The excerpt below is the opening of C. S. Lewis' novel Till We Have Faces, a retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche.
I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of gods. I have no husband nor child, nor hardly a friend, through whom they can hurt me. My body, this lean carrion that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes, they may kill as soon as they please. The succession is provided for. My crown passes to my nephew.Being, for all these reasons, free from fear, I will dare to write in this book what no one who has happiness would dare to write. I will accuse the gods, especially the god who lives on the Grey Mountain. That is, I will tell all he has done to me from the very beginning, as if I were making my complaint of him before a judge. But there is no judge between gods and men, and the god of the mountain will not answer me. Terrors and plagues are not an answer.
The book isn't one of Lewis' better-known works, but it is definitely worth seeking out. By all means, do so.