eros smashed into the wall.

It hurt. For some reason the impact really, really hurt Eros. The blade, the blade of Ares, must have been cursed in a way to make a God fall. His body shook, his head spinning like a whirlwind of confusion, he tried to stand. Ares, with calm, dignity, slowly walked across the room towards Sandra. Eros shook his head, the darkness threatening to send him to sleep, as he held onto the world within his eyes as hard as he could. A second, another second, using the time to focus, he regained his sanity and finally managed to stand.

Ares, nearly next to Sandra, knew that Eros would attack. He expected the violence, wished for it, wanted to feel the aggression of another upon his soul. He lived for such things. The violence, the thirst, the blood and guts of it all. The spittle of angst, the anger of a cracking heart, spilling into the world asking for vengeance and suffering.

Eros slammed into Ares, grabbing his arm and twisting as his leg swiftly brought Ares crashing to the floor. Eros was upon him, smashing his fists into Ares’ body as hard as he could. Again and again. Ares started to laugh, bringing the sword’s hilt up into Ero’s throat with such force that you could hear the crack explode. His jaw, broken, in a few places.

Ares stood, smiling, “Thank you, Brother, that was fun. Do you have any last wishes?”

Eros couldn't speak, even if he wished to do so. The pain thrusting itself into his mind as one of his eyes remained closed. He would die today. On this very day. He looked at Sandra, his face showing his utter loss and failing. He swallowed, as best he could, “Don…,” said Eros, trying to speak, “Don’t hurt her!”

Ares looked across to Sandra, “Hurt her? Oh Brother, I will hurt her in ways you will never get to know. I will hurt her mind, crush her soul, break her heart into small shards and finally, on the last day, I’ll show her your head. Then… I’ll laugh!”

Eros, from the floor, reached up, grabbing Ares’ jacket, pulling him towards him as his other hand quickly formed a fist. With all his remaining strength he punched Ares. Stumbling backwards a few paces, impressed, Ares twisted his head slightly, his neck cracking a few times, “That wasn't bad. Well done!”

Eros, on his knees, looked at the floor. His blood, dripping from his mouth, from around his eye as well as stomach, started to collect around him. He tried, he truly tried. He’d look at Sandra, again, but he had failed. He’d failed the woman he loved. The woman that he’d wanted and needed for the longest time. From the beginning of every single moment within his world, he’d loved them, adored them and now, just as he’d found salvation, he’d failed, and everything was about to be taken from him.

He wanted love to conquer all, to rise above the pitiful meandering of the world, but what could he do when the war within all, raged. Uncontrolled, never-endingly eviscerating each of them until the day they died. Pitiful, despondent, the failings of their lives being replayed again and again. He placed a hand onto the floor, lifting his leg from under him. He stood, slowly, shaking, not quite sure what he was doing. He didn't wish to die on the floor. He wished to stand, to believe in something, to know that his love never failed him, despite failing himself in other ways.

Ares smiled. He respected Eros. More on this day than any other day. There would always be a place within the world for love. The love of war, of violence, of intolerance, the love of hating the very person next to you. He loved all of the chaos.

“I may not have your love, Eros, but you have my respect!”

Ares thrust the sword into Eros’ stomach, twisting, to wrench the sword out of his left side. The blood splattering across the room, hitting the window as well as roof. Eros, still managing to stand, felt his heart die. His eyes looked at her, at Sandra, as her screams and tears filled his remaining soul with loss. He felt his body fall, the world spinning, his heart no longer being a sound within his mind.

The light started to fade.

“Wake, Son of mine, wake up!”

Eros, blinking, felt the hand of his Father gently slapping his face. The room appeared within his view, Sandra still sat upon the chair, wondering what was happening. As his view completely cleared, he saw them, all of them, all of the Gods. He looked behind him, to see Alastar lifting him from the floor. Eros placed his hand to his stomach, the gaping wound no longer there, healed, alive.

Eros stood, wondering what on earth was happening. Alastar, standing next to the all Father, smiled a great big glorious smile, “Brother, I'm sorry, but it was my plan. You and Tiacapan were causing so much strife that something had to be done. I am, after all, the God of Family Feuds!”

Eros’ father laughed, knowing all about the strife his family caused each other. He placed a hand upon Eros’ shoulder, “Son, you would give your life for one mortal. For this I am impressed. Being the God of Love means that you not only love all of them, but you can also love just the one. Die for the one. Love is a choice, for all. You chose wisely and, for this, I will allow you a gift!”

Eros looked around the room, with Tiacapan standing in the corner looking miserable, while Ares looking ever so pleased at killing him, surprised at the lengths his family would go to teach him a lesson. “What is this gift you speak of, Father?”

“A life. One mortal life. I allow you the mortal years, to grow old with the person of your choosing. Upon your mortal death, you shall return to our sides as the God of Love. Use your time wisely as, upon your death and return, the memories of this time will fade. You have but one life to experience, to love, to hold, before being tasked with loving all of them again. Do you accept?”

“I do, all Father, I do!”

Eros smiled, his heart feeling alive within his chest. He had chosen to die for what he loved, for who he loved. Now, from this moment on, he would love Sandra until his last breath. They all started to fade away, returning to the heavens, as he slowly stepped forward. His body, still needing time to heal from the mortal wound, held her against him. His love, his emotion, enveloping the both of them.

They had one chance, one life, to love and be what they needed to be.

The End (Or the start).

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Thanks for reading. There's a lot of Greek Gods out there so this could easily become a TV series. I did think about adding a few more parts but... . What's written is written.

Eros 6

Eros sat, looking at the door, within his apartment. The last few days, let alone weeks, had been something of a challenge. Being a God was one thing but dealing with the day to day of how the mortals lived their lives, was another. He’d be happy, truly happy, if it were not for the meddling of the other Gods.

