Psyche's Innocence
Psyche, Part 1: Sightless trust and malevolent manipulation
Content warnings: cliffside abandonment
Born to a mortal Grecian king and queen were three daughters, Aglaura, Cidippe and their youngest, Psyche. All three were beautiful women but Psyche was by far the most stunning, becoming the envy of all who saw her. Her city’s citizens began to believe that Psyche was so impossibly beautiful because she must be Aphrodite in the flesh and began to worship her as such.
While her sisters grew jealous, wishing for the praise of men such as Psyche had, Psyche herself only felt more alone, more afraid. She knew that she was no goddess in disguise and the longer the people worshipped her instead of Aphrodite, Aphrodite would become more and more outraged that a mortal woman was stealing the praise owed to her. To add to her growing problems, barely anyone dared approach her or befriend her, too afraid and intimidated by her incredible beauty.
Isolated and alone, Psyche could only watch Aglaura and Cidippe grow and thrive into grown women, weeping in her seclusion while they married and had children with their new husbands. Wishing for a love that never seemed to be coming, Psyche dared not pray to Aphrodite for fear that she would strike her down where she stood, instead remaining fairly safe and very alone.
Her father, watching his beloved youngest daughter retreat into her sorrowful solitude, decided to journey to Delphi to consult the all-wise Oracle of Apollo. He told her of Psyche’s plight and of the numerous suitors he had tried to set up for her, all backing out when they found themselves intimidated by her. The oracle listened to his story and took her time communing with Apollo, divining Psyche’s future and how her father could help.
Eventually she spoke to the king and told him what she’d seen, that Psyche would indeed marry. Her father let out a long-held breath of relief before she could say any more, but she hadn’t finished. She went on to tell him that Psyche’s husband would be a hideous, flying, snake-like creature, some monster unseen. To appease the gods, the oracle told the king to tie Psyche to a mountain crag and leave her there alone for her new husband’s approach.
Devastated, the king voyaged home while doing his best to avoid the oracle’s truth; he couldn’t bear to leave Psyche to such a fate but he also couldn’t ignore the gods’ will. Arriving home, he broke the news to his wife and daughters and, later, to his city.
Unbeknownst to her, Psyche’s fears had already been realised: Aphrodite had indeed heard rumours of the false worship that Psyche had been attracting, whether she wanted it or not. Enraged, Aphrodite sent her son to fix the situation; Eros, always willing to avenge his mother’s injured pride, was dispatched to prick Psyche with one of his special arrows. This arrow would make Psyche fall in love with the next creature she saw, and Eros had instructions to humiliate Psyche by making her fall in love with the most hideous, absurd creature he could find.
The royal family were in a dejected misery in the days following the king’s return with the gods’ will. He tried to twist the prophecy; perhaps there was some way he could obey but not have to sacrifice his daughter to the snake monster. Try as he might, he could come up with no other option to save her.
Eventually, Psyche was dressed in her wedding clothes by her weeping mother and sisters and as a family they processed to a nearby mountain. Along the way, the citizens of their kingdom came out to follow them, to mourn Psyche’s loss alongside their king and queen. They watched as Psyche’s father bound her to the rocks high atop the mountain, giving her one final kiss on the forehead through his sorrow. Strong and refusing to let her feelings show, Psyche gave him a watery smile and told him that she understood, that she loved him.
The kingdom and their rulers left Psyche there as the oracle had instructed. At last, as the final person shuffled from her view, Psyche allowed her tears to flow freely. She let the shock of her situation and the fear of the unknown to come crash over her then, the weight of it something that would have knocked her to her knees if she hadn’t already been bound to the mountain.
Eros had set out from Olympus on Aphrodite’s instructions and had tracked Psyche to the mountain. He watched as the procession left her there, looking so small and helpless against the mighty mountain crags. Getting closer, he watched her body’s attempts to crumple with its sorrow and terror, held up only by the ropes. Closer still, he was finally able to see her face and he stopped, halted in his surprise.
