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bookishwenchSecond Yuletide fic. I actually dressed up as Athena for Halloween when I was 10, so I guess I'm a fan from way back. :)
Author: Meltha
Rating: FRT
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Various Greek myths
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Just a little gossip between Athena and a friend.
Author’s Note: Written as a stocking stuffer for Aevir for Yuletide 2007.
Disclaimer: Actually, I’d be really curious who could sue over this. Public domain. Weee!
Goddess Girl Talk
It’s hard being right all the time, Athena thought. She knew perfectly well that if Olympus ran the way it really should, Zeus would be the one standing around and expected to look pretty for the sculptors while she would be in charge. But no, the Fates decided the whole world should be run by a guy who had the worst case of teenage hormones ever seen in an immortal being, plus a temper than flared up over the stupidest things: the wrong color heifer in a hecatomb, for example.
Meanwhile, here sat Athena, the goddess of wisdom, knitting by the fire because she was patroness of the domestic arts. Ares had walked by half an hour ago, snickering at the poncho she was making. Well, let that idiot snicker, she thought. They might be the dual patrons of warfare, but it was obvious which one of them was the tactician. Ares was just good at waving a sword around. She was the one who meted out justice with a flashing grey eye.
Anyway, she didn’t see what was so funny about knitting. It was an important, highly creative skill. Besides, Olympus got chilly in the evenings, and togas didn’t do much to keep a goddess warm.
“What ya doin’, Thena?” asked a familiar voice before someone plopped down next to her on the marble bench.
“Splitting the atom,” she replied sarcastically.
“Ha, ha,” Artemis replied dryly.
Athena couldn’t help but smile. If she had to have someone intrude on her solitude tonight, she’d rather it be Artemis than anyone else. At least she had half a brain.
“So what have you been up to today?” Athena asked, laying aside her knitting for the moment.
“Chasing a boar in Sicily,” Artemis said, popping a grape in her mouth from a great bunch she was carrying. Athena spared a moment to wonder why all of the gods and goddesses seemed to forever be carrying around grapes.
“Catch it?” Athena asked.
“Yeah,” Artemis said, “but I let it go. She was pregnant.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Athena said.
“It gets kind of confusing when the different things I’m supposed to be goddess of conflict,” Artemis said, shrugging. “Goddess of the hunt and protectress of newborn animals? Now there’s a job description that’ll bite you in the ass on occasion.”
“I know what you mean,” Athena agreed. “Goddess of war and goddess of wisdom, plus a side order of protectress of Athens and the inventor of domestic arts is a little much. It’s a pretty full plate.”
“Yeah. Want a grape?” Artemis asked.
“No thanks. I had ambrosia an hour ago and I’m stuffed,” she said. “Anything else interesting happen of late?”
“Not really. Apollo still hasn’t found out yet about me and Endymion, so that’s good,” she said.
“You know he’s going to eventually, right?” Athena told her seriously. “I mean, he’s the sun god. He sees things.”
“I know,” Artemis agreed. “It’s just I know he’s going to be a pain about it. He sleeps with anything that moves, but I have one male lover and poof! Suddenly, I’m some kind of floozy or something.”
“Well, you are the virgin goddess,” Athena said with a shrug. “It’s not really kosher your having a lover, is it?”
“Tell that to Hera! Every single year she takes a bath in Lake Kanatos and suddenly she’s a virgin again. Now how does that work?”
“She’s Hera. It’s a thing,” Athena said, shaking out her poncho. “So, what do you think of it?”
“I think the pompoms are a bit much,” Artemis said, grimacing.
“Maybe you’re right,” Athena said with a sigh. “I probably shouldn’t have tried the dip-dyed yarn.”
Artemis gave a noncommittal grimace and ate another grape.
“Oh! Hey!” she said suddenly, and the grape wound up in the fire. “Have you heard about what happened with Hestia?”
Athena nodded sadly. “Replaced by Dionysius. It’s sad, isn’t it.”
“I didn’t even know that could happen,” Artemis said, shaking her head. “I mean, really, she’s nice and all, but to volunteer to step down as one of the twelve Olympians so that Dionysius could take a spot? Maybe that’s a little too nice.”
“Actually, I was the one who asked her to do it,” Athena said guiltily. “I knew if she didn’t there’d wind up being a war. She was the only one who’d ever consent to give up power without a major struggle, so I reasoned with her and won her over.”
“Wisdom over warfare, huh?” Artemis said. “Still seems a shame, though.”
