SUMMARY: After her father's remarriage, nine-year-old Artemis's world becomes colored in shades of grey cynicism and pale hostility. Even though the rest of her family ignores and laughs away Zeus's betrayal, it's been day in and out of apathy for Artemis... Then her mother adopts a boy with startling sea-green eyes and red scratches on his wrists. Everything changes from there. Pertemis
A/N: Fair warning of pseudo-incest. I wouldn't be too squeamish about it because a) fiction, b) not related, c) no power dynamics, but if even the mere idea inflames you...this story will not make you a happy camper. They are stepsiblings, and this is a completely mortal AU. The rating might change to M later.
From Artemis's perspective, Leto has always been a fragile glass statue—elegant, beautiful, and one push away from smashing into a million glass shards. Leto's heart bleeds easily. And that is why, when Leto goes to the rickety, old orphanage, said stupid heart gives in, and she gets a new vanity project.
Leto calls him "Percy Jackson," but Artemis calls him "waste of space."
However, Artemis's twin brother, Apollo, seems happy enough to meet Leto's new house-plant. Nose wrinkling in disgust, Artemis rolls her eyes at her brother's bright smile. Even though Artemis is barely ten years old, she can breezily read between the lines, while Apollo remains innocent in a very Apollo-like manner. Her brother is a boy who believes in pretty illusions, ever the optimistic beam of sunshine. He only sees what he wants to see.
Cynical, bitter Artemis understands why, and that makes it so much worse.
The small family of three stand behind a window. Apollo is craning his neck this way and that. Leto smiles widely. Two identical pairs of wide crystal-clear blue eyes are aglow with excitement.
Leto holds Artemis and Apollo's small hands in her own, one twin on each side of her. Artemis doesn't want to think about this "Percy Jackson" mixing in their home-life; Leto doesn't have three hands. She has two. It has always been for them two, always been for Artemis and her brother. Percy Jackson isn't even related to them by blood. Why do they need a boy, who isn't blood, living with them?
This isn't like donating to charity, or throwing a couple of bills to a homeless man on the street; this is more permanent. This stays.
Apollo's smile is like the sun, big and blinding. Leto squeezes both of their hands tightly, telling them, "Percy is almost here, okay? I want both of you to be on your best behavior. Make Percy feel welcome! I'm sure he feels very nervous after living in an orphanage for so long."
Artemis wants to scoff, but she can only feel pity for the boy. The kind of childish pity someone throws to a dying animal.
On the other hand, bright-eyed Apollo jumps up and down, causing Leto to sputter and bounce along in tune to his excitement. Artemis lets go of Leto's hand. "I can't wait!" Apollo exclaims cheerily. "I've always wanted a little brother, Mom!"
Artemis really does scoff this time, a light clearing of her throat that's ignored by Leto and her brother.
The siblings really are as different as night and day, especially on matters like this. Apollo understands Leto. Artemis doesn't, and she probably never will. She doesn't want to join her brother's silliness and inane stupidity. Despite being twins, despite being raised the same way, Artemis and Apollo never see eye to eye on anything.
While Apollo is bright and kind and merry, Artemis is cold and straight-laced and withdrawn.
They barely look like siblings. They both have sharply-angled cheekbones, but that's where the physical similarities end. And their interests couldn't be more different if they tried.
Artemis likes simple things like rookie archery practice and the night sky; Apollo likes bright, flamboyant things like singing, dancing, glitter, and slam poetry. Artemis calls her mother "Leto"; Apollo calls her the normal title "Mom." Artemis hates little orphan boys who wreck lives; Apollo is excited at the prospect.
"That's good to hear, Apollo," Leto says fondly.
Leto barely looks at Artemis. Instead, Leto's eyes are trained at the window, and the woman's smile widens when she sees a car pull up on the driveway. It is blue and ugly, covered in bird poop and rust, its headlights slanted like cat-eyes. Artemis has never believed in double meanings and poetical symbolism, but she has a feeling that this...this is exactly what Apollo has always meant in his haikus. Artemis sits on the staircase, while Leto and Apollo open the door and race towards the car. The sun is beating down on their joyful, grin-stretched faces.
Artemis puts her hands in the crooks of her elbows. She breathes in deeply, pretending she is somewhere else.
