Love, Cupid.

The calm breeze blew her hair away from her face. It was a bright afternoon and the sky was dyed orange and red. The lively greenery surrounded her as she sat on the grasses, listening to the distant twittering of the birds. The sun was slowly vanishing from the horizon now, and yet she was still alone. This place was really beautiful and serene, however it was lonely. Or maybe it was she who was lonely. Had this been a different situation, it was sure fun to eat some meal here with her sisters. However, today was not a normal day. Looking up a little to the horizon, she tried to peer at the sky. The eternal azure sky drenched with the afterglow hid the stars away, she thought, but soon enough they would show. Such scene must come into view in the kingdom of the gods and goddesses, too. But she heard from their kingdom’s priest that night had never befallen on Olympus. Were these powerful beings playing tricks on her? Her lips thinned as it bent to a frown; the little voice in her head wondered if the Fates willed her to be taken away by some monster. Why else would she be sent on the summit of a rocky hill in all of a sudden? The oracle of Delphi wouldn’t play jokes to its people.

The wind blew again, mild and caressing like a mother’s hand. It must be Zephyr, the sweet and gentle wind. Her tired, weary heart felt the gentle air as it circled her as though it was rocking an infant in its arms. There was the soft murmuring of  grasses and shrubs behind her, chorusing with the cries of the birds. They chirped and hummed a melody as the wind blew, and slowly—gently—she was lulled to sleep. Her mourning heart and its pain forgotten as she shut her eyes. The lady seated alone on the wide  hilltop lowered her head on the ground, fast asleep. Her anxiety was neglected as her consciousness dozed off with her. It was such a dreamy feeling to be lifted up from the ground, such sensation tickled her feet. It must be a dream, she told herself not knowing that Zephyr brought her up and transported her to a different, paradise-like place to meet her husband, like what the oracle told her king father.


‘It was both a nice and weird dream,’ C.C. told herself the morning after her eighteenth birthday. Youngest of the three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Corabelle, her eighteenth birthday was celebrated in her parents’ hometown. This place was her favorite spot in the whole continent, knowing that the seashore was just close to her heart. She loved beautiful sceneries: the sea, the forest, the garden, the plain, and the field. Cera Corabelle had a soft spot for this lovely sceneries, but she loved the sea most. There was something with the sound of the waves crashing on the shore which enticed her so much. It felt like a serenade, she once believed.
Her parents would always make an effort to celebrate their child’s eighteenth birthday in their hometown, just to make such place where Mr. and Mrs. Corabelle’s childhood was spent be the first memory they had once they entered adulthood—or so, the legal age. Their lovely daughters had spent it all in here, from Milly—the eldest, Shirley—the second born, and today, Cera – or C.C. to her family.
C.C. knew that eighteen birthdays were celebrated a little grand by her family, witnessing how her elder sisters’ had their parties. Though it was rather an intimate celebration, it was still grand and festive in some ways. It was celebrated like a small family reunion by the beach. The elder children would play a song for the celebrant and the guys would dance her. She experience all of these, too, last night. And she had to admit that her eighteenth birthday spent under the night sky by the beach was one of her unforgettable memories.
When the time came to retire after the night’s get-together, C.C. collapsed on her bed. She was sharing the room with her elder sisters, who on the other hand, were laughing at her loss of energy. Milly told that C.C. has to work out a little to last overnight occurrences; Shirley said that C.C. just had to get a boyfriend soon. The birthday celebrant merely rolled her eyes at them, and instead she chose to get a comb and brush the sand out of her green locks. Her sisters ignored her quickly as their talk drifted to their boyfriends.

