My story. Not my characters.
"Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance." Anna Quindlen
Lightly, lightly.
Heel.
Don't forget to breathe. Steadily, steadily, inhale.
To toe.
Exhale.
The tinge of low lying haze dampens everything slightly, colors and sounds. Still, her footstep falls audibly onto the thin sheet of snow that blankets the earth. As careful as her tread is, the minute noises are still distinguishable, even as infinitesimal as the sound may be.
"Out of practice," Artemis scoffs, voice only a heartbeat louder than her movements. But she is out for that very reason. The … for lack of a better euphemism, developments in recent years were not very permissive in allowing her any time for frivolities.
Now, however …
Her next step lands on a camouflaged patch of ice. An involuntary grunt ekes out of her as she skids to the side. She steadies herself too late, and the insides of her right moccasin fills with sopping snow.
Artemis's otherwise gentle expression sours. It isn't as if she is particularly afflicted by the lowered temperature, as a goddess and all. It is, however, uncomfortable, and disagreeable for her footwear to be in such a state. The Huntress swiftly extracts her foot from the mound of snow it landed in, and places it gingerly on a more secure location.
Withdrawing her foot from the moccasin, she perches and bends gracefully over to snatch up the foot wear. Still balanced on her left leg, the goddess gently shakes out the chunks of snow from the shoe. Delicately laying the moccasin down, she slides her foot back in. Her previous foresight pays off: the waterproof layer she added protects the deerskin. The satisfaction of something physical, is, after all, better than the shortcuts of sorcery. As for the cuff of her leggings - they will dry soon enough on their own. The stain of wetness doesn't even show amongst the black fabric.
The moon goddess straightens up and brushes away the sheaf of freshly freed dark auburn hair in front of her left eye to behind her ear. Reconfiguring herself, she presses on undaunted towards the lake.
Traversing snow isn't Artemis's thing. Greece never had a climate that could be considered remotely frosty. There was the more occasional snowfall in Roman territory, but that was a different matter.
The facts are simple - she is a Greek goddess (right now, at least), and is so defined by that pantheon. Specifically hunting in snow is not a skillset she naturally has. And for acquiring it - the relatively few years in Germany, Spain, and France didn't help with learning how to hunt in snow. England was the center of Western Civilization for several centuries longer, but snow there is inconsistent. The United States is the only place where she can traverse in a colder climate regularly. The great expanses of the frontier are much better than any previous civilization. The area of the US nearly matches the entire continent of Europe in size.
The previous centers of Western Civilization lack snowy environments for her to practice the abilities in question. For that matter, also fewer deserts, but that is another topic (partially why she enjoyed hunting jackalopes really - the fresh experience of the hunt in a desert environment). It's up to her to maintain those learned abilities. She is defined by the ancient Greek era, and they knew little of true winter. The beliefs of the fallen Roman empire equally limits her alter ego.
With one final crinkle of snow, she slips off the shore onto the frozen lake, stride smoother than before and just a touch less perceptible by ear. Her gait is comfortable now, and she glides towards the shore of the reservoir. Immune to the bite of the gusting wind, the goddess accelerates as she leaps onto the ice. The leather soles of her moccasins magically smoothen, and Artemis skates forth. Her silver tunic conforms to the swells of her front due to the speed she moves at, while the back flutters behind her like wisps in the air.
It simply cannot stand for her to be unskilled in something she should technically be capable of doing. So she's here now, while she has the freedom to enjoy herself. After all, it's the perfect time.
It's the Winter Solstice, and it's the full moon. Auspicious times. Sure, she's missing the largest party she's ever seen at Olympus right now. A bit late to truly celebrate the victory over Gaia, but she wasn't defeated until long after the summer solstice. So fast forward approximately five months, and that's tonight. The awards ceremony and victory party. This year's solstice is more complex and exuberant too, given the mix of Greeks and Romans in attendance. And perhaps even partially because of two consecutive victories, really, considering the summer previous was the entire deal with Kronos.
Perhaps that is what it's like to be mortal? Everything is a rush, countless major events happening so soon after one another, not even a year's worth of time in between? It used to be decades if not whole centuries that go by without anything catastrophic taking the wheel, but the entire debacle with the giants was resolved within a few months, right after the Titan War.
Anyway, her Hunters are enjoying their time by themselves at Olympus. But Artemis herself prefers enjoying the illuminated night tonight. As much as she loved … no, loves her followers dearly, even a goddess needs time for themselves. Such social events are already a bore, but the one she was attending just now was even worse than usual. The annual meeting just about an hour or two ago was a hellhole of ego-stroking ceremony and transparent accolades.
She can refresh and reset here. Everyone else can have their ambrosia and nectar, their odd mishmash of dancing to different tunes. She'll take in the local chip of wilderness in the city. It's perfect, and it's winter - and oh what a wonderful, what a beautiful, what a gorgeous season it is.
Artemis never tires of winter. Out of the four distinct seasons, it's her favorite. The rain of spring is irritating, even if she enjoys the challenge it presents in hunting. Conversely, the hunt also becomes too simple, though, due to the influx of naive newborns. Summer is fine - just rather average. Not bad, just nothing overly special besides raised temperatures. The colors of autumn are amazing, the hues of the many crunchy leaves as they swirl away in the wind.