He knew what he had to do, what he should say, but knowing did not make the task any easier. Somewhere, deep down, within him, he still desired Tiacapan and that would probably never change. That thought alone bothered him, strangled his thoughts, knowing that to survive or grow within this world you had to let go of one rope, before climbing another. The mortals dealt with strife, with hardship, by finding someone new as soon as possible. He himself wished not to do so. He wanted to be free, before finding another, lest the mistakes of one be carried forward to the next. Before he lived a life with Sandra, he had to cut that rope.

His mind, as well as heart, had to be free. He would no longer love one, whilst loving another. He would abandon his very name if it brought him inner peace. He closed his eyes, for a moment, reminiscing of the day previous. His journey to the underworld was not for the faint of heart, but in this case, for once, it had to happen. He drifted, recalling every second of his adventure.

--

Eros stood upon the shoreline, waiting, wondering, trying to belay his doubts. The Gods, upon this very earth, were free to do whatever they liked. He could stop them, each of them, or at least try, but there were some things that he simply would not do. He lifted his arm to view the mortal watch that informed him of the time. He’d never really thought about time, due to his very, very long affinity for never actually growing old, but watching the seconds tick filled him with a certain frustration to which he’d never known. Time, all relative, neither here or there to a God.

Ahead of him, upon the water, he noticed a small boat appear and within the boat sat Charon. He’d met Charon, a few times, when on holiday to the heavens. Even the Gods needed holidays. A charming entity, never whispering even a word, with an iron face that seldom moved. Eros had regaled Charon with many a story, of adventures that would make the clouds upon the sky blush a shade of red, despite Charon not actually moving a muscle.

The boat arrived, with Charon holding out his hand for some form of payment. Eros handed him the haladie dagger, that Alastor had used to try and end his life. As the dagger sat upon Charon’s hand, Eros lent forward, “Payment for a return trip?” Charon’s facial expression stayed the same, obviously not wanting to give anything away to Eros.

The boat started to move, as Eros made himself comfortable. “My old friend… ,” said Eros, smiling, “You haven’t aged a day!”

Charon, again, didn't show any emotion or even acknowledge the interaction. Eros wondered how long the journey would take, until, as he blinked a few times, they’d arrived at the opening of a large cave. Stepping out of the boat, thankful that the conversation didn't get heavy, or ask any sensitive questions, Eros nodded to Cheron and walked into the cave. As he walked, he wondered what had made Charon the way he was, some type of trauma, maybe even a curse, but that would be a question that would never receive an answer.

The cave continued to loom off into the distance, the various mounted flames suspended every few metres, keeping some form of light upon the path. He was now within the realms of the underworld, a place that the Gods seldom visited, if ever, in fear of what might happen. He wasn't afraid. He wouldn't let fear remove his need for finding a solution. As he walked the cave expanded and, in the middle of the room ahead, sat a large throne. Eros smiled, stretching his arms out to his sides as he shouted, “Tartarus, Brother, it has been the longest time!”

From the throne leapt Tartarus, the God that ruled the very depths of the underworld. Mortal man feared his whispering nature, the dark thoughts from his mind, but to Eros, he knew only the love of a Brother for his own Brother.

“How have you been, Brother Eros?”

“I have been fine,” Eros answered, as they hugged each other, “What adventures have you been upon?”

“You know, torturing the soul of man, whispering into the hearts of many, barbecues, eating the flesh from wicked men!”

“Same old Brother, same old!”

They both laughed, a hearty laugh that filled the cave with echoes. Eros was but a child when he’d met Tartarus. A wicked child, a naughty child, but a Brother to which Eros admired and looked up to. Despite his naughty ways, his devious manner, Tartarus was perfect for the task of holding the many within a place they deserved. Eros did not pity or devalue the position, as being the God of love and procreation, would hardly set the world on fire. Literally.

“I would not wish to keep you in the guts of the underworld, Brother, so I ask what brings you here?”

Eros looked forlorn, solemn, at such a question. “Brother, I…”

“Come Brother, there be no secrets between the both of us, or I shall burn down a small town house in the god forsaken city of Rhyl!”

Eros laughed, knowing all too well that Tartarus watched all, could see all, from the very seat he sat upon. There indeed, would be no secrets between the two.  Eros started to explain the very detail of his circumstance, the sorrow and pain within, asking his Brother for one favour, upon the many exchanged over the centuries.

--

Eros brought himself back to the present world, once again looking at the door, wishing for it to never open. His love was meant for all, his destiny devised by a few, his favour being that to which he cherished. He knew that he had no choice. His path clear. His opinion being moved aside to do what was right.

Eros’ nerves jumped as the door opened. His heart appearing within his throat, hearing the beats nearly deafen his very soul. Tiacapan entered the room, closing the door behind her.

“Hello lover. I said that I’d be back!”

Eros felt his body respond, knowing that she would always control a part of him that was lost, to her. He wanted to push the feelings aside, banish them, brandish a will that could control such things, but that was futile. He watched as she removed her jacket, the outfit underneath ensuring the man within him desired every single inch of the woman standing there. He couldn't realistically call it an outfit, seeing as it consisted mainly of her skin, the modesty of her body barely covered.

He felt the thoughts, heard them, tasted them upon his lips. In another place, another time, he would rise to her and abandon all his hopes. He’d take her again and again, relishing every second, enveloping her within his strong arms, feeling every inch of body against hers. He wanted to lose control, to a woman that could match his sexual desire, with a hunger that knew no end. She came closer, dropping to her knees in front of him, her breasts asking for his lips to pay them attention.

“You know that you’re not supposed to be with a mortal woman. She can’t love you, the way I can!”

Eros heard the words, the words that possibly rang true within his ears, but that wasn’t love. Love found a way, a possible solution, where possible.

“What do you want from me, Tiacapan?”

“I think you know what I want, my Dear Eros. There’s only three of us left here. Together we could rule this place!”