Yes, C.C. was tired but it didn’t mean she could fall asleep soon whilst her sisters continued to talk about their boyfriends. Both Milly and Shirley met their guys in the hometown on their eighteenth birthdays. It was such a cute coincidence, thought C.C. But when her sisters prophesied that the youngest sibling would find a boyfriend in this place too, within this year, C.C. wanted to throw up. Ever since her childhood days she showed no interest towards liking the opposite sex. C.C. thought that it was such a waste of energy to crush on someone. It wouldn’t make her a totally different person if she didn’t fall in love, would it?
The Corabelle sisters were known for their beauty. Inside and out, the sisters were recognized by the people because of the beauty they possessed. However, C.C. was said to be the fairest of them all. The elder sisters knew this fact too, and they had no objection. Indeed, Cera was the loveliest of the three. She had admirers twice as many as Shirley and Milly had, even as a middle schooler, but she never entertained one. When she was in her adolescent years, Milly suspected that Cera was incapable of liking guys—that she preferred girls, however none of it was true. Shirley thought that maybe their little sister hadn’t met the one yet. Their parents though, knew that Cera had no interest in love. Yes, she had many admirers and yet none of them dared to court the girl. They loved to see C.C. but no one really fell in love with her. It was just funny that C.C. never fell in love too. The weirdest thing yet was, love was an uncharted land she would never explore.
Ever since she entered high school, C.C. observed the change hormones brought to her body. She was a lady like her sisters, but her emotional aspect was untouched. C.C. remained clueless about love, showed no interest towards anyone and liked being free. Her sisters let her read various romance books and watch romance movies, but none evoked the feeling as though C.C. was incomplete. Once in a while she felt like she had lost something very important, but whenever she would put her mind into it, C.C. would end up forgetting what could be this thing.
The sun was climbing up to the sky when C.C. stepped out of their house. The cold breeze sent shivers to her spine as she walked around the porch wrapped in her cardigan. The household was still asleep, missing the chance to see the wonderful sunrise. Ever since a child, C.C. loved seeing the first rays of the sun. It was the warmth of the rays against the nippy air which she liked the most—as though it was melting her frosty heart.
She was officially eighteen. There was this family belief that on a girl’s eighteenth birthday, she would have dreams about her soulmate. Her sisters believed that it was true; hence they ended up meeting their boyfriends. Mrs. Corabelle said that the dreams were scenes from their past lives; clues which would lead them to their other half. Funny, crazy belief, thought C.C. the first time she heard her mom told this to Milly. She was only eleven that time, and Shirley fifteen. It was Milly’s eighteenth birthday that evening, and such revelation made Shirley excited to her debut. “Funny, crazy belief,” told C.C. to herself, “because soulmates aren’t real. Past life is just as weird.”
Nevertheless she proved herself wrong. She had a weird dream last night—so weird it felt so real. The emotions she felt in that dream, the sceneries she saw, they were all to realistic to regard as a dream. Was it her past life? If so, what on earth was Zephyr doing there? Why was she thinking of the Olympus? Weren’t these all parts of the Greek myth? Puzzled, C.C. walked to the shore until the crashing waves kissed her toes. This might be the result after reading a bunch of romance stories and Greek mythology together. Her sisters’ fault, really.  When the cries of the seagull echoed, the first rays struck her by the face. The warmth comforted her bewildered mind, and she concluded that, yes, it was just a dream.

The young man dozing off on his bed sprang up — as though he was someone resurrected from death —at the sound of such screeching voice. The yell was followed by another uproar, things crashing on the wooden floor, probably. It came from his mother’s room, for sure, and it must be caused by another nonsensical, illogical reason. Forcing his groggy body out of the bed, the fair youth reached for the green sweater and clad his body with it. The morning had started now, for his mother’s screams were his alarms.
Twisting the door open, he saw his younger sister running past by his door. Her long wavy brownish hair was fluttering behind her. “It was mother,” she gave him a glance before running down the flight of stairs. Of course, it was their mother. Who else would yell like that in the morning. And who else would scream whenever she would see herself in the mirror?
“Nunnally, be careful. Her tantrums are worst,” he tried warning his sister, but his words were left hanging in the air. Their parents were divorced because, well, his mother’s infidelity was the root. Nunnally grew up with their kind, loving father, so the girl got only to spend few weeks of school break with them. Lelouch, on the other hand, was stuck in his mother’s custody. He didn’t understand why his mom wanted him back then; she would always insist that Cupid must stay with the Goddess herself. Heck, he didn’t understand any of this until he turned sixteen.
Greeks made their gods in their own image. Not the other way around like the teaching of Christianity. So when people started to doubt what poets wrote, Olympus crumbled into pieces. The gods and goddesses were banished from their little paradise, and that ended their mad regime. But they were people who feasted on ambrosia and wine. Their bodies withered away when Olympus ceased to exist, but their souls remained immortal. Again and again, they were reborn, and their past lives were realized—remembered—when they reached a certain age. Sixteen for guys, and eighteen for girls.
Cupid’s soul resided in Lelouch Lamperouge’s heart. He was not the fat boy with naked butt who had a bow and arrows, okay? Cupid was a fair young man in the past. Lelouch knew it best, for sure. He saw Cupid’s past life as the god of love and he messed up Zeus’ life. When Venus was in the worst mood, she would ask her son to make people fall in love with beasts and trees. Should she be kind, it would be with humans. And from the memories Lelouch had seen from those dreams, Venus was the worst mother ever.
Venus was living inside Marianne Lamperouge, a lady of great beauty and noble descent. Sure she was beautiful, but humans were mortals that would rot in time. Time, that was her most hated enemy because she would grow old. Countless times did he endure his mother’s cries because of the wrinkles on her face. All Lelouch could offer was the naked truth that everyone would grow old. Nonetheless his advice was never effective. Somehow he was glad that the powers they once possessed were stripped off from them, or else Venus would curse her own son.
Lelouch finally made it in his mother’s room. There was she, her long ebony black hair framed her pretty face. Tears stained her beautiful visage as Nunnally tried to calm their mother down. The mirror on her nightstand was now broken on the floor, her cosmetic products thrown across the ground.

