Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Demeter

One mellow morning in the rolling fields of Earth, golden wheat swayed gently in the breeze. Birds chirped overhead, bees buzzed lazily through the meadows, and somewhere beneath the shade of an olive tree, Eros sat cross-legged, twirling a daisy between his fingers.

His wings were tucked in. His bow lay beside him. Today, he wasn’t looking to cause mischief. Today, he was curious.

"Grandma Demeter," he said softly, "can I ask you something?"

Demeter, goddess of the harvest, knelt nearby, tending to a patch of wildflowers that hadn’t quite bloomed. She looked over, brushing a lock of sun-colored hair from her cheek.

"Of course, little heartseed. What is it?"

Eros hesitated. "What does love mean to you?"

Demeter blinked. The question seemed to bloom in the air like a flower opening slowly in her mind. She sat back, wiping soil from her hands.

"Love," she said. "That’s a tender word for someone who causes as much chaos with it as you do."

Eros grinned sheepishly. “I nudge people. You’d be surprised how boring things would be without me.”

Demeter laughed—just a quiet puff of air through her nose—but her eyes softened. She looked out over the fields.

"Love, to me," she began, "has always been the kind that grows. The kind that roots itself in care. In time. In safety. When my daughter Persephone was born, that was the only kind of love I knew—mother to child. Protective. Fierce. Constant."

Eros nodded slowly. "So… when she fell in love with Hades… it must’ve felt like someone was stealing her roots?"

Demeter looked at him, surprised by his insight. "Yes. That’s exactly how it felt. He took her to a place I couldn’t follow. The underworld is no place for seeds to grow. No place for spring. I couldn’t imagine love surviving there, let alone thriving."

She picked up a sproutling from the ground, examining the tiny leaves.

"But then… something strange happened. When Persephone returned each spring, she wasn’t broken. She wasn’t lost. She came back… wiser. Stronger. And she still smiled when she spoke of him."

Eros leaned in. "That didn’t make you mad?"

Demeter chuckled. "Oh, I stayed mad for a while. Storms, droughts, full dramatic seasons of petty divine vengeance. But over time, I saw something that changed me."

She gently replanted the sprout. "They didn’t chain each other. They chose each other. Even in darkness, they made space for light. They didn’t erase who the other was—they became more themselves together."

Eros twirled the daisy again, slower now. “So… love can grow in places you didn’t expect.”

"Exactly," Demeter said. “Love isn’t always safe or soft. Sometimes it’s wild. Unpredictable. But if it’s real—truly real—it respects growth. It allows change. Even if it starts in the shadows.”

Eros looked thoughtful, a rare stillness settling over him. "I like that," he said. "I think… I want to plant more love like that. The kind that takes root, not just the kind that flares and fades."

Demeter reached over and ruffled his curls with a hand that smelled of earth and fresh herbs.

"Good," she said. "Just remember—some hearts need sunshine, some need shade. But all love needs patience."

Later that day, Eros wandered off, barefoot, wings fluttering lazily, humming to himself.

Behind him, Demeter looked out over the field where she and Persephone once walked, hand in hand. Now, she could almost see them again—Persephone laughing, Hades watching her like she was the only bloom in a world of stone.

And Demeter smiled.

Because even gods can learn to let love grow in unexpected places.

🌾💚🌸

Chapter Text

Persephone

Chapter Text

Apollo

After leaving his Aunt Persephone’s garden, Eros flew across the skies, his wings cutting through the air like whispers of wind. His heart was full of new thoughts—new ideas about love. There were so many versions of it, so many ways it could grow, that he had to understand them all. He felt like a seed, planted in the soil of knowledge, waiting to bloom.

He had one more stop to make, and he knew exactly where to go. Apollo’s bright, radiant temple awaited him, shining with the golden light of the sun. The god of music, truth, and the sun—Apollo was a being of grace, power, and beauty. If there was anyone who could help Eros understand love in a different way, it would be him.

Eros landed at the entrance of Apollo’s temple, the bright light almost blinding him, but he didn’t mind. He was used to it. He wasn’t afraid of light, or its power. In fact, it always felt like a part of him, something that resonated with his own energy.

