Artemis couldn't tell whether she was more hurt or angry. Perhaps she was both. After everything he had promised and told her, this was the kind of man he turned out to be. The goddess wasn't too surprised however. She always knew him to be capable of such savagery and lechery. But even she could not have predicted her father to take his carnal hobbies to such a vile and downright monstrous extent. Still, Zeus had desecrated the oath her beloved follower had made to the goddess, the very same oath Artemis herself had made to her father.

As she stalked through the halls of the Olympian palace, she could feel her rage broiling inside her. She wanted to send an arrow straight through Zeus's skull, or his crotch, or preferably both. However, she would never do that, even though she so desired to. Zeus was the king of the gods and to stand against him in such an act of defiance would have her hurled off the mountain face, much like the lame blacksmith Hephaestus. Artemis could still, however, give her father a piece of her mind; perhaps laced with a little honey-tongued artfulness.

However, before she could make it to the throne room, someone grabbed her and dragged her into a secluded corner. Preoccupied with her fury and bitterness, she had completely missed the stranger's presence, nevertheless, by instinct Artemis had a hunting knife drawn and pressed against the stranger's throat; or at least she thought she did. Clearly the individual had expected this and grabbed her wrist, twisting the knife out of her hand and letting it fall to the floor. As she took in the details of the person, Artemis came face to face with none other than Athena. "What are you doing?" Artemis seethed. "Instead of trying kidnap me, I'm sure just telling me you wanted to talk would've gotten the message across just fine." Artemis's words were dripping irritation.

"You're rampaging down the halls Artemis. Would you really have stopped?"

"I am not rampaging," Artemis huffed indignantly.

Athena raised an eyebrow questioningly, a wry smile creeping across her face. "I think Apollo would disagree. That was very real fear on his face," Athena replied, referencing the god of prophecies who had just earlier jumped – or rather dove – out of the raging goddess's way.

"Good."

Athena sighed, assessing the younger goddess with her calculating eyes. Her gaze pierced through Artemis despite the latter refusing to look at the wisdom goddess. "You know you're smarter than this."

"Than what?"

"You know exactly what."

"He can't just do things like this and expect no consequence just because he's king."

"Father absolutely can do that. In fact, he's been doing it for just about as long as anyone can remember."

"That's not fair!" Artemis could feel the bubble of anger inside her expanding, ready to burst. She feared Athena might end up on the receiving end of her ire rather than her pig of a father.

"Of course it's unfair, but who's going to tell him that? You? People smarter and more powerful than you have already tried, believe me. How successful do you think they've been?"

Artemis opened her mouth to reply but found herself at a loss for words. Athena tended to have that effect on people. She hated to admit it, but the goddess of wisdom was right, as usual. She couldn't confront her father. Well, she could, but just not with the choice of words she really wanted to. Quite frankly, Zeus would be more horrified with her very large and very colourful vocabulary than actually offended by her accusation.

The grey-eyed goddess continued, "Father likes you. He will try to appease you with whatever sorry excuse befits the situation. For your sake, I advise you remain in his favour."

"For once, I'm not sure I care all too much about his favour. I want Kallisto back. You wouldn't get it Athena: he raped her. My huntress and my best friend. And using my face too!" Artemis could feel her vision beginning to cloud over with tears. The jagged shards of her broken heart had been cutting away at her insides for many days now. The weight of her grief seemed overbearing, crushing her flat and stealing the very breath from her lungs.

"I don't understand?" Athena asked sadly. "I think you know this story dear sister. When I was younger, I used to train with a group of battle-hardened nymphs by Lake Tritonis. There was one, Pallas, who became my closest friend. And I killed her because of father's interference. Do you think I didn't scream and cry and rage? Or perhaps you put that above the 'goddess of wisdom'? I killed my best friend and it was because of him." Athena paused for a moment, perhaps for dramatic effect or to compose herself, before continuing, "Remember I told you that people have tried to change him; people smarter than you, people more powerful than you – like our stepmother – and they failed."

"Yes but those were different situations. Pallas was an accident and as for Hera – she had to have known he was a monster when she married him. And it's not like she isn't a monster too. Kallisto, the poor girl. He – he savagely – " and suddenly Artemis couldn't take it anymore. She broke down into tears, so grief-stricken she could neither move nor talk. Just then, the goddess of the hunt felt a pair of arms wrap around her. Athena engulfed her half-sister in a soothing hug. Some said the goddess was cold or disregarding of others feelings, but she was easily one of the most empathetic and understanding of the Olympians; and Athena knew; she understood what it was like to lose a friend by the hand of their father.

Artemis, for her part, stayed in her sister's warm embrace as Athena's words echoed in her mind. Many people had tried with him, and none had been particularly successful. There was her stepmother, as Athena had mentioned. Despite her faults, there were times when one could only feel for Hera, who had been ruthlessly forced into submission, much like Kallisto. But Kallisto did not have to stand at her torturer's side for eternity with expected love and devotion. Then there was Athena herself. Perhaps the goddess had never truly moved on from Pallas, even though to the world that incident was long in the past. It would make sense why Artemis sometimes noticed the faintest flinch and clenching of her jaw when people spoke of 'Pallas Athena'. Perhaps Athena's resentment was left to fester when she, the goddess of wisdom, had to sit back and watch her king carry out just about every act of complete and utter folly known to men and gods. Or perhaps, it was long before that; perhaps it was when she was still in Zeus's mind, and learned of her father through her mother's sad smiles and poorly crafted lies about a 'caring and good father who will love you dearly.' Even then, Athena could not be fooled. There was her own twin brother Apollo, who lost his beloved son to their father's bolt. Much like Artemis now, Apollo couldn't hate Zeus, so he chose to hate the weapon instead, and slayed one of the Cyclops who crafted Zeus's Masterbolt. He spent quite some years as a mortal after that. Artemis could see the hidden bitterness in Apollo's eyes grow with her brother's slow and agonising fall from grace. Their father never quite trusted him again. Even Ares had his story. Zeus hated Ares. The king could not stand his very presence. Perhaps Ares warranted such strong dislike with his violent ways, but maybe his violence was not the cause and rather, the answer. Maybe Ares would not take part in war-mongering with such fervent delight had he not grown up knowing his father despised him so much so, he had banished him to be raised by a nymph in far off Thrace. Aphrodite also had a story to tell, as did Demeter and Hestia and Poseidon and so many others. In fact, Artemis was just another page added to that never-ending book.

With these thoughts swimming in her mind, and a hollow heart with no tears left to shed, she untangled herself from her sister's embrace and stepped back. In a steely calm voice, she said, "He still needs to know that what he did was not okay. It was wrong, and it crossed a line. Maybe, he just might listen to a favoured daughter." They both knew this was a hopeless delusion, but still, it was something, if anything, that the huntress could hold on to.

With this said and her mind made up, Artemis slowly yet purposefully stepped into the throne room and Athena watched her, praying the fates be merciful on her sister. The goddess stood there for another moment, before quietly taking her leave with watery eyes in the memory of fierce Pallas who had died in combat, like a true warrior.

February 25, 2018