This chapter is a bit darker, more angst-ridden than the previous one. Just thought I'd warn you. Yeah...OK hope you enjoy.

Scorn & Spite

Aphrodite was bored.

She had combed her lengthy, golden hair until her fingers ran through it like water. She had changed her outfit more times than she could count. She had stared at her reflection for a good hour or so. And now she was out of activities, or even ideas of activities, that centered on her vanity.

Wandering dejectedly throughout the palace, she happened upon a most interesting conversation.

She heard voices—hushed and distraught—coming from within Artemis' chambers. The door was slightly ajar, so she stationed herself outside the sliver of open space and listened closely.

"I know not what to do, Kore!" Aphrodite recognized Artemis' voice. "He came to me in my dreams yet again last night. I fear I have somehow unknowingly wronged Morpheus and this is his punishment to me."

Then Persephone's more lilting tone: "Sister, trust me, you need not fret over these thoughts. Desire is no sin."

"Even desire for one's own flesh and blood?"

Aphrodite's perfect brows arched up in surprise. What news was this? The Virgin Goddess plagued by lust? And for a fellow deity, no less. Intrigued, she strained to hear more with bated breath.

"When has incest ever been frowned upon in Olympus?" Persephone argued wisely. "If it be a crime, then our own father is guilty of it many times over. And I am but a product of illicit misdeeds. Your lust for Apollo is no more wrong than my very existence."

Artemis was silenced by her younger sister's words. But Aphrodite could barely keep her tongue still. This unexpected revelation would prove most useful. She had warned the Night Goddess that her murder of Adonis would not go unpunished…

It seemed she had just discovered a cure to her boredom.

"Ero—s," Aphrodite called to her son, elongating the "oh" sound as she swept into his bedroom.

The God of Love was still sleeping off the effects of the previous night's frivolities. He rolled over so that his face was buried in his pillows and groaned loudly.

"Stop whining and get up," said his mother, "I require your aid in a project of utmost importance."

Lifting his head up out of the cushions, he replied, "Mother, please don't tell me this is another one of your ill-devised schemes to meddle in the lives of some hapless mortal couple."

Aphrodite ripped off his sheets, exposing his naked form to the cool morning air. Eros yelled, both angry and embarrassed, "Mother! How many times—"

"Oh hush," she said dismissively, "It's nothing I have not seen before. Now get up."

With an exasperated sound, he grabbed a pillow and placed it strategically over his groin as he rose off the bed. Aphrodite smiled, almost wickedly, at her son's compliance. She loved it when everything went her way.

"Good boy," she said, "Listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you…"

This is wrong.

Eros kept repeating these words in his head, although he knew that he was already resigned to the task his mother had set upon him. Someday, he would figure out why he always allowed himself to be coerced into doing her dirty work.

His inner ramblings came to a halt, however, once his assigned target stepped into view.

Apollo strolled into the meadow, his lyre at his side and a troubled look upon his face. Eros watched him like a predator eyes its prey. Perched in a tree overlooking the clearing, he fingered the fletching of his honey-tipped arrow.

Completely unaware of the danger he was in Apollo sat himself down in the center of the field and began to pluck a melancholy tune. He hummed a sad little melody as his eyes slid closed and he allowed the notes to sooth his disconcerted thoughts.

The sweet sound of his music enticed a young nymph, who had been resting on the banks of a nearby river. Curious as to where the beautiful music was coming from, she wandered into the meadow and was stopped in her tracks when she beheld the Sun God. The scene before her was so ethereal she found she could not bring herself to trespass upon it.

It was the perfect opportunity.

Eros pulled his bow taught and took aim. His first arrow flew unerringly into the heart of his desired victim.

Apollo felt a sudden twinge of longing, though he knew not what he longed for. His fingers came to halt and he lifted his head in search of something—anything that would soothe the unbearable ache in his chest. His gaze fell upon a shadowed figure hovering tentatively at the edge of the forest. Though he couldn't make out her distinct features, he could tell from her silhouette and posture that she was lovely. He was instantaneously enamored.