Even so, her stomach erupts in painful, flapping, anxious butterflies.
Between her and Apollo, Leto's love always stretches weary and thin. Since their father is completely out of the picture, Artemis and her brother scramble for whatever scraps they can get.
In retrospect, really, Artemis and Apollo don't have a father... At least not in the traditional sense. All they have is a rich, haughty man who coerced their secretary mother into an affair—who pays her every month to keep everything hush-hush. Artemis hates her father. She hates how Leto always looks at them—with that look, always that look—like Artemis and Apollo are mistakes.
Like they are nothings, Artemis's mind chips in.
Artemis wonders if adopting Percy Jackson is some sign of...rebellion from her docile mother. Zeus's remarriage to a famous, rich, utterly extravagant model is on its way, and maybe, Leto's trying to distract herself from it. With him.
The Percy Jackson-shaped wrench.
She's starting to hate the name: the way Leto says it like a prayer, the way Apollo says it like a chant, the way it's going to be spray-painted like ugly graffiti into their lives.
The door is propped open finally. Leto exchanges a few words with a man in glasses. He makes her sign a few things "just to make sure," and she rushes through the process hastily. Apollo peeks to and fro—behind the car, behind the worker, behind the house—and Artemis finds herself curiously scanning too. Leto finalizes a few things with a clipboard. The man leaves, and a hasty silhouette of a boy reveals itself.
Artemis stands up, the staircase making a creaking noise.
The boy is small...really small. His limbs look gangly and too big for his tiny body, and he looks both full and hungry from different angles. His skin is tan and imperfect, and despite the hot weather, the boy is wearing a long-sleeved polo shirt. His hair is messy and black, almost like a pile of raven feathers on the tip of his tiny head. His bright sea-green eyes are downcast and sullen, avoiding any eye-contact.
Leto grabs his hand gently, and they walk in. Apollo closes the door, staring at the boy in unfiltered fascination.
"Wow, Mom!" Apollo says. "He's so...small!"
Leto passes Apollo a squinted, berating look at Apollo's brutal honesty, but it doesn't last long. Leto is famous for not holding grudges (it's the reason why Artemis's dad walked away scot-free). She looks at the boy, Percy Jackson, with wide, understanding eyes.
"This is your new home, Percy," says Leto finally, when the silence drags too long on. Artemis thinks that statement is much too forward; this is not Percy's new home. The worker will be back by the end of the month to take the glorified house-plant back. She is absolutely sure of it. "I've cleared a room upstairs. It'll be your new bedroom, and we can go buy sheets and a new bed for you tomorrow, okay? For now, you can bunk with Apollo, and you can share his clothes too. We'll go shopping, and we'll get you all sorts of things a young boy like yourself needs—"
Artemis tunes out her mother's voice. Leto is babbling away at nonsense things, so instead, the young girl focuses her attention on Percy.
The boy's expression is hard to read.
Artemis tilts her head curiously.
Leto stops talking, and she brings herself down to Percy's eye-level. "My name is Leto. I'm going to be your guardian," she says calmly, even though excitement is glittering in her cerulean eyes. She points at Apollo and Artemis hovering not too far away. "These are my two kids. Apollo and Arty."
"Artemis," Artemis clarifies, her tone clipped.
Percy looks up, swallows slightly, and nods his head. Once. Sharply. "Um, uh..." he says, as eloquent as Artemis has imagined. His eyes don't find hers, and he tensely looks at Apollo's bright face. "My name's Percy."
"Yeah, Mom told us that." Apollo nods his head wisely at the boy. He adjusts his suit. He's only worn suits to picture-day and for guests, and this one's his most try-hardy one yet. It's black and white with tiny brass buttons with a bright blue-green-yellow tie that gives Artemis's eyes a sort of spiritual pain. It clashes horribly with his bright blonde hair and baby-blue eyes.
However, a half-hour before, Leto complimented Apollo's outfit cutely in a voice adults dedicate to little kids. It all felt very fake to Artemis, but Apollo ate it all up like it was a first-class meal. He sees love, where Artemis sees strings tying Leto to them. Leto always does things out of obligation. Never love—not for her two bastard kids. Sometimes, Artemis's chest tightens at the thought, while other times—like now—she ignores it, hard. At least knowing Leto hasn't abandoned them yet has some room for celebration. She is the lesser of two evils.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Percy," Apollo continues, interrupting her thoughts.
