Love is a Human Invention
Love is not a stronger will than war. Famous last words. Aphrodite is a force to be reckoned with and Gods do not take kindly to being insulted. As punishment I was forced to live among the humans, I was stripped of my immortality, and abandoned by my family. Gods are prideful. I suppose I should feel grateful. My father took pity on me and convinced them to let me attempt to ‘earn it back’, through groveling and begging for it. My family agreed only on the basis of knowing how prideful I can be, especially when I’m wrong. So like they assumed I would, I refused.
I kept to the woods, to the forest, alone. I wore cotton dresses I wove on my wheel and sewed myself. I taught myself to paint using paints made from plants. I hunted rarely and respectfully. I prayed to Artemis every night. I grew comfortable in my solitude and grew sure into my pride. Though I lived in the middle of the forest, and I had long given up my godly status, there was always a fresh supply of charcoal and paper in the chest at my bedfoot. I think my father took pity on me. He was the one thing I missed terribly about Olympus. But I had experienced the sanctity of knowing I could die, of knowing I could take one of my arrows and strike it into my own heart and that would be it. I never wanted what I had back. So I wrote him letters and painted for him the views of my cabin and burned them in my fires as offerings. He supplied the paper and I told him I loved him.
I was rinsing myself and my dresses in the river running by my cabin. As part of my nightly routine, I was in the middle of beating my cotton against the rocks on shore to soften the fabric. When I went up the shore, I would pin it on my line to dry as the sun rose. After a year of exile, I had become familiar with the sounds of the night; the crickets, the breeze, the footfalls of the deer and small game. My ear twitched, what I wasn’t familiar with, was the splashing water from a mile away. I trained my ears on the sound and followed the path. I could tell it was coming from farther down the river bank. I hurriedly gathered my wet dresses and put them on the largest flat rock. I dressed quickly in the dry cotton I brought with me and grabbed my hunting knife laying next to the washing rock. I quietly padded into the treeline and followed the river until I came upon a man standing in my river. While he closed his eyes scrubbing his hair, I peered out a little farther, I could see his clothes laid on the riverbank.
A real, presumably, human man was standing just 15 feet from me. I hadn’t seen a human man with my own eyes ever in my life. Godly men, lesser gods, and demigods when they had been invited to Olympus, but never a real human man. It felt inappropriate to stare, but I couldn’t look away. I was fascinated by the way his skin reflected the moon light and his muscles rippled the shadows. I kept quiet and kept to the treeline, gods knew how he would react to being lurked on by a stranger. A harmless stranger, but a stranger no less. I watched him walk out of the river, collect his clothes and walk off in the opposite direction of me. I fought the urge to chase after him. If he’s still here tomorrow then maybe I had a right to know who had invaded my forest.
The next night, I remained strong in my normal routine. I hunted, I painted, I sang, and I went down to the river at night at the same time as the day before. And again, as I finished washing up, I listened for and heard the gentle splashing of water from just around the riverbend. I dressed and grabbed my hunting knife, and off I scurried to watch him from the treeline. I caught him in the same act as before, washing his hair, collecting his clothes and walking off into the opposite treeline. Is this a hallucination? Have I begun to lose it after a year of solitude?
The following night, I went down to the river to wash my clothes, much earlier than I normally do. I went down just before the sun began to set, and finished just as the sun crested the horizon. I almost giddily dashed into the trees to take my perch and wait for him to arrive. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to intervene yet, but I was sure I wanted to understand what he was doing here. I hadn’t seen any human in the entire time I’d been cast out, I was half convinced it was part of my punishment.
I watched for a long time, I waited for an hour past sunset. I convinced myself he wasn’t going to show up, and right as I went to stand, I saw a rustle in the leaves ahead. Gold hair glowing in the moonlight, peeked out of the brush as he stepped into view. I watched as he undressed, laying his clothes on the riverbank. He sank down into the sun warmed water and leaned back until his head was nearly fully submerged. I watched with fascination, I wanted to paint him, draw him, name him, immortalize him in some way. The Gods believe the most beautiful things exist in Olympus, but what I saw in front of me bested even their greatest artists. I decided I would bring my charcoal and paper and I would sketch him while he bathed, in case he up and left, so I’d have some proof I saw him.