But nothing compares to the trickling snow, right now, dancing past her face and down to the earth. The snow is so dynamic, in the way it simultaneously simplifies and complicates the hunt. The imprints everything leaves in snow makes finding trails and tracks easy, yet the crispy snow counteracts that advantage by making every step a challenge to keep silent. The slightest noise, after all, has the potential to warn away suspicious prey in the muted hush of winter.
Sigh … the atmosphere is fresh, revitalizing, invigorating!
After some dallying (see: twirling and pirouetting), she stops at the center of the artificial lake. The blizzard that has kept away the mortals for several days has 'let up', so the constellations and moon above are visible, even in the midst of a great mortal city. Most likely her father is responsible. Maybe she'll thank him later. For now, she'll take in the beautiful moonlit expanse of a winter wonderland.
Looking up, though … another thing she loves are the hypnotizing puffs of air from her breath. It's not as intricate as the smoke of sacrifices, but nonetheless enchanting after its own fashion. She can't control the lilting tendrils of offerings, but she can manipulate her exhales to create fascinating shapes that hang in the air.
Nonetheless, she leaves the traceries she's created, planting her foot to push o-
CRRKK.
A massive groan reverberates, and the ice shudders. The goddess of the moon freezes in place, a statue mid dance in the center of the body of water.
She knows the sound well - the tell-tale crack of unstable ice. She can never forget it. One of her Hunters had died because of it more than a millennium ago. A river the group crossed appeared frozen, but one misstep and the girl had been swept underneath the surface of the ice and away by the fast moving current underneath the surface. They'd retrieved her, even been able to get her breathing again. But her Hunter had never woken. Left in a coma, brain dead and unresponsive. The ninth death within her enclave. Rather mem- rather, rather memorable because it had been when she'd begun (infrequently) initiating new Hunters to her core group to keep their numbers … level.
The flash of thought passes, and Artemis pales as the creaking sound continues again at an even greater volume. Before she can react, the ice fragments beneath her. She flounders, toppling as her feet submerge. She desperately tries to move forward to stabilize, but the sudden movement only causes the ice before her to rise. As her movements further unbalance the platform of ice she's on, her disproportionate weight causes the ice to tilt. It's as if a slippery hill is growing in front of her, intent on sending her flailing back into the icy lake.
A snap glance to the side makes it evident that there is little around to help her out of her predicament. As her thighs completely sink into the numbing water, she's considering abusing her powers to get herself out. But it is utterly humiliating to do so, even with no witnesses around. Using her powers to escape from something as simple as falling through ice? Her own conscience will torture her for decades, even centuries. So she panics. However futile, Artemis's hands instinctively attempt to find purchase somewhere, anywhere, to be foiled by the uncompromising ice.
The choice to teleport away before falling in is denied to her, though, when the lake abruptly ceases to swallow her. Instead, like a new wave swallowing the riptide, the arctic waters shove her away, vomiting her back onto the ice in a crawling position.
The goddess instantly scrambles to her feet. She cannot allow herself to be completely off balance and so off kilter. Yet her sluggish limbs betray her, and she falls once again.
Before her face plants itself painfully onto the (mostly) frozen lake surface, a pair of stable hands locks around her waist, preventing further loss of her dignity. But in the next second, she finds proper footing and claws her way out, spinning away. A bow of purest silver is already in her hands, the string twanging back and forth. The arrow it once held is airborne, long gone from its nocked position.
"Shit!" the boy who'd steadied her yelps. At such close range, the arrow seems to have passed cleanly through his side. Only a flesh wound. Either her aim is debilitated by the cold, or he dodges fast enough to redirect potentially lethal hits somewhere safer. "What in Hades was that for?"
"Don't -" the word is abruptly bitten off as Artemis bends over to try to catch a proper breath. The shivering makes such difficult, but she gets enough oxygen soon enough. She rights herself, dismissing the bow she'd summoned back into the ether.
"Touch me…" she finishes awkwardly, in a hiss that warbles away as she realizes who the boy - no, the man - is before her. It explains why her clothes are dry again without her behest, at the very least.
"No need to try and push me into the water too," replies Percy Jackson, green eyes rising to meet her own. She inspects the damage she caused - only to see smooth, unmarred flesh through a hole in the fabric of his shirt - he's already completely healed from the damage she inflicted. "I was just trying to help, uhm, miss."
For a moment, she's taken aback. The goddess's mind races as she tries to understand how one of the undisputed heroes of Olympus doesn't recognize her.
"Uhm … ?" He pauses, cocking his head like a curious cat. "I was trying to get a name there."
Artemis awkwardly realizes she's been staring into the depths of the sea green eyes, and turns sharply away to the side. The pieces of the puzzle of why he doesn't recognize her come together. Her eyes at the current moment are blue, in honor of the blue moon just the previous month. To better enjoy the skies, she's eliminated the glow from her body. The currently dim illumination probably makes her auburn hair appear a purple or black shade. Even her current form also looks several years older than the usual age she appears as (her intentions before her … mishap, was to take advantage of the reach of longer limbs while skating on the ice).
That, and she also remembers the first time she met him. The Son of Poseidon isn't the brightest bulb, even if he is now wiser than that time before. And maybe … her cheeks flush in embarrassment … maybe because the boy (no, man) didn't expect a goddess to fall into a lake.
She decides it's better to pretend to ignore his question until she can find a response for it. To distract him, she asks a question. "Why are you not at the celebration?"
