Alrighty folks, how has it been? I know this isn't exactly what people were hoping for, which is an update to Love Blooms By Chance, but I'm in a position with that right now where I don't exactly know where to go with it. In the meantime, however, this has been jangling around my head for a while now. It's... kind of(?) a song fic?

This story follows a similar enough story to the Bobby Goldsboro song "Honey", one of my personal favorites. I listened to the words, got sad, and had an idea about essentially using this song to make a fic. You can even catch a bit of the lyrics or references to the lyrics later on.

This is only a one-off thing, and I'll see about going through LBbC again, both reading it through and my personal notes, and seeing where I can possible go from there. But like... no promises. Things are going to get more hectic in my life soon, so I might not even write much for a while, or even think about doing it.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this fic. I worked hard on it and I genuinely think this is some of my best writing yet. Take it easy, and I'll see ya when I see ya. Cheers!


Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp Chirp

Sunlight gently flits through the blinds of an old, wooden cabin as the sole occupant of the house, a man in what appears to be in his later 70s, wakes up from his slumber. The man groans and rubs the tiredness from his sea-green eyes and slowly pulls the covers off of him. He is wearing a soft, well-worn set of blue pajamas that clings tight to his full body, showing a fitness hardly to be expected at his age and after a brief bit of shuffling, slips into an old pair of slippers with a faded wave pattern on it.

Straightening himself, he takes a bit of time to pop his tight joints, filling the room with a set of low cracks before turning to face the far wall of his bedroom, his eyes crinkling slightly at the familiar sight he sees.

"Good morning, Honey," the man mutters to himself, his gaze turning wistful and lips turning ever so slightly upward in emotion.

On the wall is a large painting, easily taking up over half of the wall of the bedroom and featured prominently due to it being the sole fixture of the wall. It depicts a vibrant lakeside treescape at night, with verdant evergreens forming an almost constructed enclosure around a shimmering lake, the moon shining brightly overhead and reflected in the water. The colors pop out in ways that seem impossible with an almost life-like realism to the texture and shading that belies either an amazing skill in the arts or otherworldly interference… or both.

The man continues to stare at the painting for a few seconds before sighing deeply and shuffling out his door and into the hallway, with two doors on either side of the hall before it opens up into a wider common room/kitchen. As he goes along, he stops at the first door, turning to face the wooden door. He stares for a bit before reaching out and gingerly touching the doorknob and slowly opening the door…


"Daddy, daddy, come here," a little girl's voice excitedly yells from her room, making the man rise from the couch he was sitting on with the beautiful woman next to him and walk to her door and open it.

"Yes Bianca, what is it?" the father asks as he peeks his head through the door, sea-green eyes shining with mirth and affection. The man appears to be in his mid-30s, with a messy mop of black hair, a defined facial structure that screams either royalty or celebrity, and a fit musculature that exudes easy confidence and calm.

Pushing his way into the room, the man walks over to the bed where his daughter lays in her bed, an ear-to-ear smile on her little face that makes her shockingly silver eyes stand out and sparkle. Similar to her father, little Bianca has dark black hair and a mischievous look to her face that begs trouble, but unlike her father, has straighter, longer hair that goes just past her neck.

"Read me a story! And- and, can you make it about that one guy? The hero?" Bianca excitedly requests her father, which makes him chuckle lightly and pull a chair from beside the bed to take a seat. Her dad takes a moment to think, tipping minutely back in his chair as a ponderous look crosses his face.

"The hero? There's a lot of stories about heroes, love, you'll have to be more specific," the man teases good-naturedly, making the girl's face twist into a cute pout.

"Daddy! You know who I'm talking about," Bianca whines in response, and her father cracks a grin and laughs heartily, reaching over and softly tousling the hair of his daughter.

"I know, I know, just teasing you. Now, where did we leave off last?" the father asks.

"Oh, oh! He had just decided to go on a quest that he wasn't supposed to… something about too many members… right daddy?" Bianca recalls, making her dad smile and snap his fingers.

"Right, right. So, picking up where we left our hero, he decided to join in on the quest to save the moon goddess from the evil forces of the titans in order to save his best friend that they had also captured. Not being able to follow them, as they were able to get ahead of him, he was able to call upon the Pegasus friend he made on his last journey and rode off in pursuit! Following after them…"

For the next good while, the father regales his daughter with the daring story of the hero, keeping Bianca on the proverbial edge of her seat throughout the story. Her eyes lit up at the dangerous fights, creeping tenseness set in when it got dicey, and her tinkling laughter sounded when he injected humor to take the tension away.

Sometime nearing the end of the story, when the hero and his group had finally made it to the base of the titans and where his friend and moon goddess were held, a soft set of footfalls calls his attention to the doorway. Standing there, leaning in the doorway with a loving smile on her beautiful face, was the woman who was sitting next to the man on the couch.

"Hey Honey," the man greets, an adoring grin on his face as he takes in the sight of his wonderful wife and mother of his child. She has a slender and tall frame, with long, auburn hair tied into a messy top bun that spills fiery red locks down her shoulders in uneven intervals. Her figure and facial features, though, similar to her husband, seem like they should belong to royalty or a supermodel, not at all mixing with the humble wooden cabin they call their home. The most striking part about her though which was thankfully inherited by her daughter is her piercing silver eyes, an ethereal color that you can't help but stare into when given the chance.

"Hey yourself," the woman responds, her smile gaining a teasing edge as she and her husband laugh lightly at the exchange. "What's the story tonight? Still on our 'brave and loyal hero?'" She shares a knowing look with her husband who catches on, a slight rosy tint on his cheeks from embarrassment from her joke.

"Mommy," Bianca calls excitedly from her bed, "daddy's just getting to the end of the story, you have to hear it!"