“It is. So far all he’s done is get roaring drunk and chase nymphs around the temples. I mean, really, wine is good and all, but do we need a god specifically for wine and nothing else?”
“It does seem kind of a waste,” Artemis said. “I’ll be sure to stop by Hestia’s place later, maybe bring her a gift or something.”
“Like what?” Athena asked, truly puzzled what to give a goddess who didn’t really go anywhere except her hearth.
“I don’t know. Firewood?” Artemis said. “Kindling?”
“She’d probably like that,” Athena agreed. “I still kind of wish I’d been able to get rid of Miss High and Mighty Aphrodite instead. At least Hestia never caused wars just because she was bored.”
“I feel sorry for Hephaestos,” Artemis clucked sympathetically. “Do you think he has any idea how many times she’s put horns on his head?”
“Probably,” Athena said. “Why do you think he lives most of the time in a volcano instead of up here? She’s a little too much for anyone after a while. I mean, really, who needs to have a shower of rose petals announce her entrance into every single room? And the doves, and the honeybees, and that Eros fluttering around all the time. It’s enough to drive a person to distraction!”
“She is a bit much,” Artemis agreed, “though if anyone ever asks, I didn’t say that.”
“Ditto,” Athena agreed. After all, Aphrodite might be a diva-hearted drama queen, but she was also the most lethal and ruthless of all the Olympians if she got angry, and that was saying something.
“What on Olympus is that?” boomed a voice behind them.
Athena turned around to see her father Zeus pointing at the poncho.
“It’s something to help keep me warm,” Athena replied respectfully.
Zeus laughed loudly, then patted her head as if she were a small child making mud pies in the garden.
“Daughter, you do think the silliest things! But then women’s business is their own affair, I suppose, and as it’s not so important as men’s, it’s not to be taken quite so seriously,” he said, hoisting a thunderbolt on his shoulder. “Well, I’m off. There’s a certain cow I need to deal with before my dear wife blasts her into a pile of meatballs.”
As he left, Artemis and Athena exchanged looks.
“Poor Io,” Athena said, shaking her head. “He just never learns, does he.”
“Nope,” Artemis said, “when you get down to it, none of us do, do we?”
“I suppose not,” Athena said with a sigh. “Hand me that skein of yarn, will you? I could do with a new pair of mittens.”
Author: Meltha
Rating: FRT
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Various Greek myths
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and Fanfiction.net. If you’re interested, please let me know.
Summary: Just a little gossip between Athena and a friend.
Author’s Note: Written as a stocking stuffer for Aevir for Yuletide 2007.
Disclaimer: Actually, I’d be really curious who could sue over this. Public domain. Weee!
It’s hard being right all the time, Athena thought. She knew perfectly well that if Olympus ran the way it really should, Zeus would be the one standing around and expected to look pretty for the sculptors while she would be in charge. But no, the Fates decided the whole world should be run by a guy who had the worst case of teenage hormones ever seen in an immortal being, plus a temper than flared up over the stupidest things: the wrong color heifer in a hecatomb, for example.
Meanwhile, here sat Athena, the goddess of wisdom, knitting by the fire because she was patroness of the domestic arts. Ares had walked by half an hour ago, snickering at the poncho she was making. Well, let that idiot snicker, she thought. They might be the dual patrons of warfare, but it was obvious which one of them was the tactician. Ares was just good at waving a sword around. She was the one who meted out justice with a flashing grey eye.
Anyway, she didn’t see what was so funny about knitting. It was an important, highly creative skill. Besides, Olympus got chilly in the evenings, and togas didn’t do much to keep a goddess warm.
“What ya doin’, Thena?” asked a familiar voice before someone plopped down next to her on the marble bench.
“Splitting the atom,” she replied sarcastically.
“Ha, ha,” Artemis replied dryly.
Athena couldn’t help but smile. If she had to have someone intrude on her solitude tonight, she’d rather it be Artemis than anyone else. At least she had half a brain.
“So what have you been up to today?” Athena asked, laying aside her knitting for the moment.
“Chasing a boar in Sicily,” Artemis said, popping a grape in her mouth from a great bunch she was carrying. Athena spared a moment to wonder why all of the gods and goddesses seemed to forever be carrying around grapes.
“Catch it?” Athena asked.
“Yeah,” Artemis said, “but I let it go. She was pregnant.”
“That was thoughtful of you,” Athena said.
“It gets kind of confusing when the different things I’m supposed to be goddess of conflict,” Artemis said, shrugging. “Goddess of the hunt and protectress of newborn animals? Now there’s a job description that’ll bite you in the ass on occasion.”
