Apollo didn't discriminate when it came to seeking attention. Whether male or female, mortal or immortal, he welcomed all admirers with open arms. His ethereal and magnetic charisma attracted many followers. He reveled in the adoration bestowed upon him by anyone. Each touch, each embrace, fueled his sexual cravings as he basked in the affection lavished upon him by those who wanted him. With an insatiable hunger for attention, Apollo eagerly reciprocated the yearning of those who sought his favor, engaging in passionate embraces and intimate moments with anyone willing to indulge in his overpowering carnal appetites. The scent of their skin, the taste of their lips–all served to gratify his desires and fuel his pride. Driven by a potent mix of lust and vanity, Apollo wanted to lose himself in the arms of his admirers, reveling in the ecstasy of their shared passion until they reached the pinnacle of release—spent in the afterglow of their intimate union.

Apollo was suddenly distracted. Moving closer, a handsome young man with short, vibrant reddish-brown hair caught his attention. He gently pulled the man near, wrapping his muscular arms possessively as their lips met for a kiss that ignited a fire between them. Their bodies intertwined like vines in need of an anchor. Each movement is filled with unrestrained desire. His embrace was a mix of passion and intensity. Apollo's touch was gentle on the other man as he conveyed deep affection and longing for more than an escapade. However, they needed to part ways, and with a reluctant sigh, Apollo released the beautiful man that had captivated him, even for a fleeting moment. Until the next encounter, he thought as he parted ways, gaze lingering.

Feeling elated and guffawing from the pure ecstatic trill from moments ago. Without losing a beat, Apollo begrudgingly moved away from the trove of his loving admirers, from the lovely man, to continue his progression toward the athletic events. Once again, he produced his lyre and sang with unadulterated joy.

“Hark you, I have fulfilled the deed. Thy ward my kin, and with delight, my folk rejoice. With joy, I shall begin my melodic ballads for all to enjoy. And all may partake in joyous reverie until we are fulfilled thoroughly.”

Amidst the vibrant games and contests, Eros, the mischievous god of love, skillfully threaded his bowstring and aimed with meticulous precision, capturing Apollo's attention. Consumed by his arrogance, Apollo dismissed it as beneath his mighty dignity to bear witness to a child-like god joyfully indulging in the mastery of a weapon that he, the great sun god Apollo, crown prince and son of the mighty Zeus, believed only the likes of himself were worthy of.

“Oh, audacious lad, for what purpose do you wield weapons meant for men? Such arms befit only a male like I, who strikes true at savage beasts and lays foes low. Not long past, I conquered the bloated Python, its pestilential belly spanning vast acres, with a multitude of mine arrows. Alas,” Apollo's arrogance and disdain permeated every word as he continued his ill-meaning judgment. “I forbid for your kind from employing such noble weaponry. Be fervent in kindling love’s hidden flames, igniting passion with your blazing brand, rather than trying to own my glories,” Apollo said with a tone seething and arrogant. His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, leaving bitter tension between the two gods—a foolish mistake.

“In the realm of Phoebus Apollo’s might, where all may meet their destined plight, my bow, a true and formidable force, shall strike you down where you belong. As gods surpass mere mortal kin, so too does my glory begin. In the measure of divine grace, my radiance outshines your feeble trace. Tell me, dear adversary, in this riddle’s decree, whose glory shines brighter, mine or thee?” Eros replied in jest with discontent and spite. “Though your radiance may bear the sun’s eternal flame, my bow shall strike true in love’s unending game,” the mischievous god of love finished as he flew away.

The mighty sun god Apollo paid no heed to Eros’s snobbish banter. It was as if the words from the god of love held no sway over the majestic being that was Apollo. Eros' words meant nothing to the god of the sun. Apollo saw no threat in the frivolous god of love. He exuded an aura of invincibility and dominance—he viewed Eros as an inconsequential immortal. Moreover, the Olympian god’s confidence brimmed with power and unrivaled prestige that knew no bounds in the realm of the mighty deities.

Having forgotten about the incident, Apollo took delight in the grandiosity of his Pythian Games. In which crowds of adoring subjects celebrated his athletic prowess by taking part in various events and indulging aplenty. As the sun’s rays bathed him in its warm, glowing embrace, Apollo kept reveling in the glory and adoration surrounding him. A devotion that elated him to the heights of a debilitating stupor. Blissfully unaware of the consequences his hubris has brought upon himself, dooming his life forever.

Apollo continued his celebration for the rest of the afternoon, unaware of the spiteful eyes that followed his every move. A gaze seething with malice and contempt. The sun god enjoyed the lascivious attention his admirers provided in abundance as he let down his guard, oblivious of the predator on the hunt for his blood. Apollo danced, sang, and engaged in sensual activities with anyone seeking his attention. Oh, my beloved admirers make my day! I’m truly delighted, and nothing can ruin my day. He thought everything was perfect and nothing could go wrong.

