Eros sat proudly in the throne in the palace of Mt. Olympus, looking at the mountain of gifts that sat before him for his birthday. Holding a goblet filled with the sweet nectar of the gods, the young deity watched as a scantily clad young woman danced for his entertainment, swiveling her hips and twirling her thick, chestnut hair. Eros was young. Eros was breathtakingly handsome. Eros was the powerful god of love. Eros was bored out of his damned mind.

With a grunt of frustration, Eros downed the rest of the nectar and stood up, rudely pushing aside the dancer as he left the throne to join the other gods in the ballroom. Even a simple onlooker would know that this was not a celebration of regular mortals for the gods and goddesses twirling to the music were radiant and too perfect. Too perfect, Eros thought moodily as he pushed past through the crowd. "Eros, there you are!" The young god tried not to leap up in alarm from the sudden booming voice behind him. Turning, he repressed an annoyed sigh as his "father" clapped him on his back, beaming happily. Without knowing it, the idiot slapped Eros' folded wings, causing a flash of pain to zip up the young god's spine. "Stop it, you're embarrassing me," Eros snapped, glaring up at the obnoxious god of war himself, Ares.

Ares had the sharp features of a warrior and the cowardly heart of a worm. Wearing his armor and brandishing his sword proudly, one wouldn't be able to tell that just one nick of a spear during battle and the almighty deity would run howling to Mt. Olympus where Zeus would look upon his son with disgust and disappointment. Deep in Eros' heart, he felt as though his grandfather's disappointment extended to him, also. In Zeus's eyes, Eros was nothing but a troublemaker, just like his father. And I'm sure that being the product of an affair doesn't really help much, either, Eros thought darkly.

"Embarrassing you, am I?" Ares sneered, trying not to pout like the child he inwardly was. "Well, I guess a certain son of mine wouldn't like to see what I have for him for his birthday then, hm?"

"Let me see then," Eros said, holding out his hand. One thing that Eros did inherit from his father was his greed.

Happy that he was finally being indulged, Ares smiled happily and produced a shiny brass shield from behind his back, handing it over to his flabbergasted son. "Wha-what is this?" Eros demanded, looking over the offensive object that he held in his hand. "Fool," Ares scoffed, "you know full well what this is. I hear that there shall be a war off by Thebes. We can even try it out today if it pleases you." Wordlessly, Eros shoved the shield back at his father, whirling around indignantly and heading off in the other direction, ignoring Ares' incoherent sputtering. Will the fool never give up? Eros wondered as he wandered aimlessly through the mass of happy celebrants. It was no secret to Eros that his father would much rather have his talents used in mindless battle than the love affairs of the mortals.

But what good am I in the battlefield? The ignorant idiot doesn't even realize how much a battle the mortal heart is, Eros thought, not even realizing how his dramatic fervor made him sound like the very same man he scoffed. Off to the side of the ballroom, the muses were watching the gloomy god circle the ballroom, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. "What could be wrong with my Eros?" Erato, the muse of romantic poetry, sighed, shaking her head of cascading curls in dismay. "He has not once glanced in my direction during the party. Usually he is by my side, flirting with me." The other muses tried to disguise their annoyance as Erato clasped her hands dramatically at her breasts, following Eros with her wide, sapphire eyes.

"You mean he isn't taking your blatant advances where you practically throw your robes at him like the harlot you are," Thalia, the muse of comedy, piped up dryly.

"Harlot? Hold your tongue, Thalia! Can you not see that precious boy is in pain? O, the trials he must go through helping mortals in their quests for love but not being able to indulge himself in the feeling. Let my love be the balm that will heal his wounds and let not pain consume him but the fiery burn of my passion!"

Once Erato was done with her declaration, she turned to see that the other muses glaring at her. "O, if only I could find a volcano where I can throw you in so you might enjoy those 'fires of passion' that you enjoy speaking of so much!" Thalia mocked, clasping her hands as Erato did, causing the other muses to break out in laughter.

"Enough!" Erato cried, lunging over to clasp tightly onto Thalia's hair. "Miserable whore!" Thalia roared, reaching over and grabbing onto a hank of Erato's curly locks.

Unaware of the drama that he had caused, Eros finally reached his mother who was dining at the table with the other gods. As usual, Aphrodite looked incredibly beautiful, with unbelievably long curls so yellow they appeared to be kissed by the moon. Her blues eyes had the ability to captivate a man's soul and make him willing to die for her – Eros should know, it's happened before – and a curvaceous body that was clothed in a robe that seemed to flow like water. Little did anyone besides Eros know that behind this seemingly fragile beauty was a mind sharp enough to manipulate any man in any situation. As it was Aphrodite sat at the table by her husband, Hephaestus, one of the only ugly gods in Mt. Olympus. Aphrodite always moaned to her son about her cruel fate of being married to a homely man. Even though Aphrodite was ashamed of her union with Hephaestus, Eros loved the man for taking him as if he were his own son. Looking utterly miserable at her spouse's side, the goddess of love's face brightened once she spotted her son as it always does.

"My son," she called, holding out her hand, "are you having a good time?" Eros nodded and took his mother's hand, knowing it was useless to tell his mother the truth. She would just dramatize the situation and make it ten times worse. "I'm glad," Eros's mother gushed. "Once the celebration is over, I will give you the present that I have for you. I'm sure you'll enjoy it." Nodding again, Eros walked away aimlessly and Aphrodite's expression dulled into one of misery again.

Leaving the party behind, Eros walked out into the garden, the milky moon spreading a calming light throughout the area. Several nymphs went into hiding once he came out, dimming their glowing lights. Sighing, Eros sat down on a stone bench, glancing down at his scandals. I have everything going for me, he thought, gripping the edge of the stone bench. So why aren't I happy? "Because you long for her," a raspy voice sounded behind him and Eros sprang up, wings spread in case he needed to take flight. "Who's there?" he called out, trying to sound brave.

