Artemis and Mama Bear had exited the mind of a woman broken by her own lack of maternal instincts, and brought athena to a universe where her wrath meant little. They fell downward as they slipped past the cursed door, and landed in heap: face-down upon a warm wooden floor. They had fallen into the skewed and untamed consciousness of Desdemona, and became entrapped in her grief and love for misery: for she had lost her husband known as the famed Doctor Lyon. She had walked away from her better half and paid the price with her life. Artemis burst down the door with her angst, as she used limp legs as a battering ram: worried her sister believed she was alone in the world. The pair of Heroes had found the Goddess weeping in an empty room, wallowing in the awful world she had created for herself. Artemis crouched next to her sister, and explained in calming tone: that she had ordered the capture and concealment of the Lyon. He had been the key to her humility and enforced her need for humanization, and Artemis had needed to save him from Desdemona and her wretched wrath in order to save Mama Bear. Artemis had used Desdemona’s tactics of stealing anything and everything and implementing Athena’s anger and sheer force as a shield to protect her, before giving Desdemona a chance to come to her aid. Artemis only wept in agreement to her own tactful ability to harm others, and expressed that she didn’t deserve to be called Desdemona’s sister: for Artemis had once abandoned the young woman with Hera to destroy.

Artemis informed her sister that she had cursed the Lyon until infinity: to be slain if their niece Mama Bear ever fell at the hand of Athena. Desdemona had failed in protecting their children, but selfishly believed that she had deserved her own. The Goddess abruptly stopped her tears and began to laugh in a hollowed and strange way that Artemis had never heard before. She began to crawl away from her sister, and Artemis excused Mama Bear from the empty room, as she assumed Desdemona had realized that she were the most evil incarnate of the memories Artemis had created. The imposter had openly given clues as to her wickedness, and Artemis had discovered her true identity the moment Desdemona had attempted to persuade her into believing she would, and could exist in a world without her beloved Lyon. This lie had once belonged to Artemis, as she had declared that she couldn’t exist without the Viking and or Orion in her worry of her sisters opinions on the two men. She knew she was wicked in only her ability to need or want of these men, and her blatant avoidance in selecting one over the other. She believed that her own charm and love of laughter, had incurred a strange aura of female independence that had “caused” her sexual assault. Artemis chose to love men and their bodies out of an obligated polite conscience, and feared that caring for anyone other than herself, would inevitably cause her to commit suicide.

She did not blame her love for absurdity on anyone but herself, and so Artemis had finally learned humility by the default of being a human. Artemis continued to inform her towering adversary sitting upon the floor: that she had found and killed the original Lyon hidden away in her sister athena’s memories. The woman stood up and began to stomp and scream, as she mourned the situation she had created and dawned to her the truth she had ignored: Artemis had used a hologram to trick the woman of his presence, and proved that she had held him captive to entertain herself. Artemis sat down and looked in the direction of the woman, wallowing in self-pity as she held herself tightly to a wall weeping. Artemis had only hoped she’d never have to activate such an awful curse, but the passive woman and her prejudice had allowed her selfish ignorance to worsen her nieces sadness. Artemis knew this sadness too well, as her sisters had raised to quickly acclimate to their naked mean-hearted “jokes”. They had used their childhood to call her a freak and remind her that she was always to be considered separate from their unique connection: they had made a game of displacing Artemis in regard to her different melanin compositions and unruly hair. Even after Artemis had told her sister that such jokes hurt beyond the pain served by Athena’s fist: the woman proved that her loyalty was only spent towards spreading apathy, and making excuses for athena. The woman would continue to call her sister Artemis a cartoon character, or a burden until she had finally snapped and gained the courage to finally attempt to commit suicide.

Artemis needn’t ruin the imagination of her readers with the details of that day, and so she carried on with her battlefield speech. She informed her sister that she had written a manuscript to unburden her heart of her sins and depression, continuing to fight the battles of the three awful sisters: even though nobody had asked. Artemis knew her sister Desdemona was wicked in her inability to care about anything but herself, and so Artemis had been forced to prove that her actions held fatal consequences, and her words left unsaid in another life. She yelled at her sister as she wept: “Your sister beat me endlessly and the scariest part was seeing your face as I lost consciousness, and accepting that I was probably going to never wake up. You make mean “jokes” and act as though I’m not allowed to defend myself: the way Athena would sucker punch me...without a chance or reason.” Artemis informed her that she were no longer obligated to call her a sister: as Desdemona refused to admit that she had once successfully committed suicide.

Artemis explained how she had hid the loved ones of her enemies on another plane in punishment, and only her presence would gather the spirits lost to the endless universes. The Goddess Desdemona would always find ways to be jealous of anything that held a pulse, and so she stood behind her and began to attempt to slice open the throat of her sister as she hysterically yelled for her to shut up. Artemis had fashioned a green ribbon to guard her open lacerations, and so the beastly woman became more enraged by her inability to get her way. Artemis took weapons of silver and gold to weave her epic tale, as she no longer had a recognizable voice fit for the comfortable standards of the public. She set forth in the still of the night: working alongside the woman she had just widowed, and resurrected her husband out of worry. Artemis needn’t slay this monster: for Desdemona was not a threat of hers to destroy.