There is another rapid-fire nod from Percy: a-blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of moment. He is exceptionally good at nodding, thinks Artemis, not caring if she's being rude or unfair.
Artemis steps closer.
The filtered sun is sharp against Percy's hollow cheeks. Percy's green eyes find hers. He looks away quickly.
A coward, Artemis decides, and she moves backward.
"Hello, Percy," she says to him, once she is a safe distance away.
Leto has lectured her not to address him by his last name, because of a traumatic event with his mother or some other excuse. It feels weird. Artemis likes calling people she doesn't know or like by their full name, the same way her father, Zeus, does with her.
Zeus doesn't like her much, and just like Leto, he is obligated to do things. His obligation is child support and sending her a lavish gift once a year. He always gets the days mixed up for their birthdays, and Artemis has little use for diamond necklaces and tiny silk gowns. Zeus can keep track of every mistress—every pretty waiter—'s name, but everything related to Artemis and Apollo is lost in that chaotic, complex mind of his. Worst of all, it's always an obligation. It feels like one, too.
On the few days the mighty Zeus does visit Leto, Apollo, and Artemis, he calls them all by full name, like they are estranged associates.
"Hi," says Percy nervously, shoving his hands into his cargo shorts. He bites his lip.
Percy's dim eyes can't meet any one of their looks. His pursed smile toes the line between frightened, sheepish, and cocky. It is hard to place him, and Artemis only provides her hand in a formal handshake. She's seen grown-ups do it all the time with business associates, and that's exactly what Percy is. He isn't Artemis's friend, and he certainly isn't her brother.
That leaves a few categories behind:
Enemy.
Stranger.
Business associate.
They shake hands. Percy's hand is a bit sweaty, covered in calluses and scratches, but it's firm. Leto smiles at Artemis's formality.
Leto is probably happy Artemis has compromised enough to at least give Percy a try. As if Percy Jackson is a new popsicle flavor. As if Percy Jackson is something to be tried. Leto can hide behind whatever pretty, happy pretenses she wants to, but she does not truly care about the boy. At the end of the day, Leto is just chasing the high of being a "hero," and Artemis hates her for it.
"It's nice to meet you," Apollo says in a British accent, mock-formally. "My name is the great Lord Apollo, and that is my sister Lady Artemis. My mother here is the Baroness Leto of 555 Eve Road. And you must be the Duke Percy Jackson, I take it?" He doesn't stutter even once. Apollo dramatically flexes his hand out towards Percy, which makes the boy blink at his stunning delivery.
Wow, Artemis thinks dryly. Apollo really has been practicing for drama club, hasn't he?
Percy seals Apollo's hand with his own. There'd been a visual wince when Percy's surname was brought up, but now, the weird boy is smiling. "Yeah, my name's Percy," he says again, "...oh great Lord Apollo."
An amused smile plagues Leto's lips. Apollo laughs, his blue eyes twinkling.
"We're gonna have so much fun together," Apollo says. "I've always wanted a brother."
Artemis stares pointedly at Apollo, her eyes seething, but Apollo only chuckles good-naturedly. Artemis thinks that it isn't so much as Apollo wanting a brother, but him wanting another sibling entirely. Artemis is dark, angry, and holds grudges. She has been called a "force of nature," by teachers and parents alike, and she has a cynical look on life. Even though Artemis's brother is reasonably smart and talented in drama, the arts, advanced poetry, and basic chemistry, he is still a nine-year-old. He, like most nine-year-olds, cannot stand Artemis's bitterness.
Peering at Percy Jackson skeptically though, Artemis recognizes that the boy isn't much different. He is withdrawn as well, and although he smiles, he smiles like a man with a script. He reminds Artemis of... He...
Well, whatever it is...it's weird.
"Yeah, me too," the green-eyed boy says, shifting his feet around nervously.
When Leto senses Percy's discomfort, she interjects, "How about Apollo and Artemis give you a tour of the house?"
"That'd be nice..." Percy begins hesitantly.
"All right!" yells Apollo with a bright smile, slinging an arm around Percy's shoulders. "C'mon! Let's go to my room first, Percy. Wait till you see my trophies!"
