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Hestia was a far kinder soul than Artemis was expecting. She prepared for the same mild disinterest as the rest of her relatives. She expected the snide remarks and lack of acceptance. Yet Hestia never greeted her without a smile. Her brown eyes burned like sullen embers, her beautiful tan skin flickering on occasion as if it were difficult to keep form.
Artemis was welcomed into Hestia’s domain with ease. After all, a warm hearth, a dark night, and a bright moon went well together. Finding solace in the eldest god, Artemis spent countless hours staring into a multi colored hearth. It was small and tucked away in the confines of a dark chamber. Only Hestia and Artemis knew of its existence.
The space was comfortable, heat radiating in a gentle aura and caressing even the farthest corners of the room. In the kaleidoscope of flames families flickered in and out of sight, children playing vanished as quickly as they’d come, and grandparents telling old stories came into view from time to time. It was like watching all of humanity sitting around a single hearth eating, laughing, and crying together. It was absolutely beautiful.
But Artemis would be lying if she said her time with Hestia wasn’t without selfish reasons. Many nights, Artemis would sit alone in the dark room watching Zoë through the flames. Some would have called it obsession, others infatuation, but for Artemis it was nothing but concern.
“You could go to her,” Hestia encouraged, sitting beside the young goddess. Artemis found the woman’s company quite peaceful. She didn’t mind sharing the intimate details of her excursions into the mortal world, or her encounters with the titaness.
“I cannot,” Artemis replied, staring intently at the fire. In it, she saw Zoë shivering from head to toe, back flush against the trunk of a tree, fighting off a frigid wind with a fur tucked about her shoulders. “She does not want to see me.”
“Did she say such a thing, or is that what you’ve determined yourself?” Hestia asked, tilting her head to the side as she examined Zoë.
“She has left me alone on two separate occasions now. If she wanted my presence she’d have stayed. I know when I’m not wanted, Hestia. That has been the course of my entire life,” Artemis frowned, drawing her knees to her chest. She couldn’t fathom Zoë’s decision, but she’d respect it. Even if it pained the goddess to watch Zoë freezing in the beginnings of a winter storm.
“Maybe she’s scared,” Hestia proposed, the fire burning brighter and growing a clearer picture.
“Of me?” Artemis worried. The thought alone pained her. She’d never want to make Zoë uncomfortable or afraid.
“You are a god after all,” Hestia reminded. Despite the gravity of her words, she was kind in her tone. She went so far as to settle a hand on Artemis’ shoulder, fighting away the shiver that raced down her spine.
“I don’t want people to be afraid of me,” Artemis muttered, resting her chin on her knees.
“Unfortunately, that cannot be helped,” Hestia sighed. “It comes with the nature of godhood. If people didn’t fear us, they wouldn’t need us.”
Artemis remained quiet, her eyes trained on the shivering visage of Zoë. Sensing an end to their conversation, Hestia bid the young goddess goodnight and left Artemis to her own devices. In the dark, Artemis remained vigilant in her watch until exhaustion tugged her into a deep sleep. She dreamt little that evening, her mind occupied by worry and anxiety. She’d never been able to shake those feelings even when she slept. It was as much a part of her as the moon or Apollo.
When she woke, things were different. The fire still blazed, but in it was nothing but a blanket of white. For a moment, Artemis worried she’d broken the ancient hearth. It never showed anything but people, and yet all there was to see was snow. Then, the goddess saw the slow rise and fall of a tiny mound of white. It was like the snow was breathing. Then it occurred to her that Zoë was beneath that thick frozen blanket.
Biting at her bottom lip, the goddess considered what to do. She could save Zoë but that would mean disrespecting her boundaries. On the other hand, Artemis couldn’t beat the idea of letting her freeze to death. With a pained sigh, the goddess stood.
It wasn’t difficult to find her. What became difficult was prying her out of the rigid frost. With a deep sigh and a bit of concentration, Artemis snapped her fingers. A ring of moonlight shot out blasting away snow with a warm breeze. It uncovered a fallen girl. Curled in on herself, Zoë was pale and purple in the lips. She’d be lucky if she hadn’t caught frostbite.