"Do I? Well, if you insist," the mother acquiesces in mock reluctance, walking into her child's room and sitting gently at the foot of her bed, careful not to sit on her daughter. Settled, she turns to her husband and gestures lazily with her hand. "Well? Don't keep us waiting."

The man again chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly before clearing his throat and continuing, "As my queen commands. Back to the story, our hero and his companions made it to the top of Mount Othrys, where they found the titan Atlas from under his prison supporting the sky. And under it, was the moon goddess they were supposed to come and rescue!"

"*Gasp*, oh no!"

"I bet she was fine," the mother whispers in a tone loud enough that only the man's heightened hearing could pick up, making his lips quirk to the side a tiny bit before adopting a stony mask.

"With Atlas was the villain Luke, who also has the hero's best friend in his grasp and after a short round of threats, the two sides battle! The hero and his companions fought bravely against the two of their opponents, but the mythical titan was too strong for humans to fight. Seeing this, the hero went to the chained goddess under the sky and asked to take the sky from her, even though this could very well kill the hero. The goddess even told him this, but knowing it was the best option, he forcefully pushed her from beneath the sky and told her to beat Atlas for him."

"Oh, I know this story, I can tell you how it ends," the mother suddenly chimes in from the foot of the bed, drawing her daughter and husband from the revelry of the story. Leaning into her daughter, she cups a hand over her mouth and motions for her to sit up to tell her a secret, which Bianca does. In a stage whisper, she tells her daughter, "Besides, I can totally tell it better than your dad."

The man scoffs, but when his daughter looks at him with an expectant look on her face, he can't help but sigh and shake his head. "Fine. I mean, I think she tells it OK, but she doesn't…" he trails off when he looks at his wife, her light-hearted glare making him placatingly throw up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, take it away, master storyteller."

The woman rolls her eyes at her husband's antics and looks back to the shining eyes of her child before gently clearing her throat and wiggling her fingers. "After the moon goddess gets freed from beneath the sky, she launches into battle with her faithful lieutenant who was also on the quest to fight the evil titan. They dodge, weaving in and out, landing strikes on the titan before they can be hit, and before long…"


A sparse and dusty room greets the old man, the wooden walls of the cabin unadorned and the dresser, desk, and bed inside the room lay straight and tidy despite the obvious lack of use. Clearly the room of a child, due to the size of the bed and the crudely carved initials of 'B.Z.J' into the headboard. The man sighs deeply, a lingering nostalgia tinging sadness into his breath as he walks slowly to the only decorated surface in the room, the desk beside the bed.

On it, there are a few picture frames with photos inside, and the man slowly slides into the chair for the desk, the old furniture creaking noisily when bearing his weight as the man grabs the nearest picture and wipes a little dust off with a swipe of his thumb. In the picture, a little girl, most likely around the age of 10, stands proudly between who are clearly her two parents. A couple in their late 30s or early 40s, one with familiar emerald eyes and messy, black hair and a woman with long, auburn hair braided into a ponytail that rests over her shoulder. In the girl's hands is a rabbit, clearly dead judging by the way it limply hangs in her grasp, but the proud, beaming smile the little girl has makes this a happy time.

Turning the picture frame around, the old man gently thumbs the back of the picture and over the faded lettering of a permanent marker identifies the picture.

"Bianca, 11, First Successful Hunt"

The man smiles and laughs lightly in immense fondness, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that can only be from a lifetime of many smiles and laughter. After gazing at it a while more, he softly sets it down and picks up another picture, this time of just the girl and her father while at what seems to be a lake, the both of them looking much younger and the girl sporting a life jacket over her bathing suit. Turning it around, he again looks at the lettering on the back, this one a little more faded from a longer time.

"Bianca, 5, Learning How to Swim"

Picture by picture, the man reads the backs of them and gazes at each picture with a look of deep nostalgia.

"Bianca, 6, First Playdate"

"Bianca, 10, Elementary Graduation"

"Bianca, 9, First Nature Trail"

"Bianca, 13, 13thth Birthday"

When looking at this last one, the man takes an extra-long time to look at the photo. It's taken from in front of their cabin, with a group of people spectating a heartwarming sight taking place in the middle of the frame. A man who looks like a carbon-copy of the old man when he was younger is there, albeit with a medium-length, black beard wearing a palm-tree patterned polo and khakis hoisting a familiar but older girl into the hair, a displeased look on her face. Standing off to the side is her father and mother, same as before, but along with them are a few notable figures.

Standing near the mother is a flashy-looking man in his 40s, wearing a cool, golden button-up shirt tucked into a pair of black dress pants and a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses watching with obvious amusement. Behind the father lookalike is an older man, looking to be in his 50s or 60s complete with salt-and-pepper hair and a bushy beard of the same color, wearing a suit without the jacket with rolled-up sleeves to offset the clearly sunny weather. He's pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes in annoyance at the man in front of him, but a creeping smile underneath reveals his true feelings.

The last man of note is a man standing next to the father with a hand on his shoulder, looking like he's laughing heartily with the man at the daughter's predicament. Like the man hoisting Bianca into the air in looks and age, he sports a more sophisticated appearance helped by his combed hair and beard that compliments the black dress-shirt and red tie the man wears. On the hand on the father's shoulder is a silver ring with a noticeable skull design, looking a little out of place compared to the man's finer clothes and appearance.

Caught in fonder times, the old man doesn't even notice tears have begun to sting the corner of his eyes before they fall with a faint tap on the photo he holds in his hands. Surprised and shaken out of his memories, the man sniffs and quickly wipes the tears from his face and dries off the picture with a pat or two from his bunched-up sleeve. Taking a shuddering breath to steady himself, he sets the picture back down and shakily gets up from the chair and shuffles back out of the room, taking one look back before gently shutting the door behind him.

