The evening sun draped golden light over the ancient ivy-wrapped towers of Princeton University as the campus slowly emptied of students. Laughter echoed in the distance, bicycles whirred past, and the stone-paved paths glittered faintly with dew. The classroom doors had long since closed behind them, and Artemis and Apollo strolled side by side across the green, both still in their mortal disguises.
Their footsteps were deceptively quiet, but beneath the silence, a storm churned.
They had not spoken a word since the cafeteria—each pretending not to recognize the other before mortals. They had played their roles: Artemis as Annie Green, the composed and clever new student, and Apollo as the obnoxiously charming transfer, Lester Popolodobas.
But now, with Harry and Hermione gone—Hermione waving cheerfully from Harry's passenger seat as the sleek black car pulled away—Apollo could no longer hold his tongue.
"You're living a double life in a university," Apollo said flatly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Mortals are one thing, but this… this is new even for you."
Artemis didn't answer right away. She simply walked beside him, her eyes forward, posture relaxed but alert. When she did speak, her voice was low and firm. "I came to keep an eye on someone."
"Oh, I noticed," Apollo said, flashing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You were practically glowing. The only time I've seen you blush like that was… what, two thousand years ago? With Orion?"
That stopped her in her tracks. Artemis turned on her heel, her silver-grey eyes narrowing like twin blades.
"Don't. Speak. His name."
Apollo raised both hands innocently. "Alright, alright. No need to summon the moon wolves." Then his tone shifted slightly, more serious now. "Just… tell me, Artemis. What exactly is going on with you and that wizard?"
Artemis crossed her arms. "His name is Harry Potter. He's a friend. A powerful sorcerer who protects children—demigods, mortals alike. And yes, we've… spent time together."
Apollo blinked. "Spent time together? Like, long walks on the Alps kind of time? Moonlit gazes across a campfire? Hugs that linger a bit too long?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Artemis snapped, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. "We trained together. Talked. He's unlike any man I've ever met."
Apollo frowned. "You took a vow, Artemis."
"I haven't broken it."
"But you're thinking about it."
There was a long silence between them. A breeze whispered through the oak trees lining the quad, stirring Artemis's hair as her disguise shimmered faintly, flickering between mortal and divine for just a moment.
Apollo stepped closer, lowering his voice. "And what about the girl? Hermione. Who is she to him?"
Artemis didn't hesitate. "They're best friends. Hermione is like a… sister to him. They live together. They're raising a magical child together."
Apollo's brows shot up. "Wait, what? They have a child?"
"Well—not by blood," Artemis said quickly. "A godchild. His name is Teddy. The boy's magical and from what I heard quite extraordinary. Hermione helps raise him. But she and Harry are not romantically involved."
Apollo gave a slow, appreciative whistle. "So, the door's open then."
"Don't you dare," Artemis growled.
"What?" Apollo asked, grinning. "You just said she's not with him. That means she's fair game."
"She's not your game, Apollo," Artemis snapped. "You leave her alone."
Apollo's smile faded. "You've always had double standards, haven't you? I chase a girl, you scold me. You chase a boy, and suddenly it's divine fate?"
"This is different," Artemis said through clenched teeth. "Harry Potter is not like the others. He's noble. Kind. He—he doesn't treat me like a prize."
"He doesn't know who you are," Apollo retorted. "You're hiding behind Annie Green. He thinks you're some quirky student with a good aim and mysterious eyes."
Artemis looked away.
Apollo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not here to start another eternal family feud. Let's make this simple." He faced her squarely. "You want Harry Potter. I want Hermione Granger."
She turned back to him slowly. "Are you suggesting a truce?"
Apollo nodded. "Exactly. I don't interfere with your little… woodland crush, and you don't interfere with mine."
Artemis narrowed her eyes. "You're serious about this?"
Apollo smirked. "As serious as I've ever been about a woman who isn't made of sunlight and harp music."
"But you must swear—" Artemis stepped close, her tone now steely, "—you will not try to seduce Hermione by deception or trickery. She's brilliant. She deserves honesty."
"I swear it," Apollo said, lifting a hand solemnly. "No godly charms. No enchantments. Just good old-fashioned flirting, wit, and poetry."
Artemis sighed and offered her hand.
"And in return," Apollo added, his expression hardening slightly, "you don't break your vow. Virgin goddess, remember? You swore it by the River Styx."
Artemis froze. Her hand hovered in the air.
A long moment passed between them—twin gods caught in a strange, tangled battlefield of affection and divine law.
Then slowly, Artemis took his hand.
"Agreed," she said softly. "I won't break my vow."
They shook hands beneath the violet sky, two immortals pretending to be mortals, both wrapped in feelings they could scarcely admit to themselves.
As the wind picked up and the last of the students left the courtyard, Artemis turned and walked away toward her apartment building across the street.
Apollo lingered in place, watching the spot where Harry's car had vanished down the road.
"Let the best immortal win," he muttered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Then he followed her into the night.
Whispers were beginning to rise in the halls of Olympus.
Artemis, once the most punctual and disciplined of the Twelve, had become strangely elusive. She had not attended the last three councils, claiming she was busy leading a long-range hunt across the continents. But no divine eyes could locate her. Even her aura—normally radiant with silver light in the divine realm—had grown faint.
Her absence was especially conspicuous because Artemis had always been the embodiment of divine reliability. She arrived at meetings before even Athena, and her hunters never moved without her command. Now, however, Zoe Nightshade and Phoebe were leading the majority of the hunting parties. Even among the huntresses, unease had begun to fester. Some whispered that Artemis had taken on a secret mission from the Fates. Others thought she was hunting a primordial beast, perhaps one as old as Gaea herself. But none of them knew the truth.