Collecting Zoë in her arms, Artemis was greeted by sharp pains of cold. Undisturbed, Zoë remained fast asleep as Artemis stepped inside a large tent. A hearth burned in the center, smoke emanating from a small flap in the top. Thick furs and blankets composed a bed beside the fire, and over it warm broth was cooking.
Setting Zoë on the bed, Artemis buried her with furs and settled warm rocks around her feet and hands. The heat radiating from the stones would be trapped in the furs and speed up the thawing process. For some time, Artemis sat in silence, cycling out warm blankets, hot rocks, and stoking the fire. At some point, Zoë began to stir, whimpers escaping her as pain flared in her body. As blood began to circulate, fighting away the cold, she began to shiver.
Eyes snapping open, Zoë looked about disoriented and in pain. It took her a moment to notice a familiar looking girl watching her intently. Artemis grew nervous, unsure how Zoë would react at her presence, but it was clear she wasn’t in good enough shape to do much of anything.
“I know it hurts, but it will pass in time. Just try to breath,” Artemis encouraged, stoking the fire into a larger blaze. The goddess herself was impossibly warm, silver beads of sweat decorated her brow, but if she were uncomfortable she never mentioned it. Instead, she continued to tend to Zoë until the other girl stopped shivering and began to sweat.
“How did you find me?” Zoë asked, tentatively flexing her fingers as she struggled to sit upright. Her muscles were stiff. Each movement felt like it took twice as long to complete.
“I’ve been watching you,” Artemis confessed. She regretted her admission almost immediately. She could tell by the look in Zoë’s eyes that she’d invoked some type of fight or flight. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all. You never said anything before you left. I didn’t want you to be hurt or-“
“I don’t need you to worry about me,” Zoë protested, throwing off the furs draped across her shoulders.
“I understand,” Artemis nodded. “Look, I just came here to keep you from freezing to death. That’s all. I know you don’t want to see me. I understand that we aren’t really friends and I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Just, stay here long enough to wait out the rest of the storm. You can take whatever you need with you and I won’t bother you ever again. I promise.”
There was something in the way Artemis spoke that sent a pang of guilt through Zoë’s stomach. The goddess looked at her with genuine guilt and apology. It was something Zoë didn’t expect from gods. If she were to admit it, she was quite moved by the emotion in Artemis’ eyes. Tears even brimmed in them. In fact, Zoë couldn’t help but feel a little guilty herself.
“I’m sorry, I’m being cruel,” she sighed.
“You’re being safe. There’s a difference,” Artemis corrected. “I know you’re probably afraid of me. I just want to know why. I thought…well, I thought after we met at the festival that you weren’t scared of me. You knew what I was and you didn’t run away. So, if I’m being honest, I’m confused as to why you’ve abandoned me. Was it something I did?”
“No,” Zoë insisted, instinctively reaching to comfort the young goddess. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. “It’s not your fault. None of it really is.”
“Then I don’t understand,” Artemis frowned, standing awkwardly to the side. She’d wrapped her arms around herself in search of comfort. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t bear to look Zoë in the eyes.
“Will you look at me, please?” Zoë asked, trying to draw the goddess’ attention. Artemis reluctantly met her gaze. In Zoë’s dark brown eyes she saw a mixture of sympathy and empathy. “I’ve kept a lot from you. More than I’d care to admit. When I told you my mother was a nymph that was only part of the story. You truly have no idea who I am. It’s wrong of me to hold that against you.”
“Whatever it is you’re afraid to share, I won’t judge you. I won’t lay a hand on you or grow angry or banish you. You don’t have to keep anything from me. I’m not…I’m not like them,” Artemis insisted, her voice hoarse. She continued to hold herself as she hesitantly sat across from Zoë. She stared at the other girl through the fire just like she had the night of the festival.
“What do you know about your family’s history? Before you were born?” Zoë asked, pulling a set of furs about herself. She’s grown cold at the idea of confessing her entire identity to someone that belonged to her enemy.
“There were gods and there were titans. The titans were evil, according to our texts, but I’m not sure all of them were. Before me there was Selene and before Apollo there was Helios. I’m not sure what happened to them but they seemed good. They were good,” Artemis explained, sad silver eyed finding images in burning coals.