"How do you know about -" Percy begins askancely, but then his jaw slacks as realization dawns in his vivid eyes. "Oh. You're not mortal." He facepalms. 'Herp derp, I'm dumb. How else would I have got hurt? I thought you accidentally ripped a hole in my shirt while trying to stand or something."
"Clearly." She stands to her full height - still somewhat shorter than he - and they regard each other awkwardly. Conversation wasn't exactly flowing … "Well?"
"Oh - question, right, right. I left right after all the awards," mutters the Son of the Sea, "Wanted some quiet time. Annabeth and I -" A look that she can't quite interpret fast enough flashes across his face. "Well, nevermind - Annabeth is showing off her work to the rest of the Seven, so I slipped out."
Oh. Artemis recalls that the Daughter of Athena is actually responsible for rebuilding Olympus - it feels like it's been much longer since those first few months after the Titan's assault on Olympus, and before the shut down by Zeus. Her work is admittedly excellent, even if she isn't at the palace very often. Personally, the goddess very much likes the salad bar, though she can do without the now even greater amount of statues of her brother.
Though, she supposes, more statues of Apollo on and about everywhere is well worth him being gone.
"Back at you, then. Why're you down here?" Percy frowns. "Whoever you are. You still haven't given me your name."
"Luna," Artemis says, after a moment's consideration. She's unsure where she's going with that response, giving a false name. But she continues down the rabbit hole nonetheless. Well, regardless, she has to commit to it now. "And for the same reason."
She's at a loss for what to do next. Beside them, the ice freezes over once more. It's relatively fast (being ice and all), and the two watch the process quietly. But when it's over, the pause in the conversation extends several fractions too long, and so she turns around to leave. She … she wants to talk with him? She feels as if she wants to talk to him - but she has no idea how to. What to do about males - her past is working against her. Naught to do but leave. At least, until …
"Hey, Luna. Why not hang out and talk a bit?" the Son of the Sea asks out of the blue. There's a tingle, and she sense that he reached to grab her shoulder, but hesitated before touching her. It seems he is as honorable and chivalrous as ever, remembering her earlier 'request.' "Plenty of time and space to share, both of us not being at the party and all. And … and why not meet someone new, make new friends?"
Meet someone new? Ha. But as he is willing … well, why not? There are some questions she's curious to hear the answers to. She walks on, answering, "Let us find a more comfortable venue first."
But before she can move further, Percy actually places his hand on her shoulder. At her reflexive turn and glare, he smiles nervously and quickly lets go. "Sorry, it's just that you're heading towards fragile ice." He move past her and nudges the ice in front of them, which groan and crack in response. "How about I take point?" the demigod suggests.
She hesitates, looking down at the path to the shore she intended to take. There's no obvious cracks, yet to ignore the obvious more experienced person would be irrational (as just so well proved by Perseus). She nods and steps back.
When Percy bypasses her to take lead, she sees in her peripherals just the hint of a grin on his face. Artemis doesn't understand why, but nonetheless trails after him as he guides her safely off the ice. Besides a few warnings of where not to step, there's no discussion. The lack of speech is heavy and oppressive, and all other noises amplify by a thousand. The rush of ichor pounds in her mind, and the crunching of Percy's steps (and hers echoing right after) as they transition back to snow is deafening.
She better get good answers for this.
Even though they've reached the shore, her companion continues on. The hero, native to New York by her memory, should be far more familiar with the park than she is, so she follows without a word of protest. It isn't long, perhaps another four minutes, when they arrive at a zone full of park tables. Artemis half nods in thanks when Percy clears the snow from the nearest table with a sweep of his arm for her to sit unfettered. The gesture is unnecessary, but there is no reason to deny his courteousness.
Artemis accommodates herself as the Son of the Sea clears a spot for himself opposite of her. She continues to occupies herself with finding the sweet spot to sit in comfortably while he settles into place. However, When all corporeal distractions are dealt with, neither of the two speak up. Despite her investment in the matter, Artemis isn't in a hurry to be the one to initiate conversation. So, in the meantime, she regards the hero with more depth (of which she is sure he is also doing, judging by his own curious gaze).
Percy's matured. On the surface, he's wearing more formal clothing. He looks composed, even handsome in the light blue buttoned shirt, and the khakis look well fit. He's still wearing sneakers like every other teenager, but it works well. She assumes some child of Aphrodite helped a lot. There's also a new depth to his eyes, slightly more distant in his own musings. The gray streak in his hair is gone, but he seems to carry an even greater weight on his shoulders.
Eventually he speaks up. "I feel like you probably know a bit about me already - since you recognized me, and all." It's almost cute (even if completely lacking in formal conduct) how he ruffles the back of his head, sheepish and humble. "But let me introduce myself properly. Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon. Though feel free to call me Percy."
He extends his hand to her. After assessing it for a moment, she shakes it. "Luna … Luna Anson."
"Where from?" he asks.
"New Rome. Legacy," she makes up, unsure of where she's going with this.
"Really?" Percy's eyes do another flickers over her body once again. She resists the urge to turn him into a canine of some sort. "No service?"
"What?"
"Service. Y'know-" he pulls up the sleeve on his left arm, and she sees the brand on his arm. Trident, SPQR, a single tally line. Oh, right. But who is she to remember how some rigid Roman society works? Evidently, Luna. Artemis's desire to polymorph him fades away.
