Forsaken by Cupid

Since my birth, I could only ever remember being hated. I had three brothers – one older than me named Michael and the other two my younger twins, Nick and Adam. I was born into a royal family where who was going to be the next in line for the throne was the most discussed topic. My parents had had four boys. Two of us – Nick and I – weren't even considered as options because we were the trouble children. We were hated. Therefore, since I wasn't to be even considered, I left my country and fled at the young age of nineteen. I had no special training. I didn't know how to defend myself and I had absolutely no experience with working or on how to survive, so I went to a small town.

No one knew me there. I was left defenseless and without any friends (like I'd had any before I'd left anyway). Only a year later, after trying to find work and sleeping outside in alleys and under store canopies when it rained, eating whatever scraps I could find in garbage barrels, I left to begin traveling the world.

I slept in the outdoors, finding small caves to hide in where I could peacefully take my rest. But the caves were still dangerous on occasion. One harbored a bear with her two cubs that I hadn't noticed. I'd barely gotten out alive by leaving the fish I'd caught for her and her children. Eventually, I stumbled upon a small home in the woods. Outside, many children were playing with toys that appeared to be hand made. Dolls and hand carved wooden soldiers were in little hands, their melodic laughter drawing me to them.

A blonde woman – possibly no older than her mid-twenties – was watching them all, her cerulean gaze shifting over each child in a maternal manner. At her side was a taller man, his eyes a vibrant gold and hair going past his loins. The man had his arm wrapped around the woman's waist; he pulled her to him, and her eyes shifted onto his whereupon they both smiled. The woman's hand moved up to rest against his chest as she leaned her head onto his shoulder, eyes filled with love and happiness. I wondered if I'd ever feel like that. If I would ever find someone who would make me smile in such a way, who would give my eyes that special glitter.

I didn't greet them or ask for their help – I moved on with my life, continuing past them and other towns. I traveled into another country, weary from surviving merely on instinct, and found a small town that was kind and prosperous. A gentle elderly couple allowed me to stay on their farm if I worked for them and I did so for a year. The man was too old to do most of the heavy lifting (though he was still quite fit for his age) and the woman's knees weren't working well enough for her to milk their cows. Therefore, I became their farmhand, working in heavy lifting and milking for the couple.

I didn't mind really. I got free food, free housing, and they even paid me a hefty amount of their profits. I was quite pleased with my life. But one night in their extremely plain kitchen changed my life.



“How was work today, Aaron?” Mrs. Williams asked me, her kind gray eyes lifting to mine. “I hope you're hungry; I have a lot of food tonight.” I nodded my thanks to her, breathing heavily as I wiped my brow with the towel she'd handed me upon walking indoors. In her white and blue striped nightgown, Mrs. Williams looked sicker than ever. She was sick, but the woman was tough as nails and continued to do everything she could. There was no denying it, however – her body was giving out on her. She didn't have much time to live. She shuffled around the kitchen as it was, moving with that awkward gait elderly people had.

“Work was great today, Mrs. Williams,” I answered, smiling at her. “I've gotten a lot more milk than we normally get from the cows. Mr. Williams and I are almost finished renovating the barn, so the goats won't have to sleep outside any more.”

“Wonderful.” Her smile made my own turn upward a little more. I really felt bad for the old woman. “Now come, help me with dinner.”

I helped set the wooden table with a silky tablecloth, getting out the china Mrs. Williams liked to use for dinner. I set each fork, spoon, and knife accordingly. Then, I handed out servings. By now, I knew how much each person ate. Mrs. Williams had small servings of everything and would possibly go back for a second helping if she wasn't feeling too sick. Mr. Williams and I seemed to compete with who would eat the most food, so I piled our plates with as much food that would fit on them as possible. Once the sun had passed over the hills, Mr. Williams came inside and we ate.

“Aaron,” he said, sitting down and pushing his chair in, “There's something I have to tell you before we begin dinner.”

I looked up from my plate, glancing over at the elderly woman to my right. My gaze shifted skeptically over to Mr. Williams. “Alright,” I said slowly, carefully. I hoped they weren't contemplating kicking me out. I was looking for work elsewhere as well as a place to stay; I knew they wouldn't be alive forever.

“The king of our country... rather, the prince of this country has decreed that we pay more taxes the coming years. Earlier, we had been quite prosperous, but people are having their own farms now. They don't need our milk and vegetables as much. They aren't relying on The Williams Farm to supply them any more.” Mr. Williams sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “I'm not thinking about laying you off. However, I don't know how much I'll be able to pay you after this. I don't know if we'll be able to pay much of anything any more. So, Mrs. Williams and I are thinking about selling the farm.”

