A/N: This is the kickoff of my new long (ish) FanFiction. Set in the early 1970s, the story centers around the relationship with a mortal and a god, and the destruction that follows in its wake. Interwoven with period details, such as the Vietnam War and the era of psychedelia, the story pays homage to its 70s roots. Hope you enjoy, and please review!

Note #1: Thanks to go the amazing Rosestream for beta-reading! Three cheers! Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah!

Note #2: Updates will be twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. Stay tuned!

Disclaimer: I lay no claims to neither the cover image nor the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series or its subsequent companion series, the Heroes of Olympus, or any of its consequent subsidiaries. I do, on the other hand, own a polka-dotted lamp with a burned-out light bulb. Yippee!

Rating: T (subject to change in later chapters)

Summary: Sixteen-year-old Libre Bellerose is a charmingly naive farm girl, content to lead the simple life in her small town set smack-dab in the middle of Ohio. But when things begin to go awry, spiraling out of control, she seeks solace with a strange man who calls himself Ares, though he might just be harboring a deep secret... Set in 1970s USA, 1972 is a tale about overcoming grief and rising above despair, strengthening yourself and forging a new life out of smoldering ashes.


Part I

June

One

I don't know when I first saw him.

The summer air hung heavy and thick over the farm, settling like a wispy cobweb over a field of sun-bleached cornstalks. The sky overhead was purple-gray, twisted and deformed, a fleeting summer storm a hairsbreadth away. I knew the sort – the kind of monsoon that swept over Ohio, devastating and destructive, lightning splitting tree trunks and lives right down the middle. I shoved my sweaty hair out of my forehead, gauging the storm. Lightning flashed against the darkened sky in the distance. Minutes, if that, until the storm struck.

My eyes flicked over to the farmhouse, hazy on the horizon, and beyond that, the silver silos poking up from the loamy soil. I sighed, nudging a soybean plant with the toe of my work boot. I was going to get trapped in the storm, sure enough. I'd just have to hope – no, pray – that I would escape the barrage of white-hot lightning.

I turned, looking at Enfin by my feet. She was settled on the ground, her head resting on her massive paws. I knelt, scratching her behind her ears. "You're awfully lazy," I commented as she rolled over onto her stomach, panting sloppily. Drool snaked out of the corner of her mouth.

I stood, ready to make a run for the farmhouse. I brushed the dirt of my jeans, swiveling to whistle for Enfin to follow…

And then I saw him.

I had probably noticed him before, a shadow lingering in the corner of my vision. He was standing about fifty feet away, his motorcycle boots wedged in the soft Ohioan soil. He was almost obnoxiously tall; six-three or six-four at least. He was wearing a black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a pair of thick-wedged motorcycle boots. Fingerless gloves covered his massive hands, and a pair of sunglasses sat askew on his nose.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?" I called.

He didn't answer. He just stood there, aloof and seemingly disinterested, a cynical smile playing at his lips as he gazed at me. "I asked you a question," I shouted, taking a step forward. Enfin jumped up as well, sensing my distress. Noticing the stranger, she began to bark, her sharp yips slicing through the humid air. "Who the hell are you, and why are you on my property?"

He grinned, his teeth sharp and white. His face was marked with scars, some faded and white, as if they were old battle wounds, some pink and puckered, as if they were brand-new. "You're going to get stuck in the storm," he said, pointing toward the sky.

As if on cue, a massive bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack. The whole world shook, or so it felt. A muscle ticked in my jaw. "I asked you a question," I said, walking fast toward him as the rain began to fall, sinking into the lush soil. Enfin followed on my heels, still barking, her teeth bared.

He smiled. "Iremía," he told Enfin, kneeling on the ground. She quieted immediately, sitting back on her haunches, and for the first time, I took a step back, almost afraid. Enfin was an Anatolian Shepherd, a massive dog bred for protecting livestock. She didn't simply calm down. He looked at me, his mouth twitching. "Smart girl," he said quietly, though whether he was referring to Enfin or to me, I didn't know.

"Run back inside, Libre," he told me.

I stilled. "How –" My throat felt dry. "How do you know my name?"

"Go," he told me again. "Or you'll be drenched within seconds." He wasn't wrong – rain was pouring from the sky, pelting me with increasing rapidity.

"I don't usually run away," I said, gritting my teeth. "I'm not that kind of girl."

He took off his sunglasses, and his hair – shoulder-length, dark and dripping with bathwater rain – shaded his face. He wiped his glasses on the hem of his shirt. "I didn't say you were," he said evenly; calmly. "But you have to choose your battles wisely, and this is not one worth fighting."

"Who says –"

"Go, Libre," he said, sliding his sunglasses back on his face. I noticed that his nose was crooked and bumpy as if it had been broken multiple times. "I'll be back."

"Like hell you will!" I cried. "This is my property, and I've got a gun."

He arched an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. "Go back to your farmhouse," he said.

Following his words, a bolt of silver-gold lightning sliced through the sky, flashing brightly against the dark storm clouds. I whirled, heart slamming against my ribcage, and when I turned around again, he was gone. Just… vanished. Like he'd never even been there in the first place.

Shivering, I turned around and ran back toward the farmhouse, Enfin following on my heels.


That was the first time I ever saw him. I didn't know who he was, not at the time. I didn't know the half of the horrible truths that lay in store, not then, not when I was still a naïve farm girl, newly turned sixteen, the whole world waiting at my fingertips.

It was the summer of 1972 when I first saw Ares appear on the horizon.

My life was never the same.


A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review!