Zeus, seated on his great marble throne, noticed the shift more keenly than the others. His daughter had become distant. And if there was one thing he could not ignore, it was when one of his Olympian children became unpredictable. That was the first sign of rebellion.
He summoned Apollo to the throne room, where thunder rumbled faintly in the mosaic skies overhead.
"She vanishes from Olympus," Zeus said, his voice cold and commanding. "She hides her divine essence. She evades even Iris' messages. You are her twin—you will find her."
Apollo bowed his head. "I already know where she's going, Father."
Zeus narrowed his eyes. "Then why haven't you reported it?"
Apollo hesitated for the briefest of moments. "Because she isn't doing anything wrong. She's just… exploring the mortal world."
Zeus' gaze sharpened. "No Olympian explores the mortal world this long without reason. You will follow her, and you will tell me what she's doing. If she has broken her vow, Olympus must know."
Apollo nodded solemnly but said nothing more. He left the throne room with quick steps, his heart heavy. He wasn't just her brother—he had always been her guardian in his own way. And now, he had to be her spy.
But he couldn't bring himself to betray her fully.
Later that night, he met Artemis on the rooftop of a mortal apartment building, where she stood in her Annie Green guise, gazing at the stars with her arms folded across the edge.
"They're watching you," Apollo said, his voice quiet.
Artemis didn't flinch. "I know."
"They sent me to watch you."
At that, she turned to face him. Her mortal eyes still held that divine sharpness, moonlight flickering just behind her irises. "And what will you tell them?"
"That you're still chasing monsters," Apollo said with a half-smile. "Which technically isn't a lie."
Artemis exhaled. Her voice lowered. "They will try to kill him, don't they?"
Apollo didn't answer right away.
Her fists clenched.
"Answer me, Apollo."
He sighed. "Yes. If they found out."
A long silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of wind brushing through the buildings.
"That's Olympus for you," Artemis muttered, her voice filled with quiet fury. "Always punishing the wrong side. Always condemning the wounded."
Apollo looked down, remembering another story. "It was Poseidon who violated Athena's temple, and yet it was Medusa who was cursed."
"I know," Artemis hissed. "She was once one of mine. A maiden of my hunt. And when she was assaulted in the sacred halls, did Olympus punish Poseidon? No. They cursed her. They turned her hair to serpents. Made her a monster so they could call it justice. And now they dare call me disloyal because I protect someone kind—someone mortal?"
Her words rang with a cold fury that made even Apollo's spine stiffen.
"I won't let them touch him," she said finally. "If they try again, I will make the mountains bleed."
Apollo didn't doubt her. She had made good on such vows before.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said softly.
Artemis turned back to the stars. "Then let them try to stop me."
And far above, in the shifting golden clouds of Olympus, the gods began to wonder if one of their own had begun to choose love over law.
It was by chance—or perhaps not chance at all—that Apollo was the first to notice her.
The woman walked into the lecture hall with a posture too perfect for a mortal, her gaze sharp enough to silence an entire auditorium. Her eyes held the sheen of wisdom that spanned centuries, and her silver-streaked brown hair was pinned into a bun that looked more like a crown. The name on the faculty list read "Professor Athene Wise"—but to Apollo, she was unmistakable.
"Athena," he muttered under his breath, gripping the edge of his desk as the goddess of wisdom swept past students and scholars alike with a scholar's grace and a war general's precision.
After class, Apollo wasted no time. He didn't wait for Artemis to spot her. He cornered his twin sister near the library stairs, where students were too busy with books and coffee to eavesdrop.
"You have to leave," he said urgently.
Artemis, still in her mortal disguise as Annie Green, raised a brow. "What happened?"
"She's here," Apollo said. "Athena."
That one name changed everything.
Artemis's body stiffened, and for a heartbeat, her mortal glamour flickered. "Are you certain?"
"I recognized her instantly. She's calling herself Professor Wise, and she's teaching medieval symbolism. What's worse, she's already sniffing around. Don't you get it? She tracked you. That means the others might not be far behind."
Artemis's jaw clenched, and she glanced around with narrowed eyes, as if she expected an ambush between the ivy-covered buildings of Princeton.
"You need to go," Apollo pressed. "You've already met Harry. You know him. You can see him later. But staying here… it's too risky."
Artemis didn't reply immediately. Her eyes were far off, her thoughts heavy. It wasn't just about herself anymore—it was about him. If Athena could find her through the veils she used to suppress her divine aura, it was only a matter of time before she discovered Artemis's interest in the mortal boy named Harry Potter.
Her silence was enough of an answer.
"I'll stay," Apollo said. "I'll keep an eye on Athena."
Artemis nodded, quietly. "Let me know if she does anything unusual."
"And you?"
"I'll go," she said at last, softly. "You're right. If she's sniffing around already, it won't be long before she figures out everything. And if she knows… Father will know soon after."
Apollo could tell she didn't want to leave. Her eyes lingered on the courtyard behind him, where she had shared laughter with Harry and Hermione just days ago. Her fingers curled slightly, as if gripping onto a memory.
"You can always visit him," Apollo said gently. "Just… don't be seen."
"Thank you," Artemis replied, her voice quieter now.
"Of course," he said. "But you still owe me a favor."
She snorted. "What favor?"
Apollo grinned, cocking a brow. "You don't kill me when I tell Athena you once blushed at a mortal."
Artemis glared. "I will kill you."
"That's fair," Apollo laughed.
And with that, Artemis vanished with the breeze, leaving behind only the faintest shimmer of moonlight where she once stood—while Athena, wise and ancient and deeply suspicious, continued to walk the hallowed halls of Princeton… unaware, for now, of just how much was unfolding around her.