I waited until I saw him leave like always, and then bounded home, freshly reigniting the fire of excitement in my gut. Maybe not excitement, maybe fear? Hope? Joy? I don’t know of a word to describe the glitter churning in my stomach. I dropped into bed still dreaming of how his voice would sound, if he even spoke of all.
That is how it went, for six months, I washed early and followed my obsession to the river, watched him, sketched him, tried to come up with ideas of how he got here, why he was even here. It became so routine to me that watching him yards away was the part of my day I looked most forward to. The indulgence into a fantasy of a world so foreign to me, it may have been odd to most, but I had never experienced the mortal beauty of humans and I wasn’t going to deny myself the simple pleasure of curiosity. Who knew the next time a human would wander into my grove?
One night, I skipped my river routine altogether. I wanted to know where he was coming and going from. I needed to confirm that the Adonis standing before me was not a mirage I’d imagined to cope with my loneliness. I crossed the river line where I met him every night and hid in the trees on the side he entered from, just a yard or two away from the break in the trees he’d begun to create. From the six months he’d done this routine, a small path had begun to wear itself into the grass, giving me a clear breadcrumb trail to follow. As the sun began to set and shadows marked the trees, I noticed that the trail had been decorated with small lanterns he’d hung in the trees, giving the foliage a romantic glow.
I heard rustling and moved back, away from the warm lanterns and into the shrubbery to hide myself. I still hadn’t landed on how I thought he would react to my presence, especially one where I’m hiding and watching. He passed in front of me, not even noticing. I waited as he kept down the trail, only moving forward after I heard the gentle splash of him getting in the river. I let out the breath I’d held and stepped out of the trees and onto the trail. I retraced his steps and the walking worn path led me to a small cabin, nearly identical to mine, in a small clearing in the woods. I walked around the woody perimeter, my bare feet crunching the leaves, muffled by the moss. I saw more lanterns fixed on the porch and lighting up the outer walls. The position of his cabin was far darker than mine. While mine sat in a large clearing, able to see both the sun set and rise; his was surrounded by trees, with next to no sunlight being able to directly filter in. I understood the need for lighting.
“What are you doing?” a deep voice gently cut into the air behind me, I froze in place.
I turned around slowly to face the mystery Adonis behind me, his face even more beautiful up close. Soft eyes and lips framed by a strong bone structure and jaw line. Curly blond hair poured from his scalp, dry, not freshly washed like it was supposed to be. You would think the contrast between hard lines and soft lines on his face would make his features confusing, but instead it made you want to confess every sin you’d ever committed and beg for forgiveness.
“I could ask you the same thing.” My voice was indignant even though I really couldn’t, considering I was on his property.
“Could you really?” His lip twitched like he was hiding a grin, though why he’d be happy with a strange girl on his porch I wasn’t sure.
“Why isn’t your hair wet?” I blurted out before I could think about a proper response to my attempted breaking and entering.
He tipped his head back and laughed. A sound so full of joy I had never heard in my life, like music but better. I wanted it on repeat forever.
I don’t think my face conveyed how I felt because once he stopped laughing and looked at me again, he chuckled again. My face contorted more.
“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’ve just never spoken to someone so bold, forgive me.” He said, “I mean you stalk me for months, find my house, and then you have the gall to ask me why I didn’t wash my hair. You’re a funny little thing.” Light danced in his eyes.
I felt my face get hot, “You knew? You knew this whole time that I was watching? Why let me?”
“Of course I knew, I knew where you were, I knew you were a human and not a deer and I heard you every time you moved. You’re actually extremely quiet for a human.” I frowned at his words, my eyebrows knitting together.
“Maybe I liked the challenge of listening for you, maybe I was waiting for you to approach me..” He paused, “or maybe I just liked you watching me” He grinned and my face got hotter.
I turned on my heel and nearly dashed out of the woods. I hadn’t been prepared to come face to face with him and even if I had been, his behavior was so far out of the realm of anything I expected I didn’t even have a response. My mind was both blank and about to burst with questions. I heard the branches cracking behind me.
