Eros's Perfect Shot
Eros was having the time of his life these days. No joke—life was just plain fun.
As the forbidden golden child of Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty, and lust, Eros wielded mighty powers with his golden arrows that ignited passion between lovers and his lead arrows that stoked hatred and loathing. He looked like a boy god of about ten, but he was ancient, and even the gods of love, lust, and hatred couldn't control emotions like his. Anyone struck by a golden arrow would inevitably fall head over heels for their target, while a lead arrow made them despise and curse the victim without fail. These polar-opposite emotions both sprang from Eros himself. Unleashing them at his whim gave him a rush stronger than anything else, which was why he remained the eternal boy god.
And now, his mother Aphrodite had given him a delightful mission: "Shoot Gaia with a golden arrow and make her fall in love with Heracles."
"Man, that guy's got some serious luck," Eros muttered. Hearing Aphrodite's command filled him with glee at the thought of bending the mightiest Protogenoi to his power, but it also left him exasperated. Heracles was overflowing with blessings. First Adamantia, then Echidna, and now the goddess Gaia herself—no male god enjoyed such luxuries. This wasn't ordinary fortune. Sure, Heracles had suffered through a lifetime of labors, but that didn't matter to Eros; it was all just entertaining.
"The real question is, when do I shoot the arrow for maximum fun?"
The mission brought Eros a fresh dilemma. Subjugating the goddess Gaia with his powers, forcing her to kneel before the might of love—it was the adventure of a lifetime, pure ecstasy. But when to ignite that spark? Just making her fall in love outright would be too bland for such a golden opportunity. For true amusement, it had to blaze up in a way no one saw coming.
How to pull it off? It was the dilemma of Eros's life.
"Just shoot when he first meets Heracles?"
Too predictable. Next.
"After Heracles marries Adamantia?"
Way too late—waiting around would get boring. Next.
"When Gaia blesses Heracles and Adamantia's wedding?"
Fun, sure, but it might earn him the wrath of Goddess Adamantia. Next.
"Argh, this is driving me nuts. When will be the funniest?"
Maybe it was because his target was Gaia, the oldest Protogenoi, a goddess no one—not even Zeus—could touch lightly. No matter when he shot, it'd be entertaining to a degree, but that very guarantee made every option feel lacking in that guaranteed thrill. Almost certainly, if he missed this chance, he'd never get to shoot Gaia again.
He needed an unpredictable moment, a fated instant where even Gaia couldn't dodge. No matter how fearsome the golden arrow, it was useless if the goddess evaded it. Gaia, who embodied the entire earth, might even be hearing these very thoughts somewhere. For Eros, this was his shot at immortality.
"Aha!!!"
After agonizing until his head throbbed—uncharacteristically persistent, refusing to give up—Eros struck gold. Effort never betrayed.
Meanwhile, at that exact moment Eros grappled with his lifetime dilemma, Gaia—hilariously enough—was wrestling with a dilemma of her own, just like the boy god.
Her worry? "What divinity should I grant Heracles?"
For now, he only merited the lowest rung of godhood—a local deity, like a river god or tree spirit, akin to beautiful nymphs. But if he truly passed the labors and married Adamantia for real, she'd have to bestow the status of a great god, never to be repeated. And Heracles had already completed countless labors successfully. So, a bit early perhaps, but she needed to button this right from the start with some great-god powers. Even if he failed Adamantia's labors, Echidna already followed him devotedly—she couldn't ignore that side either.
"Sigh, what a headache these kids are."
Originally, Uranus, Thalassa, and Tyrrhenus handled this, but with each gone quiet for their own reasons, now her ever-obedient children were causing trouble. What cruel twist of fate? Well, even the Fates who wove destiny were her children. She'd get revenge someday with their favorite fruits, Gaia vowed, then dove back into her worries.
"Too weak a divinity, and he won't pass the labors—sabotaging him outright isn't fair... But too strong from the start, and the labors become a joke."
If choosing between a wedding gift for Echidna or Adamantia's labors, obviously the latter. But too weak a power would backfire too—the one tasked with labors failing would be pointless, and it'd sadden Adamantia. Gaia didn't want that.
"Then, god of mountains and rivers is out."
Sicily teemed with rivers, mountains, and fields, but those didn't suit the labors. It needed to be unrelated to Adamantia first off. That left precious few options—quite paltry.
"Tricky. Did I mess up the labors?"
"...Mom! How long are you gonna make us wait? We're already here!"
"Echidna! I said I'd think it through carefully!"
"You've 'thought carefully' twice already—you'll keel over!"
While her mother fretted gravely over them, Echidna was all impatience. Ungrateful daughter—Gaia had cursed her headstrong child a dozen times today already. But that very daughter threw her an unexpected lifeline.
"What's so hard to decide? My husband's the strongest man in Achaia! Just hand over some cool power—it's not like it'll hurt!"
"You think divinity's some marble trinket? Handing it out willy-nilly would turn the world upside down! ...Wait, strength?"
About to sternly scold her whining daughter, Gaia latched onto the word. True, Heracles was unmatched in strength. He might even hold up the sky like Atlas. He'd slain Ladon, butchered countless monsters, beaten Apollo in wrestling, and snatched a friend's wife from Thanatos's grasp. Few mortals—or gods—rivaled his arm and brawn. Strength fit Heracles like a glove.
"Yes, let's grant him the seat of the God of Strength. The pure masculine physical power—not too weak, not too strong."
The divinity of "pure masculine physical strength and its prowess" suited Achaia's mightiest man better than anything. Thanks to her foolish daughter, Gaia solved her headache before it worsened and stepped out.
Echidna's grumpy greeting awaited: "Mom! Did you fall in a puddle pondering, or nap? Why make us wait so long?"
"How long did you even wait? Learn some patience!"
"Long enough—the sun's down! It's night!"
"Oh, really?"
"...Mom!"
Gaia thought it'd been mere moments, but Echidna's shrieks made her check: the sun had dipped beyond the western horizon. Indeed, darkness would soon fall—they'd need to sleep. She'd pondered a full half-day. Even mighty Gaia blushed.
"Fine, fine! I've decided what to give. Bring your husband before me."
"Yes, Goddess Gaia, thank you. Here?"
"...Yes, stand there. It won't take long."
The divinity of "pure masculine strength and its prowess" was vital but unclaimed, its domain narrow. Bestowing it demanded focus, but not ages—just minutes.
Yet she never imagined those few minutes would forever alter Gaia's new life(?).
Placing her glowing right hand over Heracles and chanting the incantation with eyes shut, a short golden arrow the length of an adult's forearm flew from behind Gaia. It struck her back dead-on. The goddess's heart suddenly went mad; she broke off mid-chant and opened her eyes—but it was far too late. All was done.