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Love is a multifaceted thing, a cut crystal turning stray beams of light to rainbows, the most precious of gems glittering with captured light, a million voices all saying the same word.
No one knew this better than Aphrodite, no one could claim to know as many faces of love as the Goddess of the Thing Itself nor to know it as intimately. For Aphrodite loved. She loved freely and intensely and wholeheartedly. She loved nearly all she met, each in a different, unique and wonderful way.
Her fellow Gods, all so passionate and beautiful. How could she not love them all? Regal and mighty Zeus with his booming confidence and magnificent thunderhead beard. Wild and boisterous Poseidon who strode the world with a rakish grin. Aloof and intelligent Athena with her silver barbed tongue and cool certainty. Laughing and generous Dionysus who could cheer even the rocks. Fleet-footed and quick-witted Hermes, the rogue who brought news and laughter wherever he went. Demeter, both as she had been, a nourishing and coddling mother, and as she was, wrapped in her cold grief for lost Kore. Steadfast and burning Ares with his wry grin and razor wit.
And little Artemis was simply adorable, a study in contrasts. Shy and recalcitrant, stubborn yet flexible, prickly but not capricious, gentle caregiver and unscrupulous butcher, delicate frame and deceptive strength, vast wilderness and compact graces, relentless pursuer and skittish prey…
There were so many places to hide on Olympus, vast space that it was, and yet Aphrodite dared say she had found most of them. Largely by finding Artemis first, which had become something of a hobby, because that guarded heart was so full of love it fairly shone like a beacon and you never knew where she might have hidden herself, seemingly able to slither into the slightest of spaces and would do the funniest or most endearing things to remain hidden or while staying there. She had once found the Huntress in a badgers’ den telling a new mother that she had good reason to be proud of her new litter, who would certainly grow up clever and strong, and yes, they were also very cute little fur bundles, cooing over the babes and their tiny little ears (Aphrodite had to rush away after hearing that, or she would have pulled Artemis from the ground like a turnip to coo over how cute she was).
Still, this one was new, Aphrodite mused as she grinned at the moon-wide eyes of the Huntress curled up behind some cloaks in a wardrobe. “Hello, darling! My, what are you doing in there?”
Artemis tried a few times for words, her mouth moving numbly for a few moments. “How do you always find me?” she finally asked, her voice more a hoarse wheeze than actual words.
“Are you building a nest?” Aphrodite continued unabashed, gently moving the cape draped over Artemis’ head to one side. “Is it that time of year already?” There was actually a little nest of velvet and fur cloaks on the floor of the wardrobe, perfect for cuddling up in.
“What?” A proper voice this time, if still full of lost confusion.
And, really, Aphrodite had never been known for her restraint, but she still managed to not immediately scoop up the little Goddess and smother that adorably confused face in kisses and just hold her and-
“Do you think there’s room for two?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead slid into the nest with Artemis, somehow managing to get underneath the smaller Goddess and seat her in her lap, closing the door in the process. Aphrodite might not deal much with wild animals, but she did know that depriving them of an escape route was an excellent way to get bit and… well, she wouldn’t really be opposed to that, but only if it was all in good fun.
Her manoeuvre worked, baffling Artemis so much that she seemed to entirely forget that she should maybe fight this invasion of her personal space, that she should bolt from this hunter who had turned her into prey, at least for long enough that Aphrodite could bring a finger to her lips and shush, eyeing the closed door meaningfully. The Huntress, used to such communications from her comrades and reacting purely instinctively to it, nodded firmly and turned her attention to the door, lying in wait for either prey or assailant to pass by.
A monument, Aphrodite thought, to my restraint. She placated her itching hands by playing with the braid in front of her, at first just admiring the texture, thick and soft like a carpet of moss on the forest floor coming apart into strands that glimmered like dew even in the near darkness of the wardrobe and gave off a heady, herbaceous scent that filled the lungs like the hot breath of tea.
She had completely undone the braid, after nearly an hour, and was contemplating redoing it before Artemis seemed to even notice and threw her a puzzled look. Then another. Then one that was tinged with slight horror at apparently realizing who she was actually sharing the space with.
“Who are we hiding from?” Artemis said softly—so softly, like the hide of a fawn or shadow falling on moss—and the close space did simply delightful things to her voice.