Apollo stood at the steps, tuning his lyre as the music from it echoed gently through the air, vibrating with warmth and life.

"Ah, Eros," Apollo called, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set the lyre down. "What brings you to the land of light today?"

Eros tilted his head and gave him a mischievous smile. "I have a question for you, Uncle Apollo. I’ve been learning a lot about love from people. From Aunt Persephone... and from Grandma Demeter. But now I want to hear your version of love."

Apollo arched an eyebrow, intrigued. He sat down on a nearby stone, the sun casting a golden glow over his figure, making him look like a living embodiment of warmth itself.

"Love, hm?" Apollo mused, his eyes thoughtful as he stroked his chin. "I suppose I’ve always seen love as something that can’t be forced. It has to be free, like music—it has to flow, to rise and fall like the notes of a song."

Eros flitted closer, curious. "But... music is made, right? It comes from something. How does that fit with love being free?"

Apollo chuckled softly, his voice a calming melody. "Yes, music is made, but it’s not just about the notes or the instruments. It’s about the heart that plays it. The beauty of love, much like music, isn’t in its perfection. It’s in its honesty. In the way it flows without fear of being lost. Just as music takes shape with every chord and every melody, love finds its form in the way two hearts connect and create something greater than themselves."

Eros furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "So, it’s not just about finding the perfect moment, the perfect match... it’s about creating something together?"

"Exactly," Apollo said, his voice calm but filled with an undeniable energy. "Love is about creation. It’s about harmony. Two beings—two hearts—coming together to make something more beautiful than they could alone. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Sometimes, love can be like a difficult piece of music. It takes practice, patience, and sometimes even a little tension. The dissonance makes the resolution sweeter."

Eros’s wings fluttered softly as he processed his uncle’s words. He glanced up at the sun, its golden light now starting to soften as the evening approached.

"But what about when love hurts, or when it’s hard?" Eros asked. "Like, when people feel like they can’t reach each other, or when things go wrong?"

Apollo looked at him with an understanding that only a god of truth could possess. "Ah, yes. That’s the complexity of love. It isn’t always a simple, sweet song. Sometimes, there are moments of silence. Or moments where you play the wrong note. But even in those moments, the music isn’t lost. It’s just waiting for the next note. Love is resilient. Even when it seems like things are falling apart, there’s always a chance to start again, to find the rhythm that brings you back to harmony."

Eros’s gaze softened, his heart filling with a new kind of understanding. "So, love isn’t about always being perfect, or always happy?"

"Exactly," Apollo said with a knowing smile. "It’s about the journey. The growth. The music that gets made along the way, even through the difficult parts. Love, like music, is a work of art—a masterpiece that takes time."

Eros thought about this for a moment, his wings fluttering gently as he stared at the setting sun. He could hear Apollo’s words in his mind, like the echo of a song that lingered in the air, soft and powerful at once.

"Thank you, Uncle Apollo," Eros said, his voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "I think I understand now. Love is like a song—sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud—but it’s always real, and it’s always worth creating."

Apollo smiled warmly at him. "You’ll make beautiful music with that heart of yours, Eros. Just remember: the best love comes when you’re willing to listen, to learn the notes that others bring, and to create something greater than yourself."

With a final glance at his uncle, Eros spread his wings and took to the sky once more, his heart brimming with a deeper understanding of love—an understanding filled with music, harmony, and the freedom to create something beautiful from the connections between souls.

As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, Eros knew that love wasn’t just something he shot with arrows. It was a song—a melody that was always there, waiting to be played.

🎶💛🕊

Chapter Text

Artemis

The moon hung high and full in the sky, casting its silvery glow over the sprawling forests of Mount Olympus. The air was crisp and still, the scent of pine and dew settling on the cool night breeze. Eros, now a young god with his wings stretched wide and his thoughts much deeper, walked through the quiet woods. His heart, as always, was full of questions about love—what it meant, how it could grow, and why it often seemed so complicated.

Over the years, he had learned many versions of love from the gods and goddesses of Olympus. His mother, Aphrodite, had taught him about passion and connection. His grandmother Demeter had shown him the strength of nurturing love. Persephone had spoken of love in the shadows, something that could endure even in the darkest places. Apollo had explained that love was like a song, a harmony created between hearts, imperfect yet beautiful in its own right.

