"What's going on tonight that's so special, Artemis?"
The goddess spun in her chair, silvery-blonde hair whipping high as she heard my voice. All I was doing was standing in the doorway. Smirking, admittedly, but hey – she is my sister. She scowled, holding her silver-backed hairbrush warningly. "Nothing, Apollo. Why should there be? Why do you even think that there is?"
I couldn't resist ticking off responses on his fingers as I gave them. "Firstly, you're inside. Secondly, you're brushing your hair, which is practically unheard of, and thirdly you actually have makeup on the table in front of you."
"I do come inside occasionally." Good grief, she was talking strangely for her – not snappish (which is totally normal, actually) but brisk and trying to get rid of me. It seemed strange that we hadn't even argued in a while. "And I DO brush my hair, though you and the others seem to take no notice of that. It's just that by the time that any of the rest of you come to see me, it's no longer tidy because of my hunting. Plus if I didn't own at least some make-up then I would never be allowed to rest by the goddesses who feel that I don't make the most of my looks.
"I thought that you didn't care about those other goddesses." I sat down, determined to at least talk to her to find out what had cooled her temper so much recently. "Now you are not only keeping the make up, you are actually leaving it in a position to be used?" Before she could stop me, I managed to take the kohl pencil from the table. "Did you use this on yourself or just because you ran out of ink?"
Refusing to answer, Artemis snatched back the pencil with one hand and finished braiding her hair. She tied it with a silver ribbon then turned round to face me properly. "Get out of my room, Apollo; let me live my own life. It's easier to hunt when my hair is tied back, and whenever I am supposed to appear in front of the other gods I actually have to look presentable. Go argue with Hermes or something."
Ah, yes, Hermes and I do argue a lot actually. I was the original god of playing tricks until our dear half-brother turned up and took my place. It's not that we aren't alike – we're so alike that we squabble like a pair of kids. It's just embarrassing when Artemis goes on about it.
"I hope that I don't hear my name in vain." We both turned at the sound of the voice at the window. Hermes was calmly leaning on the window frame, chin leaning on his folded arms, wing-sandalled feet stretched out lazily behind him. His hat had slipped to a rakish angle, slightly over one eye; unfortunately, it suited him.
"What is this, a party or my room?" Artemis growled.
Hermes's smile didn't even slip as he pushed his hat back with that damn caduceus. I began to wonder very quickly after making the swap whether the flute was worth it, but there's no going back on it now. "Hey, someone said that Apollo was coming looking for you, so I came straight here. 'Poll," he turned to me instead, "Zeus wants to talk to you. That business about Daphne…" he didn't finish the sentence.
Just because you've never been told off about any of your flings. I growled in my head, thinking of Hermes's many children. He was looking to follow in the footsteps of our father, though he was not married. There are rumours about him looking to marry the human princess Dryope, but no marriage between a human and a god should be so much as considered; it is a foolish and pointless waste of a short time.
"Ugh, I never was his favourite, was I?" I groaned, turning to leave. Zeus would not want to be kept waiting.
It wasn't my fault about Daphne, no matter what people say. Eros – and, I swear, I'll get him for this some day – decided to cause some trouble with those arrows of his. Shot me with gold, just to get me back for a flippant comment about the arrows, and made me fall in love with a woman just as cold to men as my sister Artemis. Her father chose to turn her to a tree instead – the same father who had granted her chastity. Without my sister's decision putting ideas into women's heads, there would be far fewer of these 'scandalous' stories.
"Talking of my sister…" I stopped in the corridor as I heard something quite strange. Artemis was singing – yes, she can sing quite well, don't think I'm being rude about it – and not only that, but singing some strange human love song. She would sing with my Muses, but never of love. What is going on with the most famously chaste goddess?