Artemis hated council meetings even in the best of times. She was made for stalking through brush, loosing arrows like rain upon prey, and riding her sleigh far above where even the clouds dared tread, not listening to petty gods fight petty quarrels. Her only comfort was her silver throne, engraved palm leaves and moon cradling her back and framing her head like a crown, and hunting knives, curving wickedly in the light of the braziers.
It had taken nine days and nights for wounded Ares to recover from the poison that had burned through him, nine days and nights until raging Ares had risen from the sick bed he'd been put in by the half-blood whose name was on the lips and minds of every deity there. When the god of war at last stood on his own two feet, his wrath had burned as hot the warheads that exploded on the sides of his seat of power.
Zeus had left his rampage along the coast and across the oceans to call a war council the day his son finished his convalescence, but there had been no concern on his stormy face when he watched Ares stride in- only the same disappointment that had greeted her and her brother. There'd been none for Athena, though she'd failed in capturing Nereus the night that Artemis failed to stop the half-blood. What folly could she commit that Zeus would not call wisdom? she wondered bitterly as the goddess in question continued speaking.
"The sea spawn will not be able to hold the essence of Ouranos that he stole," bright-eyed Athena said. "Nor can it be gifted to any god of Olympus. If the sea god has any sense, he will tie its power to a new cornerstone and keep it under heavy guard."
"You didn't think he could hold a symbol of power, either, though, did you?" scoffed Hephaestus of the forge.
The goddess of wisdom glared coldly at the interruption. "Never has a domain been held by a demigod; the unprecedented is to be expected." But you didn't, Artemis thought with a trickle of dark satisfaction. Athena hadn't even expected the boy to have taken any domains yet, let alone hold a symbol of power to seize the nadir of a leyline. "The half-blood is, however, still mortal, and the seed of the Sky would boil any blood that does not run gold."
Those that bled crimson could not withstand its might, and those with gilded ichor could not grasp it. It was barren, a collection of gifts spilled to console Gaea of her lost hundred-handed sons by birthing the first gems- diamonds, amethyst, rubies, aquamarine and every other jewel. A purpose unfulfilled; Ouranos should have feared greater crimes than theft from his children.
"Clearly it's not boiling him fast enough," Zeus rumbled after a glance at Hades, who shook his head. The boy still lives. "We ought not let it rest in whatever cornerstone the half-blood stored it in. If he can claim it once, he can do so again."
Athena shook her head. "Even a fraction of Ouranos is a great weight to bear; it will demand a heavy toll. In times of great desperation, it might be donned once more, but until then, it is functionally little more than a door to the other cornerstones. However," she continued thoughtfully but assuredly, "it may be designed to defend itself, and if taken under the waters of the lake nearby where the leyline's anchor first rested, I mislike our odds of victory. The god of the sea has taken a foothold, and a sturdy one at that. It would be best to let him climb a little higher so that he may fall that much further."
"They're outmanned and outgunned, let's just attack and toss them in the Pit," growled the god of war.
"Yes, because that worked so well the last time," replied Artemis said with a raised eyebrow.
Aphrodite, she that was and was of love, turned to her, hair flashing a thousand colors: blonde, auburn, grey, wine-red and kingly purple before settling on a shade dark as the new moon. Her pink camisole melted into an ebony corset dress so black that her hair flowed into it like the dread river to the damned delta. It was embroidered with vines of thorny roses that curled around it, at once seductive and taunting. "You were the one that was supposed to stop him from getting to the cornerstone, and you were the one who let him roll out the red carpet for his dad. You had to pray for aid- I hope it tasted bitter on your tongue."
"What kind of goddess can't even handle a demigod?" snorted Ares.
"The kind of goddess who didn't bleed first against that demigod when he was twelve and didn't end up a shivering, weeping mess after facing him six years later."
The god of war snarled, "Hey! Fuck you, I didn't cry, and he cheated both times!"
"Watch yourself, Ares," warned Apollo, who flew above even the Sky, eyes turning the same solid gold as his tunic and wide belt. There's such a thing as too much gold. Memories of her lustrous temple inspired no feelings of hypocrisy; silver was subtler, dignified regardless of how much there was of it. "You don't talk to my little sister like that."
