This is written for PJFC's Thicker than Blood challenge.
Dedication: to DancingChestnut, a dear friend of mine. Happy birthday, DC! I know you don't want a present - for suspicious unknown reasons ;) – but here's a fic for you anyway. Hope you like it!
You see her when you first open your eyes.
She is a small girl standing about a few feet in front of you on a green field. Her auburn hair is loose around her shoulders. Her skin is fair, and seems to emit a slight glow. Her eyes are almond brown, with a unique tinge of silver. She wears a simple silver dress that flutters gently in the breeze. Her hands are on her hips.
She's pretty, you think. You crawl toward her on your chubby little hands and knees.
"Finally! Took you long enough to come out," she says, sighing.
You giggle, not quite understanding her, yet continue to make your way toward her on your little new-born limbs. Sunlit curls bounce from your tiny head. Your baby blue eyes stare at the pretty girl. You like her.
You reach her and climb onto her lap, cooing curiously. Your little hands grab at her fingers. She smiles gently and bounces you on her lap. You let out a high-pitched laugh.
"Arty," you say, because that is her name. "Ar-ty-mis." Then you burst into giggles and burrow your head into her stomach.
The girl shakes her head. "This is the twin I'll have to deal with?"
You hear a laugh from behind you. It is your mama, Leto. She leans against a tree, her face is weary, yet full of joy as she watches you and Arty. "Yes, Artemis. Most certainly."
Yes. Most certainly indeed.
It takes you only a few hours to grow into Arty's size. You're even a little taller than her now. Somehow, you find it really funny.
Arty's hair splays out across the warm grass. You lie beside her, laughing yourself senseless as she swats at you, demanding that you give her back her hairpin. You grasp the pin firmly in your fist and roll away as she comes at you. On her face, you see a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and maybe just a little humour, but by now you're laughing so hard you can't be sure what you're seeing. Artemis makes a wild grab but you snatch your hand away and take off running. You and Arty's voices ring out across the field as she chases after you.
"Give it back!"
"Come and get it!"
"I'm starting to really hate you!"
It goes in for what feels like forever, until both of you lie panting on the lawn, side by side. The smiling sun shines down on you. You grin up at the blue sky, happy and content. For some reason, you really like your sister, and playing with her is just fun.
Without really thinking about it, you reach over and hug her. She feels warm and solid. You don't want to let her go. Even when she squirms and pushes at you, you hold on to her. Something rises in your chest – something warm and lovely, filling you like sunshine. You're struck by the instinctive realization that you need to protect her, need to see that she comes to no harm.
Because you don't care that she's supposedly older. All you know is that she is your baby sister, and you won't let her go.
(Then you poke her with her own pin and take off running, laughing so hard you double over as she chases after you.)
You are older now, with a proudly inflating ego. You're just awesome, aren't you? Your poetry is the best there is. Nymphs and minor goddesses can never get enough of your presence.
You stroll through the woods, carefree and confident. The leaves cast cool shades over you, with occasional rays of sunshine filtering through. A dryad pops her head out of her tree and gives you a wink. You wink back, causing her to blush and all of her leaves to shiver in delight. You smirk and step into the forest clearing ahead of you.
There stands Artemis. She holds a bow in her hands, a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder. Magical silver targets float in the air thirty feet away from her. She raises her bow, nocks an arrow and takes aim at a moving target.
It takes you a second to take it all in. Artemis, your sister, is trying to learn archery. Archery. Your sphere of power.
Grinning, you walk toward her.
"Hey, Arty!"
She jumps and almost shoots you with her arrow, but you grab it the split second before it reaches you.
"Damn, Arty! Someone's feeling jumpy today."
"Sorry! Didn't see you there. What are you doing here?"
"Probably spying on you?" You smile. "See you're learning archery. Want any help?"
She shakes her head firmly, turning back to her targets. "No. I'm doing fine on my own."
"No?" You study her posture, her fingers clamped on the bow and drawing the arrow back. "You can angle the bow just a bit to the left when you shoot. You're leaning too much to the right. And move your hand higher up."
Artemis raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
You roll your eyes. "I'm the god of archery, little sis. I know these things."
Your sister glares daggers at you. "I'm older. Don't call me that."
"No you aren't!"
"Please, I was the one who helped Mother even get you born!"
Your lips curve into a playful smirk. "You look like a twelve year old, Arty. I, however, look twenty-two, hot, and definitely older than my little sis. And besides, what kind of bow are you even using? Two sticks glued together? Seriously, mine is way better!"