"There were certain medical issues when I was younger that I'd rather not talk about." Is that enough of an excuse? "So I wasn't allowed to be recruited into the legion."
"Ah. Sorry for asking," he says, "But legacy, huh? Of whom?"
"Jupiter." It's certainly a stretch, but she technically is a descendant of Jupiter. Just much more directly than she is implying at the moment.
"So was that a lightning bolt you hit me with earlier then?" asks Percy, smirk playing across his lips. "You have amazing reflexes for someone who's never been in the legion." When she opens her mouth to respond, he quickly interrupts. "No worries about that - I'm fine, and my bad for scaring you."
He hadn't even seen her shoot her bow? No wonder he failed to recognize her. "No, just some sorcery." More deflection of the truth. The ability to summon a bow out of the mist and shoot arrows of moonlight is Mist manipulation, which is the definition of sorcery. "Still, I must apologize for wounding you."
"No biggie, no biggie." Percy repeats his earlier sentiments, and points to his exposed, unmarred flesh. "Healed fine, so no problems."
"Then, apologies for damaging the shirt." At that apology, he does react, paling to match the color of their environment more closely.
"Oh. Um, whoops? That might be a bit more of a problem, 'cause I kinda borrowed this from a friend." Artemis cocks an eyebrow, wondering if she knows who the actual owner of the shirt is. The Son of Jupiter, perhaps?
"Let me attempt to make up for it then." She leans over the table. Hovering her hand just above the hole, she focuses. It's a small and simple fix, so it's well within her abilities to fix, even if 'clothing powers' are not within her domain. When she removes her hand, it's as if she never shot him. Hopefully the other side also fixed itself, provided she really did power the arrow completely through him.
"Thanks, Luna." His smile is excessively grateful to an astonishing degree, and she again surprises herself when her cheeks color and her lips curl upwards a bit in return.
A beat passes.
"So what brings you brought you to Olympus then?" he continues, before stammering. "Not - not that I'm trying to say that you aren't important enough or anything. Just that … just that I thought only those part of the war was invited."
Artemis rolls her eyes. "All of New Rome would never miss a party this big." She's just assuming things at the moment, but she does remember that Rome did enjoy their festivities overly so.
"Well, considering … this," Perseus gestures around them. "I think you're missing the party right now."
Ah. The implied question stops her short, and she looks for her answer in the moon hiding behind the bare branches of the trees. "I don't enjoy big social events."
"Then why did you come at all?" Again, the person she remembers as a somewhat dimwitted child surprises her with an insightful question.
"I wanted …" What to say? "I wanted to see the heroes."
"I guess that makes sense," Percy muses. "I guess you couldn't have met many because you're a civilian. But why so interested?"
"You guys saved the world. Twice, in your case. Is that not reason enough?" Artemis doesn't know where she's pulling all these responses from, but he seems to accept all of them them rather readily.
"What makes you think I've done it twice?" She almost sighs at his continual curiosity.
"Rumors and stories travel fast. Is it true you denied immortality after the Titan War?" The goddess already knows the answer, but she needs to get the conversation on her track.
"So you've heard that too? Damn." Percy's lips tighten, and he looks as to be weighing his response. "Yep." Percy finally answers, popping the p. He traces something in the snow covered part of the table. She follows the lines, but it's unclear as to what he's drawing.
"Why?" His refusal is something she can't figure out. No other demigod has ever denied eternal life.
She glances back to his face, and their gazes lock. And he looks … exhausted. Far too exhausted, in fact, for an eighteen year old. "I ask that myself sometimes."
She must look confused, because Percy stops fidgeting to explain. "There are some other reasons, especially as of recent times, but I suppose I can tell you the big one. So you know the prophecy, right? For what happened last summer?"
Artemis isn't sure where Percy's going with this, but she's willing to sit through any explanation at this point, no matter how long winded, to understand. "Yes. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call, etc."
"Was there some prophecy in your Siba-whatcha-ma-callit books that talked about you guys taking down Mount Othrys?" Percy continues.
"Just a few lines about the stars falling," admits Artemis. Even the gods keep track of prophecies, and she has the advantage with the god of prophecies as her brother. Or, had. "And Sibylline is the right term for it."
"Well, there was one about me that you probably didn't hear about, even if you know about my other … accomplishments, since you're Roman and all." Yeah, totally. "At the same time Jason took down the star guy- Khios, or was it Krios? Met him in Tartarus, I think." The demigod trails off, then shakes his head. "Anyways, there was a prophecy about 'a half blood of the eldest gods' reaching 16 years old that defined my life. Olympus to preserve or raze. I won't ever forget it." Percy gazes off into the distance. "Athena asked me the exact same question you did. Literally right after the battle. Well, after the ceremony that was after the battle."
Oh. Artemis hadn't seen any of that confrontation - she'd went straight to checking up on her Hunters herself. Which … hadn't gone very well. The goddess focused back on him as he continued to speak.
"At the time, I knew for certain. I wanted to live life. Spend time with my friends, like a normal teenager. Have a relationship." His eyes cloud, farther away from her than the physical incarnation of the moon from earth. "I was finally free of the Great Prophecy. I don't suppose you understand what that's like? All that pressure? And then, poof - all of it, gone?"
"No, I wouldn't." She's been the subject matter of quests before, even the recent one when she'd lost … when she'd lost Zöe. But to have the entire fate of Olympus resting upon her decisions? That is the gift, and curse, reserved specifically for mortals.