But there was one person left who Eros had yet to ask. His aunt, Artemis. The huntress, the goddess of the moon, the protector of the wild, was someone whose love seemed different—untamed, independent, and free. Eros had always admired her strength and her solitude, and he couldn’t help but wonder how love fit into her world.

He flew through the trees, seeking the quiet glade where Artemis often meditated, her silver bow resting at her side. There, beneath the full moon’s glow, he found her—sitting in perfect stillness, her eyes closed in contemplation, the glow of the moon reflecting off her sharp features.

"Aunt Artemis," Eros called softly, hovering nearby.

Artemis opened her eyes slowly, her expression calm but curious. Her eyes, like the moon, held a kind of quiet strength that both invited and challenged. "Eros," she said, her voice low and clear, like the wind rustling through leaves. "What brings you here, child of love?"

Eros landed beside her, folding his wings. His youthful face was pensive, his mind heavy with the weight of his thoughts. "I’ve been thinking," he began, his voice almost hesitant. "I’ve asked everyone else about love. But... I don’t know what it means to you. You, who seem so... free. Who moves through the world on your own terms. What does love mean to you?"

Artemis studied him for a long moment, as if weighing the depth of his question. The silence stretched between them like the distance between stars, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that invited understanding, a quiet where the answers could be found within the space of thought.

"Love," she said at last, her voice steady, "is something that can’t be tamed. It isn’t a thing that can be captured in a moment or bound by rules. For me, love isn’t about possession or expectations. It’s something wild. Something that is both part of nature and yet separate from it."

Eros listened intently, his wings still. "So, love is... wild?"

"Yes," Artemis nodded. "It’s like the moon. Ever-present, but not always visible. It changes, shifts with the tides, sometimes dark and hidden, sometimes full and blinding. It has its cycles, its phases. And like the wild, it doesn’t always need to be understood. Sometimes, it just is."

Eros frowned, feeling a bit lost in her words. "But… how do you live with that? How do you love if it isn’t something constant, something you can always hold onto?"

Artemis looked at him with a soft yet unwavering gaze. "Love doesn’t always have to be constant in the way you think of it," she explained. "It doesn’t always have to be present in the form you expect. Sometimes love is like the hunt—silent, patient, and deeply connected to who you are, not what others think of you. I love in the way I live—in solitude, in peace with myself, in harmony with the world around me. It doesn’t need to be held by another. It’s enough to simply know that I can give it freely, without asking for it to return."

Eros thought about this, his wings fluttering softly as he processed the words. "So, love doesn’t need to be returned, or even be something that’s claimed?"

"No," Artemis said, her voice clear and strong. "The kind of love I understand doesn’t seek to possess or be possessed. It’s not about marking someone as yours, or claiming them in some way. It’s about the freedom to give it and let it go, to share it without expectation, and to stand on your own without needing anyone else to define it. I give my love to the moon, to the stars, to the wild places of this world. And that is enough."

Eros sat silently for a moment, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest. It was a different kind of love than he had known. It wasn’t about connection in the traditional sense, but about a kind of independence, a love that existed outside of the need for mutuality or possession.

"I think I understand," Eros said softly. "You love, but you don’t need to be loved in return. Your love is like the moon—it exists, even when it’s not seen, and it doesn’t ask for anything but to be itself."

Artemis smiled gently, her eyes soft with affection. "Yes, exactly. Love is freedom, Eros. Freedom to be yourself, to love without chains or expectations. And sometimes, that is the purest form of love—when it doesn’t need to be anything other than what it is."

Eros stood up, his wings spreading as the wind whispered through the trees. "Thank you, Aunt Artemis," he said, his voice filled with newfound understanding. "I think... I think this is the kind of love I need to understand more. A love that is free."

Artemis stood as well, her bow resting lightly in her hands. "Go then, little one. Fly with the knowledge that love, in all its forms, will guide you. But never forget: the greatest love is the one you give to yourself first."

Eros took one last look at his aunt, her presence as quiet and powerful as the moonlight that bathed them both. With a grateful smile, he flew off into the night, the lessons of love swirling in his heart like the silent winds of the forest.

And for the first time, he felt a peace in his soul—a peace that came from understanding love not as something to be won, but as something to be lived.

🌙💫💙

Chapter Text

Poseidon

The sea was a vast, untamed expanse, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The sound of waves crashing against the shore carried a rhythm, deep and ancient, like a pulse beneath the earth itself. Eros had been flying for hours, his wings slicing through the sky, until he reached the edge of the world’s waters—Poseidon’s realm.

Poseidon, the god of the sea, was a figure of immense power and mystery. His presence was like the ocean itself—unpredictable, full of wonders, but also holding depths that most gods could never imagine. Eros had visited the oceans before, but today, he came seeking something deeper than the surface.

He glided down to the shores of a rugged, rocky coastline, where massive waves surged and crashed. The sky overhead was a fiery orange, casting long shadows over the sea. As he touched down, the air grew thick with salt, the scent of the ocean surrounding him like a living thing.

There, on a throne made of coral and stone, Poseidon sat, his trident resting casually by his side. His long, wild hair seemed to move with the sea breeze, and his piercing blue eyes glimmered like the ocean itself. His very being radiated the raw power of the tides, the fury of storms, and the calm of deep, hidden waters.

"Eros," Poseidon said, his voice booming, but not unkindly. "What brings you to my domain today?"

Eros approached, his wings folding behind him as he stood before the great god of the sea. "Grandfather," he began, his voice soft yet filled with curiosity, "I’ve been learning a lot about love. From my mother, my aunts, and uncles... but I’m still trying to understand it better. And I wanted to ask you—what does love mean to you?"

Poseidon studied him for a moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. For a god so tied to the elemental forces of the world, love seemed an odd question, yet one he had clearly pondered himself. The sea roared behind him, as if in answer to the question, but Poseidon was calm.

"Love," he began slowly, his voice deep and resonant like the ocean’s depths, "is much like the sea itself. It is vast, boundless, and ever-changing. It holds the power to destroy and create, to sweep you away or carry you to new shores. But at its core, love is constant—like the pull of the tides, it moves in cycles, never truly still."

Eros listened intently, his wings twitching in the breeze. "So, love is... like the sea?" he asked.

"Yes," Poseidon replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It is not always gentle. Sometimes, it is stormy, wild, and overwhelming. And other times, it is calm, peaceful, and deep. But even when you cannot see it, even when the surface is turbulent, love is always beneath, in the depths."

Eros blinked, processing his grandfather’s words. "But how do you live with it? How do you control love when it’s so unpredictable, like the sea?"

Poseidon chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling like thunder across the waves. "I don’t control it, Eros. I guide it. Like the currents that flow through the ocean, love must be allowed to move freely. If you try to control it too much, it will slip through your fingers, like water itself. The key is to understand its nature, to know that, like the sea, love is not something to be tamed. It is something to be respected, to be in harmony with."

Eros looked out at the vast ocean, the waves crashing against the rocks with force, then retreating back into the sea. "So love is both powerful and gentle? It has its storms and its stillness?"

"Yes," Poseidon said, his eyes glimmering with ancient wisdom. "Love is not a singular force. It is multifaceted, like the ocean. Sometimes, it will rise like a great tidal wave, sweeping you off your feet, and other times it will be like the quiet, tranquil depths—still and constant, but just as vital. What matters is not whether it is easy or hard, but whether you are willing to ride its currents and learn to move with it, not against it."

Eros folded his wings thoughtfully, gazing at the horizon where the sky met the sea. "I think I understand," he said softly. "Love is not something you can fight or hold onto. It’s something you must let flow, like the tides. And sometimes, you have to trust it to carry you, even when you can’t see where it’s going."

Poseidon’s smile widened, his voice full of pride. "Exactly. You must learn to trust the sea of love, to navigate its waters with patience and understanding. And when you do, you will find that it will take you to places you never imagined. Some of those places may be frightening, and some will be beautiful beyond your wildest dreams."

Eros nodded, a feeling of deep peace settling within him. He looked up at his grandfather, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, Grandfather. I think this helps me understand love in a whole new way. It’s like the ocean—vast, powerful, and always changing, but also constant beneath the surface."

Poseidon’s gaze softened, his voice quieter now, as if the very essence of the sea was speaking through him. "Remember, Eros. Love is like the ocean. It cannot be contained, but it is a force that can shape the world. And just as the sea has its many moods, so too does love. It is neither good nor bad, but a force of nature that can create, sustain, and transform."

Eros took a deep breath, feeling the sea breeze ruffle his wings. He looked back toward the water, watching the waves crash and retreat. It was as if, in that moment, he understood more than he ever had about love. It was a living, breathing force, as unpredictable and beautiful as the ocean itself.

"Thank you," Eros said again, his heart full.

Poseidon nodded, his eyes turning to the horizon. "Go, Eros. Let love carry you where it may. But remember always, the sea will be there when you need to return."

With that, Eros took to the sky once more, his wings soaring above the waves. As he flew over the ocean, the wisdom of Poseidon’s words echoed in his mind, like the rhythm of the sea itself—deep, constant, and ever-changing. And for the first time, Eros felt ready to embrace love in all its forms, no longer afraid of its storms or its stillness.

🌊💙

Chapter Text

Dionysus

The air was thick with the scent of ripe fruit, blooming vines, and the sound of laughter. Eros flew low over the vineyard, the golden light of sunset casting a warm glow over the lush fields. He had visited this place many times before, where the vibrant, joyful energy of his uncle Dionysus—god of wine, revelry, and ecstasy—was always at its peak. The air was never truly still here, filled with the song of celebration, the rustle of leaves, and the clinking of goblets.

Eros, now a teenager, found himself drawn to Dionysus not only for the revelry but also for the wisdom he had come to know in the god of indulgence. Dionysus’s understanding of love was something deeply rooted in joy, in letting go, in surrendering to the ebb and flow of emotion. It was a type of love Eros had yet to fully understand—one where happiness and abandonment were key, where love didn’t have to be complex, but rather, a celebration of life itself.

He landed gently on a vine-covered trellis, the sound of distant laughter and music drawing closer as he made his way toward the heart of the celebration. There, amidst a group of nymphs and satyrs, Dionysus was lounging lazily, a goblet of wine in hand, his wild hair and carefree expression reflecting the spirit of the festival that surrounded him.

"Eros!" Dionysus called, his voice like a melody in the wind. "Come join us, young one. There’s always room for another reveler in the celebration of life!"

Eros grinned, his wings folding behind him as he approached. "Uncle Dionysus, I’ve come to ask you something," Eros said, his tone a little more serious than the usual playful one he used around his uncle. "I’ve been learning a lot about love from the other gods. But I wanted to ask you about... your own story. How did you find your wife, Ariadne?"

Dionysus’s eyes softened at the mention of Ariadne, and he set his goblet down on the table with a smile that was more intimate than anything Eros had ever seen. He gestured for Eros to sit beside him, his voice lowering as he began to tell his story.

"Ariadne," he began, his voice full of warmth, "is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me, though I didn’t know it at first. I found her at a time when I was lost in my own revelries—celebrating, drinking, wandering through life without much thought of anything beyond the next celebration."

Eros listened intently, his eyes wide. He had always known his uncle to be full of energy, love, and life, but he never knew about this part of his story—about how Dionysus came to find the woman who was his partner.

"It was when I saw her for the first time that I knew something was different," Dionysus continued, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Ariadne had been abandoned on the island of Naxos by Theseus, and when I found her, she was alone, heartbroken. But there was something in her—an unshakable strength, a resilience that drew me to her."

Eros’s wings fluttered softly as he processed his uncle’s words. "So, you loved her because she was strong?"

Dionysus nodded, his eyes shining with a kind of depth that made Eros realize just how deeply his uncle had loved Ariadne. "Yes, but also because she didn’t need anyone to save her. She was a goddess in her own right, and when I saw her, I didn’t see someone who needed my help. I saw someone who could stand by me, who could challenge me, and who could share my joy in a way that no one else ever could. I didn’t love her because I had to ‘rescue’ her—I loved her because I wanted to share my life with her."

Eros’s heart swelled with understanding. He had never heard his uncle speak so earnestly before. "So, love for you wasn’t about saving her or making her fit into your life. It was about... sharing it with her?"

"Exactly," Dionysus said, his grin returning. "And when I first offered her my love, it wasn’t in a grand gesture or a perfect moment. It was simply because I saw her—really saw her. I knew that we could make each other better, that we could share in the joy and chaos of life together, without trying to change who we were."

Eros felt something stir inside him. His thoughts about love, about connection, about the way people came together, were beginning to shift. "I think I understand," Eros said softly. "Love isn’t always about grand acts or perfect moments. It’s about sharing who you are with someone, and finding someone who does the same."

"That’s right, my boy," Dionysus said with a warm laugh, clapping Eros gently on the back. "It’s about finding someone who makes life richer, not by fixing each other, but by celebrating together. Love should be like the wine—the more you share it, the sweeter it gets."

Eros smiled, the weight of his thoughts easing. He looked out at the celebration around him—dancing nymphs, music, laughter—and for the first time, he felt the full meaning of love as his uncle spoke of it. It wasn’t something that needed to be perfect. It was a joy, an ongoing celebration that grew deeper and sweeter the more it was shared.

"Thank you, Uncle Dionysus," Eros said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I think I get it now. Love is about finding joy together, no matter how chaotic or imperfect life may seem."

Dionysus raised his goblet, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Exactly! And now, young Eros, I think it’s time for you to join in the revelry! Love is not just something to think about; it’s something to live. Drink, dance, and celebrate the joy of being alive!"

With a laugh and a nod, Eros spread his wings and soared into the air, joining the celebration of life below. As the music swirled around him, he felt lighter than he ever had before, his heart full of the joy and freedom that love—like wine—could bring when shared.

And in that moment, Eros understood that love was not just about connection, nor about perfection, but about embracing the beautiful, chaotic dance of life with someone who truly made you feel alive.

🍇🍷💃

Chapter Text

Hermes

The winds howled softly through the mountains as Eros flew toward the distant peaks, the air rich with the scent of pine and fresh rain. The path he followed was familiar—a long, winding trail leading to the home of Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods. Hermes, always swift and full of wit, was a figure who moved between the realms of the divine and mortal worlds, bridging gaps and carrying messages of great importance. But beyond his quick mind and swift feet, Eros knew that Hermes was also a man of heart, someone who had married his sister, Harmonia, the goddess of harmony.

Eros had always been curious about their relationship, especially considering the nature of love in the fast-moving world of his brother-in-law. As a god who had seen many forms of love, both fleeting and enduring, Eros now wondered what love meant to someone like Hermes, who was never in one place for long and whose world seemed to be built on messages, speed, and ever-changing circumstances.

When Eros finally arrived at Hermes' home, he saw his brother-in-law lounging on a stone bench beneath the shade of a tall olive tree, his winged sandals resting casually at his feet. Hermes, ever the trickster, looked up and grinned as Eros landed beside him.

"Eros! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Hermes asked, his voice as light and quick as the breeze that surrounded him. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze twinkling with mischief. "Here to learn how to deliver a message of love, eh? Or are you just avoiding another lecture from Aphrodite about your arrows?"

Eros chuckled, the familiar playful tone of his brother-in-law putting him at ease. "Actually, I came for some advice, Hermes. I’ve been learning about love from everyone in our family, but there’s one thing I don’t quite understand. You and Harmonia—you both married, and yet your life seems so… fast, always moving, never still. How does love fit into a life like yours? How do you make it work?"

Hermes leaned back against the tree, folding his arms behind his head and looking up at the sky as if contemplating Eros's question. For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the rustling of the leaves in the wind. Then, with a soft smile, Hermes turned his gaze back to Eros, his eyes thoughtful.

"Love, Eros," Hermes began slowly, "isn't always about being in one place. It’s not about sitting still, or even always being together physically. Sometimes, love is about movement, about finding harmony in the space between people. It's the quiet understanding that no matter where we are, we’re always connected by something deeper."

Eros nodded, intrigued. "So love can exist even if you’re not always with the person you love?"

