HATED ALL MEN, just most of them. From the moment she was born, she knew one critical fact: Guys are kinda gross.
Of course, she’d spent those seven months in the womb with her twin brother, Apollo, waiting to be born. That much time alone with Apollo would give anyone a bad impression of the male gender.
Artemis was born first, probably because she was anxious to get out. She immediately grew to the size of a six-year-old girl and looked around at the other goddesses who had assembled to help Leto.
“Right,” Artemis said. “I’ll assist with my brother’s delivery. He’s going to be a pain. Boil some water! Get some extra sheets! I’ll scrub up.”
Sure enough, Artemis helped deliver her own twin brother. From that point on, she became a goddess of childbirth, the protector of newborn babies and young children. (Along with the other childbirth goddess, Eileithyia; they shared the duties.) Once Apollo was born and started dancing and singing about how great he was, Artemis just stepped back and rolled her eyes.
“He’s always like this,” she confided to Hestia. “Seven months in the womb, he wouldn’t shut up.”
Hestia smiled kindly. “And you, dear? Do you sing and dance?”
“Ugh, no. But I do have plans. Could you take me to see my dad?”
Hestia whisked young Artemis off to Mount Olympus, where her father, Zeus, was sitting on his throne, listening to the wind gods give their weekly report on cloud formations. It was so freaking boring, Zeus was delighted to have a distraction.
“Hey, look!” Zeus said, interrupting the South Wind’s PowerPoint presentation about low-pressure zones. “It’s Hestia and…and some kid. Come in!”
Hestia stepped into the throne room, leading Artemis by the hand. “Lord Zeus, this is your new daughter, Artemis. We can come back later if you’re busy.”
“Busy?” Zeus cleared his throat. “No, no! They’re important stuff, weather reports, but darn it, they’ll have to wait!”
He shooed away the wind gods and held out his arms to Artemis. “Come to Papa, little one! Let’s take a look at you!”
Artemis wore a simple knee-length chiton—a sort of T-shirt dress tied with a cord at the waist. She had shoulder-length raven-black hair and strikingly beautiful silver-gray eyes. I use the word strikingly because you got the feeling those eyes could strike you dead if Artemis got angry.
She was less than a day old, but she already looked like she was in elementary school. Even for a nine- or ten-year-old, she would have been tall. She could’ve totally dominated the fourth-grade basketball team. As she approached the throne, she gave Zeus a brilliant smile that melted his heart.
“Daddy!” She threw herself into his arms. “I love you, I love you! You’re the best daddy ever!”
Maybe she didn’t like guys that much, but she knew exactly how to wrap her father around her little finger.
Zeus chuckled. “Well, shock me silly. You are the cutest little goddess I’ve ever seen. Tell Daddy Zeus what you want for your birthday present, honeycakes, and it’s yours.”
Artemis batted her eyelashes. “Anything?”
“Anything! I promise on the River Styx!”
Boom. Magic words. You’d think the gods would’ve been smarter about not making rash promises on the River Styx, but Zeus never seemed to learn. Now he would have to give Artemis whatever she wanted.
Some girls might’ve asked for a pony or a new phone or a shopping spree with their friends at the mall. Some might’ve asked for front-row tickets to the hottest boy band concert, or a date with somebody really awesome—like, I don’t know, Percy Jackson, or somebody. (What—It could happen.)
Artemis didn’t care about any of that. She knew exactly what she wanted. Maybe it was because her mom, Leto, had been on the move so much while she tried to give birth, wandering from island to island. Maybe it was because the snake Python had almost devoured Leto before the twins could be born. Whatever the case, Artemis had a restless spirit. She wanted to roam the world and hunt dangerous creatures, and she definitely never wanted to get pregnant. She’d seen how much trouble that had brought her mom. Artemis was happy assisting with deliveries, but she never wanted to go through that herself.
“Let me be a maiden forever, Father,” Artemis said, twirling her finger in Zeus’s beard. “I never want to get married. I want a bow and arrows—Wait. You know what? Forget that. If you gave me the bow and arrows, they might not be the best quality. I’ll go see the Cyclopes and get