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.