"He cheated against me as well and I haven't complained about it," Artemis complained, speaking as though her brother hadn't opened his younger and much more foolish mouth. "Besides, assuming you manage to catch your prey, do you have a replacement in mind, or do you want the Sea to rage unchecked?"
"The Sea has not shown itself in millennia," claimed Zeus. "It may have even faded like Ouranos has."
Based on only the word of Poseidon; regardless, neither did Gaea nor Kronos stir for long before they rose, and Pontus was bargained with, not defeated, thought Artemis before voicing her opinion.
Proud Zeus was unmoved. "We fought back the Earth, and if the Sea rises after my brother is defeated, then he shall agree to a new accord with us or be cast down also!"
"If it fights, it can fall," said Ares with a bloodthirsty grin. "I'm down to boil some oceans. Let's pour Pontus into the Underworld and see how he likes it. Give him a long overdue family reunion."
Hades took offense the war god's words. "The Pit lies below the Underworld, and you lot have already sent the Underworld enough souls that I've had to start a committee to manage all the committees. It's crowded as it is!" At that, the throne room descended into chaos.
"Who cares about the mortals, if this keeps going next year's harvest will be ruined!"
"You can't party without people! Humans make so many fun drinks, Tampa-"
"Too many orders to deliver, and-"
"-not enough concerts!"
"The forecasters can't get anything-"
"-stuck forging plain old swords!
"Not supposed to be drinking-"
"So much tragic romance-"
"-buying inflatable rafts and rubber boots-"
"-useless mocktails-"
"-messing with my tv reception-"
"ENOUGH!"
The braziers exploded, twenty-foot-tall flames swirling upwards into blazing columns, scorching the air as dry as a desert. They flickered back down, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. All heads turned towards the eight-year-old girl that grew into a woman, clad in a lengthening brown dress and scarf over her head with sizzling embers for eyes. Her hands, normally open and welcoming, were clenched into fists as she leaned forward atop her simple wooden throne. For the first time since the meeting began, the gods were silent.
"Enough," commanded the eldest child of Kronos.
"This bickering solves nothing," scolded the goddess of domesticity.
"We are kin…" pleaded the goddess of family.
"…and you will act like it," asserted the goddess of state.
"The world will not burn…" snarled the goddess of fire.
"…for we will not let it," said Hestia, keeper of hope, first and last of the Olympians, her tone weary.
The other gods looked as tense as Artemis was, holding a white-knuckled grip on her hunting knives. Her aunt was slow to anger and had not been this wroth since the Greeks had dared to tear down the hearths of Troy during the sack. She didn't expect peaceful Hestia to actually attack, but the worn leather grip was familiar and soothing beneath her palms and the calloused pads of her fingers.
"A treacherous family," Zeus replied, eyeing his sister warily. "My brother schemes for my crown, using Perseus as an excuse to keep my children," he glared at Hermes, Dionysus, and Persephone, "and siblings," he continued, turning towards Demeter and cunning Hades, "from aiding their king."
The huntress hadn't been surprised that the last three had deferred a month ago; a throne, let alone two, was a difficult debt to repay. Of all the half-blood's demands after Gaea a year ago, that one had reaped him the greatest rewards.
"Perhaps, then, you should take away that excuse," Hestia said, slumping against the plain oak backrest as she once again took the form of a child.
Wise Athena tilted her head, intent and genuine. "You would have us ignore the Olympic Charter?"
"It is the foundation of our rule, sister," the king of the gods said.
"There are many ways to light tinder," answered the keeper of the hearth.
"The boy has already turned down godhood twice," spat the mistress of war. "I would not see him offered it a third time."
"Oh?" said roguish Hermes, mischievous smile twisting into a cruel smirk, "still blaming him for your failure against the giant?"
The goddess of war snarled and rose, right hand gripping her spear as the grey of her gaze swelled and overtook the whites in her eyes. Her white chiton morphed into a set of skirted armor, a matching helmet feathered like an owl's tail, gleaming breastplate and greaves, and Aegis on her left arm. Mind your temper, there. You are far too estranged from sentiment; you ought not walk through it without the stars to guide your way.