"Of course," Artemis says, "I'm sure Percy will be fascinated by your 'Best Haiku of the Year' awards."
"Don't mind her. She's just jealous."
"Clearly."
Apollo sticks his tongue out at her, his face scrunched-up. Artemis doesn't bother gracing her brother with a response, proving her brother's childishness. He's too immature. He can't handle anything properly, much less little orphan boys by the name of "Percy Jackson."
Artemis stays silent, though.
They run up the wooden staircase, leaving a smiling Leto behind.
Apollo races by, like he's drifting on a breeze, but Artemis doesn't even have to try outmatching him. She's always been agile and light on her feet, while Apollo's motions are jerky and arrogant, like he's trying to show off. Wide-eyed Percy tries to match their pace, but he is still out of breath when he gets to the top. As they get situated, Apollo moves towards Percy like a magnet, talking loudly about all sorts of things.
Artemis walks behind Apollo and Percy, as her twin gives Percy a "tour" of their home. He points out badly painted ceiling tiles and flies buzzing around. Apollo talks about how Artemis is simply such a spoilsport, how he's obviously the older one, how he's clearly the more talented, handsome one. The younger boy next to him nods a lot, though he doesn't seem to absorb any of Apollo's quick information. Percy looks behind them a few times, like he's passing secrets to Artemis, despite not quite meeting Artemis's silvery gaze.
Artemis, meanwhile, just stares at the back of Percy's head, at the strands of dark, messy hair. She thinks that if he just stands still, she'll be able to count every strand. She estimates it'll be somewhere around fifty thousand.
Apollo's voice razes through her minefield of thoughts like an obnoxious alarm.
With Leto downstairs and frying some bacon, and Apollo has no need to be charming and "cute," Apollo is as loud and annoying as he wants to be. He brags and stifles Percy in new information and his general cockiness. Artemis thinks this has to constitute as some sort of annoying brainwashing.
"You know...not to brag, of course," he begins, and Artemis immediately knows where the conversation is headed, "but I did win 'Best Junior Harp Player' and 'Best Junior Guitar Player' seven times in a row."
"That's really cool."
"Thank you," Apollo then says, and he flashes Artemis a look of pure spite. "Mom says I'll be the next Einstein, too, you know. Or a doctor. Or a world-famous actor, singer, or musician."
"That's...um," says his unfortunate companion, "also...really cool?"
"Exactly! I'm happy we can agree on something, Perce."
Artemis almost laughs then and there. For a second there, she was sure her brother called Percy "purse." However, now that Artemis thinks of it, Percy was a lot like a bag though: an empty little thing for Apollo to drop his achievements into. She shakes her head when Percy turns around again, mouthing "Idiot" slowly under her breath.
As the conversation goes on, Artemis begins to feel more and more excluded.
"So, Percy," she finally says, just to say something in the midst of Apollo's arrogant brags. Her voice does flutter a bit, a bit on the meaner side, and she readjusts, thinking of Leto's voice telling her to be nicer, to be kinder, to be happier. "What things do you like?"
"Um..." he begins.
They wait for Percy to finish as they walk down the hallway. He doesn't continue; he just sort of stands there, his mouth still stuck on that one syllable. Artemis blinks and looks at Apollo. The same look of confusion is mirrored back.
Percy plays with the frayed edges of his long-sleeved shirt. He can't look at them.
His voice confident and booming, Apollo says, "Exactly, young squire. I demand to know what you're interested in." Back to acting, Artemis thinks. "What art thou's hobbies or interests?"
"'Thou's' isn't a real word."
Apollo rolls his eyes. He mimics, "'Artemis' isn't a real word."
Artemis's nose wrinkles, and she fires something back. The topic seems to fade in the background.
Percy steps away from the bickering twins. After Apollo sticks his tongue out at her, and Artemis furrows her brow, she sees a flash of tan, green, and black moving backward, and she stops and looks at Percy Jackson, who is fleeing the scene. Their eyes meet. Green to grey, grey to green.
"Hobbies and interests," clarifies Apollo, after he's done insulting Artemis. He also steps back, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles on his dress-shirt, looking at Percy expectantly.
Percy's smile is pursed. "Er..." he says. "I don't know."
"There has to be something—"
"Just let it go," Artemis says finally, her eyes intent on Percy's. "Leto warned us not to pester him."
Percy allows himself a smile, filled with gratitude. Artemis thinks Percy shouldn't get too comfortable. She still wants Leto's hero complex to die in a hole, and Percy gone from their lives, but it's not like she truly hates the green-eyed boy. When Artemis so chooses, she can be a fair judge of character.
Under his breath, Apollo mutters, "You were the one who brought it up..." But Artemis ignores him, in favor of looking in Percy's direction. She wonders what's in that mind of his; he seems so oddly shy, but Artemis also sees something else there. Percy Jackson is not meant to be "shy" or one of Apollo's dumb lackeys. He is...something else, something she can't quite put her finger on.
The three kids—surprisingly quite quietly—continue to walk across the second-floor's hallway. They walk near a door, which is nondescript and white with a neatly printed "Artemis" next to the door handle. It's her door.
Then Apollo stops abruptly, and he smiles that smile. That smile, which he's adopted from his childhood best friend: troublemaking, bratty, seven-year-old Hermes.
"What?" asks Artemis, her chin propped-up. She tries not to look at the door.
Apollo nods at the door. "Wanna show him?"
Artemis thinks deeply about what's in her room. She doesn't have many physical secrets from her mother or brother, but something about Apollo's mischievous gaze gives her the feeling that he's planted something embarrassing in there. The joke's all on him though because Artemis will never bring herself down to the feeling of embarrassment. She lifts her chin up, curious.
"Sure," she says and crosses her arms confidently.
He gestures for her to open the door. Artemis wonders if he's hijacked the door with silly string and confetti, but from judgement alone, she guesses not. Apollo isn't the type of kid to reuse pranks—"creativity" and all that—so Artemis crosses that option out. Plus, Hermes isn't here; Apollo's jokes usually get toned down, whenever he doesn't have an audience—
But then Artemis's gaze meets Percy's, and she realizes the "audience" slot is in fact being filled. "Oh" is all she says, to which Percy confusedly blinks. She quickly says to her twin, "Apollo, it'd better not be anything inappropriate."
"Gods, Arty, you're such a priss."
"Artemis," she corrects again, a mere hiss. However, her hand still moves to the knob, because even if Apollo has completely messed up her bedroom, she still has to sleep there tonight, and she'd rather be prepared for whatever tomfoolery her brother's created. She reassures herself again. Then Artemis opens up with a snapping crack.
Grey and white walls. A lamp with decorated plastic stars. A black wardrobe. A queen-size bed with pale beige sheets.
"Wow, it's like I've stepped into a black-and-white movie," Percy notes.
Artemis isn't even offended in the slightest, because she likes her room's simplicity. She likes her room because it's a place of simple concentration, simple colors, and simple living.
If Apollo somehow managed to become god of the universe, Artemis doesn't think she could live in the world he'd shape—loud, crazy-bright, flamboyant. He'd probably do away with nighttime and Artemis altogether. She brings herself away from her thoughts, as she looks at the surprisingly innocuous room.
Her eyes scan throughout the room, and deciding she needs an ally in this, Artemis says dully, "My brother thinks he's a comedian. He's done something to my room in order to embarrass me."
Apollo guffaws. "The nerve of such accusation!"
"You don't need to embarrass me," Artemis says with a dry smile. "Your presence next to me is enough—"
But then her eyes meet the floor.
Her collection of dresses are sprawled across the floor. Pink, cotton-candy blue, yellow, neon green dresses meet her vision; they are all her father's attempts at "fathering" gone wrong. The dresses smear the simple grey carpet like multiple brightly-colored satin-y stains. Artemis feels herself go still.
It's not the fact that the dresses look like they belong in a candy ad and generally look atrocious, but the fact that they're from her dad. Ex-dad. Zeus.
Artemis looks tensely at the dresses, unsure what sort of prank this is. Apollo ignores everything about their dear old dad, and this just doesn't feel like something he'd do: grabbing all her pretty princess dresses and splattering them on the floor for Percy to see. What reaction is Apollo trying to get out of them? Is this supposed to make Percy think she has terrible fashion taste, or a sloppy mess? Is this supposed to be for her? As a nod to Zeus? To get a rise out of her?
Artemis stares at the dresses for another moment. It feels too long.
The prank feels cryptic and out-of-place.
Finally, when the silence goes on too long, Apollo says and nods down at a dress, "I'm rather partial to the plum-purple one. Whaddya think, Perce?"
Percy stares at the floors. "That's...that's a lot of dresses," he admits awkwardly. Percy moves backward, avoiding stepping on a bedazzled, sequin-decorated dress. His eyes are still owlishly wide.
Artemis turns to meet Apollo, and she asks a firm "What?" Something tight is clutching her heart, refusing to let go. There are at least fifty of these too-small dresses (the size fitting that of a four-year-old Artemis) on the floor, and she feels her lips twist uncomfortably. She's hid them away in a box shoved in her closet, and the fact that Apollo has been digging his ugly, pointy nose into her business -
Apollo blinks at her and smiles. He twists a strand of his bright-blond hair. "Sis, you really've got to be neater... You know, there're guests." Not so subtly, he gestures at Percy. Percy's expression is sheepish, but he moves a few steps away from Apollo like, I don't know what's going on, and I don't really want to. Percy looks like he's itching to escape, like he fears their confrontation.
From below, as if reading from a perfectly-timed cue card, Leto calls: "DINNER'S READY!"
Percy's eyes dart away, and he says, "I'm really hungry, and...yeah, um." Then he scrambles out of the room and downstairs, leaving Artemis and Apollo to stare at each other.
Artemis can't even really bring herself to feel angry because Apollo doesn't understand. Even though Zeus has left both of them (in one fell swoop), it's only Artemis who's retained the daddy issues. She likes to think it's because she's older, wiser, or more mature, but it's really because Apollo just...doesn't care. While she does.
"Why'd you show him that?" she says quietly.
Apollo looks down at the floor and stares at a bright grass-green dress. "I don't know why you're complaining. They look pretty, sis."
"They're not," she says, her tone thick with something unplaceable. "That's the reason why you've put them down. That, and you're trying to paint me as some preppy mean rich girl to the poor orphan boy."
His smile dims, but it's still there, etched with lines of confusion. "But that's exactly what it is, right?"
Artemis doesn't want to explain how it's nothing like that, and that Leto, despite being sordidly associated with Zeus, does not have billions of dollars to spare. They are very strictly middle-class, and Artemis is not preppy in the slightest. If anything, with the sheer astounding amount of extracurriculars he partakes in, Apollo is the preppy, stuck-up one.
Just his luck that he never got any of Zeus's ugly gifts.
"Whatever," says Artemis, her mouth in a frown. She collects the heaps of dresses from the floor, hating the soft feel of them, and throws them into an empty clothes' bin. "Let's go downstairs. Food'll get cold. And Jackson will complain, and Leto will complain because Jackson is complaining, and then, she'll blame me because she always blames me."
"Yeah," says Apollo, and he looks at the bin, like it somehow holds all the secrets to the universe. "Let's go."
"Okay." Strictly, Artemis adds, not meeting his eyes, "Don't ever do this to me again." And she avoids eye-contact, looking out at the hall instead, just as she's picked up the last dress from the floor. She stands up, wondering what thoughts Percy has of her now.
However, before she even makes a move for the doorway, Apollo calls after her: "Why don't you donate them out, if you hate them so much?"
Artemis stops at the doorway, turning her head to meet his earnest blue-eyed gaze. Her heart is beating weirdly in her chest—in a series of painful squeezes—that she ignores. Artemis tries to say something, but nothing comes out.
In the end, the question goes unanswered.
Artemis and Apollo walk silently side-by-side, the sound of a grill sizzling the only noise in the air.
A/N: I've never written anything like this before, so feedback would be great. It's not really in-character, I know, and it's not what everyone wants to read, I know, but I just...wanted to write it. So. Here we are. This is sort of my simple, experimental outlet of present-tense Pertemis, so I can get myself prepared to write ML, but this story will escalate and get dark very quickly. I'd also consider this a very "Family"-oriented story, because aside from Percy-Artemis, there are strong dynamics between Apollo, Leto, Artemis, and later...well, no spoilers. Reviews are great, so please leave them.