Walking to the kitchen, the man reaches into a cupboard above him and pulls out a canister of coffee grounds, and sets to work making himself his standard morning cup of coffee. His motions are slow due to his aged joints, but before long the light on the coffee machine turns on and with a steady hum the coffee begins to brew, and the man walks away to the couch…

Knock Knock Knock

…only to be startled when a steady knocking from the front door halts the man in his tracks, clearly not expecting visitors at this time. Perplexed, the old man shuffles to the door, where long-rusted instincts and senses creak to life and warn the man of a powerful aura on the other side of the door, but thankfully not a dangerous one. In fact, the frown on his face almost deepens when he recognizes the aura as someone very familiar and opens the door to come face to face with a man he only just saw moments ago. Salt and pepper hair combed neatly back, neatly trimmed beard, an impressive black 3-piece suit with red tie…

"Oh, Uncle, I didn't… I didn't expect you here. What's the…" the old man trails off as he looks behind the man to see a face he will always be happy to see, but the red, puffy eyes of the beautiful woman in front of him tell him much more. "Occasion…" Straight black hair and silver eyes meet his, though only for a moment as he has to confirm one last thing.

Looking over the other shoulder of the smart-dressed man in front of him, he's not all too excited to see the carbon-copy of his younger self, not aged a single day from the photo he was staring at just minutes ago. The man gives a watery smile, his lip trembling as his face settles into a grim look, clearly, a mask put up to steel his emotions for what's to come.

Oh.

The old man gets it now.

The coffee maker dings behind him in the kitchen but goes unheeded as the man finally processes what's going on here.

"Perseus Jackson, my dear nephew-," the fancily dressed man speaks up before getting cut off by the now named Perseus' raised hand signaling to stop.

"When?"

A beat of silence passes before Percy's father speaks up; his normally booming voice being reduced to a shaky whisper.

"Today. We don't know when… but today."

Percy nods his head slowly as he comes to terms with the information that has been slammed into him. "Alright. Well… come on in, take a seat. I can at least give you all a cup of coffee. Or water, I suppose," the old man says over his shoulder as he leaves the doorway and shuffles back to get the coffee.

His guests settle into the living room couches and chairs and sit in silence, the only sound in the entire cabin being the occasional sniffle from Bianca and the tell-tale clatter of porcelain mugs clanking together. An awkward amount of time passes before Perseus comes out of the kitchen, holding three mugs of coffee and a glass of water in his hands as he makes his way to the central table and sets down the beverages. All of the gusts murmur a thank you when they reach forward and grab their drinks, and after a sip of their respective beverages, all eyes unconsciously drift to the aged Hero of Olympus.

He smacks his lips with a satisfied breath out and gazes at each one of them before looking slightly down and away from them, avoiding them. "Y'know… I almost can't say I'm surprised. I've been getting a sinking feeling in my gut every day, but I could never figure out why. I suppose certain things your body can just tell, right?" he questions rhetorically with a small shake of his head and chuckle.

"Actually… now that you all are here, can you do something for me?" Perseus asks, his gaze flicking to each of the guests in his house.

"O-o-of course, my son, whatever you request. Name it, and it's done," Poseidon responds fervently with a strong nodding of his head, the other guests sporting similar reactions.

"Can you… just listen to an old man ramble and reminisce? Just this one last time?" the former hero croaks out, sadness clearly laced through his heavy words.

An uncertain look is shared between them, more than a little confused about the request, but Bianca recovers the quickest.

"Yeah dad, we can do that," Bianca answers, to which her father steadily rises from his chair and begins to walk toward the front door of his house.

"Come on, I quite literally don't have all day," Perseus jokes, an airy and slightly raspy laugh escaping his lips as he stands on the porch of his cabin, letting the other catch up to him. Once they have, Perseus points a gnarled finger at a flourishing apple tree, ripe fruit dangling from low-hanging branches.

"See the tree, how big its grown? But it hasn't been too long when it wasn't big. In fact, the first day that she planted it, it was just a twig…"


A much younger Percy watches with a smile as his fiancé and soulmate digs in the dirt with a silver hunting knife, apparently having been too lazy to find a shovel. She is wearing a loose-fitting silver t-shirt and silver hunting shorts, but they have long since been smudged and colored brown by the woman's digging. With a frustrated growl, she sits up a little from the ground, looking at her companion with an annoyed expression written clearly on her dirt and grime-smudged face.

"A little help?" the also much younger woman asks, her ethereal silver eyes burning a hole into the relaxed visage of the man she will dedicate the rest of her life to.

"What's the matter, Arty, can't dig a little hole? Haven't you made them for traps before? Pitfalls and the like?" Percy teases with a lop-sided smirk that never fails to make his beloved's heart flutter, easing her anger a little automatically. He makes his way over anyways and stands over the progress she has made, eyeing a decently sized hole considering the extremely inefficient digging tools.

His fiancé blushes golden in response to getting teased and glares at him harshly, but it lacks any real heat to it. "Shut up. Just get to digging, alright?"

Percy laughs heartily, a sound that comes from his entire being and washes over his lover, making her smile unconsciously as well. "Whatever my lady commands," he says with mock sincerity and gets down on his hands and knees and reaches both hands into the dirt, and begins moving the earth out of the way.

The couple forms a steady rhythm and before long, there is a perfectly sized hole for the sapling Percy's fiancé fishes out from the area next to her and puts it in the hole. Moving some of the excavated soil back into the hole to fill it, she lightly packs the dirt with controlled smacks before standing up with a satisfied smile.

"That'll do it. Before long, this will be bearing fruit for us, and Demeter promised that it will never decay or fail to grow," the woman states confidently as she smacks her hands together, sending tiny clouds of dust and dirt from each impact.

Percy begins to stand up as well, brushing off the dirt that will surely make a stain on his favorite pants for a while to come and moves behind his betrothed and snakes an arm around her waist while resting his chin on her shoulder. He gives a gentle squeeze, and she sighs contentedly, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and pressing herself tighter against his body, desperate for closeness.

