The day Endymion died was the happiest of his life.
He was a hunter, and a simple man by consequence. He lived off the land, occasionally earning a living by selling game. He did not need much and so he rarely wanted much. He had his beliefs like all men did; he paid tributes to the gods when it was expected of him, but he as not exceptionally devout. He was also not a man prone to love or to women. He had little use for either. He visited brothels when it was needed, but he did not veer towards excess. Baucus was not a god he had much use for, though he had the good sense to know better than to incur his wrath or any others.
Endymion was a simple man. He intended to stay that way. He had never meant to be anything else.
But as always complications came unexpectedly.
He had been in the forest hunting with his four dogs. He had only meant to stop by the pool for a moment to wash the blood and dirt from his hands and quench his thirst. It was one he had visited time and again in his life. Nothing unremarkable about it.
Except of course for today when there was a goddess bathing in it.
He knew her for what she was in an instant; he was no fool. No mortal could look like that - skin so white it seemed to glow from within, silver hair that fell from her head like a sheet of silk. Nor was he an entirely uneducated man. He was no scholar, but he knew enough about the children of Zeus to name her.
Artemis. Selene in other cultures. Goddess of the moon and the hunt.
He knew her in an instant and loved her in the very same breath.
He could not say what had driven him to this. Emotions were not something he had much use for. They couldn't get him food or shelter from a storm. But seeing her was like nothing he could have expected.
She was beautiful, to be sure. But it was more than that. He'd seen other beautiful women, perhaps fairer than her. Yet Endymion had never been so drawn to one before. He had never longed to run his hands along that impossible opalescent skin, get lost in hair that could have served as a cloak, feel those soft lips against his own.
She moved through the water, seemingly unaware of his presence. He knew he should leave as quietly as possible. Artemis valued her privacy and would not appreciate a voyeur, but his brain could not convince his feet to move. How could he leave her now that he'd found her? How could he walk away?
So he watched as she ran her fingers through her air, sank beneath the surface of the water, and broke through it against with a magnificent splash. Her breasts gleamed under the light of the moon, her moon. A crescent moon glittered at her brow.
Oh, how he wanted her. He was not worthy, and he could not hope for her to love him. He knew this. But he knew that he could not just walk away. So although his dogs whined and tried to pull him back, he began to push through the trees. A twig cracked beneath his foot.
A moment later, and there was nothing but blossoming pain. He looked down, surprised to see the white arrow through his chest, the blood that blossomed around it like blood. He stared, uncomprehending, and then fell to his knees.
He was surprised again by fingers against his jawline, cool and damp. He looked up and saw her, pity in those marvelous silver eyes.
"I would never..." Endymion croaked. "I would never hurt you. Never. I just--"
"Hush, young one," she soothed. He almost laughed at that; he'd forgotten her agelessness, absurd as that was. "I know you meant no harm, but harm you would have caused."
He shook his head. "Never. Never. I lo--"
She pressed those fingers against his lips. He kissed them almost by reflex.
"I know you do," she murmured. Her voice reminded him of a soft lyre. "And I know you are the man I could have loved; the one I would have consented to love. I would have given you my heart and my body."
Tears sparkled in Artemis's eyes. He had not known gods could cry.
"But I cannot do that, not for you or any man," she whispered. "I am Artemis, the eternal virgin. I will not forfeit my chastity to any man."
He still didn't understand, and she could see it. "If only you had turned around," she sighed, smoothing a hand against his cheek. She felt so cold. Or was that him? "I would have left you in peace. But if you had come upon me, I would have given in, and so you must perish." She wiped away a tear. "I am sorry, dear one."
Endymion should have hated her. Should have struck her or shot her himself, for all the good it would have done. But even now, he loved her. He knew it had not been an easy decision.
He held her hand, the one liberty he knew she would allow him. "At least... at least I met you. Talked with you."
She continued to weep. "I have known I would meet you for a thousand years and longer. I did not... I did not know it would be this hard."
He felt himself slipping away. "Maybe... maybe we'll meet in another life."
She shook her head. "Gods don't die."
His eyes fluttered before they closed forever. "Lovers do."
The day Endymion died was the happiest of his life.
It was the saddest for Artemis.