From thin air, you produce a golder longbow bright as the sun, gleaming like jewels. A quiver of arrows made of shafts of sunlight appears on your back. You nock an arrow and effortlessly send it tearing through the dead centre of a moving target. "See? Much better, isn't it? Way more balanced!"
Artemis stares greedily at your bow. "Can I… try it out?" she asks a little shyly, a little embarrassedly.
You grin in delight. "Only if you let me call you little sis."
She stamps her foot. "Just give me the bow."
You hand it to her and she lifts it gingerly, nocking an arrow. She squints, takes aim and lets the arrow fly. It pierces clean through a target.
"Nice one, baby sis! Told you my bow is better, baby sis. See, baby sis?"
Artemis glares at you, ready to bite your head off, as if she already decided that her next target will be your face. Then she looks at the bow and her expression softens a little.
"Well… I guess this really is a good bow," she says grudgingly. "I want one just like this."
You open your mouth slightly, but for once can't find the words to say. "Okay," you finally manage. "Thanks, baby sis."
Then you turn back to the targets, a grin slowly spreading across your face. "Come on, Arty. I'm gonna teach you how to hunt."
And for the rest of the day, you wonder why Artemis saying she wants a bow exactly like yours has made you so happy.
Only much later, will you realize that it is because she's your baby sister, and her opinion matters most.
Years past, blending into centuries and steadily stretching to form millennia. Other women come and go, but your sister stays by your side. Apollo and Artemis, the twin archers, two halves of a whole. Your hair is gleaming gold. Hers is silky auburn. Your skin shines bright and tan. Hers gleams with tinges of silver. You're the hot, blazing sun. She's the cool, reflective moon.
The perfect balance. Two halves of a whole.
She is yours. You are hers.
It will stay this way forever.
Right?
"Arty," you say one day, as you meet her in the woods. "Want to go hunting later? I heard that there's a pack of rogue hellhounds somewhere. Bet I can shoot more than you."
Your sister looks distracted, running a hand through her hair. Her other hand fidgets with the hem of her skirt. You frown. She isn't usually like this.
"Arty? Baby sis?"
She doesn't even chew you out for calling her that.
"I'm sorry, Apollo. I can't. Not tonight."
You blink, stunned and hurt, your mouth dropping open. "Why? You never disagree to hunt with me! Unless it's for the hunters, of course, but aren't they on their own quest?
"I'm sorry. I have other commitments this time."
A wave of hurt sweeps through you. "What commitments?"
A flash of irritation shoots through Artemis's expression. "That's my own business. I'm sorry."
With that, she turns and leaves. As she walks past you, you catch a whiff of sea salt and ocean breeze. She never smells like this. She usually smells of the woods. Your frown deepens.
That night, you silently follow your sister as she lightly treds through the woods and onto the beach. Waves crash lightly against rocks, salt spray blossoming on impact. She moon shines high and silver.
A man stands on the sand. His dark hair is windswept. His eyes shine ocean green. His skin is olive-toned, his body muscular.
You gape as you see your sister walk toward him; see the smiles breaking out on both their faces as they see each other. The man turns to Artemis and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Artemis leans against him, smiling, happy and trusting. Their silhouettes gleam, two halves flawlessly woven into one under the radiance of the moon.
A lead weight drops into your stomach. So this is what your sister has chosen over hunting with you. This is what she has chosen to do instead of be in your company.
Your heart thunders in your chest. You need not see more.
Turning, you flee.
You do not confront your sister. Instead, you continue to watch her and that man. Orion, you hear his name is, the son of Poseidon. It tastes bitter on your tongue, like rotten herbs.
Your sister stops hunting with you. You see the impatience flash through her eyes every time she rejects going with you. Then you see the way she runs to him, the way she never runs to you. You see the way she gives him that enchanted, awestruck smile, the smile she has never given you. You see the way she holds on to him when it is time for them to part, the way she has never ever held onto you. Each time, you feel a part of you shatter like glass. You turn away, willing yourself to forget it, but the image is already seared in your mind, bitter and hopeless.
Has she ever loved you? you wonder. Or are you just an annoyance? You cringe, your heart filling with panic and hatred. Just the plain thought of it is worse than anything the souls in the fields of punishment have to bear.
Besides, didn't she take that oath upon the River Styx itself, to forsake the company of men? She can't break her oath. She just can't. You can't let her suffer the consequences of breaking one of the most sacred oaths ever.