Drawing her arm up and slightly turning her body so as to face him while still being embraced, her hand finds Percy's cheek and gives a gentle tug to get him to look at her. There's a brief pause as the two of them stare lovingly at one another before closing the distance between them with a passionate kiss. Breathing in each other's favorite scent, they both hum contentedly against the other's lips, and after a comfortable lull, they break apart.

Percy wraps his other arm around her and pulls her close, content to have his soulmate in his grasp while looking at the plot of land they have decided to build their life together on. The only problem is…

"Percy?" his fiancé begins lowly, clearly enjoying the embrace they're sharing to sound any more enthused.

"Hmmm? Yes?" Percy responds, mumbling his words into her scalp, causing his hot breath to tickle her hair pleasantly.

"We still have work to do," she finishes, the two of them pointedly looking at the largest fixture of their little forest clearing. Obviously not completed, a series of hand-sawed and laid logs form the outline of a house, the rough shape only now beginning to resemble a home. Off to the side, a neat pile of logs sits in preparation to be laid into the beginnings of the cabin but there is clearly a good bit that still needs to be done.

Percy sighs heavily, deflating visibly at the mention of the mountain of work ahead of them.

"For our future?"

"For our future," his fiancé echoes as her hand finds one of his resting on her stomach and laces their fingers together before giving a gentle squeeze.


Percy comes out of the daze of remembrance slowly to find his hand unconsciously weakly squeezing on his stomach, looking down and just watching the limb clench and unclench. The gesture wasn't lost on his companions, as Bianca watches her father with a worried expression, and both his father and uncle share a somber look between them.

The wizened savior of Olympus clears his throat and sits down on a rocking chair, the varnished wood worn down in subtle grooves that indicate a great many years of sitting. With a minute push of his toes, Percy begins gently rocking in the seat, a contented expression on his face as he closes his eyes.

"You know… she was always young at heart," the old man suddenly began, drawing the attention to him once again. "And even though it's because of the disconnect and she was brilliant most of the time… she was kind of dumb sometimes." He laughs softly, the corners of his wrinkled lips quirked upwards, and the two men accompanying him chuckled too, shaking their heads.

"Like that one time you had to show her how to turn the TV back to her normal channel when it got changed?" his daughter supplies, the voice coming from his left side unexpectedly, causing him to open one eye and look at her. Or more so, at the previously unoccupied rocking chair she was sitting in, and the crescent moon carved into the headrest.

"Ah yes, that time," he echoes, closing his eye again and turning his face back to the sky. "She called to me almost in a panic, and I rushed into the living room, thinking something was seriously wrong."

"I asked her what was wrong, and just pointed at the TV and told me to fix it. I took one look at it, and just had to laugh as I walked over to her and pressed… 1 button," he emphasizes, fanning his hands out and the two gods laugh uproariously, not used to hearing about their niece's/stepdaughter's failings.

"Oh, how I wouldn't give to see that! Then again, I'm not much better," the sea god confesses. "I remember back when Hephaestus first made those televisions and had them installed in our palaces, I couldn't figure out how to even turn it on. I had to corner him one day after a council meeting and tell him the problem, but he just laughed at me. Laughed!"

"You, acting foolishly? Perish the thought, brother, I could never imagine," Hades drawls sarcastically, and the meaty thwack of a hand impacting a shoulder and the accompanying pained yelp tell Percy what happened without even seeing the interaction.

"Quiet, you," Poseidon grumbles. "Anyways, I told him, he laughed, but actually gave me a version a bit later that would just respond to me using divine power. Quite convenient, really."

Another comfortable silence follows the sea god's story, a nice spring breeze blowing through the porch and ruffling the messy grey hair of Percy.

"But I loved her so," the old man whispers quietly enough where the only reason any of them heard it was the previous silence. "No matter the technology problems, the headstrong attitude… I can't imagine having lived without her."

He feels a comforting hand rest on his forearm and softly rubs a pattern into the fabric of his clothes.

"Speaking about that tree and her brief lapses in perfection, there's another story about that," Percy begins, nodding his head at the tree. "The first snow of the year we planted it, she went outside and wiped the snow off of it so it wouldn't die…"


"Honey, where are you going?" the familiar much younger Percy questions, looking only a little different from before. Sitting close to the fireplace of the now completed cabin with a cup of hot cocoa, the son of Poseidon looks at his fiancé with curiosity as she suits herself up for warmth near the door.

"Clearing off the tree," she grunts as she forces the boot on her foot and rolls the end of her think pants over it. "Can't have it die, can I?"

He gives her a blank stare, not breaking eye contact even when he takes a sip of his warm beverage. "You know I can just… make it dry with a wave of my hand, right? Move the snow with a flick of my fingers?" Percy gives a demonstrative snap of his fingers, and the woman rolls her eyes at him and turns away back to the door.

"But that's boring and lacks effort. Remember what I said when you asked me why I don't just summon myself food?" the hero's fiancée asks him.

"'Relying on others or the universe to do something you can do yourself makes you lazy and weaker for it,'" the man recalls instantly. "But… we're literally going to be married someday. I'd think if you could rely on someone, it'd be me."

Her expression softens at the edge of hurt in his tone and she stops her preparations to walk over and kneel down to his position on the floor. She gives him a quick peck on the lips and pulls back, rubbing a gloved thumb on his cheek.

"I know, and I'm sorry if you think I won't, because I do. Every day," the woman affirms, "I just want to do this myself. Give me something else to do than being cooped up in here all the time."

Percy smiles wryly at her words and wiggles his eyebrows. "Why, can't stand being around perfection for too long?" She scoffs, but it doesn't stop the smile on her face and her lover laughs loudly at her reaction.

"You wish," she says as she gets back to her feet and walks back to the door, putting on a woolen hat hanging on a hook next to the door. "I'll be back in a second." With that, she opens up the door and steps outside, closing the door, a chilly gust of wind makes its way inside despite the quick exit.

