In the end, Cyd bailed.
Meleagros had begged him to stay—heroic speeches, hand on heart, the whole deal. But Cyd just shook his head, turned on his heel, and walked away.
"I didn't come here for glory," he said over his shoulder. "I came here so Artemis wouldn't turn my bones into modern art."
That part? 100% true.
Meleagros, predictably, was moved to tears. On the way back, dragging the half-dead boar behind him, he practically shouted Cyd's name from the rooftops. A hero's heart, a warrior's will, a prince of virtue…
And just like that, the tale of the "Pure White Hero" began to spread.
What Meleagros didn't know, however, was that his heartfelt PR campaign had accidentally saved Calydon. Artemis, initially this close to mass-distributing wild boars like cursed Halloween candy, shrugged, giggled, and went home instead.
Then Meleagros was killed.
By his own mother.
But Cyd didn't learn about that until much, much later. And his reaction?
Wait—my whole reputation is because of THAT guy?! Oh, I'm gonna kill—…ah. Too late. He's already dead.
Anyway. That's all future Cyd's problem. Present Cyd had a more immediate issue.
"So…" Atalanta stood a few paces away, her back turned. "Are you coming with me to Arcadia or not?"
Oh no. That tone. That quiet, tight-shouldered tone that meant one wrong syllable and you get an arrow in the face.
"Sounds fun," Cyd said slowly, scratching his chin. "But… isn't Arcadia where you're a whole princess? That's gotta come with some… complications."
A faint breeze rustled the trees. Cyd considered his options.
There were… not many.
He couldn't say no outright. That'd be like setting fire to his own face.
So he tried a gentler approach. "Listen, I—"
Thunk!
An arrow whistled past his cheek and buried itself in a tree behind him.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," Atalanta said calmly, nocking another arrow. She didn't turn around.
"Can I explain?" Cyd raised his hands so high he could swat clouds.
"I'm listening," she replied, drawing her bow back slowly, carefully. She aimed somewhere dangerously kidney-adjacent.
Cyd winced. "I have a mission. I need to collect thirteen divine blessings. Right now, I've got three. That leaves… well, a lot. And I can't stop until I finish."
Her fingers froze on the bowstring.
"You're not lying to me?" she asked quietly.
"I swear on the gods." Cyd lowered his arms. "Honestly? I kind of brought this on myself."
He glanced at his left wrist, the faint divine sigils glowing there like tattoos made of starlight. Yeah. Definitely should've asked for "curse immunity" back when he had the chance.
"How long will it take?" Atalanta let her bow drop.
"I don't know." He gave her a tired smile. "Might not make it to the end."
She stalked over to him, grabbed his collar, and yanked him down so their noses almost touched.
"You don't get to die," she growled. "We still have a score to settle. You lose, and I don't get to rub it in? Unacceptable."
Her eyes burned with that fierce, wild light again—the kind that said hunt now, argue later. She shoved her forehead against his with a thunk.
"If you die," she muttered, "I'll drag you out of the Underworld just to shoot you myself."
"I promise," Cyd said, smiling as he hooked his pinky around hers, "I'll keep that appointment."
Atalanta blushed, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the woods like a flustered lioness who'd accidentally tripped over her own pride.
Cyd stood there, watching her vanish, rubbing the bump on his forehead.
"I'll remember," he whispered. "It's the only promise I've ever made."
"Awwww~ So cute. Little Cyd made a pinky promise~"
The weight hit him from behind with zero warning. Female. Light. Somehow soft and pointy.
"Oh no."
A pair of snowy white arms wrapped around his neck. Silver-blue hair tickled his ear. Cyd went stiff as a statue.
Artemis. Of course.
"Let's make one too!" she sang, grabbing his right hand and looping her pinky around his. "We can even make it romantic!"
"Can we not?" Cyd's voice cracked with pure panic. "Lady Artemis, you're—uh—literally sitting on me."
"I know." She beamed, swaying back and forth and jostling her chest against his back like it was no big deal. "So… wanna swear something with me too?"
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just stared into the abyss and hoped it wouldn't wink back.
"I'm being very serious, Cyd," she huffed, pouting like a kicked puppy and tugging at his neck. "You're always acting different with Atalanta!"
Yeah, because she doesn't have the divine authority to turn me into a squirrel.
"Fine then. I'll curse you!"
"What?!" Cyd's voice jumped an octave. "I didn't even do anything!"
"Exactly!" she yelled, now bouncing on his back like an angry bunny. "You're ignoring me! I demand a curse!"
He was starting to believe he might actually cry.
Then Artemis paused, chewing her lip.
The thing was—if she cursed him too hard, she'd feel bad. But if it wasn't bad enough, she'd lose face.
The dilemma of a love-struck chaos goddess.
"…Do I get a chance to redeem myself?" Cyd asked weakly, eyes glazed.
Artemis blinked. "Hmm. Maybe. Depends."
Just then, another voice cut through the trees, calm, clever, and terribly well-timed.
"What if he earned your forgiveness by retrieving something… impressive?"
Athena stepped into view, robes flowing, fingers gracefully plucking Artemis' arrow from the tree trunk. She smiled with lips like blood and mischief.
"But it has to be a real challenge," she added smoothly. "Otherwise it wouldn't count as punishment."
Cyd's stomach dropped.
Artemis tilted her head. "But I already have everything I want…"
"There is one thing you don't," Athena said, her smile sharpening. She turned to Cyd.
"The Golden Fleece."
Cyd nearly fainted.
Artemis lit up like a torch. "Ooooh! That sounds shiny!"
She squeezed his neck tighter, bouncing in place. "Go get it for me, Cyd!"
Cyd didn't answer. He just stared past Athena, through the trees, wondering if hurling himself into a ravine counted as divine punishment.
Somewhere, Athena's smile widened.