Concordia Comes Home

It came at her with a high-pitched wail and thick froth foaming from its mouth, black eyes wide on bald head, stubby limbs flailing as tainted feathers slipped from its wings.

“Scelus!” she gasped, as the prune-skinned not-child crashed into her, knocking her into a wall that wasn’t a wall. Grasping the pair of swallow-small wings protruding from the creature’s shoulders, she tried to hold it back while it pawed at her chest. “Get off me!”

The ‘wall’ behind her shifted and two pillar-like arms shot forward, one of them clamping around the toddler-thing’s head, the other catching its legs. 

“Metus!” a voice above her boomed, and she winced at the sound as a net fell over the hands that held the creature. “Don’t you have these things under control?” 

“Apologies, Pater,” said a skulking reed of a man, whose left eye was hidden by a greasy fringe and who looked as smug and self-satisfied as she remembered. He was dressed in a satin black suit and held his gold-threaded net in manicured hands. “This one returned particularly traumatised, adrenalin helped it break free.”

“Not good enough, Metus. Traumatised it may be but precious, so get it back to processing and…have you nothing to say to your sister?”

“But of course,” Metus oozed, through pointy teeth that were as grey as the bag under his eye. “Welcome home, Concordia. How I’ve missed your…whatever you bring to the table.”

“I haven’t missed you. In fact, I’d forgotten you existed.”

“Ooh, spicy. Looks like your sojourn on Terra has given you an edge. Not all pax and love anymore, are we?”

“Don’t…” the thunderous voice of the seven foot tall wall of man who was Concordia’s father issued again. “...say that word. You know it brings me out in a rash. Look at my face, is it red?”

Concordia was happy to oblige, as it allowed her to look away from her brother, and indeed Mars’ face had turned blotchy. 

“I would say purple,” she answered, as the bearded God of War in the iron armour, leather straps and galea scratched his nose and rubbed his cheeks. “Because your face is always red, like a slapped arse, if I dare say so. The purple is almost an improvement.”

“What’s that?”

Concordia shrugged, repositioning the strap attached to the goat horn that hung around her neck. She had never been one to talk back, but centuries in the company of Terrans could change a Goddess.

“Metus, this is your fault,” Mars said, unable to grasp the fact his daughter had mocked him. “I’ll see you in the pit later for a thrashing! Now secure that thing! Then join me and your sister with Cupid. We need to discuss Concordia’s return.”

“As you command,” Metus smarmed, backing up with his captive into one of the many rooms connected to the frieze-lined Hall. “I can barely contain my excitement. Now Concordia’s a bitch.” 

With a wink and a lick of black lips, the God of Terror swung the door to his laboratorium shut as spine-chilling squalls sprang up inside. 

“Do all the Amorini return like that?” Concordia mused, as Mars placed a hand on her back, urging her on. “I remember them coming back quite placid. What do you do with them anyway? I’ll need to know, if I’m going to work here.”

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with. Times have changed on Terra, the ways of the world take their toll on Cupid’s creations. Chew them up and spit them out like that. But let’s leave that to Metus. He likes to get his hands dirty.”

“Mother knows.”

“Of course, but it doesn’t do her any good. She’s become so weak of late. We’ve ramped up Amorini production but the more of that ‘L’ stuff they make these days, the less effective it becomes. Terrans seem to have grown somewhat…immune. But that’s another story. Let’s give your brother a surprise. He’s been struggling to keep up with demand, he’ll be grateful for the assistance. And the friend. You know he never got on with the twins.``

She did. And not just him. Metus and Timor were part of the reason she’d left, unable to shoulder the responsibility of maintaining a balance between Terror and Fear as the Goddess of Harmony. Doing the same for her parents, the God of War and Goddess of Love, had taken a similar toll on her mental health, a concept she wasn’t even familiar with when she’d packed her Cornucopia and left on her one-hundredth birthday. 

Though the main reason she’d left was also the reason she’d returned.

