Easy indeed to understand why Philotes felt that way, if she truly did know Artemis as well as her tears asserted. Philammon had felt exactly the same way. No dishonor for Artemis, even in death. It seemed unfathomable... and it wouldn't have been what his aunt would have wanted. He glanced sidelong at Asklepios. His brother didn't share in this grief, but he had been kind enough to keep it to himself -- even to walk Olympus with him in search of the body Artemis had left behind. It would have been simple enough to think that the reason why he objected now to Philotes' suggestion was because he didn't truly care for Artemis' wishes. And perhaps that was true, too. But it wasn't the reason.
Asklepios was right. There was nothing a music god and friendship goddess could do to lay Artemis at rest. Philammon dropped his head into his hand and raked his fingers through his hair. Useless. Pointless. Foolish.
But in that moment, clarity came razor sharp into his mind. "Apollo could do it."