"A guest coming to wish you happy birthday," the croaky voice called out and a figure stepped out from the shadows. The intruder wore a coarse, black cloak keeping everything out of sight except for a gnarled hand that clasped onto a cane. Taking small steps forward, the elderly woman walked toward the suspicious god, the silence suspending between them thick with distrust and expectations. "Are you the Oracle?" Eros questioned, eyeing the withered figure with narrowed eyes. "I am," the woman said, her voice dry as dust in the wind. "And I know what can make you happy."

At those words, Eros's heart foolishly leapt with joy because the Oracle was never wrong with her predictions. "Or should I say who," this time, there was a slyness in the Oracle's tone as she spoke those words. But Eros was too focused on the prospect of being happy. "I know you desire to be loved, as you helped many other mortals to love. And you will find such love in The Girl Who Loves Eternally. Only she will have a heart big enough to love a god such as you for all of eternity." A girl who will love me for all eternity, Eros thought wistfully and unknowingly fisted his hands with his yearning. With her I will be happy, finally happy.

"Where can I find her?" Eros commanded, slightly embarrassed by his childishly eager tone. "Tell me!"

"I cannot tell you exactly where you can find her, but I can show you the path," the Oracle said enigmatically.

"Then show me the path and I will find her myself, even if I have to wait for centuries for her." When Eros said this, he can sense the Oracle's smile, even though her face was enshrouded with darkness. "Then come with me to the lake." The Oracle turned her back and led the eager god into the darkness, slowly climbing a hill with a resolve that even Eros could respect. On the other side of the hill was the lake, its still water only disrupted by ripples in the water. The crone hobbled to the shore, heedless of the hem of her cloak getting wet. With the same carelessness, Eros followed her to the shore, watching in awe as the Oracle raised a wrinkled hand to the sky and lifting her cane with the other.

A disturbance began to stir in the air and Eros shivered as a slight breeze blew at his robes. Without a word, the elderly woman struck the water with her cane, causing the water to tremble supernaturally. The water began to brighten with an almost holy light and in the light shapes began to take form. As Eros watched with hitched breath, a scene began to take form before him. A village filled with strangely dressed people. Women were roaming around carrying jugs of water while men were working in fields, laughing with each other.

"I don't understand," Eros stated. "Where is this strange place?"

"This is a foreign land far from here," the Oracle replied coolly. "In this land, you will find your path to The Girl Who Loves Eternally."

Her words caused an excitement to bloom in Eros's heart. Thoughts of happiness in his mind, the youthful god leaned forward and watched the village with a keener interest. I will find her here, Eros thought and foolishly reached out and touched the water with the tips of his fingers, causing the water to ripple. "Careful fool," the Oracle warned, her voice snapping with anger. "Do not touch the image or the repercussions will be grave." Eros nodded absentmindedly, still searching through the strange crowd of villagers for a girl who could be his. Mine. "So, is she there now?" Eros asked the Oracle, smiling. But when he turned his head he saw that the woman was already gone. Turning back to the water, Eros gazed into the water, his hungry gaze searching. I'll wait, no matter how long it takes.

The Oracle made her way through the garden, her old body protesting. Oh, to be young again, the crone thought longingly as she marched on. "Witch," a young voice called out, and the old woman wasn't surprised. She was, after all, the Oracle. "What is it that you want, Anaya?" The ancient woman asked wearily and her apprentice stepped forward. At first glance, anyone would mistake Anaya for a slender boy with her shorn hair and angular face. This was exactly what Anaya's aim was, of course. "Why did you meddle with that boy's affairs? I know as well as you that making him go there will disrupt the strands of Fate."

"Those old hags?" the Oracle snorted. "They will not interfere. Besides, they owe me a favor. Once this boy goes to the Land of Rice, he will see all that he needs to see." Anaya crossed her arms, staring down her mentor. "What exactly do you have planned, woman?" Inside her cloak, the Oracle smiled and continued on, trudging off home with a very confused Anaya following behind.

Eros didn't know how long he sat there, staring hopefully into the lives of these foreigners. But what he did know was that he knew the schedule of these people by now and was growing weary. "Where are you?" Eros asked, sighing fretfully. Suddenly the villagers began to ripple with a nervousness that caught the god's attention. The crowds parted and the strangest creature he had ever seen began to walk through. A young-looking boy was walking through the crowd slowly, his arms tucked into the sleeves of his robes and his long, snow-white hair swinging with each of his steps. But most incredibly were the pair of dog ears that sat perched on his crown, twitching occasionally.

The strange villagers seemed to be amazed by him also, giving him a wide path and staying out of his way. Is he royalty? Eros wondered and soon his thoughts quieted completely. Because suddenly a young girl stepped from behind the creature and walked by his side, her raven hair bouncing as she eyed the villagers curiously in return. She was slim and wore the strangest green-and-white robe he had ever seen. The hem of her robe stopped astonishingly short, showing off her legs as she walked proudly, as if not noticing her strange attire. Eros's heart fluttered in his chest. Is she the one? Will she be the one who will love me for eternity? Suddenly the breathless deity noticed that the girl carried a bow with her and a quiver of arrows was strapped to her back.

A woman who knows archery, Eros thought happily and thought of his own arrows. Already thoughts of practicing shooting with this girl were forming in the fanciful boy's head. He would take her under the moonlight, laughing at each other's mistakes before he took her in his arms….She has to be the one, Eros thought eagerly and was gripped with the sudden need to touch her, his mystery girl. Completely forgetting the old woman's warning, Eros reached his hand out to touch the image of the walking girl. His eyes brightened with happiness, Eros plunged his hand into the crystalline depth of the water.