Eros closed his eyes. The real reason, the trick, the malice, the viper exposing her teeth and intended poison. Once again, he would be used, subjected to her beautifully seductive torture, bruised by her kisses and expelled for his love.  She wanted him to remove the God of War. The transparency of her wicked ways all but laid flat for all to see.

He shook his head, realising that love truly could be blind. He could see it, from the highest spire to the lowest pit within this world. He wouldn't wish to think the thoughts, as he wanted to remain pure, but that would be childish. The idiocy of his heart, the wounded nature of his soul, bringing a smile to his lips. She was so beautiful, so tempting, the most seductive and alluring woman he’d ever set eyes upon. He would never regret the bondage she’d inflicted upon him, as a part enjoyed every single second, but that was a different time.

Eros held her hands within his, whilst standing. His face, his serious face, finally realising that Tiacapan truly believed that deception was normal. This was the way she lived. Her hunger knowing no limits.

“What’s wrong, my love?” asked Tiacapan.

“A part of me truly, truly still loves you. Despite knowing that it’s wrong. I'm ready to let go now!”

Tiacapan’s face turned to confusion, “Why would you let me go? You cannot harm me?”

“I know. I would never wish to harm you, and that is why I have asked for you to be removed!”

Eros let go of Tiacapan’s hands, as she stepped back. The shadows, within the room, changed, moving towards her. Tiacapan knew what they were and where she was going. She stood still, looking into Eros’ soft eyes, a certain amount of renewed respect, a knowing, a realisation that he was more than she truly knew.

“You will not be kept there for long!” Said Eros, knowing that no cage, mortal or godly, could contain such a hunger for long, regardless of where or how.

Tiacapan faded into the shadows, smiling, finding a new respect for the God of love. She’d see him again, soon.  Eros sat back into the chair, the moment completed, the path now clear, with one last task to complete. He wasn't looking forward to such an event but, as proclaimed by the God of War, Eros would find him and, right now, that was his only choice.

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Selection

“Good evening Madame. We have prepared the fine selection, of your choosing. Would you be ready to receive them?”

The words failed to raise her interest, fleeting, inconsequential in the events sure to follow. The flight had been delayed, one of many happenings that frustrated her, often, in her ordered world. Flustered, with the feeling slowly moving from her mind, she placed the deliciously presented wine glass, more or less empty, to her side. Her aid quickly moving to remove the glass. She preferred order, the chaos of life bringing forward the annoyance of moments.

She knew, of course, that not all could be ordered. She preferred finesse, random moments, the excitement of what her partner would do or even say. This, to her mind as well as emotions, brought her to this place. This event. Right now.

She’d dated the men at the top, to eventually see them fall below her. She’d flittered away her time upon the playboys of her world. Exciting, their smooth smiles and defined bodies bringing a certain amount of joy and satisfaction but, the included warranty, failed to last the test of time. She grew tired of such moments, was currently tired, with her entire being asking for something more. Something else. That special type of man to improve her life. She would never be second best, as that was impossible, so she would now expect the best from another.

Love, above all things, wasn't intended to be purchased, the ideal of the emotion being for free, but she knew that it simply wasn't the case. As a younger woman, as a child growing into her given world, she’d imagined the usual fairy-tale of opportunities. The house in the woods, the long driveway, the simple but affectionate life, being the dream and world that she’d wished would fill her heart.

It had happened, for a time, her years being taken from her by one special person that was supposed to last. It didn't last. The lies, the silent words that hurt, the looks that scolded. They grew, they really did grow, apart and further away from each other.

She pushed away the thoughts, those ideals that she’d managed to hold onto. They would always be a part of her, deep within, crying to see the light of day but that dream, those moments, were gone. She sat back onto the lavish seat as the four gentlemen walked into the room. She’d asked to sidestep the usual decorum, heading straight to the meat and soul of the solution. The four men, standing in perfect union in front of her, were all naked and finely displayed.

Each of them, according to their transcripts, were highly educated in many, many degrees. Multiple languages, a fluent grasp of their role within a woman’s life and more. The four of them, however, held a certain aspect that she wished for within her partner. Highly creative, adaptive, the results from their social integration tests proving that they would fall in love.  If, of course, presented with a sensible other. They’d all stay with the emotion, which was a rare quality. Truthful, while always respectful, honest, without any cruel words. Supportive, whilst knowing that she would never need them in such a fashion.

Each of them had, of course, read her profile. Each of them heavily interested in what she could offer. All four wishing to be defined as men, actual real-life men, with what the title actually heralded. She studied each of their faces, enjoying the view from their clean-shaven view. All muscular, a low percentage of body fat, resulting in the kind of stomach definition a woman could only dream of. Their tapered abdomens, sending a few salacious thoughts into the back of her mind, as she continued to study them.

Her eyes, being the window to her every desire, seemed to be drawn to the first two men. She looked across to the gentleman, waiting for her decision. She raised her hand, her fingers gesticulating that she’d like to keep the first two. A few seconds later and the two men remained. She stood and turned to her aid, who quickly handed the re-filled wine glass back to her, as the men behind were dressed in the most exquisite dinner suits she could select.

It was one thing to know how a man looked in his bedroom uniform, but the dinner uniform really did something for her. A smart man. A well-dressed man, presentable, the envy of others whilst holding her arm, really enabled a certain part of her emotions. She did, after all, wish to be loved. Maybe even adored. She wished to see such emotions filling his eyes as she looked at him. She truly wanted someone to love her, to be with her for the woman inside that just wanted to be free. Giddy. Silly. Laughing until the very early hours, as the wine lowered her defences, allowing the animal within her to take hold, as they did what she wanted to do.

