Summer, June 2006, Wimbledon, London
This chapter contains some history lessons that not everyone might enjoy. I did try to make it as interesting as possible, so as to not bore anyone.
As always, you are welcome to correct any factually incorrect elements of the story.
Zoë has always enjoyed her fair share of sports.
Of course, being not quite a half-blood, and having none of the natural disorders that come with being a demigod, she could also sit down, nurse a cup of tea and enjoy a well-written novel...or on one of her lazy days simply spend all her free time cuddling with her goddess. However, she had always preferred physical activities to the quiet and serene environment of, say, a mortal library or a bedroom (although she had her fair share of exercise in there, courtesy of Artemis). The thrill of being active, the adrenaline coursing through her veins and the rush of excitement as an arrow was released or as she ducked underneath a knife swing was quite uniquely refreshing, in a strange, tiring sort of way. It made her feel...alive, she supposed. Purposeful.
It was one of the reasons why she was such an excellent Hunter (or so she hoped). Millennia of daily exercise and exertion has made her strong, lithe and enduring - even more so than when she was an immortal Hesperide. She could gladly run a mortal - what did they call it these days? Marathon? Yes, she could gladly run a mortal marathon without even breaking sweat, on one of her good days. And even on a particularly bad day, her endurance was usually far more than what the day held in store for her.
But even though the thrill of physical excitement rarely failed to satisfy her, when one has lived as long of a life as she has (nearly three millennia!), they have to be constantly seeking out new experiences, new activities, new recreations lest they become stagnant and inactive, and Zoë was no exception. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she had mortals to thank for that.
In Ancient Greece, sports, while not nearly as developed and diverse as the modern era, already had its fair place in the islanders' daily lives. In the days of the Greek city-states, when Theseus was running around killing the Minotaur and dumping Ariadne (Zoë had a healthy dose of disdain for the supposedly honorable son of Poseidon - he was just like all men, really), Greece was not yet a unified country. The city-states of the then divided islands constantly warred with each other. Zoë smiled slightly as she remembered the days when she ran around with the Hunt, defending cities under her lady's patronage. The days when gods were much more active and in the lives of mortals. The days when the Mist was not yet in existence.
However, even though the city-states had their fair share of animosity between them (Zoë shuddered at the gruesome battles which had happened between Athens and Sparta - Athena and Ares's cities, respectively), that did not stop them from enjoying their sports and having their fun. These days were also the days when the first Olympic Games were held. Deriving its name from its birthplace, Olympia, and also in honor of the original Mount Olympus, the ancient Games mainly comprised of athletics, fighting, and equestrian events. Zoë found them a terrible bore, tasteless and mundane, without any signs of the eloquence and grace of a hunter - especially when the contestants, nearly all male, decided to run naked. Zoë had trouble washing the images out of her mind ever since she had accidentally glimpsed Orsippus's groin. She had screamed a very uncharacteristically girly scream and almost shot the offending contestant. At least it was just an Iris-message.
Then came the Ancient Romans. The Ancient Romans sure knew how to party...which often included some "sports". Mainly fighting, but that's besides the point.
All frivolities aside, the Romans had developed some basic forms of ball games - they had a basic understanding of the modern handball and a few others hardly worth mentioning, due to their simplicity and tediousness. Most of the time, the most popular activities were still fighting - gladiators, wrestling, brawling, and probably dozens more which Zoë couldn't be bothered to think of. As she had said, they all lacked subtlety and grace.
It wasn't until modern times when many of the sports of today started to be invented and made popular. Soccer (or football, Zoë hated these English people with an inflated ego of national pride), the current most popular sport in the world, began in China nearly two thousand years ago in a basic form known as Tsu Chu, but it wasn't until the mid-late eighteen hundreds did England pick it up and formed the Football Association - the first official organization for soccer. The concept of basketball, one of the most popular sports in the United States - second only to baseball - and the world, was first developed by a doctor in Massachusetts. It had a strange sense of humorous irony to it, Zoë supposed, since the concept was first made to help condition young athletes in the winter, and ended up becoming one of the biggest sports of the past decades.
Zoë had her healthy dose of respect for the respective sports - she could appreciate the skill and teamwork it took, the various complicated tactics developed by the teams' managers to attempt to win a game. But, Zoë had never been very keen on the concept of team sports. Even after multiple millennia in the Hunt, she still felt more comfortable either on her own, or with just Artemis. It was refreshing, she supposed, to only have to worry about herself for a change. It was as if a huge burden was lifted off her shoulders whenever she got a few weeks alone with her goddess.
But tennis, oh, my. That was a different matter altogether. For starters, it wasn't a team sport - it took two to play a tennis match, one on each side, minding their own business. At worst, playing doubles with Artemis was a tolerable alternative, even though the only girls who knew how to play tennis in the Hunt were Naomi and Cynthia, and they were rather mediocre at it.
That wasn't what had drawn Zoë to the sport, however, when she had first encountered it in 1978, when Artemis had taken her out for a special trip to England to watch the women's singles final of the Wimbledon Championships - Martina Navratilova won the title then, if she recalled correctly, at the mere age of twenty-one. That was when Zoë had started - really started - to pay attention to this special sport, and the following year, she had excused herself from the Hunt for a week or so to watch the second week of the '79 Championships. Martina successfully defended her title, as she recalled, although the final wasn't all that exciting. Loathe as she was to admit it, the men's final was much more dramatic - a five-set comeback by the reigning champion, Björn Borg.