“Whoever might find us, of course,” Aphrodite replied just as softly, like the touch of a lover’s hand or a kiss goodnight.
“Like you found me?”
“No one can find either of us like I can find you, kitten, I’m no common beast to be eluded, you know.”
She got such an offended look for that statement that she almost apologised to keep the Huntress in place, until Artemis actually spoke, her voice full of disbelief and spite. “Kitten?”
And, oh, how did everyone not simply adore this girl? No wonder the other Olympians wouldn’t leave her be, doting on her in their own peculiar and overbearing ways. “You don’t like it? Maybe ermine or marten would suit you better, then. Or polecat, I suppose, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She hummed thoughtfully and fingered the thick fall of hair she had meticulously undone, marvelling at how soft it was. “Ermine, I think, is the better fit.”
Such a baffled look that got her. “Since when did you know much about animals?”
“I was given an offering of just the softest fur and had to know more. Apparently, those are all different animals even though they look so alike.” Aphrodite pouted. “But they just don’t feel the same as kitten to say.”
“What’s wrong with using my name?”
“Artemis is a lovely name,” Aphrodite allowed, taking the risk of wrapping her arms loosely around the Huntress’ waist, which was met with discomfited tensing and shifting but no outright rejection. “I suppose I’ll just have to think on it some more.”
“Could you maybe… do that elsewhere? Does it have to be in this wardrobe?”
“In your darling nest, you mean?”
Artemis bristled, but… “Yes.”
Aphrodite grinned. “I suppose not. We could always do something else.”
The Huntress sat tensely, staring at Aphrodite’s patient smile as if waiting for the sword to fall. It didn’t, the two simply looking at each other for several silent minutes. “What do you want with me?” And, oh, how scared she sounded. She didn’t want to, tried not to, but there were tremors hiding in her voice.
“This. This is nice.” And it was! Sheer intimacy, sitting in a small dark space, cuddled up close together, their scents—roses and herbs and musk and leather—mixing into a comforting perfume, being so close and alone was all she could ever ask for.
“This? You are happy with just this?”
Aphrodite huffed. “There’s no ‘just’ about this, darling Artemis, and yes, I am quite happy with this. Not to say I wouldn’t be absolutely delighted to do more,” and she had to hurry before shy Artemis got entirely the wrong idea, “like braid your hair. Or anything else you might like.”
Artemis grabbed a lock of her loose hair, looking at it first quizzically, then with a scowl, shooting an askance glare at Aphrodite before shuffling to offer her back, and her hair, to the Goddess.
Once again demonstrating such restraint that, really, she should add that to her list of domains, Aphrodite simply hummed appreciatively before starting to run her hands through the wild mane again, as if she hadn’t just meticulously picked apart any tangles that might have been in it.
“Why?” Artemis asked guardedly after a long moment, her voice still as soft as the capes they sat on, hesitant as a hare under open sky.
Weighing her options, Aphrodite hummed, and decided that being coy would do her no favours. “Because it is all that you would want. I have no interest in unrequited desires.”
Artemis angled her head slightly, just enough that she could look over her shoulder. “And that is within your control?”
“Somewhat. It depends on a capability for desire. Most can, and do, desire me, so I can desire them. You cannot desire me, so I do not desire you.” Not that she couldn’t see how others could, had listened to the woes of more than a few of her would-be suitors as they waxed poetic about moon-kissed skin and night-dark eyes, about the sleekness of a hound and the fleetness of a hind, about feline grace and quiet solemnity. And much less savoury things, too. There had been one who had broken off mid-poem with the realisation that his true love was poetry and Artemis was just a coincidentally excellent muse. “I could force myself to, I suppose.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I have no idea. Your hair is so soft, do your animals ever just nest in it?”
Artemis relaxed slowly, then chuckled. “I’ve had a few baby squirrels insist on sleeping there, but I generally try to keep it critter free.”
The word critter finally did it. Aphrodite just had to hold Artemis tight and hide her face in her shoulder and make the least dignified noises. “How are you so cute?” she squeaked. “You’re the cutest critter I’ve ever seen! How am I just-?” She lifted her head to pepper kisses across a board-stiff Artemis’ cheek.