Percy shivers from the cold and sighs, taking a deep draught from his mug that drains the remnants of the drink. Setting the mug back on the floor, he groans as he gets up and makes his way over to the door, and starts putting on his winter gear as well.

A few moments pass as the son of Poseidon gets all of his gear around and on, finding himself staring at the doorknob to the front door. Sucking in a breath, he turns the knob and steps outside, and quickly shuts the door behind him to not let the cold in. Breathing out with a visible puff of air, Percy squints his eyes through the bright rays of the sun reflecting off the snow and finds what he's looking for.

Rummaging through the snow is his beloved, taking handfuls of snow from around the small sapling, already having made good progress. Percy can't help the smile from his face and ever so subtly waves his hand, taking the moisture from the snow and drying the sapling's insides, enough to where his fiancé hopefully wouldn't notice.

She doesn't appear to, as after a few more scoops, she stands back up and smacks her hands together, clearing her gloves of the white powder. Turning around, she sees him standing on the porch and waves, the man waving back with a smile. Running towards him and back to the house, she makes it all way there…

only to slip on a patch of ice underneath the snow she didn't notice before and with a startled yelp fall on the steps of the porch. Worried, Percy mutters a curse and starts towards her, but she's already pushed herself up into a proto-sitting position. He reaches out a hand to her, which she takes, and the two of them make their way back inside.

Percy sheds his layers with practiced ease and returns to his place in front of the fireplace, but takes a curious glance over when he hears her suck in a pained breath.

"Are you OK?" he calls to her, and she flicks her gaze to him before looking down at her legs.

"Yeah, I think so. Just landed on the edge of the steps and think I might've roughed up my knee a little bit, nothing serious," she diagnoses plainly before shrugging the last of her extra layers. Shuffling over to him with a small limp, she gingerly sits down next to him.

"Want me to look at it? I can heal it with a little bit of water, should take the pain away," Percy asks her, making her tilt her head in contemplation before nodding.

"Sure."

"Alright, I'll go get a glass of water and you roll up your pant leg," he says as he gets up, making his way to the kitchen. Pulling out a glass from the cupboard, he turns on the sink and fills the cup, humming absently. Walking back to the living room, he stops when he sees her wide-eyed expression.

Concerned, he walks over quickly and sits down in front of her. "What is it? Is it worse than…" his questioning trails off as he finally looks at what she's been staring at. On her knee is a patch of already bruising skin with a particularly roughed-up area that's bleeding crimson.

Red.

Not gold.

"Artemis… what's this? Why is there- where's your ichor?" Percy frantically questions the moon goddess, looking up and seeing her now unexpectedly calm face. She gives him a pointed look and smiles, grasping the hand not holding the glass and comfortingly rubs circles on the back of his palm.

"Percy… I've been giving it some thought. Ever since you came into my life, you've given me an entirely new perspective on the entire world, how to live my life," she begins. "How to live. How to be human. And I wondered… how that would be like."

"To only have one life, to live like every single day could be your last, and the freedom it can bring. The freedom to have no regrets, and to live to give your everything to someone," she continues, her eyes beginning to mist up and tears prick the corners of her fiancé's eyes. "I want to give everything to you, Percy. And if I was a goddess, I couldn't."

"Arty…" Percy whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

"So… I talked with father about it and after a lot of questioning and assurances, we called the fates and… made me mortal. I can now live and die, exactly as you can," Artemis finishes, tears running down her face even though her face is split into a smile of pure contented happiness.

The couple sits there in silence for a moment as the revelation settles between them until Percy rubs at his eyes and sniffles and sets the now moot glass off to the side. The former moon goddess tracks the glass before she's almost thrown to the floor by her lover as he tackles her in a tight hug.

He burrows his face into her neck, mumbled 'I love you's sending a pleasant tingle down the spine of Artemis, relishing the way his breath feels against her skin.

"I love you too, Percy. And I suppose… happy late birthday."

He laughs at this, a watery sound through tears of happiness. "It's the best thing I could ever ask for."

So happy was he that he didn't notice a hand drift ever so subtly to her abdomen.


The fog of memory clears again as the wizened hero comes to realize he'd been staring at the tree, though his eyes were clearly looking at somewhere else. His brow creases in thought before suddenly starting forward, a large, scarred hand gripping the railing of the porch tight enough to make the wood creak.

"Perseus!" "Dad!" His companions simultaneously shout, reaching out to steady the pained man. The hand not on the railing reaches up and clutches the portion of his chest right above his heart, his face contorting sharply from evident agony.

Percy growls in pain, feeling an unpleasantly heavy and hot weight settle into his bones coming from a deep and fast beating of his heart. Each pump of blood sends white-hot waves of pain under his skin and using the last of the strength of his limbs sends himself tumbling into the now unoccupied silver rocking chair.

Concerned but hesitant faces stare at the old savior, watching his chest rise and fall at first rapidly, but eventually settle into a controlled pace through deep breathing.

"Perseus, are you okay? What was that? Do we need to call Apo-" Hades questions rapidly only to be cut off once again by the man in question's raised hand.

"That won't be necessary. Just something that happens from time to time not soon after…" the elderly man runs an idle hand on the worn, silver-painted armrest. "She went away."

A heavy, somber silence looms over the group, eyes all downcast at the insinuation.

A slow clearing of a throat breaks through the noise, bringing the gazes of the family to Percy and capturing their attention to his next words.

"I remember this one time, she wreaked the car. Completely totaled, a patch of black ice knocked her straight off the road and into a ditch," Percy laughs despite the statement, a sound noticeably raspier than it was before. "She called me from the hospital, almost hysteric from sadness and asking over and over if I was mad. Didn't give her a response because I immediately hung up and started running to the hospital. Probably made Hermes jealous, how fast I ran!" This draws a chorus of chuckles from the family before they settle again.