"So tell me what you know of the Prophecy of Seven," Percy prompts, looking at her directly again.
"Did I not already demonstrate knowledge of the prophecy?" Artemis articulates. "And how will that help in this conversation? What does it have to do with my question?"
"Just trust me."
Artemis opens her mouth to retort nastily - then, stops when she realizes that she does. That she does trust him. So, the goddess does what he asked. "Seven half-bloods shall answer the call / To storm of fire, the world must fall / An oath to keep with a final breath / And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death." She recites. "One of the few full prophecies decipherable in the Sibylline Books."
"So you Romans have had that prophecy for centuries. No, millenia, right?" At her nod, he resumes. "But we got that literally an hour after I'd finished the one involving me."
Artemis does her best to look surprised. None of this information is new to her, but it is a decent review. "Your point is?"
"Well, how much of it was really my choice that I didn't become immortal?"
The question hangs in the air. But… "Wait. How did you get from the prophecy to there?"
Percy, in a baffling and ambiguous mix of pain and sheepishness, smiles. "Sorry. My train of thought kinda went from A to Z with no stops in between there. I blame ADHD." His smile fades. "How do I explain...? So, there I was, right after the end of the first prophecy, thinking my life is set to be wonderful. Mom and Paul getting on brilliantly, Annabeth is as great as ever, and camp's improving." Now his face sours. "Then this prophecy I've just learned of a few months ago, something actually predicted two thousand years ago, takes away eight months of my life." It's at this point, when he takes a deep breath and clenches his fists (likely subconsciously), she finally understands the point he's trying to make. "Her Majesty Hera decided it's best for me to lose almost a year of what by all means should be some of the best times of my life."
It's now that she understands his point, and his pain. Because it does take a few seconds for her to really get why he sounds so devastated by this, and when she does, it's startling. Moreover, she can only understand, but she just cannot comprehend.
Artemis realizes, and understands that Percy feels cheated. He's lost precious time that he could have spent with loved ones.
But she can't comprehend it, though, because her time isn't limited. It's a unique sensation that she'll never be able to experience. She's immortal - a year is nothing to her, and even if she loses a few decades, it won't matter much. All her companions are … immortal, so there's really no time limit. A … limit, yes, that she's all too aware of … but she has to focus on Percy now.
Artemis searches for something to say, anything. Because Percy's now despondent look tugs at her heartstrings, but there are no consolations to give. Generally 'Great' Prophecies have taken at least a few decades if not more to come true, and in his case both happened practically on top of each other.
"Makes me wonder what would've happened if I'd chosen to become a god. Or if it was really a choice in the first place, you know?" His smile is wry. "Don't suppose that answers your question?"
"You told me to trust you earlier, but I'm still not seeing the connection. What is the relevance of all this other information?" What was the point of all that? She feels she knows what point he is trying to make, but his delivery is lacking.
"Sorry, sorry. I know I'm not being very clear - I'm not really good at explaining." The demigod sighs again. "I've thought things through before, but it's really hard to put into words. The things I just talked about is related, but not really on point. Just … alright. I know my original reasons. My question is, do it really matter?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Artemis still can't find the connection, and is getting frustrated by his lack of ability to convey his feelings properly. But she can't get enough of how genuine he's being, expressing his soul to her, despite her technically being an outright stranger to him.
"I was destined to be part of the Seven. If I was a god, I couldn't have been. There are only two things to consider, then," Percy recounts. He holds up a single finger; his eyes are haunted, staring into her soul. "Either I had the choice, and could've screwed over the world by not been part of the quest or something. Or -"
Before he can raise his other finger, Artemis pieces it together and finishes his sentence. "-or you never really had a choice. You were never going to accept godhood."
"Now you see," Percy concludes. "I was doomed to not accept, and then go through all the schist that Hera would put me through right after. My choice to not accept didn't even matter, and there was no fate I was defying. It was inevitable that things would happen the way they did. Like, is there any other way that I can see this?"
The logic is … admittedly sound.
"It isn't even like the war against the Titans, which was since World War II. That, I can take. But this Prophecy of Seven, which I originally thought I never had to deal with in my lifetime, ends up to be two thousand - two thousand - years old, and dictates my near death. Though, I guess it was fated that I would live, eh?" The boy laughs bitterly, jaded by his life experiences. "And all the things I've had to deal with, that everything I've suffered through, and" - he swallows - "and am suffering through was, is, going to happen no matter what. I was always going to choose to remain mortal."
"So why in Hades would my choice matter?" His last question comes at a surprise, an abrupt end to his tirade against what wrongs him.
She takes a moment to relish what he's said before answering. "Why are you telling me this? We've just met." Not exactly, but her point still stands. He doesn't know her personally, even if he 'knows' 'Artemis.'
The hero shrugs. "You asked." Then he leans back, and the goddess blinks in surprise as she realizes they had both leaned in, so invested into their discussion. "And I guess, as sad as it is, it's so much easier talking to someone you don't even know well about these things. Sort of like a psychologist? No, a psychiatrist. Gotta pay money to talk about the stuff screwing with your head with a stranger rather than friends and family."
Artemis frowns. This is the hero whose fatal flaw is toted to be loyalty? "You have not even talked about this with your friends?"
"What am I supposed to tell them? Oh, what do you think would have happened if I wasn't there for the quest?" Percy snorts. "The entire thing was bad enough already."