To face the ‘family business’, which was primarily conducted in the room Mars ushered her into now, a laboratorium she was familiar with. As the door creaked open she had flashbacks to being elbow deep in a vat of suet-like sludge, compressing fistfuls of viscous DNA into pudgy balls before shaping them into fat feti. Hundreds of them. All day every day for the years she’d been forced to work here, under the supervision of her brother, from whom the DNA came, as he brought her sculptures to life, gave them wings and sent them to Terra.

Taking a breath as she stepped into her past, she wondered if Cupid, like Metus, had updated his appearance to mimic Terrans. When he came into view, chirruping as he flapped around at the top of the high-ceilinged chamber, herding a babbling batch of recently animated Amorini into the opening of the womb-tube protruding from one wall, she was relieved to see he hadn’t.

She had feared he may have grown bitter in her absence but her heart glowed when she saw he was as naked and youthful as the day she’d left, his blonde curls maybe slightly longer, his bum fuzz maybe thicker, but apart from that it was like she’d seen him yesterday.

“Into the orifice you go, my babes, off to spread love amongst the Terrans!”

Concordia chuckled. He was even using the same script.

Whether it was her laugh he heard or her father shutting the door she didn’t know, but the cherub-faced boy–because he was always a boy, regardless of his age–turned from his gooing, gaaing entourage then and his eyes met hers. 

“Cordia?” he gasped, whooping and folding his swan-white wings together to swoop down, leaving the Amorini alone to wriggle between the folds of the womb-tube entrance, clutching little bows and sheaths of arrows. “It’s really you!”

Concordia barely had time to brace herself before forty pounds and three feet of plump, naked male slammed into her, wrapping chubby arms around her neck.

“Steady on, Cupe. It’s good to see you too but you’ll break my horn.”

“I never stopped hoping! I knew, once you found yourself, you’d return. If for no other reason than to save me from Timor and Metus. Jupiter above, you’ve no idea how mean Metus has become. And Timor is so timid now, I’m afraid to even breathe when she’s around.” 

“Aren’t we all,” agreed Mars, striding towards one of four bubbling vats of sulphur-scented Cupidity, the goop from which Amorini were formed. “Here’s hoping your sister hasn’t forgotten how to foster harmony between you cucurbitas. This vat is running low, Cupid. How many have you issued today? Your mother was starting to fade before lunch so she’s still not getting enough sustenance.”

Cupid’s smile fell from his cheeks and he broke from Concordia, growing serious in an instant as he reported.

“Four duodecim. A little short of the midday target but one of the furnaces wouldn’t fire. Don’t worry! I’ll work late and…”

“Not good enough!” Mars cut him off with a stamp of a foot that shook the chamber. “We have quotas to fill! You know how many distractions Terrans have nowadays, how attention-spans have become so fleeting. If we fall behind we’ll lose more of the market!”

“Yes, Pater, of course. Ignosce mihi. I’ll work faster.”

Concordia cringed as she watched Cupid prostrate himself in front of Mars, whose purple-blotched face was now the colour of lava.

“It’s okay, Cupid, I’ll help you and we’ll catch up in…”

“Who says we want you to?”

The words and the voice caught Concordia off guard and she turned to see her red-gowned, frail-looking mother stumble into the lab.

“Mars may be willing to forgive you, but I get a say in it as well, you ungrateful…”

“Venus! What are you doing out of bed?”

The former flame-haired vixen–who was a shadow of the person Concordia remembered, with hair now lacklustre and grey–wobbled as Mars hurried to grab her. 

“Stulte, woman! I told you I’d bring her to you! Why must you disobey?!”

“Let…go,” Venus gasped, attempting to push Mars away. “I haven’t seen this wench in a hundred years, she’s long overdue a scolding.”

“Not now!” Mars insisted. “You mustn’t exert yourself! Cupid! Back to work! I need another four duodecim! Cordia, help your brother! Your mother is sick. Look at her hair! And her skin! She’s wasting away before our eyes!”

“Don’t speak of me like that, you brute! I’m beautiful! Youthful! I’m the Goddess of Desire! I can’t be old and ugly, I’m muliebrous!”