***

Little did he know, Eros, galled by Apollo’s arrogance, had crafted a plan to teach the mighty sun god a lesson. He had most of the day to come up with the perfect punishment. As the games continued into the late afternoon, Eros noticed the beautiful naiad nymph Daphne attracting the looks of many men. She danced and frolicked with her sisters and maiden hunters.

Daphne's arrival silenced the chatter as all eyes gravitated towards her. Her sun-kissed complexion emanated a natural glow, bewitching the spectators. Within her deep, expressive eyes, a blend of wisdom and sentiment played out, hinting at a profound depth. Tresses of dark chestnut tumbled effortlessly around her countenance, intricately entwined and decorated with delicate silk ribbons. At the heart of the festivity, Daphne embodied elegance, effortlessly capturing attention and admiration. Beside her, a red-headed nymph exuded unwavering devotion and fidelity—adding a layer of enchantment to the tableau.

Eros remembered seeing the naiad in the past in passing, as her hair would dance when it flowed loose, a wild mass blanketing behind her as she ran through the forest. Her wild beauty added to her tantalizing mystique. Many men wanted her untamable personality, but none could have her. Daphne’s only desire was to the hunt and her maidenhood. Eros recalled the nymph was a devoted follower of none other than Artemis, sister of the proud Apollo. Oh, the blessed odds, Eros viciously thought.

Daphne cherished the forest and nature more than anything else—like the goddess herself. She only hoped to remain pure and unbound by the confines of marriage. Daphne adamantly rejected being owned by any man, steadfast in her refusal to be confined. Eros often overheard Peneus pleading with his daughter Daphne to wed a man and bless him with a strapping son-in-law. The river god wanted many grandchildren, but the nymph dismissed his plea as a foolish wish. Matrimony was out of the question for the woman. The idea didn't appeal to her, and she embraced her freedom above all else.

Eros remembered hearing a defeated Peneus warn his daughter that her beauty was a blessing and a curse. The river god foretold a day would come when a man would lustfully pursue her like a ravenous predator. As a man himself, Peneus knew the longing to sink one's teeth into the flawless skin of a woman. A man could come and subject her by force if she did not marry a man willingly. Peneus wanted a strong man who would protect her. Daphne quickly dismissed her father’s outrageous wishes, claiming she was safe and happy without a man.

Then Eros noticed Apollo’s fleeting glances toward the group of maiden hunters–where Daphne stood. The prince's gaze carefully followed the naiad hunter to the archery competitions. His usually bright sunlight now carried a hint of curiosity. Daphne had taken great interest in the competitions and took her place among the other participants. Her elegance was barely overshadowed by the joy on her face when she joined the challenge.

The god of love couldn't help but notice that Apollo was a sly god. On the surface, Apollo seemed interested in the competitions, but the sun god was watching something of greater interest. The princely god was lustfully spying on the gorgeous nymph while pretending to pay attention to his music and the beautiful man clinging to his arm. Apollo was cautious and discreet, but Eros noticed the undercurrent of desire in the godly prince's demeanor. Hidden under the veil of restraint, Apollo struggled to conceal his growing lust for Daphne.

Eros' eagle eyes watched the beautiful maiden hunter walk over the shooting range. “So charming! 'Tis perfection, verily!” Eros murmured with vile intent. He watched as the woman produced her silver bow from thin air and notched an arrow in a fluid motion without a moment's pause. The anxious onlookers quieted momentarily, captivated by her effortless display of skill. It seemed precision was an innate skill of the nymph as she released an arrow. Its flight was swift and exact, perfectly hitting its mark. The cheers that echoed through the clearing were thunderous. But when Eros turned to look at Apollo, he noticed the god looked beyond proud at the display of the beautiful hunter.

“My love's arrows shall pierce even the most divine of hearts; thus, Apollo's vanity shall lead to his demise. May my golden arrow lodge deep within his chest while my arrow of pure lead strikes the soul of the indomitable yet lovely Daphne,” Eros whispered as he flew to the shady peak of Mount Parnassus to carry out his plan.

As he sat perched on the ledge of Mount Parnassus, he patiently waited until the opportune moment to execute his most devilish of plans. Just at the right moment, he saw Apollo glimpse at the festive Daphne again. Eros pulled out two arrows, one sharp from pure gold and the other blunt with lead. He at once caught the shy attraction in Apollo’s eyes as the sun god stopped in his tracks, and Daphne turned to face the sun god, finally noticing him. The two exchanged a glance that seemed to last in time. Then, Daphne smiled, looking willing to reciprocate the god’s feelings. Apollo looked bashful, about to make his move.