My eyes widened. “Sell the farm?” I asked, standing a little abruptly. “Why would you sell the farm?!”

“Taxes on farms are rising. Fifty percent of our profits go to the crown, and if that's the case, we won't be making enough money to support our farm, let alone keep our house. We need to sell the farm.”



That night, I left Mr. and Mrs. Williams, packing my belongings and bidding them farewell before moving out of their home. I didn't have much to my name – just some clothes and a few personal things from before I'd moved in with them – but that made it all the easier to continue traveling. I was a wanderer. I was a nomad. Alone in the world and hardly wanted by anyone but the elderly couple that had been as kind as to let me live with them, I traveled far. The pain of loneliness kept a constant cloud over my head. There was no one that wanted me. No one that would care for me. And the only pair of people that had been able to weren't able to support me.

I moved on for a few days before finding rest in a mine a while away from where I thought the country's borders were. I slipped into the mine (an amethyst mine) and hid away in the farthest, deepest part I could find. My clothes were used as blankets and pillows in the empty cavern. Soon, I fell asleep.

I woke up not long later, however, to the sound of a voice interrupting my dreams: “You are trespassing in King Alexander's territory. This mine is for official use only. Whoever is in here, show yourself now.” A beam of light fell on my form, causing me to groan in discomfort. I flinched my green eyes shut against the light, frowning and lifting an arm to shield the ray. There was a small noise from the person who'd barged into my temporary home, and then a soft sigh. “So you're the one who's infiltrated our mine...”

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.

The man before me was something special. His hair was all white, eyes a vibrant vibrant gold as he looked down at me. He stood – even in my position against the ground – tall over me, eyes appraising what he saw before he offered a hand. “Let me help you up.” His entire attire was made up of white and purple, including the cape at his shoulders and the boots now marred with dirt, their pristine color dulled to beige in the glow of his torch. I took his hand, hoisting myself up to the same height as him. Just over six foot. Interesting.

My shoulders spread further than his and I was far broader than he. The muscles beneath my dirty clothes were pronounced from the tight fabric I wore, blue eyes squinting in the glow of the fire. There was a silence between us for several long minutes whereupon the only noise was the fire crackling in his hand. Then, he smirked and told me, “Grab your things. I believe you're in need of a place to stay tonight.”



I was led to a castle that towered above the town, its body and spires made of a dark and dull stone called malachite. Many windows were covered with colorful glass, and one entire spire had purple windows that glittered in the light of the afternoon sun. That spire was where this man, Matt, led me to. His surrogate father, King Alexander, allowed me entrance into his home when Matt told him I was a friend and to be treated kindly. I didn't know why he was so interested in letting me live with him, why he wanted me to come to the castle of all places. Not until I was led to his room, that was.

The moment the door closed behind us in the room of only purple things (I supposed he liked the color purple?), Matt turned on me, his golden eyes inquisitive. “You're the prince that ran from his home a few years ago. You're Aaron Valentino. The hated prince of Valentino's lands,” he said. His eyes ran up and down me, the golden orbs undressing me mentally as I simply stood against his door, unsure of what to say.

Finally, I managed something. “Yes, I am,” I said. I turned my gaze away from him. “I am that very same prince. Prince Aaron Valentino, hated son of Travis and Isabelle Valentino.” I still didn't understand quite what this man was getting to. He'd told me on our way to his castle that he was interested in talking to me. I didn't understand why, but I supposed he would tell me soon.

“I've been dying to meet you, Prince Aaron Valentino.”

My gaze snapped back onto him, green eyes narrowing skeptically. “You've been... what?” I asked, stunned.

“Aaron... may I call you that?” I nodded absently, still a little stunned. “Since you've left your home, I've been interested in meeting you. You see... like you, my father and I never got along. Nor did my mother and I. In fact... I killed my mother to try and impress my father.” I frowned at this knowledge. “My father only got more upset – naturally. Then, he disowned me and I was left alone in the world. I've always been weak, unable to survive without someone supporting me, which was why I was sent here, to King Alexander. My father couldn't deal with me, didn't want me and handed me over to his ally. King Alexander and I got along great and instead of becoming a knight as I was supposed to, he allowed me to be his successor.”

He looked at me. For the first time since meeting him a few hours ago, I noticed the sincerity in his eyes, the sympathy no one else had been able to offer me. “You never got to find another father or someone else to love and to love you back. So, it's been my goal to find you and to love you. I want to show you that there are good things in this world. There is hope. You just have to wait for the right person.”