Over the years, Eros had intimately known humanity. He would dart among them, invisible, firing his arrows of love into their hearts and leaving joy and passion in his wake. Never before had he seen a mortal so beautiful, so exceptional. He saw Psyche and fell in love at that first moment, his breath hitched in his lungs. He came back to himself as he caught his bow from where it had begun to fall from his hands; he couldn’t carry out his mother’s wishes, instead he had to protect Psyche and hope that she would love him in return.
Remaining invisible, Eros hurried to Psyche’s side and began to untie the ropes binding her to the cliff. He murmured in her ear that he would save her, that he would be her husband if she would have him. She was so startled to see no snake monster, to see nobody at all, that she almost didn’t register his words. Eros called out to Zephyrus, the mighty West Wind, and asked him to take Psyche to his palace.
Astonished at the invisible happenings around her, Psyche gasped as she was gently lifted off her feet and borne on a warm breeze over the city she had loved and grown up in. Zephyrus carried her lightly over treetops and rivers, over fields and mountains until he set her down at the edge of a gently rustling wood. She thanked the wind for his trouble and turned around, stopping agape at the sight in front of her.
A glorious palace awaited her, sprawling across vast lawns, painstakingly crafted from marble, gold and glass. She made her way gingerly inside, calling out to anyone who may live there. Gently, disembodied voices began to greet her as she made her way around the massive mansion. They assured her that she was welcome there, that she was the mistress of this beautiful home and that they were there to serve her.
Her invisible servants attended to her every want and need, pampering and providing her with anything she could dream of. It wasn’t long before Psyche’s attention turned to the mysterious voice that she had heard on the mountain and his strange proposition. While it was true that she had no idea what a snake monster would sound like, she couldn’t imagine the mysterious stranger as one; his voice had been too kind, his touch too gentle as he untied her from the rocks.
The voices around her put her mind at ease when she told them of her concerns, assuring her that their master was no hideous creature but was instead handsome and courteous, kind and loving. They told her that he would visit her in their bed that evening, that he had requested that she be comfortable and settle in as best she could while he was away. She noticed that they didn’t tell her what he was if not some snake, but she assumed that he must be some mighty man blessed by the gods with invisibility; how else would he have servants invisible to her and have access to the West Wind?
The day wore gradually on, every moment passing both painfully slowly and terrifyingly fast as she waited on tenterhooks to properly meet her new husband. At last, after a meal cooked to perfection and an evening lounging in luxury, Psyche made her way to bed, trying to ignore the violent thrum of her heart in her chest.
Once the darkness of the sweet outside air made its way inside her bedroom, so too did her husband arrive. He slipped lightly between the sheets and embraced her; Psyche found that while she still hadn’t seen him and he was a stranger to her, his touch already felt comfortable and familiar to her.
Over the course of their first night together, Psyche’s husband explained that she would never be able to see him, that she must promise never to see his face or he could never love her again. While of course she found this strange, she felt herself falling in love with her new, mysterious husband. She found herself agreeing to his terms, saying that she would respect his need for secrecy even with such little information. Even in the darkness, she could tell that his servants had been telling the truth; he was indeed no snake monster, instead feeling to her blind touch like some kind of heroic Adonis, some beautiful man that was as lovely in form as in nature.
By the morning, Psyche woke to find herself alone once more. If not for the opulence of her surroundings, she could almost have believed that the previous day and night were some kind of beautiful dream. She continued like this, going through her days with the memory of her husband’s touch and her nights experiencing his love.
Psyche was grateful for her new life; it was a peaceful, beautiful existence set in such a calm, undisturbed land. As she fell further and further in love with her husband, she became increasingly lonely once more. While she had her husband and her servants, she couldn’t see any of them. She was beginning to feel the loss of her family more acutely every day, no matter how much she tried to repress it.
One night, as she laid with her husband in the darkness, Psyche drummed up the courage to ask him if she could have her sisters visit her. She told him of her loneliness despite how cared for she was, and her husband’s heart sank as she told him of her growing sadness. He wished for the happiness of his wife like nothing else in the world, but he was concerned that Psyche’s sisters may become jealous of her, that their words could poison her against him.