"Not even your girlfriend?" Artemis never had that type of a relationship herself, but she knows that this is normally the stuff you can share with someone in that close position.
This time he outright laughs at her, though she doesn't feel the inclination to transform him into a creature for some reason. "Oh, that's even better, Luna. Let me just ask Annabeth what she thinks about me never getting together with her. Especially with what's been going on. Abandoning her, after, after everything, after all we've gone through together. Not being there with her in Tartarus. Great idea that would be."
She didn't think of that. "Well … what do you expect for me to do for you?"
Percy's stare penetrates through her, and she feels like he's known exactly who she is during the entire charade. "I expect to … hear a different perspective."
Artemis shudders, and she bundles in slightly, discomfited by his frankness. Enough for Percy to notice. "Are you cold? Damn, I left my jacket at -"
She cuts him off. "I'm fine. Forget what I can do already?" She's not feeling even a chill, but it's probably better to pretend to be more sensitive to the weather to be more believably mortal. That, and she does favor the white jacket she conjures before her. Snow combat camouflage pattern, a hood that has the perfect amount of room for her hair, loose enough sleeves to pull her bowstring back fully without restriction. And it complements her appearance. She quickly slips it on, and looks to Percy to find him standing.
"Let's keep moving, shall we?" He suggests as he stretches his muscles, hands extending to the skies. "To keep warmed up and not stiff. I've heard walking helps with thinking, too."
It's not really an issue for the goddess, but she falls into step next to him as they wander the paths. The walk is less hurried than before, a passive and relaxing stroll. She feels content to remain silent as she contemplates things, and she can barely hear her footsteps anymore. She's knows that she's still making some noises, but her tread is for the moment nigh undetectable because she's disguising it with Percy's crunching about.
And then he prompts her again. "Well?"
"… Give me more time to think," she whispers into the air.
"No problem." Artemis perceives that his focus is no longer locked onto her and now elsewhere. His presence is now not so much less pressuring as … comfortable. How strange.
She looks up towards the heavens, and takes in the full sphere in the sky that has defined her existence for millennia. As brilliant and as intoxicating as ever.
But she's distracted when Orion shines brightly, peeking out over the buildings. Her jaw clenches. It's far more distinct than the the other constellations. An absolute insult. She wants to tear those stars out of the fabric of the skies. So many of her Hunters, dead because of the atrocities that giant committed. Celyn … Naomi … Phoebe.
If Percy is right, were their sacrifices meaningless? She had focused all her attention on watching over them from Delos, but that had, rather than reassure her, only caused her torment. She wasn't able to protect or save any of them - only watch them die. Her treasured companions, most of them who had been with her for over a millenia, departed to a realm she would never be able to visit with good conscience. And, if Percy's point of view was right, all of it would have happened no matter what.
That day so many had fallen fighting in league with the Amazons, she had nearly gutted Apollo. So much of the Giant War was his fault. Unlike their father, she wasn't unreasonable enough to blame him for appointing a new Oracle of Delphi. But what she could accuse him of was being an arrogant, flamboyant, and utterly inane asshole who'd succumbed to the honeyed words of a politician. And that had led to the death of her followers, her few and far between companions.
The key word is was. Artemis is clueless in regards to his whereabouts, and it's probably better that way. For her twin.
She won't accept that her followers were destined to die. She can't accept that her followers were destined to die. Finally, she speaks. "So … in a nutshell, you think everything is predetermined?"
"What else can I believe?" The hero mutters bitterly.
"But does that truly invalidate your purpose behind your decisions?" asks Artemis.
Percy stops walking abruptly. They're not too far off the water again. "What does it matter how I feel if my choices are already made?"
The goddess's cessation of movement is more fluid. She leans against an ancient maple tree to face him properly. How to go about this …? Oh, wait. "What did you ask for instead of immortality?"
"I'm not seeing where you're going with this." Percy's look is full of doubt.
She rolls her eyes. Typical male hypocrite. "How about you trust me this time?"
"Fair enough." Percy cedes, and he ploomphs down onto the pile of snow next to the tree, next to her. "I asked for all the gods to recognize all of their children. Couldn't just let everything happen again, y'know? Kronos - Saturn, is Kronos Saturn to you? - Saturn had so many demigod followers only because the gods didn't do that before. Though I guess that was fated to happen too, eh?"
"And why do you believe the gods would do that?" It's another answers she's been searching for, and she wonders if the answer will be just as … interesting.
The demigod's shrugging displaces the snow around his arms. "Gods can change."
Never mind. She chuckles in a self-deprecating manner. His response is indeed interesting, and also completely wrong. "No, they can't."
"What?" Percy bolts upright. "They've kept their promise. They swore on the River Styx!"
"Well, for one, so what if they swore on the River Styx? That promise doesn't mean anything anymore. When's the last time a god has been punished for breaking a pact on the Styx?" It's a rhetorical question, but she's sure he's thinking of her lieutenant right now. Thalia had been the one to incur the wrath of Hades. Not to mention- "You were born despite the Big Three's oath. Considering that of all things, your faith is truly remarkable."
"Then - then was all that for nothing?" The blizzard outside the park visibly swells, and all of the ice over the reservoir fractures from the churning waters beneath them.