Artemis would sit and ease her dreams, as they navigated through the false world that held them both prison. Artemis bowed at her feet humbly, as Desdemona stirred with jealousy: for her weak and lame sister now required “extra” attention as a cripple, and her appearance made her sick to her stomach. Artemis would combat her need to spread other-isms by simply being herself,and watched as the woman grew vitriol with her need to make others agree that Artemis was not a person: arguing that she didn’t deserve love, let alone anything to call her own. Their Papa had once informed Artemis: watch your sister. An odd request since Artemis was often teased for being a sissy and petite, and Desdemona was known for being cunning and unapologetic. Artemis now understood this order had only been suggested because they had been trapped in their memories, and the famed Doctor Lyons seemed to have intentionally forgotten her husband. Artemis had sought her out specifically: for her ability to process and solve advanced mathematics, and ended up inception-ed by whatever anger Desdemona held unresolved. Her sister was being questioned and implicated by the Gods of Olympus: having been accused of letting a hyper-sexualized Boar loose upon the world in her boredom. Desdemona was known for being sneaky and judgemental in a hypocritical way that set the Barr low. Saying one thing, but doing another. Setting precedence for accusations to arise by flaw of her own personality traits.  Artemis had once instructed her niece to shoot a Lyon, but didn’t specify which one...since the two were not married in the non-zero. Her voice was frantic and meaningful as she yelled “Shoot now Mama!”, and watching as her precise aim struck the male Ph.D. Lyon in his lean chest. The poor girl had covered her own eyes with the static, as she now apologized endlessly for having blindly followed command of her Captain. Artemis would take full-accountability for the accidental slaughter: for she had set out with the strict intentions to resume her bloodthirsty ways, reminded by the anger of inaction and passivity: left with only the power of her words, and forced to destroy.

Artemis knew her sister wouldn’t ever care if she claimed to have been a murderer, as the title would mean calling her youngest sibling...a person. She sat and waited with her sister, as their cat Chandler used her Ancient magic: to purrr in agreement to their sins and resurrect the Lyon that had been prematurely forced to its death. His only sin was loving the wretched and being complicit in his silence. Artemis finally grew tired of her own self-wallowing and began to introduce herself to her long-lost sister: realizing the woman had intentionally cursed her to be single. The details of the curse panned out the more they spoke, as she used her single status as proof she didn’t deserve love. Desdemona would boast of her invisible husband and become annoyed that Artemis needn’t brag endlessly aboot her Orion. She approved of her new boyfriend, a kind DJ that held firm dimples and a flirtatious charm: applauding her for “liking” someone other than the man she had already promised to wed. Artemis used the decoy of her situation to hold her love of Orion to herself: tired of Desdemona waiting to view the only man Artemis had ever openly loved. Artemis wasn’t insincere in her liking of her boyfriend, but knew his expectations of her, were far too many, and her capabilities and redeeming qualities far too few. Her many feelings met with argument, and his love was often forced upon her back in a way that crippled her. Orion had always loved her for being herself, and the DJ had needed her to change to make him happy, or up to his standards: in the looming chances that he would ever wish to wed her. Something that she couldn’t do, as she now lived each morning in the worry of shitting herself, and the realization that she was left unarmed and without a security in knowing Orion might not even care that she was cursed to live in indescribable pain. Desdemona sat in the jealousy that the woman was unbend-able in her spirits, and fully content in only knowing of Orion’s existence: happy that she had found him at all, and excited to improve herself. Artemis had once wished that she were sixty-two: if only to prove that her love would always find her: no matter the age, and no matter their distance apart. Artemis began staring at doors in paranoia: waiting for him to knock and declare his love for her once more. It were evident that if he ever appeared again: it’d mean he had found out her secret and felt some sort form of guilt: that she had felt alone enough to finally bail from her chronic pain and attempt suicide.

