Only Everything by Kieran Scott

a love connection was not in the cards—at least not for us—but still, it was a memory I now cherished. I walked to a nearby bench and sat with my eyes closed, my face tipped to the sun, letting the remembrance embrace me.
    •  •  •
    “Come one, come all! Come god, come mortal! None of you can best me when there’s bow and arrow in my grasp!”
    Orion threw his sinewy arms wide, turning in a slow circle at the center of the wide, sun-dappled hills of the poppy field, a favorite meeting place for the lower gods and goddesses near the apex of Mount Olympus. I had heard tales of his bravado, but this was the first time I’d ever seen it for myself. I understood why so many women in the heavens and on Earth had fallen for the guy. He was a perfect specimen. Obnoxious, to be sure, but otherwise perfect.
    I approached, my bow at my side, my quiver fastened, as it always was, to my back.
    “We have a taker!” he crowed to the clumps of gods and goddesses lounging in the flowers along the knoll. I saw my nemeses—the twins Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, and Apollo, God of Light—draped over each other, along with Artemis’s Titaness friend Hecate, who was even more awful than they were. Her black eyes were trained on me as she leaned toward Artemis’s ear to whisper. “And you are?” Orion said to me.
    “She is Eros, the Goddess of Love!” Artemis shouted. “She fancies herself the greatest archer on Mount Olympus.”
    A few of the other gods laughed, and I smiled. “It is not a fancy,” I called back, “but a proven fact.”
    “You have not tested me,” Artemis replied, a shadow passing through her eyes.
    “Then come forth,” I shouted back. “Orion has the test laid out for us!”
    I gestured to the target Orion had fastened to the tallest tree at the edge of Gaia’s Wood, a dark and magical forest, home to all sorts of exotic and unnatural beasts. Artemis squinted at the bull’s-eye, her hand held up to guard against the sun.
    “She will not take the bait,” Orion said, leaning toward my ear. The masculine scent of him was very appealing, the odors of sweat and blood and wine. “Of all the goddesses, I find Artemis to be the most vile. She has the bark, but not the bite.”
    “And you?” I said, looking him up and down. “What do you look for in a mate?”
    He smiled wickedly, and I opened my inner ear to his heart of hearts. “Submission,” he replied, even as I read his real desire. He longed for someone who could be his equal. Someone who would challenge him. A great beauty with whom he could forge new adventures. Someone who would fight by his side and love him forever.
    A mischievous plan formed in the back of my mind. I turned to the hill.
    “Come, Artemis!” I shouted jovially. “Let us play!”
    The other gods and goddesses cheered, goading her on. I saw my sister Harmonia and her friend Hephaestus, the divine craftsman, stand up and applaud on the opposite hill. They made an intriguing pair. While Harmonia was as pristine, regal, and sweetly smiling as ever, Hephaestus was covered in the soot of his forge, which made his already dark skin appear black as pitch, and he wore his ever-present stoic and suspicious expression. Nike and Selene and several of the other lower gods and goddesses were there as well, obviously excited by the prospect of a contest. It was perfection. Artemis might have backed down from the challenge with some flimsy excuse if we were alone, but with an audience, I knew she’d never yield. After another whisper from Hecate, she rose to her full, willowy height and strolled down to us, her bow and quiver clutched in her hands.
    “Fine,” she said as she stood next to me, her brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Who shoots first?”
    “I do,” I told her. “For it was I who issued the challenge.”
    “Actually, I believe it was I who issued the challenge,” Orion said.
    “Oh, well,” I replied innocently, lifting a shoulder.
    Then, before