Artemis attempts to placates him. "That wasn't really my point. Some of the gods are definitely too honorable not to keep their oath." She wasn't planning on breaking it anytime soon, although she didn't actually have children for the oath to work in the first place. "The point I'm trying to make is that gods don't change. My f- ancestor, Zeus, has been the source of just about every issue in Greek mythology because of his inability to keep his libido from acting up, and he was first to break the non-childbirth oath. He's certainly going to be one of the first to forget about the new oath you made them swear. And why do you think there was a Greek and Roman divide in the first place?"
"Well, isn't that proof in the first place that the gods can change?" She's losing him.
"No. If that were true, then there would only be Roman demigods, and there would be no Greeks," Artemis explains, "If there was just a smooth change, then there would be no distinction. The two aspects of the gods are completely separate, even if similar."
"Well, what does that have to do with whether my fate could be that I'll be turned into some guinea pig on a tropical island and that I can do nothing about it?" Huh. Now that she's imagining it, she's sure he will make a very cute pet.
"Simply that if you believe in fate, you wouldn't believe that gods can change." She sighs, and pulls up a foot to 'sit' on while still leaning on the tree. "The path of mortal lives are set, and the gods are the same for all time."
"That doesn't help with whether everything will happen no matter what I do about it!" Percy whines, scooting closer to also lean against the maple.
There is never only one way! That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?
The words ring out in her mind, and she acts upon the inspiration. "Well, how about this? Why do you think there are three Fates?"
"Wait … I forgot about that!" Percy jumps in place, like he's been shocked by jumper cables. He stares at her again. "But … how did you know about that?"
Oh, skata, Artemis remembers that he'd been there too. "Know about what?"
"No way that that's common information," accuses Percy, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Skata skata skata skata. She says the first thing that comes to her mind, as quickly as possible. "Not in the legion, remember? I've spent so much of my time in the library reading that they've hired me as an assistant there. I've found lots of obscure knowledge there over the years. Where the hell did you learn about that?"
"Huh. I guess…" He relaxes again, slouching back to the snow. "So, you're saying that there was always the option that I could have screwed over the world, then?"
"Or, Perseus, maybe you still would've been sent to New Rome and lost your immortality the same way you lost the curse of Achilles. Or the prophecy might've actually been about some other demigods in the far future, because there weren't seven suitable heroes. Or your Oracle could've given a completely different Great Prophecy, and the Prophecy of Seven would have been saved for another generation. Who knows? The past is set. You cannot change what happened." Just like how she accepts that there is no way to bring back her Hunters. Over and over again.
She's never lost so many at the same time before. She has yet to recruit any new members either - the pain is still too fresh. Not to mention it had been most of the fresh recruits that she'd just been getting attached to that had died during the Titan War. Oh, she can't lose her cool now of all times - she forces herself to continue. "Your choice did make a difference."
A laugh chokes its way out from the half-depressed man. "So you're telling me I could have screwed everyone over. Or became a god, and left everyone I knew. That's actually comforting, in a strange way. Thanks." Percy collapses back onto the snow.
"Well, I can offer more than that," Artemis blurts. Relevant facts bloom out of hiding within her mind. "You're so very concerned about prophecies? Have you forgotten the Oracle of Delphi is hidden away again?" And that her brother is missing, out of the way and probably not out of Zeus's doghouse for a few centuries? "And The Prophecy of Seven was the only undamaged prophecy left unfulfilled in our available pages of the books. All the remainders are just indecipherable scraps of paper. Your worries are … unsubstantiated, with how everything is now."
Percy's beaming (if still crooked) smile causes her to blush. "Dam, Luna, where have you been all this time? I could've used hearing that months ago!"
"It's nothing." She didn't quite receive the answer she'd originally been looking for, but she's happy with what she's heard. "But … then why did you deny immortality?"
The demigod deflates. "I guess I owe you the answer." The answer he gives next is spoken far too quickly and quietly, but she hears it anyway. "I didn't want to leave Annabeth - though that's going wonderfully now." But then his contagious smile returns, a bit forced but honest nonetheless. "But no, that was definitely not nothing. Gods be damned, I feel … free, now!" he exclaims. "I owe you. Something you want? Anything I can do in return?"
"No, no, what? It's fine," she protests. She can't conceive of anything that the Son of the Sea can do for her - he's already answered the questions that have been brewing in her mind for over a year. Also, Artemis risks tying herself in knots if she becomes 'attached' like this. He thinks of her as Luna - an expectation for future confrontations will be … in a word, convoluted.
"C'mon, Luna. There's at least something," he says, sitting up properly again. "Nothing at all? Really?"
"Nothing," she insists.
"Well, I guess I could always just make this a night to remember," Percy cedes.
"Wha-?" Her confusion distracts her momentarily, so she's cut off, completely unprepared when a snowball smacks her in the cheek. She sputters, and tries to speak again, but she's cut off again when another chunk of snow glances off her stomach.
For a moment, she's once again clueless as to what to do next. But even as the Son of the Sea dashes away for cover, he throws another that smacks her leg.
Right. That's not going unanswered.
The snowball fight that ensues is surprisingly fair, though there probably isn't a standard for a snowball fight between a single goddess and single hero. Regardless, projectile weapons are child's play to her, and it takes very little to adjust to the trajectories and falloffs of the average snowball. But while her shots land consistently almost immediately after her first few trials, Percy gathers snow with his powers, and thus is far faster at generating ammunition.
