"I am beneath the notice of the god of love."

The sentence comes out automatically. The words have been trained, drilled, and practiced, until they can be martialed into formation on command.  But there's a quaver there, words which come out just that little bit too quickly. It's less rebuttal and more reassurance.

It's not like she's neglected the rituals at any point, you understand? Aphrodite must be respected as any of the others. She makes the demanded sacrifices, performs the expected rites. But she also understands that it's not a matter of tit for tat, of exchange of worship for romantic conquests. She cannot love or be loved, so why ask for the impossible?

But...

But there's always a but, isn't there? That gnawing pit of uncertainty, churning in her gut. Did she offend Aphrodite in pursuing Minerva?

Even worse, was it because she [i]didn't[/i] when it counted?

No, that's... That can't be. Cannot be. It'd be insane. No, that's wrong. Has to be wrong. Can't be right.

If there's any justice in the world, it's not right.