Eros

 This girl almost saw me.
 I was just scaling the frosty mountains when I came in contact with a Roman palace. I’m not sure whose palace it is, but what I do know is that I’m quite far from home. All I been doing is flying for three hours, and all of a sudden I’m in Roman territory. My mother and father will kill me. That is, if they find out, which I’m sure they won’t. I become curious of this awkwardly standing palace, smooth and well defined. And the best part for me, no one is around. Everyone looks to be inside. So I’m free to explore as I please. I smirk at the thought. This’ll be one to tell Adrestia. I’m a great climber. It’s in my blood, being a god with wings. I could even trail the smoothest marble in the kingdom. This was nothing. I run to the edge of the roof and put down my right foot first. The rest of my body follows suit. You don’t need a detailed description, you know what I’m doing. I’m going down, down, down, and come close to a window. I slowly peek in. It’s just an empty hall, filled with paintings of the Roman gods. I scoff. Damn Roman pricks. They won’t know one bit that a Greek just stepped into their territory. All the more to continue on with my exploring. I continue, down, down, down, until landing near another window. The curtains are closed. I reach for them, and then I hear a sound below. I stop. Someone is coming. A Roman. They’ll see me. I quickly push myself off of the wall, and fly to the closes large brush of green there was. I hid behind a tree behind a large bundle of plants and grass. The forest was behind two fountains, which were made from the same marble as the palace building. I hear someone stepping out near the fountains. I become scared and sweat. I don’t want them to see me. What if they do? What will happen? Will they arrest me? Will they send for my mother and confront her instead? I’ve never been this close to the Roman’s.
 I hear a sigh. Now I’m curious who it is.
 
 So then, I peek.

 I silence a gasp.

 It’s a girl.

 And she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

 She starts with wildly curly hair that flows perfectly over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a rather Egyptian looking white dress, and I spotted such bodacious s, it wasn’t even a joke. She had olive skin, almost as dark as Hermes, and she walked around barefoot. I stare at her for a moment. She walks to one of the fountains and leans down to the ground, starring into the water. I want to get a closer look at this beguiling beauty. I slowly turn myself. But then, there’s a splash. The girl had just dipped her whole head into the fountain.
 I stifle and laugh. I can tell she’s doing it because she is tense. I can tell by the way her hands grip the side of the marble so tightly. What happened to you, beauty? What do you seem so . . . annoyed?
 I take a step a little from behind the tree. But I step on a twig, and a bird nearby reacts to the sudden noise. Beauty lifts her head up out of the water. I quickly jump back behind the tree, putting the glamour on my wings so they can become invisible. I stood still and waited for some kind of noise, a sign she had stopped looking.

 After a few seconds, I hear another splash of water. She had put her head back in the water.

 A silent breath escaped my lips. I slowly slide down the tree, my heart beating a mile a minute. I wanted her to see me. I wanted her to see me looking admiringly at her. But I can’t . . . she could be Roman. And she could report me.
 But here’s the thing – she didn’t look Roman. Her skin is darker than most of them, from what I’ve seen in paintings. Even her hair. What kind of a Roman has curly hair?

 I start to peek again. She takes her head out of the water and takes a deep breath. She starts to twirl a lock of wet hair in her fingers.
 I smirk. I want to go to her now. I want to see if she is really Roman. I can even woo her if she even thinks of telling on me. I won’t have it. I’m talking to her.

 I stand, but as I do that, someone comes around the corner. Another woman wearing a maid’s outfit. Big eyes. Wavy blonde hair. Pale skin. Oh yes, definitely Roman. But, what about Beauty? What is she?

 “Voluptas, come and see your grandmother,” the maid calls with a smile on her face.

 Voluptas? Pleasure? Hmm, interesting.

 The beauty, Voluptas (it fits, doesn’t it), stands and nods. She runs past the maid without a glance to her. The maid sighs and follows behind her.

 I want to follow her, but my time has reached its limit. I need to return home.

 Sighing, I stand and release the glamour from my wings. I fly away from the palace, still thinking of olive-skin, curly brown hair, and Egyptian clothing.

 She may be Roman. She may be the daughter of a high praising god.
 I may be Greek. But there’s no going back.

 My fate is sealed.
 I want her.