“They were wonderful,” Zoë smiled. “They were kind too. Like you. But you’re right, the titans were evil. To a certain extent. They existed to rule, nothing more and nothing less. When the Gods were born and war broke out, they promised a brighter and happier future. One where immortals and mortals lived in harmony. It seemed like a good idea, but I had my doubts. So did my sisters.”
“Your sisters?” Artemis asked, curiosity piquing her interest.
“My sisters are the Hesperides. I was one of them. My father is Atlas. The infamous Titan general tasked with killing your family,” Zoë sighed, biting nervously at her bottom lip. “My sister, Calypso, was my father’s strongest defender. I, on the other hand, stayed clear of the war. It wasn’t something for me to worry about. But when the gods won they took her from us and banished her.”
“She lives alone now, on an island,” Artemis concluded.
“Yes,” Zoë nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “Life wasn’t the same with her gone. Father became cruel and cold. More than he already was. He was bitter and scheming during his eternal punishment. Frankly, I blamed him for my sister’s misfortune. He should have discouraged her, protected her, but he didn’t. She was thrown to the wolves without a care in the world. When I found an opportunity to punish my father, I took it. The great hero Heracles found his way to my home and I helped him. He stole an apple and went on his merry way. When my family found out they tossed me out. I’ve been alone ever since. I spent the first part of my time in the mortal world searching for my sister, but I never found her. Then I learned that Heracles never even mentioned me. He promised I’d get to escape my home and find refuge on Olympus. That never happened. He was a liar, a schemer, and a traitor.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I refuse to recognize him as my brother,” Artemis noted, turning a charred stick over in her hands.
“It does,” Zoë smiled, laughing softly. “My point is, Gods and Titans, don’t get along. Heroes and Titans, don’t get along. Mortals and Titans, don’t get along. You and I, we aren’t meant to exist beside one another. I don’t belong to anything or anyone. I never will. I can’t fit in with the mortals, or the heroes, or the gods, and I certainly can’t go back home. I will always exist in a space between.”
“What if I told you I’m not as much of a god as you think I am?” Artemis asked, meeting Zoë’s gaze. “You say that gods and titans don’t mix.”
“Nothing good comes of it,” Zoë insisted.
“What about me?” Artemis pressed. “My mother is a Titan and my father a god. I’m as much a Titan as you are. I exist in a space between. I’m not mortal, I’m not godly, I’m not even a Titan. I am, and that is all. When I met you, I felt like I was seen for the first time since I came to Olympus. Now I realize that’s because you’re the only one like me. Maybe the only one who will ever be like me.”
“Your mother,” Zoë began, voice small and hesitant, “what happened to her?”
“I don’t know,” Artemis admitted, swallowing tightly. “What about yours?”
“I’m not sure either,” Zoë frowned. “My father took me. That’s all I know.”
“Likewise,” Artemis muttered. A pause passed between the two for quite some time until Artemis found the courage to break it. “Do you think in another universe we could have been proper friends?”
“I think so,” Zoë nodded, pursing her lips in contemplation. Despite her better judgment she’d grown rather fond of the goddess just in the short time they’d talked to one another. “I don’t see why we couldn’t be proper friends in this universe too.”
Artemis’ head snapped upright and she regarded the other girl with wide eyes. She was hesitant to smile, but when she did it made the corners of her eyes crinkle.
“Are you asking me to be your friend?” Artemis breathed, heart hammering.
“If you’re willing to have me as one,” Zoë shrugged. She’d never had friends before. She didn’t have much of a concept as to what friendship meant, but she supposed it was better to learn as she went.
“Of course! Of course I am! I’ve never had a friend before,” Artemis smiled, fingers drumming spastically on her legs. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a friend. I didn’t exactly plan on it, anyways. How-how does one act as a friend?”
“I’m not sure,” Zoë admitted. “But I’m sure we’ll figure it out.“
And they would. The two girls who were so different and so alike would find comfort in one another. The space between wouldn’t seem so lonely, and the world wouldn’t be so cold. In truth, good things did come from titans and gods, rare as it was, and friendship was one of them.