As Venus pounded on her husband’s chest with fists less effective than pillows, Concordia unslung the goat horn from her neck. Twenty minutes home and the toxicity was undoing decades of cognitive therapy. 

And it wouldn’t even reach peak until…

“Pater! Wahhh! She locked me in the bathroom when I tried to stop her leaving and…and…oh no oh no oh no don’t punish me, Pater, pleeeease!”

…Timor arrived.

The waifish girl in the shapeless smock who wafted through the door like nervous energy looked even sicklier than her mother, with bloodshot eyes, worry-lined face and an air of sheer panic about her. Tears filled her eyes as Mars’ glare settled upon her, causing her to crumple to the floor. 

“Silence!” Mars snapped. “Can’t you perform the simplest of tasks without wailing?”

“Leave her alone!” snapped Venus, slapping Mars with a hand that was weaker than a feather. “Timor’s a…good girl! She takes care of me, not like that wretch, who shirked her responsibilities and ran off to consort with Terrans!”

“Good to see you too, Mater,” Concordia said, rolling her hand over the mouthpiece of the horn. “If I’d known you’d be so welcoming I’d have visited sooner.”

“‘Cordiaaaa!” the Goddess of Fear bawled from where she slumped in a heap on the floor. “I missed youuu! It’s been unbearable without you to keep everyone calm. Can you soothe us, the way you used to? Please, before Pater kicks me and... Wahhh!”

“Hi, Ti,” said Concordia, lifting the Cornucopia to her face. “You look more tragic than ever.”

“I’m not going to kick you!” Mars fumed, as Metus appeared in the doorway, drawn by the chaos. “But you better stop crying or you’ll join me in the pit with your brother!”

“Oohh, twins by name, twins in pain,” Metus chuckled. “Whose ribs will break more this time?”

“Lay a finger on her and it’s the last thing you’ll ever lay!” Venus spat.

“You think I want to lay you?” Mars scoffed. “You’re more like the Goddess of Decrepitude lately. Can barely keep your looks for an hour after rejuvenation.”

“Because you’re turning all the love into hate! And drinking it to feed your precious fury.”

“Lies!” Mars roared, causing Timor to wail louder and Metus to cover his mouth suppressing a laugh. “That has nothing to do with me, that’s the Terrans choice! Cupid! More Amorini! Your mother needs a top up of beauty! And Metus! I need a potion! A big one, ten toddlers’ worth. I need to hit the pit and let off some…”

BWAAAMMMM!!!!!

She hadn’t planned to get into this so soon but she just couldn’t tolerate the mayhem. A swift inhalation, pursed lips, a powerful blow into the tip of the ancient horn and a resonant braaap erupted, the sound reverberating throughout the chamber. From the mouth of the Cornucopia, a small cascade of colourful flowers burst forth, spilling to the floor in a stream.

As if time had come to a halt, everyone fell silent.

“Will you all shut up?” Concordia gasped, spreading her arms in a ‘what is wrong with you’ gesture. “Cupid, how do you live with this? I’m the Goddess of Fricking Harmony and it took me a hundred years to regain my composure after leaving this place. I’ve barely been back and I need a valium. This family is toxic as fuck.”

The silence from the others was accompanied by looks of confusion as they struggled to comprehend her words.

“Okay, never mind. Cupid…do you understand what you’re doing here?”

“Doing?” Cupid asked, fluttering from his refuge behind a vat. “Um… Brewing Cupidity. Making Amorini. Sending them to Terra to spread love.”

“Yes. But what are you really doing? For them?” 

“I…don’t understand, what do you mean?”

“Look, I know it’s hard. It was hard for me too, until I experienced it. This ‘family business’ of ours is not about helping Terrans find love. Sure, your Amorini fly around shooting their arrows, inspiring lust and love, bringing mismatched strangers together, but it’s all a facade. All it’s doing is feeding Mater’s need for fuzzy feelings. All those warm, feel-good emotions that surge in the wake of new love. She sucks them out of the ether, it’s what keeps her vibrant and young. You know this, right?”