As Athena made to lunge at the god of languages, lightning struck the center of the Throne Room with a deafening boom and stayed there, stretching miles above the oval hole in the ceiling to the marble floor, crackling and grasping and twisting amidst glass from the skylight landing and shattering and skittering away. For a few moments the bolt hung there, thrashing against invisible chains, until Zeus, master of thunder, dismissed it with a careless wave.
His tone, though, was anything but careless; it was heavy, and angry. "Take. Your. Seat." With gritted teeth the favored daughter obeyed, sitting back down below the crown of violets at the height of her woven and silver throne as Aegis vanished in glimmer of light. Her armor and spear remained, even as the shards of glass rose to take their place above the throne room once more. "I will not suffer brawling while the council is in session."
Athena stared at impish Hermes with murder in her stormy eyes. "The next time your tongue speaks of her, I will rip it out." She continued with a nod to her king, "After any ongoing council meeting, has been dismissed, of course." At her father's nod, Artemis gaped in disbelief.
"If you two are quite finished," prodded Hades with a bored look. "Since even the entrance to the Isles of the Blest was not enough to sway my brother into giving up Perseus, I see only one way to achieve peace."
Zeus growled, "Then you are short-sighted. If we let the boy ascend, all we will have achieved is another god fighting against Olympus." Against you, Artemis silently snapped before finding herself surprised at both the thought and the venom it held.
"How do you know?" wondered Apollo, the far-seeing. Everybody turned to her brother, who was reclining on his throne, chin resting on open palm. "You commanded us to take up arms to handle a breach of law, and I obeyed. The past month has shown that the crime cannot be punished as the Charter demands without war, and now you claim that it is unavoidable regardless. Do you have any proof of the sea god's treachery?"
It was not Zeus who answered. "Yes," said Hephaestus in his raspy, booming voice. "We do. Forging a symbol of power is no small matter. Each is unique, beautiful in its own way. Its creation is a journey to be savored," the god of smiths continued with a fond smile on his perpetually red, cragged face, as though reliving a beloved memory. "It is not to be rushed, otherwise you are like to ruin it beyond repair."
"How long a time, precisely, have you finally determined would be required to make the ones wielded by the sea god's four children," queried Athena. At the question, artful Hephaestus seemed to wake from a dream, a scowl on his suddenly flaming bushy brow; not that gods dreamed, Artemis knew from experience.
"You can have an accurate judgement or a rushed one, not both," he said with a glare at bright-eyed Athena. "After some testing, I'd hazard at least 98 days for the whip, which I reckon would be the easiest, and that's with plenty of corners shaved. I don't think the cyclopes would take any shortcuts, though. They do good work."
"I did not grant them permission to forge these weapons; four more crimes to lay at the sea god's feet, all committed before the abomination's curse came to light. These are not actions of peace or defense," Zeus said. Her brother nodded thoughtfully before resting his head against his hand again. Her father continued, addressing the council as whole, "Once more I call upon you to fulfill your oaths."
The god of war spoke first. "I am no coward that would refuse," he said, aura flaring. She felt rage encroach on her and scowled at Ares. A hunter was not wrathful: a hunter was mindful, observant, persistent. Occasionally vengeful, but only ever rightly so.
She carefully didn't think of Kallisto's weeping, or how her once closest friend stumbled off into the forest on unsteady paws, where she would eventually fall to a hunter's arrow. It was easy to push back the memories; she'd had many years to practice. Instead, she focused on Aphrodite's look of displeasure at Ares's words, pillowy lips pursing as her hair lightened to a crimson-streaked blonde and the rose thorns on her dress began dripping gold.
"The spawn is a threat that must be removed," said the goddess of war.
"The sun will fight," her brother said with minute wince, unseen by all but his sister.
Artemis resolved to speak to him privately but agreed, nonetheless. "The moon will hunt." From Apollo's weighted gaze, she had no doubt he wished to meet as well.
Sighing, Hephaestus reaffirmed the decision he'd made weeks ago. "I'll help." Truly, he has no sense of theatre.
"I will not," said Hestia. She looked tired but resolute. Expected, but still undesirable.
The goddess of beauty abstained as well, shooting daggers at her paramour and husband. "I am of the Sea and Sky both; I cannot war against myself. Besides," she said with a giggle like crystal bells, "I'm a lover, not a fighter."