"So I got there, got her room number, and…"


"Artemis!" A voice suddenly shouted accompanied by the loud slamming of a door opening. The sole occupant of the room, a beautiful woman in what appeared to be her later 40s with messy auburn hair and glistening and puffy silver eyes, snaps her head to the noise. In the doorway, chest heaving, is a man of similar age to the woman with a windswept mop of black hair and frantic sea-green eyes.

"Percy," the now identified Artemis squawks in surprise before her eyes narrow in concentration as they take in the man's state. His breath comes in deep and steady, sweat shines in the hospital lights, and tiny scratches litter his arms and clothing as if he…

"Did you run here?!"

Percy takes a final deep gulp of air as his breathing returns to normal and he walks over to the hospital bed where his wife lays.

"Maybe. Yes- not important," he dismisses with a shake of his head, "how are you doing? I came as fast as I could."

The woman blinks owlishly before affixing the man with a judgemental glare.

"I could have just told you on the phone! And do you know how worried you made me when you just suddenly hung up on me while I was admittedly panicking?" the woman lectures, causing the mighty hero of Olympus to look down, his cheeks aflame from embarrassment.

"I… no. I didn't," the man admits, head hung low. "I'm sorry. I just heard that you were in the hospital and I just… my mind went blank. I didn't even hear anything after that, so I just slammed the phone down and started running."

The woman takes a deep breath in and exhales it in a tired sigh, resting her hand on his hand that was resting on her bedside. Her thumb idly twists the simple, silver band on Percy's ring finger as she considers her next words.

"I forgive you. Chaos knows I would do something similar if I was in your shoes. Actually…" Artemis mutters, her hand leaving his to put a pensive finger on her chin and tilting her head in a stereotypical thinking posture. "No, I wouldn't. I've actually got some sense."

Percy scoffs at her jab, a challenging grin thankfully replacing the guilt written on his features. "Pfft. Please, Mrs. 'I-Bawled-For-Hours-Watching-Lifetime-Movies'."

She gasps, offended. "Perseus!"

"Or how about Mrs. 'I'll-Adopt-A-Puppy-Only-To-Find-It's-A-Hellhound-After-It-Ripped-Percy's-Favorite-Shoes'."

"That was one time!"

His grin turns devilish, clearly enjoying the fluster his normally unflappable wife is in. "Or… Mrs. 'I'll-Challenge-My-8-Year-Old-Daughter-'"

Her offense turns into a warning look, killing intent leveled at her husband and father of their child. "Perseus, finish that sentence and I will end you."

"'-To-A-Swimming-Race-And-Lose!'" Percy finishes through his wife's threat and throws his head back in raucous laughter. Artemis huffs and turns away from the man, a crimson blush lighting her face up.

She crosses her arms in front of her and pouts. "Hmph. I hate you."

Her response is the creak of the bedside chair as the man leaves it before his weight settles on the side of the bed and a hand is felt snaking around her back. With a little tug, Artemis is brought to Percy's side, her head finding itself automatically resting on his shoulder from the height distance.

"I love you too."

The words, even all of these years later, make the woman's heart flutter, and her crossed arms lessen ever so slightly as she burrows further into his heat.

"…Dork."

"Yeah, but I'm your dork. See?" Percy brings his left hand up, the silver band glinting slightly from the sunlight flitting through the window. "Got the ring and everything. No take-backs."

Even through her lasting indignation, it all fades with her tinkling laughter and she slaps his chest lightly. "Gods, you're such a pain. You're lucky I love you."

He raises an eyebrow, his amused smirk back on his face in full force. "Oho, looks like it's time for you to use the cheesy lines. Which Soap Opera did you get that from?"

"Oh, you-!"


Percy sighs deeply, the dull ache in his chest right in his heart only gets worse throughout telling the story. The pain doesn't go away even when the story ends, not when the assembled family members stare at him after it's done, and especially not when he looks at the framed painting of a moonlit ocean hanging above the fireplace. He didn't even notice when they moved from the porch to the living room, so far was he gone in thought.

His eyes stare off into the painting, seeing but not seeing as his mind digs deep for the last bits of the stories he wants to tell. He licks his parched lips and he purses them together in a short line.

"…I know what's happening to me. When…" a sharp stab of pain interrupts him, causing the old man to grimace. "When Arty died, I felt an unimaginable pain in my chest. Thought I was having a heart attack. I was able to call 911, but fell unconscious not 30 seconds after I finished the call."

His family looks at him with bated breath, and he continues. "When I woke up, I was hooked up to all of these machines. The doctor came in and gave me the news, and it wasn't good."

"He called it Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy, or Broken Heart Syndrome. Apparently, the shock of seeing… her… caused so much stress on my heart that I experienced heart attack-like symptoms. But it wasn't fatal and doesn't really happen more than once."

Poseidon's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Then… if this disease isn't chronic, then how is it still affecting you?"

The son of the sea god tutted, "See, I was getting there. When this happened, that immense stress brought up something that was underneath the surface and made it much worse. It went under the radar of all my checkups because it didn't look like a problem but under certain situations…" the old hero trails off as he wrings his hands together before suddenly opening them outwards, miming an explosion.

"It's chronic, it's untreatable… and it's fatal," Percy finishes, giving all of them a knowing glance that casts all of their gazes to the floor.

"I have… one last story to share. Probably all I have left in me, but it's the most important," the retired hero begins again, his eyes flicking to the window and to the darkening sky outside.

"It's how she died," his companions all look up at him shocked, not having heard the story before. All it was known was that she had passed, but no one had the will to ask the only man who knew the whole story.

"It was in the early Spring, when the flowers bloomed, and the robins sang… she went away…"


Percy trudges up the steps of his porch, the now old wood creaking at each footfall and bending slightly underfoot. Turning the door handle, a sudden foreboding feeling seeps deep into his bones as the door swings open, worried at the lack of noise.