She turned, her eyes widening with the view. The both of them, each one, could just take her right now. Anywhere. She wouldn't care. Even if it were to that bedroom but, by the way she felt, they’d never make it that far. She gathered her composure, ignoring the wine speaking to the devil within, as she sat on the chair. The gentleman, in the corner, cleared his throat and both of the men looked at her.

One of them, soon, would begin the journey of being hers. If you wanted a sports car, you’d buy such a car knowing that it was a thoroughbred of performance. She was sick to the ends of the world with second hand vehicles. She needed to be driven, in every single way, knowing that she would be in safe hands. This entire situation, although foreign to her, was apparently well known within the circles she inhabited. She’d always wondered how her friends had managed to find such amazingly perfected men. Now, right now, she knew how.

Both of them looked at her, in that way, the way she’d enjoyed on a few occasions. That wanton, immoral way, the way a hungry animal would look at the food directly in front of them. They couldn't help it, she knew that, as they were men. These particular men, although trained in the fine arts of love making, were both virgins. The very thought would make her laugh, if it were not for the way they looked. Raised for one purpose. To belong to someone. Someone like her. The idiocy of it all, the complete crazy motion of events bringing her here, all now worthwhile.

The gentleman, once again, cleared his throat and, in turn, each of them spoke to her.

“Hello, it is my pleasure to meet you!”

“Hello, it is my pleasure to meet you!”

She nearly dropped the glass, not quite sure what to do, as she again simply wouldn't know which to pick. She didn't wish to be greedy, as her heart would only be meant for one, but she could easily have both. The selection of her needs and desires possibly requiring two men, but that simply wouldn't do, and she knew this.

As her mind flicked through the various scenarios, her usually decisive mind struggling, the second man started to smile. He looked so very, very cheeky, for the smallest of seconds, before regaining his composure. She liked that. She wanted and needed that. Control was seductive, the evocative notion of order, but as she reminded herself before, she needed that moment of random within her life and right now, she’d made her selection.

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Eros 5

Eros stood upon the mountain, trying to relax, unable to conquer the fears within his heart. Once again, his curse rising to face him, mocking him, knowing the very weakness he had to face. He truly did not know how to run from the very thing that would make him whole, complete, the God that he should have been many years previous.

He looked out into the valley in front of him, the serenity, the pure peace of Mother Nature embracing him. He missed the silence of the Gods. The days and months where he wouldn't see, let alone speak, to a living soul. Even the spirits needed time alone. He, on the other hand, only wished for the company of one other.

He would weep, truly cry, if his heart allowed such a thing to take place. He could not cry for the situation that he allowed to take place. He should have known. He should have acted. The very moment the door opened, and he witnessed her face, was the very second he should have abandoned her memory forever. He could not blame time, the moment, her cruel mind or even the Gods themselves. He, after all, was one of them. The ever-perfect Gods. Each one with the power to change destiny, each one with the chance of ever lasting life. They knew nothing, despite thinking that they ruled this mortal place.

Eros shook his head, disagreeing with some of his own thoughts, chastising the very events that brought him here, now, to this place. He’d sent the message, the simple message, asking to meet. This moment would prove to him, truly clarify his emotions, if Sandra appeared. He hoped that she would, despite the inner conversations stating otherwise, despite his faith wavering. The watch hand struck the moment and he waited. She was always on time, without question, a bastion of time keeping which he admired.

The moments escaped him, moving like the sand of time, as the world within his view continued to bustle. He watched the far-off people move. Their day knowing nothing of his struggle, his misery, or his loss. The mortals truly were free, to have and to hold, only defined by their own laws and ideals. From behind Eros, a car appeared, stopping a small distance away. Eros turned to see Jackson sat in the driver’s seat, with Sandra across from him. He smiled, his heart moving ever so slightly as the butterflies skipped within. He was not used to feeling such things, but enjoyed them, nevertheless.

The car door opened, further seconds escaping, with a conversation taking place within the car. Eventually, Sandra started the small walk towards him. Eros noticed her displeasure. He felt his heart fall, ever so slightly, but that was to be expected.

“Stop,” he said, raising his hand, “you must stay where you are until I have finished!”

Sandra, looking confused, said nothing. Eros looked at her, taking in her beauty, her lips calling to him, but no matter how much he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, it would not be allowed. He exhaled slightly, realising that he feared this moment. He, above all, could hardly be called a fearful God, but he felt the moment no matter the place or person. He started to speak in the only way he truly knew, with words of honesty.

“If you move any closer your thoughts will change. The way you look at me will change. All of the Gods are cursed. What makes us what we are, also binds us to certain ailments. My ailment is love. The people around me, close to me, cannot help but feel love. You might not see this as a curse, but it is!”

Sandra listened, wanting to hear his words, while not quite understanding all the events of the last few weeks. She wanted love, needed love in her life, but this was completely unexpected. She simply wished to be happy, the usual path, a partner with no drama or fuss. She’d stayed single for the longest time, ignoring the married men, the men that played and the men with issues. Then, from nowhere, this happened. She listened as he continued speaking, his beautiful voice, as well as his beautiful face, seeming earnestly honest.

“I know what you witnessed cannot be removed. But truly believe me, honestly, what you think you saw did not happen. It was your name upon my lips as I stopped her duplicitous moment. I thought of you. Only you as I held her away from me!”

“Why should I believe you?” she replied, frustration rising within.

“My curse is that I can feel you, your heart, every single beat, from here. I can tell when I’ve hurt you, with whatever words or actions I have made. I hurt you, in turn, I hurt myself.”

Sandra, looking pained, replied, “Then why ask me to come here?”

“Mortal beings are also cursed. Your emotions lash out, scold, damage and hurt. Out here, with just the two of us, I know that you came here because you truly do care. You do feel, for me. This… and this alone, is what I need and want. I no longer wish to be cursed! But what I need is nothing, as all that matters is what you want!”

Sandra stepped forward a few paces, “How can you expect me to be with you when every single woman wants you?”