Eros, of course, knew the moment that love had blossomed within Apollo's heart. It spread swift and sure, suffocating all thoughts of anything—or anyone—else he had ever previously cared for until the wood nymph before him was all that he could even conceive to desire. She was made his world, his one and only thought.

After witnessing this shift in Apollo's emotions, Eros couldn't find the resolve to complete the mission. It wasn't that he particularly liked Apollo; in fact, on the contrary, he rather despised his ostentatious cousin. However, he had always enjoyed the company of the other twin. Artemis was one of his favorite deities and he could no longer justify following his mother's orders when he knew their effects would inevitably hurt his friend.

But the deed was already partially done. And now Apollo was irrevocably smitten with a stray nymph.

Eros began to panic. What had he done? Artemis would be devastated when she discovered her love to be unrequited. And the fact that it hadn't been unrequited until he had forced Apollo's attentions onto another, less deserving woman only made his actions more worthy of scorn.

His conscience-stricken ramblings were, however, abruptly cut short by his mother.

Aphrodite's ghostly image materialized next to her remorseful son, an expectant smile upon her phantasmal face. Eros jumped, startled by her sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, both hushed and flustered.

"Ensuring that you finish the job, of course," replied Aphrodite, without a hint of sarcasm. "You forget how well I know you; you have always had an overactive sense of morality."

Eros rolled his eyes. "Is that supposed to offend me?"

"It's certainly not your most desirable quality."

"Mother, I mean this in the best possible way," said Eros, "You are insanity incarnate."

"Do you not think that you're being a tad bit drama—"

"Mother."

"You will not dismiss me so easily," Aphrodite's tone suddenly became stern and cold, "You will fulfill your assignment. We both know you lack the will-power to do otherwise."

She paused, allowing the truth of her words to sink in. Her son fumed in silence.

"Besides," she continued, her shimmering visage looming just above his shoulder, "I could do much worse than toy with Artemis' heart. Grant me this bit of fun, and I promise not to think up some harsher form of retribution."

Eros knew his mother was right and that he had no choice but to concede, reluctant though he was. So with clenched jaw and furrowed brow, he took aim, let fly his arrow dipped in lead, and prayed to the Fates that, for once, his shaft would stray.

He felt when it pierced the heart of the nymph. The deed left a fowl taste in his mouth.

It was a quiet evening atop Mount Olympus. A few of the gods had gathered in one of the palace's many sitting rooms to share drinks amongst good company.

Artemis was seated upon a chaise, Persephone at her side. She was watching her brother, mystified, as he fashioned what appeared to be a wreath out of a couple of slender laurel branches. Apollo had never been one to enjoy nature; the woods were her domain.

"What have you there, brother?" Ares asked as he snatched the garland from Apollo's grasp.

"Nothing but a trinket," said Apollo, attempting to steal the wreath back to no avail, "You would have no interest in something so trivial, Ares."

Ares was only spurred on by Apollo's words. He laughed and placed the wreath atop his head, then proceeded to dance around the room in his interpretation of a nymph. The other gods, happily intoxicated, joined in on the jest.

Artemis, noticing her twin's discomfort, called out, "Come now, Ares, give it back to him."

The God of War removed the garland and turned it over in his hands. "Not until he tells me what it is."

"Are you truly so daft?" asked Athena, between fits of laughter. "Obviously it's nothing more than a few twigs woven together."

"Now that's not entirely true," Aphrodite spoke up with a smirk, "Is it, Apollo?"

Ares pounced on the bait. "What is this you speak of, my love?" he asked, wrapping his arm around Aphrodite's neck. He was lucky Hephaestus was busy in the forge yet again. Had he been present such a bold move would not have been tolerated, although all of Olympus knew of Love and War's affair.