“Well, I…”

“That’s…enough!” Venus cried. “Don’t corrupt your brother’s mind like yours.”

Concordia clicked her fingers and drew an arc through the air with one arm, casting a shimmering wave of harmony towards her mother and coaxing a sigh from the Goddess.

“Stulte, Concordia!” snapped Mars. “This is the thanks I get for taking you back? No casting spells on your mother! If it’s a slapped arse you want, it’s a slapped arse you’ll…”

A click of the fingers, a sweep of the hand, a gust of harmonious energy battered the God, staggering him with serenity. 

“As for him,” Concordia continued. “He gets more out of it than her. The Amorinis don’t work, Cupid. Maybe they did before but not anymore. The love they spread isn’t real. Sure the Terrans take it, because they don’t have a choice, they make bad decisions with the wrong people. And that’s fine at the start, and Mater gets her fix and looks pretty. But when reality sets in and it goes to shit, when the spark fades and couples cheat, when love turns to hate and both parties suffer, all that negative energy contaminates the Amorini and fucks them up. Then they come back, to be turned into protein shakes by Metus, and served up to Pater to fuel his rage.”

“Rage,” Mars repeated, smiling as if in a dream. “Nothing wrong with it. Have to do something with that misery Terrans create.”

“We create, Pater. By toying with people’s emotions.”

“That’s what we do,” grinned Metus. “We fuck around, they find out.”

“Not anymore. I was a victim of the Amorini. I knew their love and lost it, many times. The heartache and pain when it ended. The distrust and anxiety, the stress of not knowing what was fake. Until I realised it was all fake. Everything that didn’t start and end with me. But it’s ending now.”

“What are you going to do?” said Timor, getting to her feet. “Do you mean…I can stop being scared?”

“Damn right,” said Concordia, hovering her lips over the Cornucopia’s blowhole. “Everyone can stop being everything.”

“Wait,” said Mars, his voice calm, his face relaxed and soft. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…don’t. Without my anger, all of Olympus is at risk. The God of War is needed.”

“No, not war,” gasped Venus, limping towards her prodigal child. “Olympus needs beauty and I need love. Please Concordia. What will I do without my looks?”

“How about act like a mother?”

She filled her lungs with air again and blew, harder than she’d ever blown before. From the mouth of the horn of plenty came an eruption, of fruits and vegetables and flowers. Ruby-red apples, golden ears of corn, a flurry of fragrant herbs and spices. Nuts and seeds, orchids and sunflowers, dandelions that cascaded to the floor, a deluge that had only just begun. 

Mars sighed. Venus groaned. Timor lit up and Metus cackled.

Then Concordia spun and threw the horn, up to the womb-tube near the ceiling, where it was sucked in by the folds of its glistening entrance.

“Cupid…you might want to get out of the way!” she cautioned, darting behind one of the vats as the fleshy, pink tube convulsed and spasmed.

“Cordia!” her cherubian brother cried as he hurried to join her. “What did you do?”

“It’s the horn of plenty, right?” she said, hugging him close. “Plenty of fucking damage!”

A sharp, percussive bang filled the room as the interdimensional womb-tube ruptured, the explosion accompanied by a wet, splattering noise and the sound of fluids and meat chunks hitting the floor. 

On the other side of the vat, drenched and gore-coated Gods were sobbing or laughing, but doing so in a calm, harmonious way. 

“That’s that then,” Concordia said, releasing Cupid.

“I’m…sorry,” her brother said, tears in his eyes. “I had no idea the harm we were doing.”

“It’s okay. They tricked you. But they won’t need to do that anymore.

“Now what do you say we get out of here? You’re overdue a vacation, and I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

“Sounds good,” said Cupid, wiping his eyes and flapping his wings like a puppy.

“Just one thing,” said Concordia, as she stood to leave the lab with her brother. “If you’re going to come with me to Terra…”

“You’re going to have to start wearing clothes.”