Eros lowered his head, closing his eyes, knowing exactly what she meant, “Beauty is also a curse. The love of many for the one. Miss-placed, not required or wanted. I have realised that loving all, is too much. Loving one person, just one, is what I am supposed to do. I cannot live without that love. It’s what I was made for.”

Sandra stepped ever closer, wanting to bridge the distance, feeling his influence flow into her very heart and soul, “I can feel your love. It’s beautiful!”

“But it hurts… so much. I cannot live the way I have!”

“Then let me hold you. If you promise to love me then I will, with all my heart, love you!”

Eros fell to his knees, all of his Godly strength failing him, falling again to the dust from whence he came. His eyes wept, his sadness flowing from his soul as the clouds above formed. Sandra reached him, straddling him, wrapping her arms around his body. Eros lifted his head, looking into her eyes, his body shaking at the pain and suffering he’d hidden from the world. The eternity of pain finally broken, as the rain started to pour.

Sandra, placing her hand onto the side of his face, smiled. She had him. She would hold him and never let him go. She didn't even wish to understand the depth of his heart, as it was enough to feel his arms around her. She knew that he’d die before letting anything happen. She could protect herself, she knew this, but having him stand beside her would be the balance within her world.

Eros looked into her eyes as his heart ached. He nearly lost her, his abandoned heart trying to remain strong, as his nerves and guile failed him. He was not a man to mince his words, despite his charm and care for each of the mortals.  He’d fallen, again, for a woman. He knew the cost. He knew that he would watch her grow old, holding his hand, as her body weakened. He would keep her mind and heart young, filled with the laughter of love. Then, one day, she would leave him. He pushed the thoughts aside, then did what he should have done the moment she’d stepped from the car.

He kissed her. Every ounce of passion, love and desire went into the kiss. If he could break the world in two, to be with her, he would. Sandra felt the kiss, her entire body responding as he held her closer.

She started to giggle, as the kiss broke away, with Eros wondering what made her laugh, ”What?” he asked.

“Why is the rain red?”

Eros laughed, “That, my young maiden, is the colour of my heart’s pain.”

In the car, Jackson watched as Eros stood, with Sandra’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Damn. That dudes got some game!”

Eros, walking towards the car, knowing that he had an important task to take care of. He did not welcome the hours ahead, as he wished for another way, but he could no longer run from his fears or the viper within. Tiacapan would have to be dealt with.

Click to Listen

Eros 4

Eros opened the door with a smile, his heart still holding hope of recovery from the previous events. His love, above all, finding a way to survive. His smile fell, as his heart sank. Tiacapan stood in the doorway, head slightly down, her enticing eyes staring into his. His heart immediately lost control, his mind’s grip of sanity fell away, as he stepped back. No words could be found. He’d run, if he were not frozen to the spot.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” She asked with her usual seductive charm filled voice. He was charming, possibly the most charming man upon the very earth he stood, but she, this woman of his, knew a level of charm that caressed the very lines of seduction. She didn't even need to speak, utter a word, to make any mortal man fall to his knees. She was the Goddess of sexual hunger, the desire, the very nature that filled man with their innate need to have. To take. To hold. To bathe within a woman’s warmth and need. She was the greed within, the longing without, the very notion of sexual expression.

Eros stood aside, as she walked into the apartment. The door closed as he turned, trying to calm his inner monologue that had suddenly sprung to life. His eyes wished not to see her, to witness the very woman that broke him, used him, then cast him aside. He was love, he was the feeling that kept all safe at night and hearts serene. She’d taken that love, taken every single second, used him, then lavished every inch that he could give. Again and again, over and over, the nights stretching to weeks. She broke him in a way that he could never recover from. His very soul, his appetite, not being enough.

Her hunger, endless. Her desire, the heat from which a man became nothing. He’d given her everything. He adored her very mind, body and soul and yet, at the end, she still hungered for more. Eros turned, resting against the kitchen top, as she approached him. His control failed him as his male eyes expressed their need to explore her body. She was sin. She was an endless pool of utter pleasure that his body ached for. He cursed himself, admonished his body for responding instantly to her very view. If he could, despite his inner objections, he would take her now and not leave until she begged for him to stop.

He shook his head, knowing that such a place could never exist. Her hunger would never be met by someone such as he. “What do you want?” he asked, defiance in his voice.

“I think you know what I want!”

Eros looked to his side as she stood right in front of him. She pressed her hips against his, her face so close that he could taste her lipstick.

“Didn't you once beg me for more, for this to never, ever end?”

“I did. But that was before you laughed in my face and took another!”

“Ancient history!”

Eros smirked, taking a wild look at her expertly presented chest. His thoughts, no longer his own, as her curse invaded his body. He could no longer walk away, even if he wanted to do so. She would always have control of him, a part of his stupid heart, especially his body. It ached for the pain and pleasure she’d inflicted upon him. He dared not close his eyes otherwise he’d fall into the abyss of pleasure.  He recalled the week where she’d chained him to a slab of rock, ridden him for days, where he’d reached his end over and over again, as she laughed.

“You broke me!”

“My beloved Eros. I thought love knew no limits?”

“What you did to me wasn't love and you know this.”

Tiacapan laughed as she pressed her breasts together, trying to look innocent, “Wouldn't you like to place your lips here… and here?”

Eros shook his head as she fell to her knees, his strength failing him. The Gods had power, not only over the mortals, but over each other and right now, her power was working more than he liked. She removed his belt, as his mind imagined her lips upon him, over him, teasing as they once did. The power of hunger, the desire to have, to be had, all far too much for him as his mind lost control.

She undid the first button and, just then, his heart skipped a beat as he recalled all of the events. She’d ripped his heart in two, scolded him, made him feel worthless and betrayed. His pure heart abandoned and forgotten. Sandra’s face appeared within his mind, the moment they’d shared but days previous, as his hand moved to firmly hold his jeans in place, “You will NOT have me again!”

