Author's Note: As a sappy romantic at heart, I couldn't help but love the epic tale of Eros and Psyche. Please enjoy yourself, and do feel free to tell me what you think!

(Revamped, 3/3-5/08)

One

Quite honestly, I think I'm a little lost, on this wandering path we call life.

I feel like I'm acting in a horrible tragedy, when I can't even act.

Well, I don't think I've ever tried acting.

Do they not have anything better to do? The followers have been out there since morning.

Even though I am alone, I can still hear the titles and poems and hymns, drawn with my name, loudly in my head.

In my opinion, my "divine" beauty might as well be a curse.

So, my skin is "porcelain-like," my eyes resemble the "sparkling, chameleon waters of the sea" (my eyes are just a deep blue, that is all), and my hair "glistens and glimmers like virgin gold shavings" (my hair doesn't even look like gold), and apparently my figure is "beyond perfect."

People call me beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful. A remarkable beauty.

Why is it that everyone has a name for me, except for myself?

People go as far to claim that I was fairer than the Aphrodite herself, offering the customary sacrifices to me instead of to the goddess. I do hope she forgives me.

It is beyond irritating during strolls to have people bow courteously deep and pile flowers along the path that I walk.

No one looks at me the same...ever since my thirteenth birthday.

Everyone sees me as a divine beauty, and they all go out of their way to ensure their mask of polite courteousness stays intact.

Everyday, every instant, I hear the followers outside the walls of my home—my family's palace.

I admit I feel lonely…I don't think I have any friends now. It's beyond frustrating to look at the tops of their heads when they talk to me. It's not as if they even talk to me about interesting things, anyway.

Of course I feel jealous of my sisters, when their hands were given in marriage. I'm sure they have much more excitement and happiness in their lives.

I need somebody to bring excitement and happiness into my life. I cannot stand this sort of bland existence. I do not want to keep spending my days walking around the palace wings.

Honestly, even our garden is crowded with watchful eyes of the followers!

I feel tired and weary when someone flatters me (yet again) on my appearance. I would much rather they say "you're a lovely musician, dear" or even "you are quite the eccentric lady, Psyche."

I find no meaning in my life. I don't want to live so shallowly, where my whole existence is based on my appearance! I don't even know what kind of life I want to live. I don't even know who I am, and what kind of life I need! There's nothing remarkable about me. I don't have any special (not physical) trait I'm really known for. I don't even think I have a talent. I don't think anyone even talks to me out of a good heart.

At least they don't ask for blessings. Yet.

I really do love my mother.

Really.

Truly.

Most of the time, anyway.

But perhaps just not now.

Not just because she was throwing a temper tantrum, but because she was beyond furious.

No one wants an angered goddess…an angered Aphrodite no less.

The most important part was not because she was angry, but because she had discovered someone else that was more beautiful than her.

Oh, the horror. What has the world come to. Where is the justice. Yes, there is no justice. Blah, blah, blah.

My mother, ironically, looks like the most gentle, most peaceful, and most loving woman in all the lands. Her fair skin and light blue eyes give her this sort of...look. It's not something that can be described easily with words.

"No. No. No. I will not allow this, this, this to continue! I don't want this girl walking around the living earth without shame!"

Mother is known for her short temper among her fellow gods.

I nod absentmindedly and take a sip of wine from my goblet.

My brother Anteros sighs at my mother's wrath. I suppose he feels sorry for the unfortunate maiden that was fated for this destiny.

My brother and I are quite similar in ways; not only on account of our appearance (his hair was only a smidgen bit longer than mine, and his eyes were green, while mine were a brown color), but perhaps on our track of thought, too.

Our work with mortals, however, is a different story for another day.

"Something, something, must be done with this girl! This mortal must be humiliated and put to shame!"

Meaning: she is going to use us, like she always does, to get rid of her little troubles. I've stopped trying to be angry about that. It's the same situation over and over again, anyway.

My mother massages her temples. Then—

"Yes! I have it! I know what I shall do with the girl!"

Mother, you do the same thing with all the beautiful girls.

My brother rolls his eyes. I can practically hear him thinking, 'What now?'

Her slanted eyes take on this odd glint, and her brows angle in this strangely exotic way. I suppose I could describe it as almost enticing, in a very disturbed sense.

Well, it's my opinion, anyway.

Looking straight at Mother's face is difficult, really. It is like an annoyingly bright, bright, ray of…sexual beauty that hits one directly in the face. Analyzing Mother's beauty disturbs me, but, it's like the kind of beauty popular prostitutes have, but much more…refined and exaggerated, I suppose. She has this sort of glow to her, too. Her appearance is just...

Yes, very high impact. Yes, there.

Not me! Nor my brother, of course.

"Eros."

"…Yes, mother?"

My dear brother sighs and takes a bite of a biscuit. I think there's some sort of blueberry sauce drizzled on it. I love blueberries. I want one of those biscuits, too!

Mother's pacing around the chamber, and her perfume is really starting to bother me. I suppose one could say it was…distracting.

