Ah! Yay! An Eros x Psyche. I just love them, and Eros is awesome. (hugs)
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He was mischief personified, and he knew no limits.
To be called young was no indignity to his pride. He enjoyed being always youthful and always playful, no matter if his body was that of a young man's and his fragile, unattainable beauty was one that commanded respect. Foolishness and vanity and underestimation regarding his power were truly the only things that could make him fly into a rage, for everything else was a game to him, and mortal life was the most enjoyable game of all.
Laughing must have been a thing unique to him, because his elders only seemed to gaze down upon the mortal realm with contemptuous smirks. But he enjoyed flitting about the clouds, lighting on swaying branches, and then crossing his legs comfortably as he watched and rested his chin on his hand, cocking his head in mild curiosity at the foolish antics of those without immortality. They were great fun to look after, because they were so naïve in the ways of living and such selfish, unpredictable creatures.
And their hearts were so easily manipulated.
They were faithless, fragile, and full of loathing, and he enjoyed the joke of pitting them against each other. True, his work of springing love into the hearts of soul mates was what dictated most of his duties, but whenever he was bored, or wronged, or just curious as to the side effects that might result, he sent his golden-tipped arrows into the fated lovers, often overwhelmed with laughter soon after the spell took its effect.
Apollo had been his favorite to toy with. He'd so enjoyed putting such a vain, arrogant fool in his place by making him chase after the virgin nymph like a raging fool.
How the sun god had lamented afterwards, as well. And he'd learned that Eros, forever-youthful god of love, was not a force to be reckoned with.
But Eros was not without responsibility, of course. His mother, the prideful, jealous, ill-tempered Venus, often recruited him be the carrier of her vengeance, most often when she was wounded that her beauty might be rivaled. So was the case now, too, as she sent her son off to a sheltered haven nestled past the mountaintops and streams, where a girl of renowned beauty rested, taken from her family to live in exile. He was to make this beautiful mortal fall in love with a wretched beast and meet her untimely end in its jaws, and he was to make sure it happened accordingly.
Sighing ruefully, still slightly humored by his mother's childish rage, he carried himself to this place which she'd spoken of to him, night rapidly falling as the sun's chariot melted towards the horizon. His insatiable curiosity was propelling him faster towards this girl than he'd normally allow, because, despite his mother's orders, he didn't want love to be any mortal's death. It was all for the love of the game to see them tormented, and always afterwards they were wisened, so stunned by the power of love as they were.
He didn't agree at all then that this innocent maiden be killed by his power when she'd done nothing but be beautiful.
Sighing and shaking his head, he lighted his feet on the grass stretching just before the quaint cabin's door, running his fingers through the golden locks of his hair tiredly. It was such a pity to do this to her. He hadn't even been able to toy with her emotions so that he might see the kind of person she was. Such a shame.
Stretching out his hand, he pushed lightly on the door, the creak of the wood signaling his arrival as he padded across the floorboards. The darkness spilled through the windows, the moon not yet high enough in her sky to send his shadow spilling away from him, and so he crossed the distance to her room in darkness, calmed by the atmosphere he found himself in. She must have been a gentle presence.
Again his lips were curled by a rueful smile, and he pushed open her bedroom door, not quite willing to end this without first starting a game. It was ill-spirited, it was, and there was no fun in this.
He felt great disappointment towards his mother for not letting him play his game with her.
Eros crossed the space stretching between him and the sleeping form, pausing only once in his travel when she breathed a soft sigh, jerked, and then turned over in her bed, facing the right wall as her pale fingertips peeked through her covers and dipped a little off of the bed. He hadn't been able to move seconds later, either, charmed by such innocence that she so obviously had. But with a shake of his head he closed the remaining distance, leaning casually back on his heels as he traced his finger absentmindedly along the covers of her bed, debating whether he should send her to her death without a face to her name of Psyche.
Infinitely curious, though, he decided that he wanted to see for himself whether her beauty could rival that of his mother's; so, he allowed his fingers to drift to the top of her covers, and then he pulled it gently away from her face, not wanting to rouse the gently sleeping girl.
In a rush the breath left his body, and he staggered, though standing still, over his footing. Vaguely he wondered if he'd pricked himself with his own arrows accidentally, so fast was his heart beating, but then he remembered that they were safely secured at his back and his hands were presently free of any objects. Confused by his emotions he rushed backwards, flitting uncertainly in the air, one hand grasping his golden hair as the other hovered over his chest, fingers twitching, breath hitching. And this Psyche mumbled softly, hand dragging the covers unconsciously back to her face, so that it was such an action of innocence and naivety that he started chuckling under his breath, holding his sides as his legs dangled into the air and he hovered above the floor.
Such a first, and such a thrilling game! He'd fallen in love without need of his sacred arrows.
Amused greatly at such a revelation, he flew over to her bed, tilting his head as he crossed his legs before him and hovered still over the floorboards. He'd rather like to stay with such a charming mortal for the night, to just watch and take in her beauty and maybe tease her senses by running a finger along her jaw bone, but he was still slightly worried by the pounding of his heart. He'd never felt this before, this roaring of his senses and uncertainty of his actions.
But he enjoyed it, he decided. It made everything that much more of a challenge.
He finally decided he would stay when he could not tear his eyes from her glorious features. The unknowingly teasing curve of her mouth, the gentle, sheepish flutter of her lashes, the softened sighs that whispered past her lips…all captivated him, excited him. And, as he was Eros, refined in the secrets of love that none knew more about than he did, he learned so much more from her just by watching her sleep, so that even by an hour's passing he was unsure of what he adored more: her hidden nature or awing beauty.
Tilting his head with a playful grin, he tickled the crook of her neck with his fingertips, heart soaring when she laughed slightly and twitched, gripping her pillow and drawing her knees closer to her chest. A sensation filled his cheeks and he closed his eyes happily, grinning widely at her, even more so in love with her. He'd never known a mortal to hold such power over any god, and yet she controlled his feelings now, so that when she laughed he felt the greatest happiness he'd ever felt before.
And he knew instantly that he would somehow make her his forever.
Dawn was but a breath's distance from the horizon when he finally roused himself from his trance, stretching his legs to his the floor and reaching his arms over his head, loosening his back of taught muscles. Then, gently, he leaned down at the waist and brushed his lips over her temple, over her cheek, and over her lips, offering a smile when she sighed contentedly and nestled into her bed more comfortably.
He'd offered this mortal ease, and so he was satisfied.
Turning, Eros left his precious Psyche for another day, deciding that it would be fun still to play with her, make this a game of sorts. And as time didn't matter to immortals, and his mother was particularly foolish and careless besides, he would be able to slip to her bedside at night, where he would learn more about the young woman and hopefully keep her always content. She would be his bride, and he would cherish her, because she was the only one to make the god of love weakened by his own resources. And he was amused by that. Amused by her.
She was his greatest game, no doubt, and even greater treasure.
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Please review! And Happy Valentine's Day, I guess.