Ichor

Artemis and Orion

i // you taught me the courage of stars before you left

If the oldest trees that lined the forest of Greece were able to talk in the way that their leaves ached to do, they would tell the listener in a sorrow fiat that it was Artemis that started the long lived legacy of a Greek tragedy.  

        She had not meant to.  She prayed to the Fates before any of it started that she would never be put through the agony of such a brainless emotion that would only end in pain and the stabbing of one of her very own silver arrows through her most vital organ; she knew the dangers of love, as she's seen the mess of girls that her father left in his path each day of his immortal life. But when it comes to destruction and blood, do the Moirai's ever listen?

        Some would say that she was cursed from the minute she laid eyes on Orion, that nothing good ever came out of two ladies too powerful for their own good. Like most of all the wide eyed lovers with their hands too tightly clasped together, they did not listen to what the Oracles foretold about their relationship and thought that they would end differently if they loved hard enough for the Gods to understand the bond they shared.  

        If those trees were to try to go back to where the tale had its opening lines, they'd begin with the tears that hit the dirt as Orion fled the village in which the people refused to treat her as the being she was: a girl. With her bones weak from the constant running and her eyes nearly blind from the horror of what she had to endure all those years before, it did not take long before she got lost in the woods that she thought of as her only friend. The woods were also Artemis' friend, though, so perhaps it was the trees that liked to gossip about the two lovers fault for them to have met in the first place.  

        Orion grew tired, too tired for a single mortal to handle. As she did not have a bed open to rest her head on and knew that it was not likely for her to find one anytime soon, she was forced to snuggle with her head in a nest of roots that laid at the base of a large tree. It was not a comfortable place to be, nor was it easy to recumbent on. It was all she had, however.

        After a few ghastly hours of a dreamless sleep, she was awoken by someone gently shaking her body. She did not mean to abruptly jump away from the girl that greeted her, but she did and that was all that mattered at the given moment.

        "Oh," said the other girl. "I did not mean to frighten you so; I saw you frowning in your sleep below the tree and came to see if you happened to be in some sort of trouble." After a beat had passed, she added, Are you?"

        Orion dared not to speak still, for the girl standing in front of her was too beautiful to not be a goddess. What if she made a fool of herself and the girl ran, never for her to be laid eyes on? Orion had heard stories in her village about the cruel romance Aphrodite enjoyed so much and if this maiden be that goddess, she must run. Orion already had enough sorrow in her twenty years prior, for she did not need anymore.

        The helping hand smiled, a ray of sunshine in the dark woods that never seemed to leave Orion's vision. "Do not fear me, please. How could I even fathom such a thought when I do not even know your name? Would it please you to know that I am Artemis?"

        It did make Orion feel a bit better to know that it was the goddess of hunt who was speaking to her, not the goddess of so called love like she had originally thought. She did not say this in response, however, as Artemis was still a goddess in her own right and would not be keen on bashing a heavenly power. Orion was but a humble mortal with a heavy heart; Artemis was a god with a helping hand.

        Through the smog in her head and the sandpaper at the back of her throat, Orion managed to speak with the grace that her mother taught her when she was old enough to realize that the Gods were not friendly. "I'm okay, your highness. I am Orion....simply Orion."