"Honey?" the retired hero calls out, his eyes sweeping over the house in search of the source of this feeling. The son of Poseidon is beginning to show his age, into what seems to be his mid to late 60s, his black hair having faded into only a few spots here and there in a sea of grey hair. Wrinkles are beginning to appear at the corners of his eyes and mouth while his forehead has prominent lines.

The old man is beginning to grow truly worried, not used to his wife not answering him or meeting him near the door. Its been their tradition for decades, and he knows she should be here, but where is she?

Not in the kitchen.

Not in the living room.

Not the bathroom… and when he opens the door to Bianca's old room, it is just as empty as he remembers it. That should only leave the bedroom, and that's when he can finally place the feeling. It's the aura of an immortal, one that he hasn't been in contact with in what is close to half a century, back in his demigod days. Something clicks, and ice runs through the hero's veins.

No. No no no no no.

With a sudden burst of movement, Percy lunges through the doorway of his and Artemis' bedroom before coming to a half, gaze affixed to the two occupants of the room. Sitting on the floor in front of the mural she's been painting for the last several months is his beautiful wife, her auburn hair still present but faded to a darker, almost red color in her later years. Gripped in her hand is a paintbrush, a vibrant green paint still visible on the bristles.

Standing above and behind her is a man with long, black hair and golden eyes, a perfect match for his regal bearing and bronze-colored skin. Although what stands out most about the man are the angelic black wings curled behind him, their wingspan limited by the size of the room. On his face is a pensive expression as he stares at the woman on the floor, and his face contorts in sadness as the man turns his gaze to the entered Percy.

"Young Perseus… I did not wish that this is how we would meet again. Truly," the angelic man intones, a deeply melodic sound befitting his appearance. The wizened hero nods numbly at his words and takes a shaky step forward.

"Thanatos… don't tell me," Percy wonders aloud, even though deep down, he knows the answer to his question.

The Psychopomp turns his head back to the still woman, his features steeled for what must be said next.

"I apologize, Young Perseus, but not even you could stop what is meant to be. She knew it. You knew it," Thanatos begins, clearing his throat before continuing, "though I wanted to give you more time. I remember my debt, and I will always remember it, but…"

"I gave her the offer, but she refused." These words almost throw the grieving hero back physically, so shocked was he to hear them.

"…what?" Percy weakly croaks, stumbling slowly around the bed.

"I was willing to stave off the inevitable for a few hours at most, so that she could say goodbye to you herself, but she refused me," the psychopomp explained. "She knew her time had come and respected the rules. She was prepared for this, Young Perseus."

By now, the only sounds in the room were the sniffles and teardrops of the crying man, having found his way to the edge of the bed directly behind his wife and sitting down. A consoling hand is put on the grieving man's shoulder, though no comfort is given from the god's cold touch.

The old savior's silent sobs have stilled, though tears fall fresh down his face when he asks the question. "How?"

There's a pause.

Thanatos smacks his lips. "Cancer. It went undiscovered, purely because it must have never occurred to her that it could happen to a former goddess."

Surprisingly, the hero's response is a weak, watery chuckle. "Of course. She was always closest to humans, how fitting is it that she goes from something so… mundanely mortal."

The god doesn't answer him, but his steeled features soften ever so slightly.

"Would you…" Percy begins before trailing off, hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles have turned white. "Would you kindly leave us? I'd like to say goodbye alone." He knows the futility of the sentiment; both of them do. But the angelic figure simply nods, having seen this scene time and time again.

"As you wish. Again, I give you my deepest condolences, Young Perseus," Thanatos responds, giving the mortal a bow before disappearing out of sight with the sound of a wing flap. On the floor where the god stood is a single black feather, the only reminder that he was there at all.

It's not moments after that the demigod crumbles to the floor on his knees, now sitting directly behind the still and slumped figure of the former moon goddess. His sobs begin again, harder than before as he reaches forward and hugs the woman from behind.

He hates it. So cold. Her skin has already lost its warmth and the lifeless way his love, his whole world, feels against him stings like no blade ever could.

"I'm so sorry, honey," the man cries, burrowing his face into her faded auburn locks. "I'm so sorry."

His nose is tickled by her hair and a feeling of immense disgust wells within him as his cheek presses against her cold neck.

No more of her warm voice, filled with love to greet him every day.

"Hey Honey,"

"Hey yourself"

Ba-Dump!

An uncomfortable heat beats venom into his chest. It goes unheeded in his thoughts. No more time spent relishing the future they've realized.

"For our future?"

"For our future."

Ba-Dump!

Again, this time more insistent. The dull ache has become a stabbing knife in his chest, and he growls from the pain. No more… anything.

"I love you too, Percy. And I suppose… happy late birthday."

BA-DUMP!


"PERCEUS!" "DADDY!"

Poseidon and Bianca rush from their positions on the chairs and couch to kneel beside the prone figure of their loved one, clenching his chest and breathing heavily. They had been listening to the man tell his final story, when he had suddenly doubled over in pain and fell from his chair and onto the floor in a heap.

"I-I… I can feel it," the struggling old man croaks out through sharp breaths. "It's happening."

"No no no, son, PLEASE," the mighty sea god begs, tears cascading down his face in rivers as the sound of an incoming storm rumbles overhead. "Just a little more, I'm not ready!"

The room goes silent, even the dying hero stills his breathing.

"I'm… not ready to say goodbye," Poseidon laments, grasping the gnarled hand of his son in his own. "I can't lose my favorite boy. My prodigal son." By now, the sea god is unable to stop his sobs as he can't do anything but watch his own flesh and blood die.

