I may have had some tense problems in the prologue, and for that I apologizes. On another note, I am obligated to tell you that I intent to stay true to the myth; meaning that Eros and Psyche will act intimately. Though I'm not quite sure when I will get to that point...perhaps in chapter three? Maybe four. Here is chapter one. Enjoy.

Perpetuality Chapter One

I know that I'm beautiful. I wish not to sound vain, but with the plethora of complements and admirers I receive every day, I'm afraid it has become quite obvious. Wherever I go, the attention of the entire inhabitance is drawn straight to me. As a child I thought this delightful, and would bask in their admiration; telling jokes and making petty conversations. My mother took advantage of this, showing me off in every way possible and already in my young age scouting for future suitors. I remember one particular instance where my mother introduced me to a boy at east ten years older than myself. I was seven at the time and the poor thing seemed horribly uncomfortable with the very idea of marrying someone as young as I, though I can't blame him. That day drastically changed my opinion on the social gallivanting of my mother. I was now disgusted with how she placed me on a pedestal, and repulsed at how much higher she thought of me compared to the other children; including my own sisters. I now hate the way she looks at me with such pride. Hate the way she shows me off to every man she meets, knowing every well that they shall never have me.

I know now that such teasing will only cause dangers and the worst kind of attention.

Just after my sixteenth birthday, a large group of the males of my country came to the palace, each asking for my hand. My father, shocked, told them that they could not all merry me. A man stepped forward, and said that if they could not marry me, they must worship me instead.

My father was about to decline their offer, when my mother stepped in. Delighted with the idea, she gave them permission to build a temple in my honor. An extravagant temple, with countless portraits and murals of myself, and a large throne in the very center for me to sit upon. I chose to go there as little as possible, for when I did I was crushed with gifts and smothered with the stares of everyone in the temple.

It didn't take long before people started comparing me to the Goddess Aphrodite. "As lovely as Aphrodite" and "More beautiful than the Goddess of Love herself" they would say. I thought nothing of these complements, that is, until they started calling me Aphrodite.

Allow me to rephrase that. You see, they didn't actually call me Aphrodite. They did, however, call me the Goddess of Love. My new title spread like wildfire, and I was soon known as Psyche the Goddess of Love and Beauty, to those who live in my kingdom.

So many people loved me, and yet, ever since the very first person called me a goddess, none had asked for my hand. At first it was refreshing. I was able to live a day without men throwing themselves at me, but as time passed, the matter became a troubling one. I needed to be wed soon, but there wasn't one suitor despite my many worshipers.

Now half a year past sixteen, my entire family was I desperation. Both my sister were already married, the elder with child, and were given off with little conflict. But here I was alone, and aging. My father had even gone so far as to offer me to the fathers of possible husbands, but each declined; complementing my beauty before taking their leave.

Thus brings up to my current situation; standing outside the residents of the oracle, and waiting for my father to come with the prophecy. My elder sister stood to my left with one arm slung over my shoulder and the other gently rubbing her swollen womb, while my mother stood to my right and ran her fingers through my hair. My younger sister was off to the side, speaking with her husband about much too trivial manners for me to pay them any attention.

The doors creaked as they opened to reveal my father's sullen face, and walked to us, cosing the doors again behind himself. I waited nervously for him to tell us the news.

"We must dress her for a wedding..." I see my mother's smile and feel the relief washing over me "...and leave her on the mountain. There she will wait for the only man she will ever be able to marry...a horrible monster." Mother's expression changed to one of horror and my elder sister gripped me tighter.

"W-what? No! We cannot do such a thing!" Mother cried out and my father took her hand in his and whispered:

"We must."

The next several hours were an indescribable blur of preparations, denials, and tears as I was stuffed into wedding cloths and led to the top of the desolate mountain. Once out journey was over and the last of my tears had dried, it was time to say goodbye.

My younger sister was first, and all I could do was hold her as tightly as I could as she wept into my chest. I cooed lovingly to her and rubbed her back comfortingly; she should not have to grieve for me. Next was my elder sister, who hugged me briefly and told me to be strong. And I would, for she was being strong for me. My mother came next and sobbed into my ornately weaved hair and slurred out a long string of apologies.

Finally, it was my father's turn. He held me tightly to his chest and I hugged his arm close to myself the way I would as a child. After a long moment, he whispered into my ear "You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen." and left me on the top of a mountain to be by myself.

It took only several minutes for me to break again, and I dropped to my knees and the tears I thought were all gone ran down my cheeks until I feel into the arms of sleep.