I stayed at the castle with Matt, moving to a room in his spire of the castle. He and I visited each other frequently. Everywhere he went, I went and vice versa. We weren't without each other, and eventually we became known as brothers to everyone. Though there was far more than that behind the scenes.

As a person, I was known to fly off the handle for very simple things. I was easily frustrated and childish. Despite how much I had been through and my physical age, I was no more than the angry teenager I had been when I'd left my parents. Matt knew this. Matt knew everything about me. He knew which buttons to press to make me laugh, smile, cry, and completely break down. He could read me like an open book and I could read him. We knew when the other needed to be alone and when they needed to have someone near them. There was nothing we didn't know about each other.

I told Matt everything about myself that he couldn't tell from my troubled past at the castle back home. I told him about my travels and the elderly couple that took me in. I told him what I was afraid of and what I longed for. I told him about the many people I'd been with in my travels, trying to find a smidgen of love for myself in them but ending up empty handed. And in turn, Matt told me everything about himself.

We were one and the same, sharing bonds we didn't know we had. But what made us the closest of friends was the shared hatred of our fathers.

One night, I was unable to sleep. My mind was racing with the day's events – swimming with Matt, laughing with Matt, eating with Matt at nightfall, and finally realizing that all these things weren't what I was looking for from Matt. I didn't want a friendship. I wasn't comfortable with just a friendship. I wanted more. For the first time in my lonely life, I had a friend that I could relate to and that hated my father as much as I hated him as well. I had someone that understood me. And every night, I was watching him walk off with another man or woman into his room, whispering sweet nothings in their ears.

Occasionally he would climb into bed with me in the middle of the night, telling me that he felt I needed him. And I did. I did so damn bad. He would lay there, curled up beside me, his eyes closed and his breathing soft. What would I give to have him there every night? Everything I ever had and would ever gain.

“Aaron?” My door squeaked open in the darkness. And then feet padded their way across the cold marble floor to my bed. A subtle weight came down beside me, causing me to shift. I already knew who it was. “Aaron, are you awake?”

“I'm awake,” I said to Matt, turning toward him. I could see his golden eyes in the darkness. “What's wrong?”

“I couldn't sleep,” Matt said, moving the covers so he could slip beneath them and come up beside me. His body was warm, covered in fine silk that felt nice against the bare flesh I had exposed. I groaned inwardly, shifting a little more so I could offer a little bit more space on the bed. All I really wanted to do was curl closer to him.

“Me neither.” There was silence.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly. “I know you're restless. I can feel it.”

“Love.” There was more silence.

“Love?” Matt asked timidly. “What kind of love?”

“Unrequited, probably,” I answered.

“With who?”

“You'd never be able to guess.” The soft sigh that came from him told me that I was right – he wouldn't.

“I have an unrequited love too,” he said finally, looking at me in the darkness. I could feel his eyes boring into me.

“Who's that?”

“You wouldn't be able to guess.”

“Probably not.”

More silence. It crashed down on us like a tidal wave, sweeping me under. “I bet you could,” I heard Matt say. “I bet you could guess.”

“Only with a hint.”

“Alright...”

The soft moving of fabric on silk told me that Matt was sitting up, and the warm breath that came down over my face told me he was hovering over me. And then the warm lips that pressed against mine with an innocent curiosity told me all I needed to know.

Matt backed away slowly, but not far. “Was that a good hint...?” he asked. “... It's your turn now. Give me a hint who your unrequited love is.”

My own clue was immediate, hand reaching around to the back of his neck to draw him desperately against my mouth. I felt my eyes pinch shut, my brows knitting together as emotions welled in my chest. I'd always been spontaneous. I'd always known what I wanted. And now, I knew exactly what I wanted. My touch – despite the desperation in it – was gentle and careful, keeping him connected to me. My lips moved and his matched my melody in perfect harmony, our bodies coming together in a clumsy crash.

I'd always wanted someone to love me, someone to care for me. I deserved it, didn't I? When had I ever been bad enough to someone that I deserved to be forsaken by Cupid? Or had he not been able to find me? Whichever way, I'd been struck by Cupid's arrow now, and that was all that mattered.

Our breathing was heated, our lips without experience in this matter. I didn't know what else to do or how else to respond. But finally, Matt pulled away from me, his head coming to rest in the crook of my neck and shoulder. “I've always loved you, Aaron,” he said. His voice was quiet. “And I knew I would from the moment I first heard of you. Knowing what happened to you and experiencing it first hand, I wanted to show you that you could still be loved. You are loved... I love you, Aaron.”

My breathing coming in shallow pants, I said without hesitation, “I love you too, Matt.”