Aside from that, it is just plain wrong. You should be the one whom she hunts with. You should be the one to whom she runs to when she is upset. You should be the one who keeps her company and makes her laugh, and does all the things that she wants. It should be you, the immortal, all powerful Phoebus Apollo, not one mortal who knows nothing about her sister.
Green blazes before your eyes.
You hate Orion. There is no other word for it. You hate him with a passion stronger than anything you have ever experienced before, a fire burning right through you, searing and suffocating.
The mortal must be gotten rid of. You will see to that.
Because Artemis is your baby sister, and she shall belong to no one, but you.
The arrow flies. It is as easy as that. You stand there, marvelling at the wonderful simplicity of it.
Then your sister screams; a terrible, drawn out sound that pierces through your heart. She runs across the water to the now sinking figure of the man. Blood swirls like a beautiful, terrible flower, blossoming through the water.
You stand there, numb, as Artemis reaches out to the dying body of Orion, the son of Poseidon. His face is pale and drained of life, his head lolling forward onto his chest. His limbs hang powerlessly by his sides. A silver arrow lodges at the back of his head. Blood streams out onto the water, mixing and spreading outward, dying it a faint pink. Orion is no longer a proud, handsome hero. Now, he is nothing more than a dying mortal man.
A spark of tantalizing triumph shoots through you. Then it is quenched as your sister starts to sob.
She never cries. Not after that battle that claimed the lives of twenty hunters in one day. Not after her favourite bow snapped. Not when… anything. Yet she is crying now, her body racked with sobs. She rocks back and forth, choking with a terrible, terrible sound. All because of what you did.
How can you do this? How can you make Arty cry like this? How?
Something inside you breaks as you reach out for her. "Artemis."
She does not look at you. You cannot blame her. Instead, she kneels over the broken body of the man and places a hand on his forehead.
"Orion," she whispers, and her voice is so charged with emotion and love that your stomach twists.
You can only watch as she cradles Orion's head in her arms and speaks one final blessing. The body of the mortal dissolves into glistening stardust. Artemis cups it in her hands and releases into the indigo night sky. Before your eyes, a new constellation blazes to life in the heaves; the figure of a hunter dashing through the sky, bow raised.
"Be at peace, my hunter." Artemis whispers. Her voice breaks a little. "Live forever in the stars."
You swallow and reach out to her again. You don't know what to say but you know that you have to do something. You want to hold her to you until she stops crying. You want to tell her everything is alright, yet any fool can see how ridiculous that will be.
"Artemis, I… I…"
"Leave, brother." Her voice is brittle. "You've done enough."
"But—"
She shoots to her feet, eyes blazing with anger, grief and tears. "I said leave!" she yells. "You've done enough, Phoebus Apollo!"
Her gaze terrifies you more than any god or monster. You turn and stumble away, her cold gaze boring through your neck. It rips at your mind, burning at your heart. You want to bite it, scratch it, claw until everything was gone. Yet it stays there, firm and excruciating, reminding you of the hatred in your sister's eyes as she looked at you.
That's what it is, isn't it? Your sister hates you.
Because even in death, the mortal still outranks you.
A strangled sound escapes you as you blindly tear through the woods. As much as Artemis hates you, there is no way she can hate you as much as you hate yourself.
You should never have hurt her. You should never have made her upset.
Because she is your baby sister, and you should never have made her cry.
"Apollo?"
You start. The voice is gentle, not harsh as you imagine. You look up. Artemis stand before you in her silver dress, her bow – the one like yours – slung over her back. A surge of panic and guilt surges through you and you think about running. You've been avoiding each other for centuries already. What can you possibly say or do now that can heal it all?
Yet there is no more anger in Artemis's eyes. Her gaze is soft, and it suddenly strikes you how much you've missed your sister and her beautiful silvery eyes.
"Artemis?" you ask tentatively. This feels surreal, like a dream. Does she… Does she not blame you anymore?
She sits down beside you and takes a deep breath. "Listen, I'm sorry about what happened with Orion. I wish none of it happened."
You blink uncertainly, not sure what to think. "You… You do?"
She fidgets. "I've just been thinking. You saved me from breaking my vow. I… I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm sorry…"
Hope and happiness ascends like a rising sun in you. "Really?"
"I shouldn't have been with him in the first place, especially after my oath." She gives you a hesitant smile. Then it falters. "But you didn't have to trick me into killing him, did you?"
A part of you deflates again. You stare at the ground before you, words and emotions choked together at your throat.
"Yeah," you finally say. "I guess I shouldn't have."
Suddenly, you realize that you do, in fact, mean it. Whatever you did, you should never have made your sister cry.