“Another morning ruckus,” mumbled Lelouch as he pinched his nose bridge whilst wincing his head. “What is it, mother? The wrinkles again?”
“Indeed, my son. The wrinkles, they were getting many!” the woman wailed and hugged her daughter.
“For someone growing old, that’s natural. I’ll go back to sleep. Nunnally, will you prepare breakfast for mother?” When his younger sister nodded gladly, he turned to walk back to his room. He wanted to resume his sleep, to go back to his dream. Lelouch skipped his way to his room, glad with what his dreams showed. She was finally awake, his love and his life.

She was staying inside a beautiful house. It was owned by someone wealthy—her husband must be wealthy. There were voices asking her what she wanted, and they told her they were her servants. Unseen servants. Creepy at some point, but this life was still kind to her. Didn’t the oracle say she was to marry a winged-serpent? A monster? A beast which would devour her wholly?

The lady sat on the cushion with nothing to do. Everything inside the house was organized, so she sat and reminisced about her family. Her sisters and her father, she missed them a lot. She wondered if this was the atonement for being born beautiful, to be cursed in eternal solitude? She hadn’t met her husband yet, for the servants told her that he wouldn’t be home soon. And if he would, it would be in an unexpected time.

The darkness ruled the sky soon, and she was tucked under the sheets. She was half-asleep when she felt the other side of the bed to sink as arms embraced her from behind. It was her husband. In the darkness of the night he first appeared to her. She didn’t know how does he look like, but she knew that he was a kind man. He told her stories of his adventures, stories about how he fell in love with her. For countless nights he told her his life, and she told him her life too. Though she couldn’t see his face — it didn’t matter anymore. She loved him. And for the first time, the simple conversations turned to something more passionate.


C.C. suddenly woke up from that dream. Beads of sweat rolled down from her forehead as she hopped down from her bed to lock herself inside the bathroom. It was only four in the morning, the whole house was still under the spell of slumber. Today, her dream was the worst. It was the worst. She could feel the churning on her belly, the wetness in between her legs. Never had she experienced a wet dream, nor had ever thought about things similar to her dream. These dreams were too much now. She sat on the ground, sullen, as her body felt warmer. C.C. wanted to cry, such dream was too banal she couldn’t believe it. Was that her past life? 
No. It couldn’t be.
The girl curled on the corner, still fighting the urge to continue the pleasuring her dream started. Her previous dreams were no way like this, so what the heck was happening on her. Her nails dig deep on her arms as she tried to end the sensation her body was stimulating. This wasn’t her, this wasn’t her…this wasn’t her…
C.C. walked out of the loo and grabbed her cardigan. A walk by the beach would help her calm down. That was what she would do whenever she’d have a bad dream. Yes, a walk might help her.

Lelouch sat near the shore. His dream tonight was definitely nice, being able to see how he spent his life with the lady who had his heart in the past was such a nice feeling. It was just saddening that he hadn’t met her in this timeline yet. Marianne was not into the idea that he would meet Psyche again, anyway. The lady’s beauty was just a slap to his mother’s face, that she was no fairer than the girl to whom he shared his life in the past.
He knew it might take some time before he would meet her. When Cupid was born around Elizabethan era, he met Psyche when they were in early 30’s. Patience, it would take him an unlimited consumption of patience to reunite with the love of his life. Lelouch knew that she was just there, somewhere, dreaming of the memories they shared. 
Lelouch watched the waves crashing on the sand. It was such a lovely melody, to hear the music of the sea. The faint smile lit his face, though he wasn’t smiling to anyone particular. Lelouch wondered if he would be able to recognize her once they meet again. Would she know it was him? What would be the first thing they would do once they saw each other? Lelouch could only ask.
He rose from his seat to feel the waves crashing on his feet. It would be very cold, but it must wake his sleeping soul. He would ride his bike and went back to the highland where their house was. Marianne and Nunnally didn’t know that he left the house this early morning, just to have a very alone time. That was when Lelouch felt another person’s presence.
Lifting his head, his amethyst irises saw a rare beauty walking towards him. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one startled for the girl stopped on her tracks too. They watched each other, the ten meters of distance between them felt like it was nonexistent. Lelouch watched her green hair flowing together with the hem of her shawl. She was surprised, he could tell from her face. He was…enticed, for sure. Her pale skin glistened against the moonlight.

What would Lelouch do if he met her again? Would they instantly know who were they? Who they used to be?

Lelouch could only ask.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s