“I know what you mean,” Athena agreed. “Goddess of war and goddess of wisdom, plus a side order of protectress of Athens and the inventor of domestic arts is a little much. It’s a pretty full plate.”
“Yeah. Want a grape?” Artemis asked.
“No thanks. I had ambrosia an hour ago and I’m stuffed,” she said. “Anything else interesting happen of late?”
“Not really. Apollo still hasn’t found out yet about me and Endymion, so that’s good,” she said.
“You know he’s going to eventually, right?” Athena told her seriously. “I mean, he’s the sun god. He sees things.”
“I know,” Artemis agreed. “It’s just I know he’s going to be a pain about it. He sleeps with anything that moves, but I have one male lover and poof! Suddenly, I’m some kind of floozy or something.”
“Well, you are the virgin goddess,” Athena said with a shrug. “It’s not really kosher your having a lover, is it?”
“Tell that to Hera! Every single year she takes a bath in Lake Kanatos and suddenly she’s a virgin again. Now how does that work?”
“She’s Hera. It’s a thing,” Athena said, shaking out her poncho. “So, what do you think of it?”
“I think the pompoms are a bit much,” Artemis said, grimacing.
“Maybe you’re right,” Athena said with a sigh. “I probably shouldn’t have tried the dip-dyed yarn.”
Artemis gave a noncommittal grimace and ate another grape.
“Oh! Hey!” she said suddenly, and the grape wound up in the fire. “Have you heard about what happened with Hestia?”
Athena nodded sadly. “Replaced by Dionysius. It’s sad, isn’t it.”
“I didn’t even know that could happen,” Artemis said, shaking her head. “I mean, really, she’s nice and all, but to volunteer to step down as one of the twelve Olympians so that Dionysius could take a spot? Maybe that’s a little too nice.”
“Actually, I was the one who asked her to do it,” Athena said guiltily. “I knew if she didn’t there’d wind up being a war. She was the only one who’d ever consent to give up power without a major struggle, so I reasoned with her and won her over.”
“Wisdom over warfare, huh?” Artemis said. “Still seems a shame, though.”
“It is. So far all he’s done is get roaring drunk and chase nymphs around the temples. I mean, really, wine is good and all, but do we need a god specifically for wine and nothing else?”
“It does seem kind of a waste,” Artemis said. “I’ll be sure to stop by Hestia’s place later, maybe bring her a gift or something.”
“Like what?” Athena asked, truly puzzled what to give a goddess who didn’t really go anywhere except her hearth.
“I don’t know. Firewood?” Artemis said. “Kindling?”
“She’d probably like that,” Athena agreed. “I still kind of wish I’d been able to get rid of Miss High and Mighty Aphrodite instead. At least Hestia never caused wars just because she was bored.”
“I feel sorry for Hephaestos,” Artemis clucked sympathetically. “Do you think he has any idea how many times she’s put horns on his head?”
“Probably,” Athena said. “Why do you think he lives most of the time in a volcano instead of up here? She’s a little too much for anyone after a while. I mean, really, who needs to have a shower of rose petals announce her entrance into every single room? And the doves, and the honeybees, and that Eros fluttering around all the time. It’s enough to drive a person to distraction!”
“She is a bit much,” Artemis agreed, “though if anyone ever asks, I didn’t say that.”
“Ditto,” Athena agreed. After all, Aphrodite might be a diva-hearted drama queen, but she was also the most lethal and ruthless of all the Olympians if she got angry, and that was saying something.
“What on Olympus is that?” boomed a voice behind them.
Athena turned around to see her father Zeus pointing at the poncho.
“It’s something to help keep me warm,” Athena replied respectfully.
Zeus laughed loudly, then patted her head as if she were a small child making mud pies in the garden.
“Daughter, you do think the silliest things! But then women’s business is their own affair, I suppose, and as it’s not so important as men’s, it’s not to be taken quite so seriously,” he said, hoisting a thunderbolt on his shoulder. “Well, I’m off. There’s a certain cow I need to deal with before my dear wife blasts her into a pile of meatballs.”
As he left, Artemis and Athena exchanged looks.
“Poor Io,” Athena said, shaking her head. “He just never learns, does he.”
“Nope,” Artemis said, “when you get down to it, none of us do, do we?”
“I suppose not,” Athena said with a sigh. “Hand me that skein of yarn, will you? I could do with a new pair of mittens.”
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Date: 2008-01-04 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-01-04 08:57 pm (UTC)