A/N: Here's another chapter for you. I'm really hoping to get this done by the end of the year, but we'll see what happens.
Chapter Seven
Artemis slipped inside just as the sun began to climb over the horizon. She'd spent the night stargazing, something she'd found herself doing more and more often lately. Orion drew her attention most of the time, but occasionally she'd pick out another constellation and try to recall the story behind it. She knew that the mortals had their own tales explaining the inclusion of certain people, animals, and so-called mythical creatures in the heavens, sometimes their accounts even came close to the truth. Many times, however, they got the details wrong. Not that she or the other gods of Olympus cared if a few mortals made some errors in recounting what many of them considered myths.
Of course, that wasn't always the case, Artemis reflected.
She remembered a time when she and the others had interacted with mortals on a regular basis. Back then, if a mortal misrepresented the facts in certain situations they could easily earn a god's wrath.
We were pretty wrathful in the old days, Artemis recalled.
Their anger, and the punishments that inevitably resulted from it, had seemed justified back then, but time had apparently mellowed them. Artemis vividly recollected the time Atlanta had essentially challenged Ares. In the past, such insolence would have earned her student a swift death. Instead, Artemis had simply told her to apologize.
She never did, Artemis remembered.
Atlanta had never been the type to back down, which Artemis felt was an admirable if somewhat problematic trait. After all, each of the gods possessed a certain amount of stubbornness, some more than others.
I wonder why we weren't harder on the young ones, Artemis mused.
Maybe it was the prophecy. None of them had wanted Cronus to win, and that was exactly what would have happened if any of them had forgotten how important the young heroes were to their continuing existence.
Maybe the gods of Olympus had simply learned to better control their anger. It was possible that they had simply loosened up over time or that some of them had reflected on past actions, regretted the choices that they'd made, and decided to try to be more forgiving in the future. You couldn't undo the mistakes of the past, but you could avoid repeating them.
Maybe we just missed interacting with mortals, Artemis pondered, and we wanted to make sure they liked us.
Before the Oracle's prophecy had brought the seven young heroes into their lives, the gods hadn't interacted with mortals for millennia. In the days of ancient Greece, gods and mortals had interacted on a regular basis. The gods had had various favorites, heroes mostly, who had enjoyed the privileges that came with divine favor. They'd never lasted long. Mortals' lives were so brief and so many things could snuff them out, accidents, illnesses, wars, that the gods didn't usually allow themselves attachments with mortals. It wasn't practical. It would have been like a human trying to build a lasting relationship with a fly. The gods had usually turned to mortals because they needed them for something. Once they'd served their purpose, whatever it might be, whichever god or, more rarely, gods they'd dealt with would move on to something or someone else. It was self-preservation, a way to avoid investing themselves in the lives of individuals who would eventually die.
We were trying to protect ourselves from the pain of repeated loss, Artemis sighed. We all knew that a relationship between one of us and one of them could only end one way.
The gods hadn't always succeeded in avoiding the heartbreak that came with dealing with mortals, but they'd tried.
The years had marched on, mortals came and went, and then, the gods had realized something. None of them had been able to pinpoint exactly when it had happened, but at some point, mortals had stopped believing in them. It had started off slowly, fewer and fewer offerings, more and more temples left unattended, feast days forgotten, the decline was so gradual that it took a long time for the gods to realize that something was wrong. By the time they'd grasped the seriousness of the situation, it was already too late. They'd made a few attempts to convince the Greeks to worship them again, but nothing worked. Eventually, the gods had faded into myth.
Maybe it's just as well, Artemis thought. They were always so hard to please.
The ancient Greeks had been notoriously difficult to satisfy. If everything went well they were usually content, but if things went wrong, they'd been quick to blame the gods.
They blamed us for their machinations against each other, too, Artemis reflected, or, at least, they tried to make it seem like we were behind things we had no part in. They always wanted us to take their sides in conflicts, as well. Any time they went to war, they'd petition this god or that to grant them victory. Ares usually handled that, but none of us was immune if we thought one group was in the right and the other wasn't.
Taking sides in mortal conflicts had caused no small amount of friction between the various Olympians. They'd tried to avoid getting involved in mortal affairs, but somehow it kept happening anyway right up until humanity moved on, and left the gods behind.
They'd spent years on Mount Olympus with only each other for company, checking in with the mortal world periodically, curious to see how the humans would manage without them. They did well for the most part, but the gods had never intervened again. The mortals had made it clear they no longer wanted the gods to help them.