It's … exhilarating. The Son of the Sea lobs practically a dozen snowballs at a time, his abilities helping him form and launch multitudes of volleys. His ability to aim at a moving target is horrid, though, so his misses land in clumps nearby. Those in turn are easy to pick up and reuse for her purposes, so the action rarely ceases. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much sinc-. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much, and there's an uncharacteristic grin on her face as they run around like children.
At one point their match moves back away from the reservoir, and into the more wooded area, where the runs between the natural cover changes the entire battle. A few times she climbs the trees, where it's simple to use her vantage point to rain down barrages at Percy before being forced back down to resupply. When they transition to one of the playgrounds, the verticality of the environment forces an entirely different approach to their contest.
But the most impressive battleground is created when she chases down the hero to the shore once again. After pelting him in the back with a few shots, Percy laughs and collapses, kneeling to the ground. Before she can take advantage, though, he sweeps his arms high above his head. In a completely frivolous use of his innate powers, he somehow sculpts the entire landscape into a labyrinthic series of corridors and gates and corners. There, it's a hunt, alternating cat and mouse. One particularly spectacular tussle happens when she retreats into a corner, thinking it safe. Instead, the walls fall in on her as her opponent ploughs straight through them, whooping as he does so.
The second time that happens, she counter-ambushes him by dodging and planting his face into the next wall, before taking off laughing.
Eventually they're back at the lake, thoroughly worn out. At least, she assumes Percy is worn out, as he retreats over the ice to create a wall she doesn't dare attempt to bypass. After a minute of a few half-hearted shots, he interrupts the tense standoff. "Truce?"
"Truce," she agrees. But she can't resist sending one last missile at his face as the ice wall comes down. It splatters into slush right across the bridge of his nose, and Artemis giggles when he coughs in shock.
He wipes his face clean. "I deserved that."
"Yes, you did," she assents. She steps onto the frozen lake surface once more. "I enjoyed myself, though, Perseus, so thank you. And how do you know how to control snow?"
"You're welcome." As she makes her way to him, the sheet cracks, and she slips, falling into his arms once again. Artemis blushes uncontrollably - she should have recovered her balance, but their snowball fight exhausted her more than she could have believed. Or perhaps that was their conversation that did that?
"You're welcome for that too," Percy chuckles. "Again. But let me just make sure that doesn't happen again." He lets her distance herself again as a look of concentration passes over his face. The ice reforms, to which he comments, "No sudden movements and we should be fine. And - and this is just something I picked up. Better than some other things I've tried to control." Percy shakes off the remaining snow from his clothing, "Going back a bit, though. I have a question for you now."
"Hm?" They're face to face, only a foot apart. He looks … different, and Artemis isn't sure what makes it so. Something with the eyes … or the clothing … something.
"If my choices do matter, then why can't gods change?"
The question turns her world upside down.
"Let's see about that," she whispers. Her blood is molten, and the vapor from her breath pulses with the dancing moonlight.
"Wha?" Percy leans in, turning his ear closer. "Didn't catch that."
The steam of their breath mingles. Gradually, with her silver eyes locked on his green eyes, she discards her jacket and lets it fade into nothing. The ichor is rushing far too hot within her veins. The material of her tunic flashes in her light as the goddess brings up her arms. He doesn't move, locked into place as she gently lays her hands upon his shoulders. "Dance with me."
He's frowning, and his brow furrows. "Bu-"
She interrupts. "The others are having their dance. Why shouldn't we?" The hero still hesitates, so she speaks again. "This is my favor. My request."
"Pushy, pushy," Percy snarks, but the hint of a smile is back on his lips. His hands find their way to her hips, oddly reminiscent of how he'd prevented her from falling. "Alright then, Moonbeam."
She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as they begin to dance.
There's a comfortable gap between them as they sway to and fro. No music, but it's not really necessary. Not for Artemis. She's too busy absorbing what's happening. The even more vivid skies, the shimmering play of moonlight across the ice, the serenity of the (somewhat disturbed) landscape of snow. The unique mortal she's dancing with.
They don't move very far from where they are, but they do minutely progress away from the shore. Her right hand trails down his chest, where Percy's left seizes it. For a few seconds, their swaying stops as they gauge each other. Then, like he's handling a baby, he grasps her hand and holds it to his chest. His hand cusps hers, only his thumb between her palm and his front. His right hand migrates upwards to her back as she draws closer, her left hand curling back around his neck.
Artemis lays her head on his shoulder, cheek resting cozily by the crook of his collarbone.
There's no space left between them as they resume their dance.
She doesn't care.
For tonight, she's thinking of a world where her Hunters didn't die. That way, she can be happy without feeling guilty. For tonight, she believes that immortals can change. Because even if she knows that they absolutely can't, even though mortals can have a choice, that way she can have this moment.
Tonight, she's doing something different.
She loses track of the time, in a warm embrace and with her mind five worlds away.
But eventually the thunder rumbles. The sign of midnight of the solstice. It's time to go. The goddess extricates herself.
The atmosphere is charged, yet hollow. Percy's smile swims into her vision, and then his lips move. "Keep in touch?"
Artemis smiles back. Fragile and weak, even a touch mournful, but a smile nonetheless.
Oh, such a grand catharsis.
She blinks back tears, nods, then turns her back to leave.
Her footsteps are imperceptible.
Author's Note
This work will ignore everything post Blood of Olympus, besides the concept of Apollo's punishment.