"I'm sorry, dad," the son of the sea god whispers, his voice already becoming weaker. "But I have to go. I have someone to meet, and she doesn't like waiting." The corners of his old mouth curl slightly into a grin as he casts his eyes to the god of the Underworld standing with hunched shoulders behind the immediate family. Hades finds his gaze and responds with a small nod, wiping his teary face with a ringed hand.

"No, she does not. She's raised quite the fuss, but she's bided her time," the god of death intones, his deep timbre tinged with watery sadness.

"I see," the old man responds, features settling into more peaceful ones as the burning pain in his chest lightens before almost dissipating altogether. "This is how it is, huh?"

He breathes in a deep, long draught of air before sighing it out slowly. Percy's eyes flit over to his daughter, his beautiful daughter.

"Bianca. I'm so proud of you, little moon. You became such a fine woman, living your own life and raising your own children. Far away from the craziness of your mom and dad," he chuckles, the sound coming out more as a wheeze than a laugh. "I never wanted for you to grow up like I had, never getting the chance to decide what you wanted when you were maturing. But you could, and you did, and I couldn't be prouder of you if I tried."

He reaches a hand up and cups his daughter's cheek, thumbing away the fresh tears from the corners of her eyes. "I love you, Bianca. More than you could ever know. I'm sorry, but I have to say goodbye."

The woman reaches her shaking hands and grasps his forearms with both hands, holding it for dear life to her as she breaks down again.

"Daddy! I love you," she cries before staring down at his half-closed eyes and nodding. "But mom needs you more right now. I know you've waited so long."

He smiles and pats her cheek. "Good girl."

With that, the old man turns his head to the side and gazes out the window, nightfall having come in full force, and his eyes find his target.

The full moon shines high and bright in the sky, illuminating the Earth through the residual storm clouds called in by the anguished god. Almost visible rays catch the dying man's eye, and his face softens into a contented, lazy grin as he stares off into nothing.

"Honey, I miss you. And I'm doing good. And I'd love to be with you…" his eyes cloud over before he shuts them, his grin still on his face.

"If only I could."

The sound of beating wings breaks the deafening silence, and a familiar tanned, angelic figure appears next to his liege without a word. There is a shared glance between them, and with a muttered word that is drowned out by the bawling of Poseidon and his granddaughter, Hades palms something into the psychopomp's hand.

Thanatos opens his hand, looks at it quizzically, then stares wide-eyed at the god of death, clearly shocked. The god nods, and without a word more, retreats back to his domain, leaving the collector of souls with the grieving family.

He stretches out a hand and unseen to all but him, a white orb comes out of the dead hero's chest and into the deity's awaiting palm. Muttering a prayer and a goodbye, he presses the object Hades had given him into the ball of light, and both disappear in a flash of gold.

His work is done.


It's all just a void. Inky darkness stretching as far as the… eye(?) can see. Nothing up or down, side to side, just a wide nothing.

It feels simultaneously like it has been minutes, hours, days, and years floating in this void… but at this point, nothing is known.

Until at the farthest edge of the darkness, a twinkle of light shines. In seconds, the dot becomes larger, and larger, and larger, and-

The whole world is light, beautiful light.

And a man wakes up with a shuddering gasp, flinging himself into a sitting position from where he rests on the ground. Air fills his lungs once more, as he looks around in confusion.

"This is…"

A glade surrounded by trees with a large apple tree in the opening, limbs overflowing with bountiful fruit. Well-treaded paths go out to the tree line, and a wide, dirt path leads to the world outside the forest.

But most importantly, a rustic wooden cabin sits in the center of the grove, rough-hewn logs showing not a professional make, but one definitely made by hard effort and love. And sitting there on the porch, next to an unoccupied wooden rocking chair, an impossible figure sits.

Auburn hair. Silver eyes. A youthful, beautiful, and fit body framed by comfortable grey sweatpants and a silver tank-top. And a radiant, loving smile on her lips.

And then it all falls into place in a smashing cascade of memories for the man.

Meeting her.

Loving her.

Starting a family with her.

Growing old with her.

Attending her funeral.

Growing older.

The final day.

Saying goodbye.

And… dying.

All at once, this information floods his mind, but in seconds it all becomes clear again. And he can't help but feel himself smile wider than he had in years and jump up with the limberness of his prime. Actually, checking himself with a quick once-over, he is in the same condition as the woman on the porch, back to their strongest selves.

The woman gets up from her chair next to his, sashaying to the top of the steps, and leans on the railing, an expectant look on her face.

"You made me wait, love. You know how much I don't like that," the youthful woman teases, eyes alight with mirth.

This makes the man adopt a confident smirk, walking up to the bottom of the steps and looking up at the woman.

"And you left too early, moon," Percy fires back with a jab of his own, making the former moon goddess' face fall in guilt and sadness.

Suddenly, the woman launches herself from her position and into the revived hero's chest, arms wrapping crushingly tight around his back. Without hesitation, Percy wraps his arms just as tight around his wife, leaving no room between the reunited lovers as he rubs a comforting hand through her ginger tresses.

"I've missed you so much, Percy. Never leave me again," the former moon goddess cries into his broad chest, but he heard every word. Using his other arm, he gently peels her away from him just enough to lightly take hold of her chin and lift it up, making her face him.

Her watery, silver orbs meet his similarly misty green eyes, and without another word, they close the distance between them again at long last. It's simple, long, and filled with every ounce of passion and longing they've built up since their time in the world of the living.

Percy pulls away reluctantly and affixes her with a gaze filled with as much conviction as he can muster.

"I missed you too, Artemis. And I never will," the man promises the woman, and she cuddles back into his warmth.

The couple stands there in silence, gently swaying to the tune of a song shared between only the two of them until Artemis breaks it gently.

"I love you," she whispers in tired contentment as she lightly squeezes the hand she had grasped in their dance.

She doesn't look at the man, but she can feel his grin grow wider from its position on her scalp.

"I love you too. Forever and always."