"So… We're okay?" she awkwardly asks.
"I hope so."
Relief sweeps through you as you reach out and hug your sister. Happiness spreads through your body like warm syrup, all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your face breaks into a smile.
"I missed you, Arty," you say.
"I missed you too, Apollo," she murmurs. Then she straightens, glaring at you again. "I never said that."
You grin. "You sure did, little sis!"
"Don't call me that. I'm older!"
At that moment, you know that everything has returned to normal. Laughing, with one arm around your sister, you have never been happier. This is what it is supposed to be like. You and Artemis, two halves of a whole. Content washes through you, and you find yourself grinning like a total fool.
Because Artemis is your baby sister, and seeing her smile at you is the best thing you can ever ask for.
Then your sister goes missing.
You cannot concentrate on anything. All day you are jittery and nervous, unable to decide whether you should sit or stand. You pace about like a constipated toddler, fear gnawing at your insides, slowly suffocating you.
Where is she? What have they done to her?
Even worse than the fear is the fact that you don't know. You hate not knowing. You are the god of prophecies, the one who can see even into the murkiest depths of the future, yet you can't even locate where your sister is in the present. Frustration and blame claw at your heart. You should have gone with her on that particular hunt. You should have seen to it that she was kept safe, or at least asked a hunter or two to accompany Artemis. Yet you didn't. Now your sister is imprisoned somewhere because of what you didn't do and you can't do anything to help her.
Ares struts by you on his way to his temple. He glances at you and sneers. "What's up with you, punk? Get a mirror and have a look at yourself. Not so hot and useful now, are you, sun god?"
You lunge at him with a yell, but he simply pushes you aside and carries on forward, laughing.
You're so angry you can barely speak. Your hands ball into fists, your heart thundering. Fury, frustration and residual anxiety clash together to form hot, fiery panic. Ares's words sting at your mind like angry bees. Not so useful, are you now?
Your heart turns to steel and your mind shifts into high gear. You don't care about breaking the rules about not interfering. You don't even care if Zeus throws you into Tartarus. All you know that you can't just sit here, not knowing. It will kill you.
You storm away, changing into the form of an old homeless man, because that's what you feel like right now.
You head to the mortal world.
Forget the stupid rules. Forget that bastard Ares. You will help the demigods in whatever way you can. You will see to it that Artemis is rescued yourself.
Because Arty is your baby sister, and no one messes with her.
Then she is back. The demigods rescued her.
She's back. Safe. Unharmed.
You barely hear anything during the council meeting. You're too bust staring at your sister, drinking in the fact that she's really there, right in front of you, solid flesh and ichor.
You don't say it, but you will personally make sure that the demigods don't get incinerated by your paranoid father. They saved the Ophiotaurus, after all. They defeated Atlas.
More importantly, they saved your sister.
You watch Artemis after that meeting ends as she strides out of the throne room. For a moment, you simply stop and marvel at how seemingly at ease she is. She was forced to hold up the sky, dammit! Just the thought of it makes the world swirl dizzyingly around you, yet there Artemis stands, strong and collected.
Beautiful, you think. Your sister is beautiful.
You catch up with her. "Arty!"
She turns to face you, and you forget how to speak. She is really – really – here. A surge of emotion wells up in your heart.
"Oh, Artemis…"
Her eyes resemble warm almonds and liquid moonlight. She puts a hand on your arm. "I was fine, Apollo. I can take care of myself."
"You had to hold up the sky! You weren't 'fine'! How could I have let this happen?" Your voice breaks a little. You resist the urge the tackle her in a hug and hold on for the rest of time. "I can't – I can't –" You wring your hands desperately.
"I told you, bother, I could take care of myself. It won't happen again."
All the anxiety and frustration of the past few days breaks through a dam in your chest, pouring out of you. "You were taken, Artemis! If the demigods didn't arrive on time, you would have – Do you know how worried I was? I couldn't stand the idea of you being in danger and me not even knowing where you are. You go on one solo hunt and this happened?" Your voice drops an octave. "Don't ever do this to me again."
Her gaze softens. "I'm sorry… It won't happen again. I promise."
You pull her into a hug. You smell the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin as she hugs you back. It is only now that you realize how precious she is. You need her. You are nothing without her. She is your twin, your soul mate, your Arty.
You will never let her go. Not ever.
Because she is your baby sister, and you will never let anything take her away from you.
How long will I love you? As long as stars are above you.
And longer, if I can.
"How Long Will I Love You" by Ellie Goulding
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