The Sea's Serpent

The Memories: Part 4

AN: This is the second last chapter in the Memories chapter chain. This chapter may be a little sad. That is, if I'm even capable of writing anything remotely sad, being a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, though I'm prone to the occasional, unpredictable burst of rage. We are off!

Time: Just after the Crucifixion

"Sis, sis, just breathe. Calm down, and breathe slowly." Apollo coaxed, trying to make Artemis calm down.

She was anything but calm.

The moon goddess was hyperventilating, and sweating profusely. Her auburn hair stuck to her face, and her silver eyes were hazy and unfocused. Her skin was pale as paper, and her red lips were parted as she panted and gasped for breath.

Her brilliant white chiton was stained golden with her lover's blood. It hugged her body, and left trails of golden ichor down her legs. The air stank of copper.

The cold hard truth slowly dawned upon Artemis, like the sun shining through the fog that clouded her mind. Her breathing stabilized, and she slumped back in shock, still in denial of the truth.

"There, that's better," Apollo spoke, patting her back. He summoned a cube of ambrosia, making his sister eat it. Artemis felt the familiar taste of Hestia's blue cookies on her tongue, but did not taste it. It felt like paper as it went down her throat, creating a dent in the fog that clouded her mind,  and choking her.

The sun god himself did not look any better.

His shining blue eyes were brimming with tears, but he stayed strong for his sister. His nose was red and runny. His golden blonde hair stuck up in clumps where Apollo had torn at it. His shirt clung to his body, drenched and almost transparent with sweat. His cheeks were puffy, and every now and then, a stray tear would run down his red cheeks.

It was not a look suiting the god of the sun.

Hestia returned, having drawn up a bath for Artemis.

Surprisingly, she was the one who had least broken down. Apollo had no doubt that she was being strong for them, but inside, she was nothing but a collection of shattered shards of her heart.

The goddess of the hearth was in her forty-year-old form. Her hair had turned slightly grey, strands of white running down her brown hair.

Apollo silently handed Artemis over to her.

Gently, Hestia lifted Artemis to her feet, holding her by her arms. She had to resort to her godly strength for holding the other goddess up, as Artemis seemed to have lost feeling in her legs, and leant heavily on Hestia for support.

The hearth goddess struggled under her weight, guiding her towards her bathroom to wash the blood off her. Her lover's blood.

Apollo sighed, looking around the now-empty living room.

It was Hestia's living room, where the five of them had lived all those years ago. The table was the same, where Percy and Artemis would fight over the last cookie. The couch was the same, where Percy, Apollo and Hermes would watch football. They would shout and argue about whose team was better. And then Hestia would come around clumping them around the head for making so much noise, and Athena and Artemis would giggle. The crack in the wall was the same, where Percy had punched in anger once, when Hermes had been almost raped by Aphrodite. The posters of all the footballers and teams were the same, in the same positions. Even the carpet was the same. The cushions and blankets had not been removed from the floor, and remained scattered, in the same position as they had been the last time the five of them had got together in Hestia's palace. That had been before the Giant War.