His defiance angered her, as her face turned to one of evil intent. No longer would her hunger, the madness of desire, have a hold upon his heart. He did not want this, wasn’t even sure from the start, with this moment being the first time to break the events. As his mind thanked him, the apartment door opened, across the room, as Sandra walked in,

“I got your message to meet!”

Eros knew the trick that had been played. It was too late. He could say a thousand words and not one, not even two, would ever change the next few moments. She looked across the room to see Tiacapan on her knees, in front of Eros, rubbing her lips supposedly clean. Sandra composed herself, turned, then walked out of the door.

“Leave. Now,” said Eros, anger within his voice, “or I will make you leave!”

Tiacapan rose, the smile upon her face her prize from the moment of sedition. She’d won. Once again, her hunger for dominance had destroyed a part of him. She walked towards the door, a slow walk, an intentional walk, turning as she left the room to say a few final words, “In a few days I’ll return, and I will have you again. Until then, sweet dreams… lover!”

Eros grabbed the nearest item, throwing it at the door as hard as he could. The manipulation apparent. His heart once again lost in a free-fall of confusion, desire, hunger and longing. He would resolve this, all of this, even if it were the very last thing he would do. His words, his very next words within the world, would have to be ever so precise and impactful. He would not lose Sandra. This, to him, was certain no matter the nefarious plan of Tiacapan.

Click to Listen

Eros 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Sandra stared into his eyes, trying to deduce how many colours existed, despite not needing any excuse to look. He was perfection. Physically at least. She knew that he was charming, knew the right words to say, at all the right times, but that wasn't enough. She wanted more and right now, was the first chance she’d had to find what she needed.

She wouldn't freely admit it but, from the very first second he’d smiled, she’d been attracted. If she were being brutally honest with herself, or a few others, she’d rip the damn shirt off his back and do what came naturally. She, of course, wouldn't do that. That wasn't her, despite some of her friends seeing the world differently. They would say, ‘If a man can do it then you can!’ She’d like that. A lot. So very, very much, especially when his lips seemed to be talking to her thoughts in such a wondrous manner.

His laugh, the way he spoke, were all music to her ears. She could easily get swept away with such things. The moments. She was flirting, she knew it, playing with her glorious hair. She’d realised that he had a thing for a woman’s hair, when he’d literally stopped in the middle of serving, due to removing her hair band. The way he’d looked at her spoke to her body as well as mind.

Eros, sitting across the table from Sandra, the dark calm outside, spoke with his usually seductively charming voice. His vocal tone lowered, just a little, the words slowing down to empathise meaning, as his eyes and thoughts spiralled closer to losing control. His love for all, his affection for many, was truly focused on the woman in front of him. The world could fall around him, and his gaze would never leave her side. His thoughts were less than pure, his imagination roaring out of control, simply wishing to love every single inch of her perfectly formed frame.

“I created a Facebook page, last week, as it’s apparently the social thing to do!”

“Oh, have you now,” Sandra replied, wondering why he didn't already have one, casting aside the fact that he was apparently the God of love. Or something like that, “Let me have a look?”

Eros reached into his pocket, finding his phone. He swiped, pressed the screen a few times, prodded the side, then handed Sandra the phone. This was all new to him, a crazy notion that so many people could be connected with love, aspirations to improve and to spread positivity. To him this was a wondrous platform of beauty.

Sandra opened Facebook, with Eros’ perfect pictures appearing in front of her eyes, each one amazingly framed and telling a story all on their own. She’d never seen such a perfect profile in her life. She navigated to his friends list, which seemed to consist of six hundred and seventy-four females, mostly half dressed, Jackson near the top, and two hundred and twelve men. Also mostly dressed. She smiled. Beauty did what beauty did.

She clicked on his messages, with two hundred unread, her mouth opening as the nude pictures appeared. One after another, again and again, her amazement growing as she moved through the screens. She thought her friends received filth, but a beautiful man, was truly on a new level. She handed the phone back to Eros and, closing her mouth, just smiled.

“I'm amazed at how free mortals are when sharing views of their body. Truly you have all mastered the art of flesh!”

“I think… you might be seeing things a little differently than they are, Eros!”

Sandra shook her head, tutting to herself, as the door opened behind her, “We’re closed!” she said, as she turned. The figure, dressed in gold robes, slammed the door shut,

“Brother, I have come for you!”

Eros stood, his thoughts destroyed as he knew what was about to take place, “Alastor, Brother, please, not here!” Alastor smirked, laughing with a condescending tone, as he raised his hands. As he moved his palms outwards all of the chairs and tables moved to the sides of the room.  Alastor, being the God of family feuds, would only be here for one reason… to destroy Eros.

“Brother Eros. I am sick and tired of you and your feelings. You have caused no end of problems for your family and it will stop!” Eros moved to stand in front of Sandra, moving slowly back towards the wall. He turned to her, nodded, then spoke softly,

“No matter what happens, do not intervene!” Sandra nodded, confused, especially after witnessing everything move the way it did.

Eros stepped forward, as Alastor, reaching behind him, brought forward his haladie double bladed dagger. Eros knew that it was likely a cursed blade, made from the earth’s finest metals. Deadly to all and most certainly meant to cause him harm. He wasn't mortal, his skin far tougher, but there would always be ways to hurt any of the Gods. He reached out, his earnest face pleading the obvious message, as Alastor stabbed with the blade. Eros jumped back, slightly, surprised that this was happening. They’d known each other for the longest time, been Brothers, laughed, drank the wine from the lake, and more.

“Brother, please, listen to me… you do not have to do this?”

“Oh but Brother, I do. We all do!”

