Fireside

Artemis

One lesson Artemis learned early on was that there were certain disadvantages to being the elder sibling.

For example, it was always she whom everyone labeled as uptight. As strictly virtuous and unable to enjoy pursuits other than those she was accustomed to. Her brother, on the other hand, was her exact polar opposite: free, unruly, and the embodiment of every aspect she expected herself to have but did not.

Still, she was proud that she was the elder. Her father had praised her when she helped her mother deliver Apollo. Many huntsmen and falconers envied her for her skills. Men fawned over her, albeit from a distance and in their secrecy, and children trusted themselves to her protection. However, it was on days like this, when her brother had gone away to mope by himself after another failed pursuit, that she was reminded of all the pains that came with her birthright.

"That brother of mine is a handful." Artemis twiddled with one of her bronze-tipped arrows as she walked the perimeter of her aunt's dwelling. Her favorite hunting knife hung from a sheath at her hip. Her little stag, the swiftest one that always made it a point to match her speed, followed her tracks obediently. "One of these days, he's going to get in so much trouble."

"I thought the issue with Marpessa had been resolved."

The goddess of the hunt did not slow her steps, but she did look in her preoccupied Aunt's direction. "Apparently, he's looking for a new issue to sink his teeth into, the cad."

Her Aunt did not pause her activities as well. The hearth goddess continued stirring the flames of the sacred fire, encouraging its homey warmth to dominate the room. It offered Artemis some comfort, but not enough to keep her mind off of her brother. "Worry not, Missy. He'll settle down in time."

"I wish he'd do so sooner," Artemis pouted, quite ready for the event to occur. "Even Dionysus has managed to decrease the frequency of his shenanigans."

"Only after he found himself a human princess, if I recall correctly."

Artemis groaned, bemoaning the near impossibility of a similar circumstance occurring with her brother. The chance of one god discovering an abandoned princess with nowhere else to go after having betrayed her country was already narrow. For Apollo to experience the same would be a miracle.

"The problem with my brother is that he rushes into things too quickly. And in the end, he ends up miserable when his lovers either pass away or leave him." Artemis slipped the arrow back into its quiver, thus freeing her hand so she could pet her ruminant companion.

"If that isn't the truth." Hestia looked over her shoulder once, and it was enough to encourage Artemis to speak her mind.

"I've told him time and again, Aunt Hessy," she said, sinking to the floor so her faithful little deer could nuzzle at her cheek. The goddess of the hunt sat cross-legged on the marble surface, her short tunic riding precariously high on her lap. Yet she remained as graceful as one who had perched herself upon a throne. "He won't listen to me. Not even when I remind him about—"

Artemis bit her tongue before his name could slip out of her mouth.

Images of a night, with a star-dotted sky and the howls of hunting dogs, flashed briefly in front of her eyes. The sounds of the forest echoed in her ears, as did the hushed sweep of rushing feet upon leaf-covered dirt. Then the whoosh of a bronze-tipped arrow and the choked sob of a man who had lost everything.

"You still miss him, don't you?" Hestia's voice broke Artemis away from her memories. "Even after all these years."

"You know why I do." Artemis lifted her hand and stroked the stag's cheek, and the softness of his fur calmed her down. "Despite his reckless transgressions, one cannot deny that he was better to me than all those that came before and after."