The following year, she attended all four Grand Slams of the year, from Australia, to France, to England again, and back to the US. She followed the sport closely for many decades - both the men's game and the women's, she might add. She was noticeably disappointed when the 1988 Australian Open decided to switch from the grass courts of Kooyong to the hard surface of the Rod Laver Arena. Grass court tennis had always held a certain charm to her - lacking the brutality of clay or the consistency of hard court tennis, grass courts more than made up for it by its high standards of movement and footwork - two elements of the game which Zoë appreciated immensely.
Perhaps that is why the Wimbledon Championships remain her favorite tournament even now, in the twenty-first century, along with the fact that the Center Court has its special pull; a feeling of royalty and regalness. The royal family of the United Kingdom often resides in the Royal Box to watch the matches and games - a fact which Zoë found ironic, considering the last time a British tennis player won a major, men or women, was in 1977.
She had to grudgingly admit that the men's game had a higher standard of playing than the women's game, in most cases, anyways. They simply hit with more power and accuracy; moved with more speed and control. Not that she would ever admit it out loud, but the new dominant force in men's tennis, Roger Federer, was remarkably handsome and graceful on court, especially on grass. As the winner of the last three Wimbledon Championships, he was looking promising to capture his fourth consecutive title in London - and she would be there to witness it, in two weeks' time.
But, for now, she was simply enjoying some casually competitive tennis with Artemis, here on - well, Center Court. It was quite easy, really, for Artemis to manipulate the Mist a tidbit and gain them access to the most prestigious tennis ground in the world.
The only problem right now was, Artemis was a tad bit too good at the sport.
Zoë was not a sour loser...most of the time, and she didn't mind if she lost to Artemis (which happened more often than she cared to admit), as long as she was performing well. If she had tried her best, then that was nothing to sulk about.
However, that did not mean Artemis was allowed to hit a line with pinpoint accuracy on every forehand. Nor did it mean she could somehow get to a ball which would've been a winner had it been anyone less than a goddess and turn it into a winner of her own. It certainly didn't mean she could disrespect Zoë's hundred-and-twenty mile serve with a drop shot return which spun back over to her side of the net.
"Enjoying yourself so far, dear?" Artemis's amused voice drifted over to Zoë, who could only send a half-hearted glare at her goddess from her lying position on the ground, courtesy of a particularly infuriating rally when Artemis made her run from side to side, always keeping the ball just slow enough for Zoë to reach, but not enough to hit an effective, neutralizing shot. It had ended with a humiliating deep slice which had completely wrong-footed her and made her slip onto her backside on the green grass.
"I...hate...thee," she managed to gasp out. Artemis laughed, an infuriatingly captivating sound as she vaulted nimbly over the net to Zoë's side of the court.
"You told me not to go easy, Zoë," she reminded her smugly. "I am simply complying with your wishes."
"Oh, do shut up," Zoë groaned as she picked herself up. "I did not give thee permission to hit the far edge of the line with every shot."
Artemis crouched down over Zoë, her silver eyes glinting with amusement. "My apologies, my dearest Nightshade. What will you have me do…" she traced a finger lazily across Zoë's cheek. "...as a punishment?"
"Thou art insatiable for the goddess of chastity." Zoë shook her head in mock disapprovement in an attempt to hide the blush threatening to flood her cheeks. She tried to roll out of Artemis's shadow, only to find herself caged by her goddess's slender arms and legs, with mere millimeters of space between their bodies. "My lady…"
"Can you blame me?" Artemis's hot breath tickled her nose. "You are too alluring for your own good, Zoë. This is all your fault." Her hand crept inside Zoë's shirt, making her breath hitch.
"We are in public…" Zoë pushed feebly against Artemis, but even she knew it was a terrible attempt at covering up her growing arousal. "On the Center Court of Wimbledon. This isn't appropriate-"
"Indeed," Artemis agreed. "Does that not make it all the more exciting?" Her lips drew closer and closer to Zoë's, the goddess's scent filling her nose with the wonderfully familiar smell of pine trees and forests after rainstorms. "The prospect of mortals seeing us, together…" She dragged the last word on for impossibly long. Zoë shut her eyes, trying to resist the temptation to just lean up and press her lips to her goddess's and-
"We have not finished our match," Zoë mumbled. The sudden withdrawal of Artemis's body heat nearly made her whine with loss. She opened her eyes again to see Artemis, entirely taken aback, start laughing incredulously.
"Of everything you can come up with, my love, that is the excuse you use?" Artemis shook her head as she pressed herself to Zoë once again, nearly making her sigh with satisfaction.
"Can thee blame me?" she mumbled. "With thy body pressing on top of mine…"
Artemis smirked and drew her face in for a kiss, making Zoë gasp in surprise. She tasted of wild berries, sour and sweet at the same time in an inexplicably addicting combination.
"I can count this one as your win, my brave one," Artemis murmured against her lips.
Zoë supposed it was a deal.