A/N: If any of my Latin grammar is wrong, tell me and I'll fix it.

Chapter 2—Video vises tuum arborem.

The sun-god, Apollo, landed his bright, golden chariot on the mossy forest floor with slight difficulty, but not as much difficulty he had when he first began making these trips. He looked over to the laurel tree, and immediately, Eros' arrow began to have its effect kick in once more. Apollo hated Cupid for giving him this hopeless love, for making him love a tree, yet he also grudgingly and secretly thanked him for the love that had poisoned him down to the marrow of his bones. It was unfortunate that he, the god of medicine, could not cure his own love-sickness. The irony was humiliating.

He headed over to the laurel tree with a lover's bold conviction and hugged its bark. The tree shuddered, and more leaves fell.

"O, laure," he said, kissing the bark, "how I love you! I wear my crown of your leaves upon my head with great honor."

The tree was still, and most frigidly so.

"Oh, laure, don't be so cold, so harsh—I am the sun-god, whose light pours out upon the earth, upon your leaves, making you even more beautiful than you already were. I let the world make music, and I do it all for you."

The tree froze up even more.

"Oh, laure," the deluded god said, "laure, laure.. my laure..."

After wrapping himself around the tree and kissing its bark more, he gathered all its fallen leaves with care, and then left, looking longingly back onto the tree.

As he headed to the chariot, he heard an arrow shoot. He frowned.

"Hunters?" he said to himself, as though it was an unusual activity for hunters to frequent the woods.

Suddenly, his sister appeared, her hands on her hips, her bow slung over her shoulder and three arrows in her left hand. Apollo jumped at the sight of her and all the laurel leaves scattered on the ground. He frantically began to gather them all up.

"Yes, dear brother, hunters." She derisively watched him in his pathetic attempt to pick up leaves.

"Video vises tuum arborem," she sneered, crossing her arms.

"I hate it when you sneak up on me like that! One day, you will regret it!"

"Would you like to be shot with another arrow, superbe? I promise you, mine won't be as pleasant as the one Cupid hit you with."

That remark stung Apollo and he glared menacingly at his sister.

"Diana, I--"

She lifted up a perfect, powerful hand. "Spare me the comeback. We have problems."

He frowned, still feeling a little resentment towards her. "Problems?"

"Yes, Phoebus, problems. You certainly are daft."

"You'd better watch your tongue, for one day--just because you're a goddess does not mean--"

"I know you're an all-powerful god," she said mockingly, rolling her eyes in impatient glory. "Just come with me. Leave the leaves--"

"No! They are mine!"

Diana's eye twitched as she watched him continue to frantically pick up the scattered leaves. She then forcefully grabbed Apollo's arm and pulled him along.

"Wait, would you—stop, I—hey!!" he protested, having not finished picking up the leaves, and dropping all but three, which were definitely not enough to make a crown. A wind blew all the fallen leaves away. He tried to free himself from her grip, but she held fast and continued pulling him. He was more than irate.

"You little--"

"Shhh," she whispered harshly, throwing his arm to his side. "Love truly has made you pathetic. You're an embarrassment. Just follow me and listen, lascive puer."

Apollo glared at her. She would one day learn to regret her disrespect of him.

The two siblings were behind a large, thick bush. Diana pointed to a thin area and Apollo looked to see what was so problematic to her, annoyed and skeptical that anything was wrong.

The bush was neighboring a small, calm stream, which belonged to the river god, Peneus. Apollo did not at first notice anything, but then he saw her. On the opposite side of the stream was a young maiden, a forest nymph, he guessed; her bow was slung over her shoulder, and her quiver was full of bright, silvery, birch arrows. Her nearly white, but pale blue tunic was long and flowed gently and flatteringly on her frame. Her long brown hair fell perfectly and hung down in careless, beautiful strands. Her eyes were downcast and looking not particularly at anything, but Apollo guessed it was at her reflection she was staring. He only hoped that she was not like Narcissus and would not turn into a plant (that did seem to be a recent trend in beautiful forest nymphs he knew as of late). He could not see her eyes' color, much to his disappointment. She was sitting by the river, obviously in thought, gently caressing the water with her fingers.

"She's beautiful," Apollo breathed, his mouth gaping. Diana stepped on his foot spitefully. He began to yell in pain, but she swiftly clamped his mouth shut before he could make a sound, and glared into his eyes. It was slightly intimidating, so he just watched the nymph with a light sigh.

The nymph, to Apollo, did not look objectionable or problematic in any way. In fact, she seemed troubled herself, and now that he had been studying her silently for a little while, he noticed a sadness in the way she looked into the water, in the way she traced her fingers aimlessly on the river. He began to express this to his sister, but she glared at him again.

"Watch," she said fiercely, her eyes gleaming with anger. Apollo knew the quote about woman's scorn, and thus said nothing, though he wished to.

The nymph sighed, making Apollo lose his senses.

"Let me go talk to her. She seems so lonely, so forlorn."

"And you seem to be without a brain. You must listen. And what happened to your precious tree, that it is forgotten now that you see this little nymph?"

"Silence," he said defensively. The way she emphasized their insignificance was appalling to Apollo. He turned back to the nymph, who had begun to talk to herself aloud.

"...how I cannot even find joy in the river!" she cried, wiping her eyes and splashing the water in irritation. He had missed the moment she first began to cry. She curled her legs up under her chin and sobbed.