"I saw you earlier today," said Aphrodite, "chasing that nymph through the forest like some lust-crazed fool." Although she was addressing Apollo, her eyes now turned to Artemis. "I must admit, Apollo, I was surprised; I always thought you had a much more refined taste in women. I suppose none of us can choose whom our heart desires…"

Artemis was so busy glaring back at Aphrodite she failed to notice that Apollo was looking at her when he replied, "No, we most certainly cannot."

She was filled with such a tumult of emotions she couldn't make sense of anything anymore. Ares was making fun of Apollo for falling for a nymph. Athena was giggling uncontrollably. Persephone was placing a hand on her shoulder. But all of it was drowned out by the sound of her outraged and heart-broken thoughts, repeating over and over in her crowded mind like the vicious taunts of an uncreative bully.

She was only vaguely aware of Persephone pulling her up off the chaise and tugging her out of the room. On her way out, Aphrodite stopped her just long enough to lean in right next to her ear and whisper,

"That was for Adonis."

Persephone guided Artemis back to her bedchambers and sat her down on the bed. She took her elder sister's face between her palms and stared at her worriedly.

"Artemis," she said as gently as possible, "Are you well?"

The older goddess looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. "Why do I feel like this, Kore?"

"Like what?"

"Like my heart is being clenched in someone's fist," answered Artemis, "Like I cannot find air."

Persephone's gaze softened. Sometimes it was hard for her to believe that she was the younger of the two. "Because, dear sister, you are in love."

Artemis froze. "What do you mean I'm 'in love'?"

Persephone chuckled. "The two words, when put together, have but one meaning. You do not simply desire Apollo…you love him, as more than a brother."

Artemis' face fell into her hands as she groaned.

Apollo collapsed onto his bed with a heavy sigh. Never had he been so confused. He considered himself a very self-aware individual—someone who always knew exactly what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it. But something had changed. Something in him felt unnatural.

He suspected that there was fowl play at hand, but it was all just speculation.

What he had felt for that wood nymph, Daphne, had been like a bolt of lightning. It struck him hard and fast, and then deserted him as quickly as it had come. He had thought it was love—the weak-kneed, butterfly-inducing, sweaty palms kind of love. But really it was more like an uncontrollable, unignorable urge to fill some part of him he'd been unaware was even empty to begin with. And it hadn't mattered who or what filled that space; he just needed to feel something other than the throbbing pain of suddenly realizing that he was incomplete.

His desire for Daphne had been short-lived, but the longing to feel whole remained. It was a deep, cavernous ache that wracked his body with unsettling emotions. Relief seemed unattainable when he had no idea as to what would provide it.

Restless and forlorn, he dragged himself up off his bed and out onto the balcony. It was a clear night, but for a few wispy lavender clouds that caressed the full face of the moon. Selene was at her brightest, and the midnight landscape was made all the more beautiful for it. Gazing up at the glowing orb, he was reminded by another Goddess of the Moon.

As of late, he had found it increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts—and eyes—from straying to his sister; it was becoming somewhat troubling.

Being twins, she was always in the back of his mind, like a shadow or an echo on the fringes of his consciousness. He had never fully understood it, but sometimes when he was acutely in sync with her, he could even sense her emotions. And at all times he had at least some vague idea of her whereabouts, which was how he knew that she was standing beside him on her own balcony despite her having made no noise to belie her presence.

He also knew that she was well aware of his presence. So she was purposely ignoring him.

"Trying to sneak up on me?" Apollo broke the silence with a teasing remark, trying to lighten the tension he could feel between them.

Artemis shook her head. "No…"

It had seemed like she wanted to say more, but when she didn't Apollo decided to continue, "It's lovely out tonight."

Artemis scoffed. "Of all the things…you choose to talk to me about the weather?"

Apollo was taken aback. He blinked a few times before asking, "Should I have spoken otherwise?"

She was silent for a beat, during which she appeared to be warring with herself over how to reply. When she finally did respond it was with a question of her own, "Did you truly fall in love with that nymph?"

Now it was Apollo's turn to be silent. He looked away and ran a hand through his already tousled, golden hair with a weary sigh. "That depends on how you define the word 'love'," he answered cryptically.