He told her of his concerns but she brushed them off, saying that nothing could make her break her promise to him and that she loved him, that they couldn’t turn her against him even if they tried. Hearing her soothing words and not wishing to be a source of unhappiness to his precious wife, he granted her wish and asked Zephyrus to collect Psyche’s sisters for a visit.
They alighted from the wind just as she had some time before and the sisters were overjoyed to see each other. Aglaura and Cidippe were aghast at the size and grandeur of their sister’s palace, astonished that such a hideous monster could have such wealth and comfortable luxury. Psyche sat them down in a courtyard while her invisible servants brought them refreshments, happily chatting away about everything her new life held in store.
Meanwhile, her sisters were still in awe of their surroundings but something sinister was already stirring in their minds. They listened while Psyche talked, already scheming against her to get their hands on her luck instead of their own. While Aglaura and Cidippe had married and had families of their own, making Psyche envious at the time, their lives now seemed meagre compared to their beautiful sister’s. Their plans solidified as they heard all about how there was no way that Psyche’s husband was a snake monster, that he seemed as human as they were. They asked what she meant by ‘seemed’; surely she was sure what her husband looked like?
Psyche faltered then, haltingly explaining that she had never seen her husband, that she had promised never to see him. She was in love with him, though, as he was with her. Moreover, she confided that she was pregnant and that they were so excited to have a child together.
Her sisters exchanged glances then, realising that they would have to act both quickly and subtly. They began to question Psyche more on her husband, how she could be comfortable with never knowing what he looked like. They suggested that if he were some kind of monster, would it not be unreasonable to expect that he could transform himself to her touch?
They said that surely just a peek wouldn’t hurt if he never found out, if she did it when he was asleep then she could see if he was a serpent creature, that something like that couldn’t hold another form while asleep. They advised her that if he was some monster, she should slit his throat in the night and do away with him so that he couldn’t hurt her further down the road.
Psyche, horrified by the very idea, brushed off their comments, remembering her promise to her husband. Their words had planted a seed in her mind, however, no matter how hard she tried to shut it out. Once her sisters had departed once again on the West Wind, she went about her evening as usual. She said nothing of their suggestions to her husband once he arrived that night and did her best to stifle them inside her.
Such thoughts faded after a few days, giving way instead to her comfortable days and exciting nights. She requested her sisters’ visits from time to time, each time promising her husband that she wouldn’t listen to any remarks they made about their relationship. Weeks came and went, and after a few trips to see Psyche, Aglaura and Cidippe’s words were flourishing in her thoughts, the seed having been nurtured by their visits.
At last, Psyche couldn’t stand her curiosity any longer.
One night, she did as her sisters had suggested and waited until her husband fell asleep beside her. Then, she took an oil lamp from a sconce in the wall and a blade that she had stashed away earlier that day. She slowly, hesitantly approached him, all the time hearing her heart thudding in her chest and his sweet, reassuring words twisted in her head as though mocking her.
After what felt like an age, she reached him and almost dropped the lamp in surprise. There was no hideous snake, but instead a beautiful god so handsome that it almost felt unbearable to look upon him — almost. Psyche leaned over, eager to drink in as much of his majestic visage as she could, not realising how far over him she was craning. Completely unnoticed, a drop of hot oil dripped from the lamp and spilled onto her husband’s warm, godly skin.
He awoke with a start and leapt from the bed in horror at what his wife had done. He accused her of not trusting him, of listening to her sisters’ words over his own even though he’d warned her of their potentially malicious thoughts. She begged him to forgive her, to let her make it right, not to leave her, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
Eros, for that was who she now realised she had loved and betrayed, snatched up his robes, his bow and his arrows from beside the bed and stretched open his wings, taking instant, powerful flight and soared from the window without another look at his distraught wife.
Find the second part of Psyche’s story here:
