I do not own the Percy Jackson characters in this.
My name is Atalanta. I'm a demigod. And what's more, I was never supposed to exist.
You see, I'm a daughter of Artemis. I'm guessing most of you will be thinking, Wait. How is that possible? Patience is a virtue that you should practice.
About four thousand years ago, my mother fell in love with a man. Just a mortal man. A hunter named Orion. Sound familiar? Yeah. I thought so. He was my father. Artemis had hidden me from the rest of the Olympians for all that time.
Artemis is not a motherly person. She cares a lot more about her Hunters than me. Probably because they weren't mistakes, people who were never supposed to born. I would have been treated just as well as them if I had accepted the choice she gave me on my thirteenth birthday. She invited me to join the Hunt.
I considered it, but I said no in the end. Wandering around the country and hunting monsters didn't seem like much of a life to me. What was the point, the purpose? All that it would do for me would be freeing me from the need to hide.
Three years later, my mother gave me another option. Immortality. I accepted. Probably the worst decision I've ever made. Now I wander around, doing pretty much whatever I please. I should have joined my mother and become a Hunter.
I rubbed my temples, pushing strands of dark hair out of my silvery eyes. Thoughts of Thalia, my "aunt" drifted into my brain. She had joined the Hunt about a year ago. I had been saddened. I had felt like we were kindred spirits, neither of us supposed to be alive.
Immortals can fade, or spend eternity in an agony to powerful to comprehend. People who became immortal are a different story. Worse things can happen to them. Much worse. And I had a feeling something like that would happen to me.
Snowflakes swirled around me, falling from the pale, wintery sky. I didn't feel cold. Immortality had drained some of my ability to feel. I could feel comfortable in any weather. It took a severe wound to hurt me.
The snowflakes settled in my hair, my eyelashes. They melted shortly after touching my exposed skin. I had no desire to move, despite the snow. I wrapped my arms around my knees, my eyes blank. Those eyes were the only feature I had that in any way resembled my mother.
I laughed softly, standing. The sound of my low voice surprised me. I rarely spoke nowadays. I had seen too many things, felt to many pains, known so many losses. Immortality isn't all fun and games.
Before my sixteenth birthday, I had been an ordinary mortal. Sure, I had remained hidden with a nymph for sixteen years, but I had still gone out, had friends. Before Mom gave me immortality, she told me it would be best to not speak with them anymore, socialize. Like any idiot, I didn't listen.
I still spent time with my friends. They couldn't tell the difference between me and them. A year passed. Then five. Then ten. Then thirty. They grew old and died. I didn't change. I still looked sixteen years old.
I walked toward the small cottage I lived in. It was a little farther from the edge of cliff I stood on than where I was now. All I really needed now was ambrosia and nectar. But it was a quirk of most people who became immortals to still crave mortal nourishment. I think I personally prefer it.
I pushed open my door. I never bothered locking it. I strode straight into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. Comfort food. Drink. Whatever.
Five minutes later, I sat curled up on my armchair in the living room, clutching a mug between my slim hands. I took a drink, staring into the crackling flames in my fireplace.