Artemis threw up her hands and cried out in frustration. "You are infuriating!"

"And you are baffling!" Apollo yelled back, turning so that he was facing her. "Which of my actions merited this sudden display of outrage?"

She stared at him contemplatively for a minute, her brow furrowed and her mouth set in a grim line. Then she turned her back to him and headed into her room. "Forget it," she muttered to the ground as she slipped through the curtains that separated her bedchambers from her balcony.

Apollo watched her, confused. His first instinct was to hop over the banister, jump the distance to her balcony, and follow her. But he realized that talking to her at that point would be pointless. So instead, he retreated to his own chambers feeling even more sullen and discontented than before.

He was surprised to find Aphrodite lying in his bed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, coming to a halt.

The goddess looked curiously pleased with herself as she smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her already pristine robes. Apollo suspected her only intent was to draw his attention to the sultry dip of her waist and the perfect curve of her hip. He was ashamed to say that it worked.

Aphrodite must have noticed the way his eyes followed the path of her hand because her smile grew even more satisfied. "Enjoying the view?"

Apollo straightened and regained his composure. "That wasn't an answer."

Aphrodite's smirk faltered ever so slightly. "I thought I would pay my favorite Sun God a visit." She slid off the bed in a feline and sensual manner, walking slowly—pausing at each step—toward Apollo.

"Flattery never was your forte," he said as he watched her with wary eyes, "Not unless you were receiving it."

Her laughter was like smoke, more breath than actual sound. "How I've missed your witty sense of humor…" She trailed her fingertip up his muscled arm as she circled him.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. From behind him, she leaned into the crook of his neck so that her breath was hot on his ear as she spoke, "Seeing you with that nymph today made me realize how long it's been since we last laid together…too long."

Apollo's posture had stiffened and he was focusing very hard on maintaining an appearance of indifference. "Our union was a mistake, Aphrodite."

She moved so that she was facing him once more, making sure to brush her breast against his arm as she did so. Her head was cocked to the side so that her hair fell more flatteringly and her slender neck was more visible when she replied in her most sensual voice, "You seemed to have thought differently when you were shouting my name over and over. Or have you forgotten?"

Whilst she was talking, one of her hands had discreetly moved to the clasp on her asymmetrical gown. As soon as she'd finished her question, she released it and her robe went whispering to the floor.

"Would you like me to refresh your memory?"

Apollo swallowed nervously. He knew that bedding the Goddess of Love was a bad idea, but he couldn't deny that he sorely wanted to.

Aphrodite was irresistibly beautiful. And having her stand before him in all her naked glory, practically begging him to make love to her, made him forget that something was missing from his life. He forgot about his upsetting argument with Artemis and about his unrequited lust for Daphne.

If just for one moment, he was whole and wanted. And it felt invigorating.

He answered her with a desperately passionate kiss.

They'd fucked so many times they'd lost count. Aphrodite had been intentionally and exceptionally vocal throughout; she'd wanted Artemis to hear every minute of it.

When finally Apollo was too exhausted to even lift his head up off his pillow, Aphrodite silently climbed out of his bed, put on her clothes, and left feeling sated and smug.

She wasn't too surprised to find Artemis waiting for her in the corridor.

Artemis' eyes were red and glossy. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her brow was creased. In the flickering glow of the torch-lit hall she looked harrowed and forsaken.

Aphrodite stared blankly back at her.

"Why?" asked the raven-haired goddess. "You already avenged your lover. Why do you torture me further?"

Aphrodite strode ahead, and paused when the two were parallel—shoulder to shoulder. "That was just for spite…" And then she continued on down the darkened hallway, her scarlet robes billowing out behind her, until her figure was lost in the shadows.

So I hadn't really intended on making Aphrodite such a bitch in this chapter, but it just sort of happened... Maybe I'll have her redeem herself later on in the story. Anyway, if you liked what you read please post a review! xx