#that man(god?) could singlehandedly solve overpopulation if he flirted more

[rhiwdiliel]

Hyacinthus

Hyacinthus, that beautiful Prince of Sparta who had enthralled three gods with his beauty, only to make as a flower in spring and die away, leaving behind a mourning lover.

The gentle breeze of spring wafted through the plentiful flora decorating the earth, celebrating the departure of frozen winter and the fresh blessings of Demeter. Carried upon it was the sweet scent of the hyacinth, each royally coloured petal recalling a memory of one long lost to the howling winds of the underworld.

A plentiful field of them it was, dwarfing even the aged barks that stood proudly amidst the sea of colour. Each one whispered a name, the name that had suffered an untimely end. All for the ugly sin of envy by one of those who sat in places divine, whose hands were blessed with abilities unthinkable yet used them for their own, selfish, and utterly human desires, though they ought to bear a better, more detached judgement.

As the warm rays of sun danced upon the earth and banished the wind from it, they chose to rest upon the purple petals, caressing them with a longing, uncharacteristic softness. They drew the royal shade to its utmost beauty, highlighting every perfection the flowers bore. For before they were hyacinths, they were Hyacinthus.

Hyacinthus, the Spartan prince whose only crown was a beauty certainly bestowed upon him by Aphrodite herself. In the bright, playful sunlight he would frolic, ever bearing a pure smile upon his lips. It seemed the sun would bless him with its love, drawing from the depths of his dark eyes the honeyed colours of nature.

Had the Lady of Cythera gifted him a double-edged sword? Had she blessed him to be of breathtaking beauty and kind of heart, only to watch his youthful death? Had she set him into the mortal realm as a lamb amongst lions, wondering which would be first to deliver him to the hands of Hades?

In truth, who had it been? Had it been the envious Western wind, eyes filled with a blazing jealousy, heart turned to stone, and cursed with the ability of murder? Or had it been the Olympian god, feared and yet ever beloved by the mortals below, who clasped the cosmic body of Earth's star in his palm, whilst finding his heart drawn to those who were fated to be but candles who were nearing their burning end?

Had it been Apollo, who sat in the fields with Hyacinthus, playing melodies of beauty unmatched for hours? Had it been Apollo, who found the heat of his touch cooled by Aphrodite's curse as he carressed that bronze cheek? Had it been Apollo, who could never allow the fleeting memory of his lover to fade, who preserved him till the world was changed? Had it been tears that glorified a Prince's memory into one of nature's children?

Had it been the mourning lover who made Hyacinthus into hyacinths?