"Exactly," Hermes said, his grin returning. "You see, I may travel far and wide, flitting between the realms, but Harmonia and I have something that transcends distance. Our love is a quiet, steady thing. It’s not defined by the time we spend together but by the trust we have in each other and the harmony we create when we are together. Love doesn’t need to be constant in presence; it just needs to be constant in connection."

Eros sat beside Hermes, folding his wings behind him, as he took in his brother-in-law’s words. "So, love is about trust? And knowing that no matter where you are, you’re still there for each other?"

"Yes," Hermes replied, his voice softening with sincerity. "When Harmonia and I came together, we didn’t just unite our bodies—we united our hearts, our intentions. It’s not about being tied to each other all the time. It’s about understanding that our love is strong enough to survive the distance, the time apart, and the chaos of our lives. And when we are together, it’s like everything falls into place. It’s like the harmony between the notes of a song, each of us adding our own part, but together creating something beautiful."

Eros thought about this, the concept of love as something that existed even in the spaces between two people. His wings twitched softly as he pondered how this version of love seemed so different from the passionate, often overwhelming love he was used to. This was quieter, more serene, yet equally powerful in its own way.

"But how do you make it work when you’re so... busy?" Eros asked. "I mean, you’re always on the move. Does that ever get hard?"

Hermes let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "It’s true that I’m often busy, running messages for the gods, traveling the realms. But that’s where trust and understanding come in. We both know what the other needs, and we respect that. I don’t need to be with her every moment, just like she doesn’t need me right by her side all the time. But when we are together, we cherish it. We make the most of the moments we share, knowing that our love doesn't fade in the space between."

Eros’s heart fluttered as he thought about this. The idea that love could be something both steady and flexible, something that thrived in both closeness and distance, was a new concept for him. "So, it’s about balance. Not about holding on too tightly, but knowing that even when you’re apart, you’re still connected."

"Exactly," Hermes said, his smile warm with affection for his wife, Harmonia. "Love isn’t about clinging to one another. It’s about the freedom to be who you are, while knowing that you’re never really apart. It’s about harmony—being able to move through life, change, grow, and still come together in a way that makes everything feel right."

Eros felt a sense of peace settle in his chest as his brother-in-law’s words echoed in his mind. Love wasn’t just about grand gestures or moments of perfect closeness—it was about trust, harmony, and understanding that even in the spaces between, love could thrive.

"Thank you, Hermes," Eros said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I think I finally understand. Love is about connection, no matter where you are or how much time passes. It’s about trusting that the bond you share will always be there."

Hermes gave him a playful wink. "You’ve got it, little one. And remember, the best kind of love lets you be free to grow, to change, to follow your own path—and still find your way back to the ones you love."

Eros stood up, feeling the weight of his brother-in-law’s wisdom settle in his heart. With a grateful smile, he stretched his wings and took off into the sky, his thoughts clearer than before. As he soared higher, he realized that love wasn’t just one thing, but a collection of moments, trust, and connections—each as unique as the people who experienced it.

And in the distance, he could almost hear the quiet, steady rhythm of love—a song that played not just in the closeness of togetherness, but also in the quiet spaces in between.

💌✨

Chapter Text

Hades

The journey to the Underworld was always a quiet one. The air grew cool and still as Eros descended from the surface world, his wings cutting through the darkness that surrounded him. It wasn’t the kind of place one visited lightly. The Underworld was a realm of shadows and whispers, where the living rarely ventured and the dead never left. But today, Eros was not here to play or to spread his arrows of love. He was here to seek understanding from someone who had known a very different kind of love—a love that, in its own way, had flourished in the very heart of the darkness.

Eros had often wondered about his Uncle Hades, the ruler of the Underworld. Despite being the god of death, of the afterlife, and of everything that existed beneath the earth’s surface, Hades had married Persephone, the goddess of spring—one of the brightest, most vibrant of the Olympian gods. Their love, though forged in a place of shadows, had become a bond that even the Fates could not easily undo. For a long time, Eros had wondered how such a union could exist between light and dark, life and death.