All at once, Alastor moved forward, stabbing, thrusting, wishing to catch any part of Eros. Dodging, remembering the months of training, Eros moved with ease, the grace instilled within finally being of use. He loved to train, as with anything he loved, he admired the fluidity of combat. This, on the other hand, was not a game. The blade scored a glancing strike to his side. Alastor, for a second, stopped, as Eros placed his hand onto the cut. The blood, the blood of a god, spilled slowly to the floor and over his hands.

Eros couldn't believe this. He didn't wish to have his heart broken by his own Brother. The betrayal, the belief that they would all stand together, finally destroyed within a few moments. His face betrayed his anguish and he stopped. He just stopped. He wished to accept his fate. This was his end and he welcomed all of it. Love meant nothing if even the Gods would not stand together.

Alastor, moving the blade around his fingers with the greatest of skill, knew what was happening. He admired Eros, even loved him, but that love simply could not hide his jealous nature. His hatred, for one that blindly believed that the mortals were anything other than mindless animals, could not be ignored. Their desires, their needs, being all but children within the wonders of nature. He didn't care if he himself, succumbed to such a nature, as they were gods. Above the mortals.

“After you die, I will have words with your Maiden!” said Alastor. Eros, eyes closed as the words hit his ears, lowered his head and opened his eyes. Enlivened, the anger building within him and his thoughts no longer his own. He stepped forward. The anger within him, held at bay by his decreasing love for this thing in front of him, bubbled to the surface.

“You can take my body, Brother. You can end my very life and soul. But you will not, you will never, touch a hair upon the people I love!”

Alastor moved his hand with speed as the knife thrusted towards Eros’ neck. Eros moved, ever so slightly, noticing the knife miss his neck by barely a few millimetres. The room seemed to slow to a crawl as Alastor moved to his side, bringing the knife across towards Eros’ neck. Eros ducked and moved his upper body to the side, quickly bringing his fist forward to strike just below Alastor’s throat. The punch shook him, as he stepped backwards a few paces.

“You see, Brother, love is a moment away from rage. From anger. From absolute madness!”

A second escaped as Eros grabbed Alastor’s wrist, peeling back two fingers with his other hand to break them. The knife dropped as Eros thrust his knee into Alastor’s neck. Alastor dropped to his knees, concussed, eyes flailing wildly, as Eros placed his fingers into Alastor’s mouth. Eros turned Alastor, placing a knee to the back of his neck, as he ripped his upper head from his body. The blood spread across the room, covering the walls, tables and chairs.

Sandra screamed, in absolute shock at such an event, as her eyes stayed open. Alastor’s body fell to the floor and, as she felt her own body start to shake, watched as the lifeless vessel crumbled to dust and vanished.

Eros turned, walked towards where Sandra stood, reached the back of the room, as his back slid down the wall. His hand held the cut, the wound slowly healing. Sandra knelt beside him, not knowing what to say or do. He looked in pain, a smile no longer across his face, which seemed odd as he always smiled. She placed a hand onto his leg, as he opened his eyes, the events pouring from his pain filled look. He held her hand in his, letting go of his side, to pull her across him. Straddling his lap, he held her, shaking, the moment overcoming his mind and heart. He’d just killed his Brother. Violently. Ruthlessly. There would never be a return from something like this.

He looked at her, her hair strewn across her beautiful face, her fear subsiding as her thoughts turned to him. This was why he loved them, all of them, all of the mortals. They formed connections. Fleeting, trivial, but connections, nonetheless. He wanted to love all of them but, right now, one above all others. His crime repeated, once again he found himself here, a place that he wanted to be.

She brushed aside his hair, as he did the same with hers. She just looked at him. A part of her knew that he wasn't for her, wouldn't be kept by her side, but the pain would all be worth it. She moved forward and pressed her lips to his. Both bodies shaking, both filled with fear, overcome with the very moment of defences removed. His lips were warm, eager, as she placed a hand upon his chest to feel his raging heart beating. His hands held the side of her face, as they kissed. The heat from his body flowed over her, as he held her closer. He moved her back, ever so slightly, placing his hands upon her shirt, before ripping it open. He kissed her again, his blood-soaked hand moving her bra away to feel her.

His thoughts, filled with sadness, rage, confusion, passion and longing, fell away to the moment. He knew that moments, such as this, seldom appeared within the world of sedated lust. He couldn't and wouldn't stop this even if he thought he had a choice. There was no escape and he welcomed this prison of his own making.

Her legs wrapped around him, being careful of his bleeding cut, as his hands found her skin. He wanted to, despite the ache from his side, stay like this forever. He’d spent most of his lifetime loving the mortals, feeling their anguish and pain, wishing that he could love them all. This, to him, was the purity of two people becoming more than one. He knew that he was afraid, wished to escape such moments, but this was beautiful.

Sandra felt his lips, shaking as they caressed her neck, enticing a reaction that she was more than willing to provide. She felt her own fear, rising within, wondering what would happen after today, after this night. She’d stop, she’d ask questions, but the way he held her kept her silent, other than her bodies desire to show appreciation for his fingers. He was amazingly strong, as she’d just seen, but with a gentility that defied understanding. Others usually grabbed, fumbled, while his grace simply made her body want to dance for him. She felt his hands move along her legs, closer to where she desperately wanted him to be.

Eros had known the softest skin, the most perfect forms within his world, but this woman in front of him defied that logic as his heart begged him to continue. Each time he touched her, she responded with such vigour that he feared for his sanity. She was alive, passionate, longing for more. He knew the possibility of falling for a mortal would never be accepted but he, after all, knew the hefty price of love. It was his entire world. His every want. All his needs sitting upon him right in front of his eyes. 

He smiled, knowing, realising, that the night ahead would be a long and worthy night.