Apollo was trying to let his chivalric side come out, but was constantly restrained by Diana.

Poor nymph! Apollo thought. He received another icy glare from Diana, who was feeling anything but sympathy for her, but at this point, he did not care.

The miserable nymph calmed down, and gently laid down on the earth, resting on her stomach. She held a little shining leaf she had picked up from the laurel tree before her, twirling it in her fingers. Apollo's heart jumped at the sight of that leaf, which was so obviously Daphne's, and then Apollo finally saw her eyes. They were the saddest, softest, most mysteriously clouded eyes he had ever seen. He began to fall in love with them. He sighed dreamily. Diana looked at him in disgust.

"Do you ever think about anything else?" Diana said.

"What?" he asked, snapping out of his dreamy stupor.

Diana rolled her eyes. "What do all men think about, on a regular basis, 24/7?"

"Well, what ideas are more noble than those of love?"

"Why don't you go ask your tree."

"Quiet!"

"Who's there?" interrupted a timid, broken, yet alert voice.

Diana gritted her teeth and put her hand over Apollo's mouth, who was about to respond and, worse, make a fool of himself. The tense silence lasted for at least a minute, but it was excruciating. Apollo and Diana even held their breath. Apollo burned inside to reach out to her, to comfort her; Diana burned inside to smite her brother, fighting the urge.

After a while, the nymph sighed, releasing the tension, still holding the laurel leaf.

"I cannot serve the gods," she mumbled, miserably letting go of the leaf and watching it fall in the river. She turned over and laid on her back. "I despise my plight. Where can I run, where they may not be? Where may I hide, that they won't follow? The wrath of the gods is cruel, and the blessings of the gods are only a show. Their false, condescendent beauty falls on this shallow river, and mocks all my soul! I can trust no man, no woman, no child, for these all serve the gods. I cannot be happy as they, accepting all they see and hear as true. Their piety is wasted on these powerless divinities."

Diana nudged Apollo's ribs. "See the problem now?"

"I'm sure she doesn't mean what she says," Apollo responded carefully, surprised by what the nymph had said. "She's just depressed, that's all. I could go talk to her if you would let me—"

"How did I become related to such an adulterous idiot? You fool; she hates the gods. She hates you, especially you, for what happened to Daphne."

"Well, that was not entirely my fault. I'm sure if she got to know me--"

"It was your fault, dear brother. You are the most selfish, arrogant--" she sighed, massaging her temples; she didn't want to be almost caught again by this little nymph. "You're impossible."

Suddenly, the two gods heard a song that had such beauty that was never heard before. Apollo looked over to the nymph, and saw she was singing.

"Olim somnio flumenis

et in flumene, video me

et subito, sicut vitrum, confringit

cessitque adfluere; cesso esse."

Once she finished her song, she sighed and stood. "O, me miseram," she shuddered. She shivered a little and looked to the sky. Seeing the sun was setting, she quickly dashed off into the forest.

Apollo was left with a longing in his heart for her, and he watched her leave.

"Nympha, mane--" he called out, but in vain. She was already long gone. He sighed. Who was she, who reminded him of Daphne? No, she was not Daphne; no one could replace her. Yet, she was different, special somehow...if he only knew her name! He--

"PHOEBUS!!!!"

He jumped, startled by such an earth-shaking address.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. Don't let a silly little song deceive you...it wasn't even that good."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm the god of music, so I would know if it was good or not," he rebutted.

"You could be the god of acorns," she said, snapping an arrow she held in her angry hand in half. "It makes no difference. As long as you keep visiting my woods to go see your little tree, you're going to have to stop your random flights of fancy."

He sighed. "Well, what do you have against her?"

She blinked. "Did you not hear what she just said?"

"Yes."

"She hates the gods. She will not serve them. That, dear brother, includes you," she said, poking him painfully. He pushed her hand off.

"Calm down. I'll go talk to her, if that will make you feel better."

"I don't need you visiting two trees," she said spitefully. "If you go talk to her, you're not going without me. Don't roll your eyes at me. Night is falling, and you, little sun-god, will be lost without me. Let's just go home. When one questions our power, that questioning must be stopped, or else the people will cease to worship us. Come."

She began heading towards his chariot. She turned her head aside to see that he was still staring at the place where the little nymph had been. In aggravation, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

"You truly are no better than a little boy, are you?"

"I wouldn't keep bringing that up, if I were you," he seethed, getting into his chariot. "That mouth of yours will one day get you in trouble."

"A lesson you should learn yourself," she said coolly, crossing her arms. Apollo, in silent anger, took the reins of his chariot, and gave them a clean and sharp crack.

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Video vises tuum arborem: I see you have seen your tree.

superbe: proud one, arrogant one.

lascive puer: insolent/naughty/mischievous boy. Apollo called Cupid this and made him angry, thereby earning himself a well shot love-inducing arrow. He fell in love with Daphne.

O, me miseram: Oh, I am miserable

Nympha, mane: Nymph, stay.

"Olim somnio flumenis "I once dreamed there was a river

et in flumene, video me And in the river, I saw myself

et subito, sicut vitrum, confringit And, suddenly, like glass it broke

cessitque adfluere; cesso esse." :It ceased to flow; I ceased to be."

R&R please