As Eros made his way down the winding path toward the gates of the Underworld, the familiar chill of the realm wrapped itself around him. He landed softly at the foot of the darkened throne hall, where Hades sat, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, his expression unreadable as ever. The throne room was vast and quiet, the walls etched with the tales of the souls who passed through the Underworld, and in the center of it all was the god who ruled over this silent domain.

Hades, with his cloak of shadows and his eyes that held the depth of all that had passed and all that would come, looked up as Eros approached. There was a knowing, almost subtle, acknowledgment in his gaze—a look that seemed to say, I know why you're here.

"Eros," Hades said, his voice low and commanding, but not unkind. "I did not expect you to come to the depths. But then again, you are no stranger to matters of the heart."

Eros hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Uncle Hades," he began, his voice quiet yet filled with curiosity, "I’ve been learning about love from the others in the family, and... well, I’ve been thinking about you and Aunt Persephone. Your love is different, isn’t it? I mean, you’re the ruler of the Underworld. How does love exist here, in a place like this?"

Hades studied him for a moment, his eyes dark and piercing, before a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned back in his throne, his long fingers resting lightly on the armrest. "Different, yes. But not lesser. Love, Eros, is not bound by the realm in which it exists. It does not matter if it is born in the light of day or the shadows of night. It simply is."

Eros folded his wings, taking a seat on the edge of a nearby stone, his thoughts swirling. "But how did you and Aunt Persephone come together? I know you’re not the type to chase after someone like the others. You’re... well, you rule the Underworld. How did love find you?"

Hades’s gaze softened as he thought back to the beginning of his relationship with Persephone. "My love for Persephone began in darkness, yes," he said, his voice rich with both regret and affection. "But it was never about forcing her to be here with me. When I first saw her, she was bright—too bright for the shadows, for the quiet of this place. But there was something in her, a spirit I couldn’t ignore. She was vibrant, full of life. And I was... different. A god of death, bound to the Underworld, destined to rule over souls and shadows."

Eros leaned forward, captivated by the depth in his uncle’s words. "So you loved her because of her light?"

Hades nodded slowly. "Yes, in part. But it was more than that. I loved her because she was a force of nature—strong, independent, and unafraid of the dark. She didn’t need to be rescued, Eros. She didn’t need to be saved from this place. When she came here, it was not out of weakness or fear—it was because, like me, she found a place where she could be herself, away from the expectations of the world above. I loved her because she was willing to find her own way, even in the shadows."

Eros’s wings fluttered slightly as he processed this. "So, love isn’t about fixing someone or changing them. It’s about seeing them for who they truly are, even in the darkest places?"

"Exactly," Hades replied. "I did not love Persephone because I could change her or take her away from the world she knew. I loved her because she had the strength to grow in the face of darkness. And through that, we found something that neither of us expected—harmony, even in a place like this. She brought light to the Underworld, just as I brought a kind of stability to her world. And together, we created a balance."

Eros was silent for a long time, the weight of his uncle’s words settling in his heart. "It sounds like love here isn’t about light chasing away the darkness," he said quietly. "It’s about finding balance, about seeing the beauty in each other, even when everything seems different."

Hades’s smile widened, but there was a tenderness in it that made the shadows around them seem less foreboding. "You are wise beyond your years, Eros. Love, true love, does not shy away from the darkness. It embraces it, finds beauty in it. It is not just about what shines, but about what can be created when two souls come together, regardless of the circumstances."

Eros stood up, his wings unfurling. "Thank you, Uncle Hades," he said, his voice full of new understanding. "I think I finally understand. Love doesn’t just live in the light—it lives in the shadows, too. It’s not about avoiding darkness, but about finding the strength to live with it, to make something beautiful from it."

Hades nodded, his gaze filled with quiet pride. "You’re welcome, Eros. Remember, love is not bound by where it begins. It is shaped by what you choose to do with it."

With that, Eros flew upward, the darkness of the Underworld no longer feeling quite as oppressive. The lessons he had learned today—about love in the shadows, about finding strength in what others might fear—would stay with him as he moved forward. And as he soared back toward the surface world, the wisdom of his uncle echoed in his heart: Love was not about perfection, but about acceptance, about embracing both light and dark, and about finding beauty in all things.

🌑💖