Artemis could never find the words in the moment, and so she used her dreams to make enough moments. She had written a story after nightmares unending, and watched in horror as they began to come into fruition: the woman forever haunted by the things she allowed to transpire. She was accountable for all the sins in the world, as well as the sins of her own family bloodline. Artemis told her sister of her blind love for Orion with a pure and honest heart, but knew her words were to selected meticulously and without a reason of doubt in her tone. She informed her sister that she had countless dreams of Marrying the Indigenous Warrior named Orion, and they blushed by how tall he appeared to both of them: until Artemis hid away her shield and his portrait to preserve and protect the only thing she ever cared aboot. Artemis the world would never let her marry him: for she had endless nightmares of their toxic love. She would be walking along a marble corridor in perfect stride to her love, as their togas whipped dangerously behind them. She’d laugh at the thought that she loved following him around, even in her dreams, and they’d always begin to argue over things unknown. The man had finally broken her heart, as he humiliated his wife publicly: barking at her not to touch him...finally breaking his polite facade, as he turned his back to her and called her a freak. He had felt this way all along, and she had played his marriage game to prove that he had meant every word and every woman he had fucked or needed to say in order to hurt her. Artemis had woken from the nightmare to see him lying next to her in his beautiful splendor, and asked that the world to give her a reason to stop pathetically trailing him in her desperation. Artemis was tired of being the butt of his jokes, and bored that he still believed he was better than her. She had believed he was the one person in the world that didn’t treat her existence as a joke, but forgot that he had once made too many reasons and problems that forced her to walk away in defeat. Artemis didn’t need a random guy to remind her that she was pathetic or unwanted. Artemis was once an orphan: having been cast off a cliff for being the weakest of the Spartans, and unworthy of the air Orion breathed regardless. She didn’t need to be reminded that she didn’t deserve love, as her own parents had cast her out of their lives upon her birth and soon after she had allowed someone to rape her as a toddler. No man could love the raped, and she knew it had given her wings. Seeking kindness and understanding within the comforting embrace of women when she grew tired of violent penises being thrust into her. Her trivial existence was in defiance of all those that looked down upon the deformed and weakened in false empathy. Artemis knew that Orion would never admit to any wrongdoing, and it left her with only the option to admit he was the reason she had found the courage and foolishness needed to attempt suicide.

She didn’t need Orion to validate that she deserved love or respect: simply a rope and some pills. Artemis had been beaten, neglected, starved and raped. Her last drop of sanity was in the distant embrace of Orions kiss, and she had traded it for the pride she gained by being her own person. She had wished to reconvene with the council she once stood guard over. Wondering why her words mattered, but Orion’s words and actions didn’t. She had traveled to the past to gain perspective of what Orion had called “love”, and regained the memory of asking for a divorce from her favourite human. He had thought stalling her by playing a game would bring them closer together and distract her from the fact that he had probably never loved her. A truth she had hid from herself because his presence next to her had once been enough to deal with his hoe-bag ways. The memories in her dreams allowed her to assemble a war council upon Mount Olympus: begging them to start up a relic machine as she paced around a table of men...with the hopes that it would erase her memories of Orion, or erase her existence all together in the best case scenario. Artemis had started her new life by ending one...thousands of years ago: a false God that idolized suicide.

Such awful dreams haunted Artemis: whenever she lay next to her love or the men that came before and after him, and so she had forced herself to let Orion go. Her inability to tell him of her physical pain overshadowed...by her need to prove she had been right. He had never loved anything aboot her, just the way she made him feel aboot himself. Artemis didn’t need his help to stand up with pride each morning, and she’d be just fine as a divorced woman: humming in content that Orion was busy fucking up someone else’s day and without worry of the probability of getting STD’s or being pregnant with a child that would "force" Orion to stick around in polite obligation. Her curse of being “ok”, forced men to follow her around in their unbridled enthusiasm to have a chance in replacing Orion. Artemis cared not...that her sister ridiculed her for being single: only disappointed that she refused to call her a person worthy of love. She watched as her sister wasted her day away and laughed boastfully aboot her abilities to avoid accountability. Their Papa had called her “the Queen of doing nothing” for good reason. Artemis had been dubbed the Queen of nothing: for she held her nose high and wore rags fit for boys. Pious with toxic masculinity and lacking accountability by way of privilege. Athena had been the Queen of War: for her love of fighting outweighed any form accountability. Artemis now accepted her fate: watching as the pieces fell together in an epic poem. Their evils were left unchecked in a world they had stumbled upon by accident: for this...Artemis had cursed the steel chariots they drove, as they honked endlessly to announce the arrival of their wicked words and intentions. Such silly tactics were used as replacement for violence, as the men and women in both of their lives fell ill in a strange depression: their honking a public nuisance that misconstrued their self-image over time. She needed them to announce their wickedness, and she’d take to a life of public transportation or the ancient method of transporting by way of feets to avoid public ridicule more than what she already received for having a diseased spine. Artemis would giggle at the inclination of what that meant to her two elder sisters that had once attempted to steal or beat the smile from her face, but Artemis knew she was left alone to fight the battles unending without the burden of worrying aboot Orion stepping in to claim himself as her protector. She had used her visits to judge and find remedy to their silly curse. Eventually. Laughing to herself that they had both known of her book, but avoided it in the foolish fumble of refusing her a proper voice and her title as an author. A person. In the meantime...Artemis worked only on herself, as she had finally decided to live for herself: no longer looking to hurt those she loved by attempting suicide.

Next Chapter: *[ XXXVI ] Artemis and the Albino Peacock*