The Forbidden Triangle: Aphrodite's Advocate

In the heart of Mount Olympus, where the gods and goddesses reigned with divine grace, the air was thick with the scent of incense and the whispers of ancient secrets. Amongst them was Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, whose beauty was said to be the cause of the world's most fervent desires. She was a being of ethereal beauty, her presence a whisper of springtime's first bloom, her touch the spark that ignited the flames of passion.

In the divine halls of Olympus, love was not just a feeling but a divine art, one that required a delicate hand. Aphrodite, as the architect of love, was the one who could bind the hearts of the most unlikely of partners. Yet, in her own heart, she harbored a secret love triangle that would shake the very foundations of the divine order.

Eros, the God of Love, was her son, born of the union of love and desire. His arrows were the instruments that could ignite the flames of desire or quench them with a single stroke. But Eros was also a creature of chaos, his arrows never hitting their mark unless he willed it.

Paris, the mortal prince of Troy, was the third corner of this triangle. He was known for his handsome features and his heart of gold, but his destiny was to become the catalyst for the greatest war the world had ever known.

The story begins with a festival, a celebration of love and beauty, where the gods and goddesses gathered to feast and to revel in the joy of life. Aphrodite, as was her custom, was the life of the party, her laughter like a melody that danced upon the wind.

Eros, ever the trickster, approached his mother with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Mother, I have a task for you," he said, his voice a mere whisper.

Aphrodite turned to him, her gaze softening. "What is it, my son?"

"To bind the hearts of the mortals present," Eros replied, "and see what love can accomplish."

Aphrodite nodded, understanding the challenge her son had set before her. She had always been the creator of love, but never had she been asked to bind the hearts of so many at once. She knew this would not be an easy task, but she relished the challenge.

As the night wore on, Aphrodite worked her magic, her touch a silent whisper that danced upon the lips of the mortals. She watched as their eyes met, their smiles grew, and their hearts beat in unison. The festival became a symphony of love, a testament to the power of her touch.

But as the night drew to a close, one heart remained untouched. It was the heart of Paris, who had been enchanted by the sight of Helen of Sparta, a woman whose beauty was said to rival the gods themselves.

Aphrodite's heart ached with the realization that her own son had become ensnared in this mortal love. She knew that Paris, a mortal, could never be worthy of her divine love, yet she found herself unable to resist the pull of her own emotions.

The following morning, as the sun rose over the mountains of Olympus, a decree was issued. Paris was to be chosen as the next champion in the upcoming tournament of gods and mortals. It was a chance for him to prove his worth, to earn the favor of the gods.

Aphrodite, however, had other plans. She knew that if Paris won the tournament, he would gain the favor of the gods, and that favor could be his ticket to Helen's heart. She approached her son, her eyes filled with a mix of love and concern.

"Eros," she said, "I must ask you to do something for me. I must help Paris win the tournament."

Eros's eyes widened in surprise. "But, Mother, that is a mortal's honor to win. Shouldn't he earn it through his own strength?"

Aphrodite sighed. "I know, but I cannot bear to see him suffer. Please, help me."

Eros, torn between his duty to the divine order and his love for his mother, agreed to help. He drew his arrows and aimed them at Paris, but instead of striking him, he aimed them at the hearts of the other champions, rendering them vulnerable.

With the other champions weakened, Paris easily claimed the victory. He was triumphant, but as he looked around, he saw the devastation he had caused. The other champions were humiliated and defeated, their spirits crushed.

Aphrodite watched from the shadows, her heart heavy with regret. She had used her power to manipulate the outcome, and now she must face the consequences of her actions.

The following morning, as Paris celebrated his victory, Helen appeared before him. She was a vision of beauty, her eyes filled with love for the mortal prince. Paris, overwhelmed by her presence, was unable to resist.

The news of Paris and Helen's union spread like wildfire throughout the mortal realm. The gods were angry, and they took swift action. They sent a delegation to claim Helen, but Paris, now a mortal man with a divine heart, refused to let her go.

The gods, seeing the mortal's defiance, declared war on Troy, the city of Paris. The Trojan War began, a war that would last for ten long years and claim the lives of countless men, women, and children.

Aphrodite watched from the heavens, her heart torn between her love for her son and her duty to the gods. She realized that her actions had set into motion a chain of events that would forever change the course of history.

In the end, Paris and Helen were captured, and the gods claimed their victory. But the war left a scar upon the land, and the gods realized that the power of love was a force that could not be controlled or manipulated.

Aphrodite, now a broken goddess, understood the weight of her actions. She turned to her son, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Eros, I am sorry," she whispered.

Eros, his heart heavy, nodded. "I know, Mother. But we must learn from our mistakes."

And so, the story of Aphrodite's Advocate, the Goddess's Secret Love Triangle, became a cautionary tale of the power of love and the consequences of divine intervention. The gods and mortals alike learned that love was a force to be revered, not to be controlled.

The end.