--

Across the street from the restaurant, Tiacapan stood, watching the both of them. The jealously rose within her, the anger, the viper tainting her nature of sexual hunger. She knew that it was her doing, all of this, the reason why all of them were cast down to this infernal place. She’d danced with Eros, broke him, used him, then cast him aside. It didn't matter to her as Eros was hers. Now, forever, until the very end of time. Even if she didn't want him, even if she destroyed him, no-one else would have what she’d taken.

Eros 2

Click for Part 1

Eros placed the plate onto the table, quickly double checking that he’d placed the correct condiments in the most sensible place. He smiled at the two ladies, admiring their beauty as one of them slipped her hand around him, to squeeze his backside. Eros, laughing slightly, nodded as the ladies looked at each other, giggling, “Enjoy your meals, young ladies!” he said. Turning, glancing across the restaurant, he could see Jackson’s face. The utter shock and repulsion obvious.

As he neared, Jackson lent to Eros’ side, “Dude, they were both eighty!” Eros chuckled,

“My friend, any woman, at any age, has the desire to rival the wildest armies of man. I welcome the attention and return it with vigour.”  Jackson tilted his head slightly, mouth open, making noises of disbelief as he turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Eros had met Jackson on his very first visit to the restaurant, after seeing the note on the door asking for staff. He needed a job, and this seemed like a perfect fit. Jackson had a sense of humour that Eros had missed for the longest of times. A quick wit, a person to truly admire within the growing world of his.

Eros had found working a luxury, an adventure, especially after the many, many thousands of years standing by the pillars of time or admiring all the mortals from afar. He welcomed the change, embraced the moments, with his daily life becoming something that he welcomed. The easy task, of feeding then many, with the few scraps that they created, was but a pleasure for one such as himself. He loved them. Every single one.

The bell rang, snapping Eros from his thoughts, sending him immediately towards the collection counter. The food smelled glorious, cooked to perfection, and it all reminded him of the feasts that he often enjoyed. He did not need to eat but, nonetheless, the Gods sometimes reminded themselves of the mortal’s desires. Collecting the two plates of food, he quickly navigated the bustling room.

He reached the table and put the food down, nodding to the two gentlemen. He looked at the both of them, their clothes, the design of their hair, the facial hair formations and more. Jackson had called the formation a moustache, an age-old testament of man. A coming of age. To prove to others that a male could finally deepen his voice, find a maiden and more. The word maiden. Eros wanted to laugh due to Jackson stating, insisting, that he never call a woman a ‘maiden’.

As the two men started to eat, the pleasantries exchanged, Eros looked towards the entrance as a woman walked in. His eyes widened, his stance straightened, as his desire rose within. She was magnificent. A spectacle. A moment in time that would never be repeated. “Who is this Maiden?” he asked no-one, forgetting his promise to Jackson.

“That’s Sandra. She works here!” answered the coming of age man. 

“I must know her!” Eros replied.

“Good luck, she’s not into pretty boys!”

Eros tutted, throwing aside such a comment, “I am more than pretty!”

He watched as she walked, time slowing to a near stop, his eyes expressing his intentions and desires. He loved all of them but, right now, one more than the others. He adored grace, beauty, especially the way her hair flowed as she walked. He knew that he’d recently had his heart ripped from his chest, but that would never matter to the God of love. He loved, he should love, again and again, until he found the one. Eros knew, that she was also the fourth woman that had caught his eye today. His love truly extended beyond the normality of this world.

His thoughts got the better of him, as he looked away, reminding himself that such things were not permitted. He could never love another person, again, ever. His duty was to love, not to receive love in any form. He had to hold and never be held. This was his curse. His longing to escape. Each time, the many times, he had been scolded as the petulant child he was. He shook his head, his long hair moving in front of his face. Brushing it aside, he once again nodded at the two men and walked towards the collection counter. His day, this very day, would continue. He pushed away the sadness that found him, closed his heart away and returned to smiling. This was his task. To love all. To embrace all of them, with endless love and gratitude.

He collected the next set of plates, turned, to find the restaurant once again, slowing. He watched as they all seemingly paused, a slow-motion event which could only mean one thing. He knew what was happening, feared the event, as he returned the plates to the counter.

“Brother!” said a voice from behind him. Eros turned, slowly, returning the greeting,

“Welcome Brother Ares. I never expected to see you here!” Eros looked at the face of a God that he hoped he’d never see again. His Brother, the God of war. The fear within Eros was not for himself, or his health, but for every single person around him. The entire planet. Ares lived for war, destruction, the suffering and carnage from blood thirsty endeavours. This was unexpected.

“Why are you here Ares?” Eros asked with humility in his voice, understanding that some Gods, above others, deserved respect.

“I am here, Brother, to warn you. We are all upon this Earth of yours. Amongst the creatures you care for.” Eros closed his eyes, realising the carnage that awaited the mortals. Ares continued, 

“It is your doing. You fell, you longed, you embraced one above all others and we have all paid the price for your foolishness.”

Eros stepped forward, “Brother, I…”

“No,” said Ares, cutting off Eros’ words, “All of us will fight each other as the mightiest returns to the heavens. Most of them will come for you, Brother, as we know that we paid the price for your mistake.” Eros wanted to plead, to beg Ares not to do whatever he would do, but there would be no use in such words.

“When all the others have finished with their fight, when there’s only the two of us, you shall come to me, Brother. You will fight me. If you do not, I will wage war upon this world!”

Eros, under his breath, cursed his Father for playing such a cruel game. It wasn't enough to have his love crushed, destroyed, then this.  As Ares faded the restaurant returned to normal and Eros turned, to once again collect the plates. He wasn't surprised, if he were being truthful to himself. This was the way of things. The way of the Gods. The mayhem. The madness of it all.

He placed the plates onto the table, the same routine repeated, the same smile and words. Underneath his stance, his gestures, arose feelings that he’d not felt for the longest time. Dread, fear, anger, with only his love to combat such things. No matter the outcome, the circumstances he found himself standing within, he’d use the greatest force he’d ever known… love.