She has this uncanny ability to be angry without really looking angry, too. She looks as…sexual as ever. It is quite mind-boggling.

"You will do me a favor, son."

"What favor?"

She also has this uncanny ability to rapidly wrinkle one down to one's toes. My brother and I call it "ejaculation in the worst possible way."

"Oh, I think you know what to do, dear. I want this beautiful maiden to fall in love with some atrocious creature."

"Which one?"

"Come here, look. That's her, sitting on the bench beside the roses. You should be able to find this maiden. Her name is Psyche."

"…"

"Oh, let me see, Mother."

"…Mother, must I?"

"You know you must."

The both of us can't help but flinch at her uncanny abilities.

"…Yes, Mother. I shall be on way."

"As always, report back to me, dear!"

Mother is so helplessly childish.

Really, couldn't she solve her own problems herself, and not have her sons waiting on her? One would think that, being a goddess, it makes one capable of taking control of complex situations. Especially, when one has hundreds of devout servants and unusually powerful uncanny abilities. Oh, but of course; only if one really does not possess the average intelligence.

(Honestly, Mother is very…oblivious with things.)

My brother and I have endured enough of her ramblings, but still, I suppose it was rather amusing sometimes.

She is so childish.

I, on the other hand, pride myself on having a youthful spirit. However, having a youthful spirit and being childish are always two different things.

Love shouldn't be the demise of people; mortals and immortals alike. She should be the one who knows this best.

I slip out of my normal dress and step into my nightgown. It is a soft, creamy attire that is ideal for sleeping. Usually the calm night is when I could actually relax.

Really, I'm not as depressed as I might have sounded earlier. I'm actually quite a happy person.

People can never fight loneliness.

I do love the night. The stars are glorious, and the moon is so serene and peaceful.

I stride outside of my chamber and out to the balcony. It is a very beautiful nighttime, with the stars winking, and the lovely moon beaming happily at the mortal universe.

I sigh and walk back in.

"Please, Airlia, I'll take care of combing out my hair tonight. You've had a tiring day; you should retire for now."

"Yes, miss."

She exits the room, and I sit down on my stool, facing the vanity table. I take my ivory comb (sixteenth birthday present) and start to release my hair from their plait.

I don't understand why I have to look like this everyday. All I really do is sit around in the courts and try to pay attention to the followers. I don't even understand why I actually try to pay attention to the followers. Polite? Common courtesy? Why? Am I supposed to be polite as the "divine beauty"?

That's only two days a week, though. I am bored out of my mind the rest of the days.

I comb out my hair and slide my fingers through it, savoring the last quiet moments I have before tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be an important day.

I sigh again; it would undoubtedly be a long day.

My mother was right.

This maiden really is the loveliest woman I've ever laid my eyes on.

And I have seen more than my fair share of lovely ladies.

It wasn't only her face and her figure. There was something in her angled, beautiful eyes (they were an astonishingly deep blue, with twinkles that would have put Poseidon's seas to shame) and some glow of…divinity that I just couldn't place.

Her hair is really a nice color. Looks really soft, too. It's not hard to imagine the tresses curling along the contours of my fingers…

She sets down her comb and shakes her hair free. Psyche walks towards her bed, moving with fluid grace.

Perhaps it really was best that I wasn't visible to her eyes. I was this transparent form outside her windows, hovering near the balcony. (Her tapestries aren't closed.)

The maiden looks young; probably around my age. (We immortals usually stay around our mid-twenties, in the golden stages of our youth.)

A single tear slipped under her thick lashes and down her cheek.

She swipes it away, and lays down into the blankets and pillows, nestling deep into them.

This girl really is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

I seldom feel serious about anything…I am perhaps the least serious one in Mt. Olympus.

Truthfully, I hold pride in that.

Perhaps I was not the best one to be trusted with arrows that toyed with the hearts of mortals and immortals. I do like to think that I have "grown up."

Yes, it has taken a while.

Frankly speaking, I spend most of my days gazing down upon the realm of mortals, flitting around here and there, shooting a few arrows at the woman with the hooked nose here and at that ridiculously bald young man over there.

Mortals were so naïve, so selfish, and so fun with their easily-manipulated hearts.

I always find great amusement in downgrading (in which this quality I also take great pride in)—or, perhaps putting the especially vain and proud in their rightful places.

Like Apollo, that pompous ass. Honestly, he needed to be taught a lesson.

Really, love changes people for the better.

I watch her drift slowly to sleep, and I let myself into her bedchamber…hovering above the floors with my wings fluttering softly.

Maybe I can attempt to cheer and ease the girl out of her earlier distress.

I blow lightly at her ear, and the honey strands of her hair spill across her cheek.

She giggles slightly, scrunching her neck up in reflex.

My smile spreads into a full grin.

(I smiled?)

I kneel at her bed skirts…I feel as if I have lived to this moment, just to see...Psyche. The desire of ages. The sacred beauty of a lifetime. The game of the century.

I should be the only one to ensure her a lasting happiness.