A flimsy excuse, thought keen-eyed Artemis, who'd witnessed the horde of doves that had swarmed Typhon and bloody petals that blinded Periboia; she'd also seen how Aphrodite had comforted Perseus after the battle. The boy brings his father many allies.
"Someone has to be there to negotiate final terms," said the god of messengers, the second child of Zeus to stand aside.
Hades looked his kingly brother coolly in the eye as he spoke. "The Underworld lies beneath sea and sky both; it will have no part in this conflict." At his words, Zeus growled, sparks dancing along his skin and down his midnight suit. When Demeter and Persephone nodded in silent agreement, the electricity brightened and multiplied, the god of thunder's blue orbs darkening like storm clouds eager to strike. Her father stood, fury writ in every movement and crackle of lightning clinging to him.
"This is treason," he hissed at his brother, trembling with rage as he eyed those who refused him in turn.
Her uncle raised an eyebrow black as the Styx. "No, it is not, unless you wish to fight a war on two fronts."
Artemis tightened her grip on her silver knives once more as the air turned heavy, dangerous, like a living thing that wished to rip and tear at godly skin until shimmering ichor flowed across white marble. Then it turned cold, as if it wanted to freeze her limbs in place while it leeched her essence from her, an omnipresent parasite. In the midst of it all, she saw Hades stand to face her father, the Helm of Darkness flickering in and out of existence, and the god of the Dead with it. Neither of the eldest gods struck first; to do so would be a declaration, a line carved irrevocably in the pale stone. The Underworld and the sky stared each other down.
The sky broke first, visibly reigning in himself and the electricity that coated him like a second skin. "I will not forget this."
"You best not," replied the Underworld in an oily voice.
Both retook their thrones: Hades's obsidian, with damned souls silently screaming and clawing for freedom on either side, rib bones on the back that curled around the edges, and twin helms facing outwards engraved in gold at the top; Zeus's platinum, white-blue lightning running along the arms and sides and back. Artemis thought, not for the first time, that Hades had gone a bit overboard with the bones.
"And you, son? What say you?" Zeus asked the final god.
Dionysus blinked blearily as he spoke, saying, "I thought you wanted to keep the demigods out of this." Suddenly, his purple eyes flared, dancing to the mad melody of opportunity. "Unless… you wish to end my sentence early?"
"It is done," declared Zeus.
The god of madness smiled, slowly and cruelly, his beer belly shrinking beneath a tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt that melted into a leopard skin toga. A crown of vines with grapes intertwined alighted atop his head. "Off we go, then," said the god of the revel, a glass full of blood-red wine appearing in one hand and his pinecone-capped thyrsus rod in the other. "Off to war we go."
The King of the Gods nodded before addressing those deaf to his cry for justice. "The rest of you are dismissed; your decision will not be punished, but nor will it be forgiven."
Hestia, Hades, Demeter, Persephone, Aphrodite, and Hermes vanished in six blinding columns of light, leaving seven gods and goddesses behind.
"Now that the lesser traitors are gone," boomed Zeus, "Let us return to the matter of greater ones. Both my brother and his spawn must be dealt with, but the half-blood must be ended before he can acquire any more domains. Tell me, Athena, what information you have gathered."
"He has shown control over both Misery," Athena tilted her head towards Artemis, "and Poison," she continued, gesturing at Ares. The god of war scowled while the goddess of the hunt bristled. Giving her report to the assembled gods had been humiliating, but not, she thought with wicked glee, as badly as Ares's had been.
"These are the domains Akhlys, who also commands the Mist of Death, which clouds the eyes beneath drachmas. The daughter of Night resides in the Pit, where the half-blood once fell." With your daughter, where they closed the Doors of Death. "I believe he likely encountered her there, where he stole from her Misery and Poison."
Apollo cut in. "The poison he wielded is either fresh off the line or old, old enough that I have not seen its like before, and very nasty. I treated Ares right after he was exposed, yet it still took him over a week to recover. If you get come into contact with any, hit me up ASAP unless you want a short coma."
"I doubt he is restricted to one toxin, either," said Athena. Turning her bright eyes to Artemis, she continued, "Perhaps holding one's true form would serve as a defense, but to do so would be rash, dangerous to one's own domains." With clenched jaw, Artemis imagined hunting down a grey owl, following it with feather-light footsteps and shooting it down with sharp, precisely placed arrows, before sliding a silver knife into its weak, quivering heart.
