This was written in dialogue form and it was inspired by Lucian's own Dialogue of the Gods.
I dedicate this to my friend Andrea. For all the years that girl has put up with me haha.
Disclaimer: No one can own the gods. I do not claim the works of poets before me as my own. This is merely an expression of my admiration for them.
Part I: Aphrodite & Eros
Aphrodite: Dear, child. See how Leto's shining son holds tightly to that crown of laurel leaves. Hermes says he has just returned from Thessaly after chasing that darling daughter of Peneus. But the poor girl was so frightened of Apollo that she fled at the sight of his smooth face. I know you, my own archer, have toyed with Phoebus' heart yet again!
Eros: Were his heart not so easy to pierce, he need not worry about my golden shafts.
Aphrodite: Were he not so sorrowful I would applaud you, my brave child. Not many have crossed that fair Delian god and lived. What has the Far-Shooter done to earn your own dreaded arrows that cause man to lose his wits and even gods theirs? So enflamed was his passion for this Naiad that I cannot be sure whether you shot him with your golden arrow or if you had placed upon him your lit torch. But of Daphne I am sure; you have shot her with your leaden arrow. Within her bosom ignited a scorn so great she would rather be a tree than love even shining Phoebus whom so many have already loved before!
Eros: I pretend not that I am a warrior-archer like my latest victim. I do not plague Achaeans with pestilence and disease. I do not even shoot wild beasts like arrow-showering Diana beloved of the Arcadians. But my tasks are important, too, and my arrows strike true and purposely.
Aphrodite: They needn't even strike. A prick is enough to cause their maddening effect.
Eros: True, mother. But let me continue. Apollo vexes me with taunts. Why, the other day, he asks what have I to do with weapons of war. Better I leave my bow and arrows in his capable hands he says!
Aphrodite: I am sure it was in jest. Must you punish him so?
Eros: Yes! He boasts of his conquering of the Python at Delphi's Castalian Springs. Such an old beast, that offspring of Gaia, that even I may have been able to slay it. He forgets that I have had victories over our Father Zeus whose shield resounds in thunder. Many forms have I forced Father Zeus to take: a swan for Leda, showering gold for Danaë, and an eagle for Ganymede!
Aphrodite: Have a care what you say, dear Eros. Father Zeus has endured your many pranks but there is no telling if he shall have the patience for more.
Eros: No worries, mother. Zeus enjoys our spells more than he cares to admit.
Aphrodite: I suppose that is the reason that his thunderbolts have yet to strike you. But, darling boy, I think we have caused Leto's son enough misfortune. Indeed, we have blessed him with so many to love but he has lost nigh all of them in some tragedy or another.
Eros: What do you propose I do, mother? Have I not earned the right to see him punished?
Aphrodite: Ah, but I think it is not to see him punished that you desire. I have seen the way you leave your playmate Hymenaios to watch Apollo gather the Muses to sing.
Eros: What of it? I think their compositions are grand. And I am not alone in this. The Muses attract the attention of all who have ears to listen and eyes to see. Poets and musicians gather at my city, Thespiae, to celebrate them every five years.
Aphrodite: A grand celebration it is, I have noticed. But then what of your gazing at handsome Phoebus as he strums his lyre when there are beautiful goddesses that dance around him?
Eros: I admire his hands! That is all. How quick they strike each string and produce sweet songs.
Aphrodite: Skilled his hands are, I agree. I seem to recall you gazing upon them once more a few days ago as Apollo practiced with his silver bow. I did not see you follow the arrow as it travelled to strike each target precisely at the center. And how far the targets were! All the way in Ionia where his sister has that grand temple at Ephesus.
Eros: I was distracted by how majestic Hephaestus' work was and nothing more. The great smith made my bow, too, and I only wanted to see whose was better.
Aphrodite: And the verdict?
Eros: I cannot say.
Aphrodite: That is because you think the silver bow's owner majestic, not his weapon. Oh, darling child, I had known for a while you were infatuated with Leto's radiant son. Do not be ashamed. I do not disapprove.
Eros: It is not your approval I seek but his. Mother, he treats me like I am a child with toys. He disregards my archery as inferior to his though I have shot more targets in my time than he. I only want him to look upon me with favour. But if he will not favour me, then I shall not favour him.
Aphrodite: Come here, sweet boy. Let us not be so petty like mortals, we are greater than that. I believe you may yet succeed in your endeavour for Phoebus' affections.
Eros: How can I? He is in grief, and rightfully so I say!
Aphrodite: Hush. Leave behind your maddening arrows and your splendid bow. You will not need them when you speak with Phoebus. Instead, I will have soft-speaking Peitho accompany you should you lose your words. And your brother Himeros to carry his torch and make you desirable more than you already are.
Eros: Must I go apologize to him? I would prefer not as I have lost my nerve. I fear he may strike me and I cannot imagine a worse outcome.
Aphrodite: Not even were Athene to come and make good of her threats and rip away your wings so you may not fly too close to her?
Eros: Nay, mother. Not even that is worse than Apollo's eternal scorn.
Aphrodite: Then you must go now lest he make up his mind permanently.
Eros: Very well.