Centuries rolled by, and the gods forgot what it was like to spend time with mortals. They listened to the stories the mortals told about them, and sometimes they'd turn to one another and ask if anyone knew if the mortals were getting the details right. After a while, though it no longer mattered.
Then, the Oracle's prophecy happened and everything changed.
Zeus sent Hermes to track the Oracle down every now and then to find out if they needed to know anything about the future, and he always came back with nothing to report. The gods just assumed it would stay that way forever. They should have known better, nothing lasts forever.
When Hermes returned to tell them about the Oracle's prophecy, no one knew what to do at first. It took many lengthy discussions and several consultations with the Oracle before they formulated a plan for dealing with the coming crisis.
The seven young heroes had proven particularly challenging. Not only were the gods out of practise dealing with mortals, but the world had also changed considerably since they'd last interacted with anyone else. They'd spent a long time deciding how best to approach them and how best to explain the situation to them.
It wasn't like the old days, Artemis recalled. Back then, when we wanted a mortal's help we were rarely so direct about it, and we never trained them.
In the old days, heroes were commonplace, but in the modern world, they existed primarily in stories just like the gods. Artemis remembered how surprised she and the other gods were when they learned that the seven new heroes were the descendants of seven old heroes. Artemis smiled as she recollected the various reactions they'd had to that information.
Hercules would not stop talking about Herry, Artemis remembered, not that the rest of us blamed him.
Hercules' situation was slightly different from the other gods since Herry was his direct descendant, although Hermes had a similar connection to Odie. Artemis vividly recalled the moment that Hercules had started talking about training one-on-one with Herry, and how that had touched off a conversation about mentors.
Each of the gods had soon begun to lay claim to a student, but because there were only seven young heroes, they couldn't all have one. Fortunately, they'd managed to reach a consensus about most of the heroes fairly quickly.
Odie was the only real problem, Artemis thought. Athena and Hermes were both so determined to have him as a student.
Both Hermes and Athena felt that they had a claim on Odie since they had both aided Odysseus. Each of them had argued for the right to mentor Odysseus' descendant, and Zeus had ultimately chosen Hermes. However, in order to keep the peace, Zeus gave Athena the job of looking after the young heroes in the living quarters that the gods planned to provide for them.
Luckily, for everyone Athena accepted that responsibility, Artemis thought. Who knows what might have happened if she'd insisted on mentoring Odie.
Once the young heroes had entered the gods' lives, things had proceeded rapidly. The gods had done their best to protect and train their young charges. Things hadn't always gone smoothly, but the seven heroes had eventually triumphed. The gods knew that fighting Cronus had been a long and difficult task for their young champions.
It wasn't any easier for us, Artemis sighed. We had to watch them go out never knowing exactly what they might face or if they'd come back.
The worst thing though was when Cronus had started using the gods' mistakes against the young heroes. They had all punished people in the past, and Cronus had managed to find some of those people. He'd convinced them to get revenge against the gods by attacking the young heroes. The most painful example of this, for Artemis at least, was Orion.
Cronus had called the hunter down from the sky, and persuaded him that Artemis had deliberately killed him. Then, he'd told Orion to get his revenge by tracking down and destroying the heroes, particularly Atlanta.
Artemis remembered the plan Atlanta had suggested for convincing Orion to return to his place in the heavens. She hadn't been sure that it would work, but she also hadn't had a better plan.
After the young ones had gone to try to stop Orion, Artemis had gone to the school's roof to wait for Orion to reappear in the night sky. She'd felt incredibly relieved when she saw him in the sky again, and even more relieved when Atlanta returned to tell her what had happened.
I was so glad to see her unharmed, Artemis recalled. I don't think I'd ever cared about a mortal as much as I cared about her, not since Orion anyway.
Thinking about Atlanta and Orion gave Artemis an idea. That night she went outside again, but instead of simply stargazing, this time she rearranged the stars to form a new constellation. It didn't take long, and when she was finished, Atlanta stood near Orion in the sky.
Artemis smiled as she admired her handiwork.
I wonder what Atlanta will think when she sees it, she thought.
Artemis hoped her former student would appreciate the gesture.
I'm sure she'll love it, Artemis decided.
It was a wonderful idea, and she couldn't imagine why she hadn't thought of it sooner. From now on, she'd be able to see two of the people she cared for most whenever she looked at the stars.
I wonder what story the mortals will create to explain this new constellation, Artemis thought as she headed inside.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to have the next one done soon.