"A better choice would be to attack from a distance with the element of surprise. The boy can still die, and without the power of Ouranos's seed, pales before true divinity. For Misery, the same holds true, though perhaps limiting your number of manifestations would be wise. I have no other recommendations at this time," concluded Athena.
The god of prophecy hummed consideringly. "You think he managed to snag control over Death Mist as well?"
"Perhaps," answered Athena. "While it cannot be confirmed, keep in mind the possibility. In truth, awareness will serve as the best shield against any of his abilities; had Akhlys known what we do, the daughter of Night would likely still hold her domains."
"Hecate," the goddess of the hunt whispered, realization dawning on her like the sun. Seven divine faces turned to her expectantly. Artemis cursed internally and resolved to avoid saying the name until the goddess of magic's allegiance was confirmed. "If Perseus holds the Death Mist, would his father not reach out to the master of the Mist herself?"
The goddess of wisdom nodded slowly. "Indeed. I should have considered the possibility sooner." At her words, Artemis felt a sense of satisfaction that she attempted to hide. "It would be unwise to use her name until we have sent a representative to meet with her." Artemis tried not to look murderous, but doubted she succeeded.
"The other minor gods must be accounted for as well. They showed their true colors during the Second Titanomachy, and if they dare turn their cloaks again, they can suffer in the Pit along with my brother," Zeus said.
"It's a pity the flighty coward ran away when we finally have a use for him," added Ares with a mocking grin on his scarred face.
"Indeed. Hermes will come to regret that," promised Zeus. "But no matter; why would we need a messenger when we have a Pontifex Maximus?"
Artemis blinked in surprise. "I thought we were avoiding the involvement of other demigods."
"My son is a head above the rest and not yours to command," warned her father. "Besides, who would be better suited to negotiating with the fair-weather gods than the one who built their temples?"
After a moment in which no objections arose, ever-planning Athena spoke again. "Since the loyalty of Hecate is in doubt, it would be unwise to trust her with the protection of what cornerstones remain. They need to be reinforced regardless."
Zeus nodded. "Artemis," her father said, "Here is your second chance. Do not," warned the god-king, "Fail me again. Aid her, daughter," rumbled Zeus to Athena.
Artemis and Athena nodded, one face gilded in shame and the other coolly satisfied.
The meeting concluded after a little longer, to her relief. She slid gracefully off the wolf-skin seat of her throne and bowed once to her father before meeting her brother's eyes. They both vanished in flashes of light, reappearing on the cursed island of their birth. They met in a hidden grove, cloaked in curtains of morning glories on three sides- Apollo's choice, not hers, though she couldn't say she disliked the violet blossoms. On the fourth side of the grove was a lake that extended beneath a low overhang into a shallow cave.
It was inaccessible by normal means, and many enchantments had been placed on it to keep out prying eyes and greedy ears. When she turned to face her brother, the first thing she noticed was how grave his normally bright face was, and the unsettling aura that hung around him like an old, weather-worn cloak. It whispered of hopes and dreams and fears and nightmares, at once alluring and terrifying.
Even gods knelt to Prophecy. What weaving of the Fates that could be glimpsed was not to be challenged or ignored; fight or flee it, Prophecy had its due regardless. Her brother's once golden eyes were a sickly green, the color Python's venom.
Before Artemis could say anything, green mist billowed out of his mouth, enough to cover the soft grass and peaceful waters of the grove and creep up the sides. Where it brushed against her ankles itched, as though made of a thousand tiny blades not quite large or sharp enough to draw ichor. I'm going to turn you into a pincushion when you're done, Artemis silently threatened. She knew for a fact that Apollo could have held off long enough to give her a heads up- he'd managed to make it through the council meeting, after all. But no, 'It'd ruin the timing of the reveal,' she mimicked inwardly.
"Sorry sis, but I've got some bad news," Apollo said. You brat, she thought with asperity, and then her brother began speaking in a voice not his own, high and raspy and layered thrice.
A roaring trident and hidden serpent,
North, South, East, and West by dead children sent.
Three heads claim renown but the first shall drown,
the next be crowned, and the third cast down.
From the opened tomb comes most ancient doom,
Olympus in ruins saved by broken loom.