I removed one of the arrows from the quiver. The wood of the shaft was polished to near-perfect smoothness, the arrowheadworked from bronze. I had the sense it was made to fly, but it remained stubbornly immobile. Then I examined the bow. One seemed to call to the other, two pieces of a whole longing to be united, so I braced the shaft of the arrow against the taut string.
The bow’s purpose washed over me with unwavering certainty. A wound that knits two sides together, a weapon with the power to heal. I thought of Gaia’s loneliness and knew at once what I must do.
I aimed the bronze tip of the arrow at the great blue underbelly of Ouranos, the god of the sky. Holding the bow like this created a pleasing tension, one that could only be satisfied by release. I lifted my fingers, and it flew. Zephyrus hummed in approval and summoned a light breeze to carry the arrow to its destination.
The wind was strong, and my aim was true. Ouranos’s gaze fell upon Gaia, the earth, and for the first time, love entered the world.
Love of a certain sort, that is. The Greeks may have three words for love, but the gods have only one.
I was the god of desire, and it did not take me long to realize what that meant. My arrows sparked desire wherever they landed if I infused them with my will. At first, I thought this was a happy thing.
Gaia was delighted by Ouranos’s advances, and soon she took him as her husband. From their union were born the divinities who ruled over the sea and memory and time, and their joy suffused the world.
I offered my arrows freely, and I drank now and then from the well of desire myself, bedding some nymph or satyr – though I made sure never to feel the sting of my own arrows, unwilling to fall too deeply. There was sweetness in sex, like climbing atree in summer and never reaching the top. I thought this was to be my gift to the world, a delight that I could bestow upon others with their glad acceptance.
I did not know yet how cruel love could be.
I watched as the love between Ouranos and Gaia turned sour. He forbade her to have any more children, fearful that one of them would be greater than him. When she did not comply, he became vicious with her. Their son Kronos rose up in defence of his mother and succeeded in overthrowing his father, Ouranos. Then Kronos took his victory a step farther: He castrated Ouranos for all to see, throwing his phallus into the ocean.
He claimed this was an act of revenge for his mother, Gaia, but the goddess of the earth was repulsed by this atrocity. Her spirit broken by her husband’s cruelty and her son’s savagery, she retreated from the world and fell into an endless sleep. She became the earth, and nothing else. The earth, and not herself.
My unchecked actions had brought something new and ugly into the world. I realized, then, that desire could be the cause of pain rather than joy. My arrows might fester in a wounded heart, spreading like an infection. Or perhaps love itself had been rotten from the start.
After this, I withdrew from the world of the gods. I recoiled from the lovestruck divinities who trailed after me, whispering my name with an intensity I did not understand. They smelled the desire on me, the power I ruled, and it drew them as surely as blood draws sharks. But I knew how quickly the affection in their eyes could turn to hatred, and knew I was nothing to them except a conquest. I wanted no part in it. I turned away.
Only Zephyrus remained my friend, laughing at my re-clusiveness. ‘It will be good to visit you and get away from the rabble,’ he told me when I informed him of my plans.
Far away from Mount Othrys, seat of the first gods, I found a proud cliff that overlooked the sea. It was remote and desolate; the only sound was the drumming of waves against the sharp rocks. My only neighbours were the seabirds who made their nests high up on the cliffs, paying me no mind as they went about their lives. Life was spare and unchanging in this place at the edges of the earth, and nothing green grew. It might have been the world’s beginning, or its end.
It was perfect. I crossed the shale beach and laid a hand on the bleached stones, which felt as warm as a living thing beneath my palm. I closed my eyes and called out to Gaia. My sister, my oldest friend.
Even in her delirium, she answered. There came a grinding high in the cliffs, and I looked up to watch as the structures of the earth shifted and rearranged themselves. With no more effort than it takes a mortal woman to trim her hair, Gaia carved a soaring home for me from the cliffside. An elegant stone staircase invited me away from the beachfront and towards the eyrie, giving way to terraces laden with vibrant, sweet-smelling flowers.
Gaia had been generous. I knew that I would find everything inside suited to my taste. Meals would appear on the table when I desired them, and glasses of divine ambrosia would fill themselves in my hand. My clothing would reappear washed and mended; stains would rub themselves clean. In this place that Gaia had made for me, all of reality would bend itself to my wishes. Such were the blessings of the earth goddess upon those she favoured.
I would fill this home with all sorts of beautiful things – coloured glass and vibrant jewels, perhaps a pet or two. I’d always enjoyed peacocks, and cats as well. This would be a place of joy.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered to Gaia before I spread my golden wings and flew to my new abode.
Even in this remote place, however, my solitude was not assured. I received a steady stream of messages from the other gods, some requesting the use of my arrows and others requesting favours of a much more intimate kind. I granted some of the former if the deal was good, but never any of the latter. I never forgot what happened to Ouranos and Gaia, and I would not risk being trapped in a love gone rancid.
One day, my twin sister Eris came to the seaside house. I found her standing in my terraced garden as she ran a hand along one of the colonnades suggestively and peered up at me from beneath her lashes. I noticed that she wore a sheer fabric draped to emphasize her figure, and that her yellow hair had been braided into a complex coronet that might have looked elegant on someone else.
What was she doing here? Normally my sister preferred the company of other gods, the better to make use of her talents. Eris spread her poison like a dandelion scatters its seeds over the earth, whispering malicious gossip into eager ears.
‘You know, dearest brother,’ Eris said in what she may have thought were sultry tones, though they scraped like nails against my ears. ‘The other gods have all coupled to make children and populate the earth, but you haven’t. I could help you with that.’
She was my sister, but such pairings were not uncommon among the gods. Indeed, we were each other’s most sensible match. Like Gaia and Ouranos, we were opposites: desire and discord, as parallel as earth and sky. Yet, I found myself seized with the uncomfortable thought that if Eris and I joined we might offset each other’s powers – or give rise to something far worse.
The possibility didn’t seem to bother Eris, I noticed.
‘Eris, dear sister,’ I replied sweetly. ‘I would rather stab myself in the eye with one of my arrows than lie with you.’
Her face went pale with rage. I did not see her again for several thousand years.
Eventually, there was a second war in the heavens. Kronos had taken to devouring his own children to prevent another uprising, but one of them escaped.
This forgotten son of Kronos came to my door one day. He was Zeus the Thunderer, only a minor god at the time. He barged into my house and sat at my great oak table, where he poured himself some of my ambrosia and slurped it down noisily.