“Woah woah woah, I didn’t mean to offend you, I was trying to make it clear I wasn’t angry or disturbed. I just wanted you to know I was grateful for the presence of a human.” He says it again, a human, like he’s not.
“Are you not a human? You keep speaking like you aren’t” I huffed out. It was clear he had no intention of hurting me, but I despised being laughed at.
“Half human” He said, “Half God.” I rolled my eyes, “great, even in hell I can’t escape arrogant demigods who think they’re Olympus’s gift to women”
“I’m not a human” For some reason I felt protective of the perception he had of me, I was not some frilly human he could toy with, I may have given up my immortality, but golden blood still ran in my veins, they can’t take what my being is made up of.
“Then what are you?” His voice sounded genuinely intrigued, but I refused to look at his face so I couldn’t decide how genuine it was.
“None of your business” I replied, wincing at how rude I sounded.
“Actually that was mean, I’m sorry,” I stopped and turned around to meet his eyes.
“I’m technically human if you want to call it that, I offended the gods and they cast me out. No immortality, no powers, nothing special.” I sounded bitter, was I bitter? “I’m Delphi” I stuck my hand out awkwardly.
He gingerly grabbed my hand like he didn’t want to hurt me and shook it. His hand was warm in mine and his palm overlapped the edges of my own.
“Atlas,” He replied, smiling. We’d made it back to my own cabin, I walked up the steps of my porch, he waited at the bottom.
I gave him a small smile and opened my door.
“I’d like to see you again,” He called from behind me, “You know where to find me,” I turned around in my doorway as he winked and turned away. I blushed and gently shut the door.
That was how the next six months passed, instead of me staring from afar, I’d make my way over to his cabin and wait for him to return from his hunt. He’d cook me dinner and I’d wash the dishes. He’d hang up my art in his living room and whittle little trinkets for me to paint. He’d ask me to sing for him and I would oblige. I had never known such serenity on Olympus. We spent nearly every day with each other, sometimes I would even fall asleep before I made it back to my cabin. I always woke to an empty house, covered in a blanket. He’d leave notes telling me how long he’d be gone on a hunt. Sometimes he came back with nothing, sometimes he came back with deer and pelts for me to sew for the winter snow.
Part of me wished he’d let me go with him, I was a child of Apollo, I knew how to handle a bow. Part of me was grateful he did the hard part of forest living for me, I hated hunting, despised it. I never liked the killing and lugging the body back home felt barbaric. I always worried about him hunting alone, I hadn’t explored far enough in the forest to know what lurked in the deeper parts of the shadows.
It was far too late for me to go home, I was sleepy and frankly too lazy to walk the quarter mile back to my cabin. I was curled up on his bed in front of the fire. He sat next to me, whittling a small wooden flower. I was nearly asleep when I turned around to face him, burying my face into his warm side.
“You’re the best companion I’ve ever had, in a hundred years I’ve never known anyone that ever truly understood me.” I spoke just loud enough for him to hear over the crackling fire.
He stopped what he was doing and put the wood and knife on the nightstand. He scooted down so he laid eye level with me.
“If the sun didn’t rise one morning, I would carry it up to the heavens just so you could see it turn the sky pink” He said, in the most earnest tone I’d ever heard him speak in.
I didn’t respond, instead, a single tear rolled down the side of my face. I leaned in gently and placed my lips on his. They were warm and pillowy, just like I’d imagined they were a year ago. He held the side of my head, his large fingers lacing into my hair. I broke away and leaned my forehead on his.
“Don’t leave tomorrow morning” I whispered, urging him to agree.
“I have to.” He said, closing his eyes, “Just one more time before the winter hits, I want to make sure you’re warm through the frost, it’ll hit any day now.”
He was right, if I had tracked the days correctly, we were in mid November, the temperatures had begun to drop and I knew a storm was on the horizon. But something in my gut tugged every time I thought about him leaving tomorrow. I swallowed it. I was nervous every time he hunted, this was no different. One last hunt and then I’d have him every morning until the spring.
I turned around and he laced his arm around my waist, pulling me against his warm chest. I fell asleep to the sound of the fire and the feeling of his chest rising and falling against my back.
I woke to a cold bed and a pit in my stomach. Something was wrong.
I walked around the entire cabin, hoping I would find Atlas somewhere. That he listened to me and didn’t go, that he decided our stash would be enough. I found him nowhere. I stumbled outside in a panic, the air outside felt wrong. Every time I breathed it was like I was breathing in smoke and the scent was tinged with metal. I needed to find him. I knew he set off in the direction the sun rose, but I had no idea where he hunted or if he changed grounds every time. Only where he left from.
I let my feet guide me, they seemed to be more aware than I was. I could barely keep up my own pace, it felt like I was running downhill. I was going to topple over any second, only kept upright by my need to find him before Fate did.
I heard a scream rip the air open, clearing the smoke for me to run straight into a bloodbath. Atlas’s bow had been thrown to the ground, the wood stained red. I followed the blood trail to a clearing where a wild boar had thrown my hero to the ground. As if in slow motion, I watched his knife clatter to the ground, his chest heaving, and the boar ran backwards as if to charge. I let out a scream, my feet still moving towards him. I was too far away, I wasn’t going to make it before the boar did. I watched the boar lean his head down and run straight for him. The creature's tusks rip into Atlas’s torso and red stains the grass underneath him. I crash to the ground and grab the fallen knife. I jam it between the wild boar's shoulder blades and twist. It lets out a squeal, throwing its head back and ripping its tusks out of my lovers’ gut.
The boar stumbles away and falls to the side, twitching. I turn back to Atlas and survey the damage. He’s holding his stomach closed, but blood is seeping out from under his hands at an alarming rate. I let out a sob.
“It’s okay it’s okay I can fix this you’re okay” I repeat to him over and over, he’s just staring at me calmly, pain tinged his face.
I press my hands to his gut, willing my hands to work the magic they used to. I know I could save him, if the gold would just pour out of my hands and onto his wounds. There’s nothing, just a wisp of residual magic drifting out of my fingertips, the remaining ghost of my old self. It does enough to relax the tension in his face, like it’s eased some of his pain. His blood runs slower, and for a second I believe he’s going to be okay.
I watch as his face loses color, his eyes becoming glazed like he can’t see me anymore.
“I love you” He manages, every word sounding like he’s holding the world. I choke out more tears, words dying in my throat.
I say it back and cradle him to my chest. I press my lips to his forehead as he lets out a final breath. I scream, I tip my head back and let out an animalistic scream. I’ve never wished to take something back more. I can’t believe how wrong I was about mortality. I want him back, I want to bring him back. He can’t just die. He can’t just leave me to keep living. It's not fair.
I can hear the sound of my fathers voice echoing in my head, “the price of your humanity will cost you a lifetime of heartache, love is a human invention”.
At the time I didn’t believe him, what did he know of love? What did he know of me? I regretted everything, I regretted leaving my tower, walking down the riverbend, allowing myself a reward in my punishment. This was my fault.
“Aphrodite,” I spoke, I held back my rage towards her, “You’re right. Who would wage war if they didn’t have something they loved worth fighting for. I’m sorry and I was too prideful to admit I was wrong, but I am begging you to bring him back. I’ll do whatever you want, I will give you whatever you want, just let me bring him back.” My voice broke on the last word and I laid my head down on his still warm bloody chest.
A warm gentle breeze drifted through the frosted woods, it smelled like home, for a split second I felt calm. I heard my fathers voice, quietly as if it had been carried by the wind.
“All can be mended if one just learns to look up” He spoke.
I lifted my head, my eyesight blurry from my tears. I wiped my face and looked down at my lover. I watched as his chest slowly began to rise, and fall again. I looked down to find the wound he’d been holding had disappeared, leaving the blood but no mark. I glanced back up, not believing what I was looking at, only to find his eyes no longer closed, the green of his eyes full of light, looking back into mine.
“You were right, shouldn’t have left” He managed, grinning like he hadn’t just returned from the doors of death.
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