Chapter 12: Percy and Artemis

She ran to him, as fast as her small, stubby legs could carry her. She jumped into his arms, bouncing in his hold, which made him slightly uncomfortable as the hyperactive girl talked to him like bullets from a machine gun.

"—and then we won a game! Look, I got this!" his daughter took something from her small backpack and shoved it to his face. His head reared back, and he saw that it was a chocolate bar. Nice treats for kids these days; unlike on his day they were only given stars on the hand. But then again, that was preschool.

"That's nice," Paul Blofis replied, smiling at her. "Did you have fun?"

"A lot! Teacher was telling us about the math signs and stuff. And about a boy called... um..." She shook her head in frustration, her face all twisted cutely. "I keep forgetting the name," she said, before grinning widely, looking to her father again. "But he was good at math. Teacher said he did a sphere and things."

"Oh? You're in geometry now?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, bouncing in his arms again as he carried her to his car. "It's about the triangles and squares and rectangles! I dunno why they didn't have the circle though." Her face became sour as she looked to him for answers.

Paul smiled patiently, smile lines wrinkling below his eyes. He got her into the shotgun seat and fastened her seatbelt, after which he went to the driver's and started the engine. "They have circles. It's just that it's too hard for you so they intend to teach it the next grade."

She frowned at this, but it was not long before her grin came back and she nodded excitedly. "I will wait," she replied, pressing her face against the windows as the landscape came by then. "Is Mom at home?"

"I think so. She left shortly before I came to fetch you to buy something," Paul explained. Then he turned to her and winked. "I overheard something about sugar and syrup."

Her eyes widened. "Oh. What is she cooking?"

He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road as he waited for a familiar van to pass by. "You'll find out."

She nodded and turned back to watching from the side. Suddenly her face lit up. "Is that Poseidon?"

He blinked, swerving roughly to the right to avoid a speeding taxi, whose driver flipped him off and shouted unprintable words. He glanced to the side, checking if she heard it. Then he checked his own ears to make sure if he heard right. "Where?"

She pointed to a direction. "There! The one spewing out water!"

He glanced to the side, mentally sighing in relief as he found that it was a statue of the sea god in the middle of a fountain, his three trident prongs shooting jets of water in three correspondent directions. It thankfully wasn't the real thing.

Paul saw middle school students—sixth grade, he reckoned—crowded around it, eating sandwiches and fruits and drinking soda and chocolate drinks. He vaguely remembered something his wife told him about her son when he was at the same grade..

"Yes, that is Poseidon." He smiled proudly, glancing at her. "Where did you learn it?"

"My classmate was reading about it," she replied. "I saw the math person there."

"I see," he murmured, trying to remember who this Greek mathematician might be. His daughter said something about a sphere.. "Is it Archimedes?"

"Oh!" She jumped and turned to him as the Prius slowed to a stop. "That's him! I heard he could make machines and stuff."

"A math expert, doing machines?" he asked for her opinion, killing the engine and getting out of the car. He went to the other side and opened the door. He unfastened her seatbelts and took her out, stubby arms wrapped around his neck. "Do you think it's possible?"

"Yeah! Mom said the greatest machine people know a lot of math."

"Well, the most powerful people eat a lot of pancakes," he retorted, stepping into the apartment. He put her down before she ran to her room to deposit her bag. Sometimes she wondered why it smelled of salt and stale beer, as if both had been blended into the walls—or perhaps used as fresheners. Nice smells.

There were two closets. One was bought for her, as her Mom and Dad told her, but she didn't know what the other was for.

Once she got curious and peered in it. It had an assortment of blue, green, white, and orange clothing, all of the sizes much too big for her. There were also duffel bags and large backpacks—the types used for traveling—stored at the bottom of the closet. A pair of worn out shoes was propped up beside them. The strangest things were that she saw reseal-able containers of small bread food shaped into cubes, and a plastic bottle of a yellowish liquid that looked like apple juice. She'd wanted to taste if it was still consumable, but saw that it had dust all over the covers and decided that it'd been far too long in there; chances were that they were already spoiled.

Although she wanted to throw it away to at least clean this closet owned by some unknown person, she didn't. There had to be a reason that her Mama had not to throw those things away. If there was one thing she knew about her mother, she was a neat freak.

She also had wished to ask about the owner of the closet, but she didn't get the chance. Was fate meddling with her?

She went back to the kitchen and saw her mother preparing blue pancakes. Her favorite food in her favorite color. "Mom!" she called, rushing to hug her. She pulled away shortly after and plopped on a seat, squirting a handful of syrup on her food and stuffing them in her face.

The mother smiled slightly, but everyone could tell that something was bothering her. The younger girl didn't notice. "Hello Andy. How was your day?"

Andy grinned, the sweet sticky liquid on her lips. "It was good. I saw Poseidon."

Sally Jackson-Blofis looked at her husband doubtfully, but he shook his head. "The statue."

Sighing, she nodded, glancing at a portrait hung on the living room wall, visible through the kitchen door. It was a photo of herself, twenty years ago, carrying a baby boy with blue-green eyes. They were in a beach terrain, with white sand and luminescent waves lapping the surface. A cabin was behind them, and it read Cabin III – Jackson.

The girl noticed where her mother was looking to. Then she remembered a question that had been nagging her for years. "Mom," she began tentatively. "Who lives in my room?"

Her parents stiffened. They sent a wavering glance to her room. "Andy.." the mother said, turning to her with a leveled gaze. "I think it's time for you to know the truth."

"I'm adopted?" she assumed, her eyes widening in horror.

"No, no; not at all." The mother shook her head incredulously. "But you're not an only child. You're my youngest."

"The one who lived in my room was my sibling?"

"Yes. Your brother," she confirmed, tears pooling in her eyes as she struggled to keep them at bay. "He was a powerful boy."

"What's his name? How old is he?" Andy asked, curious of her long lost brother. "Where is he right now? What kind of powerful?"

Paul eased her back into her chair. She hadn't even realized that she'd stood up. "Sit down, and we'll tell you," he promised. "But I'm afraid we can't answer all of your questions."

"Why not?" The girl leaned back against her chair in dismay.

"It's... complicated," Sally managed, setting her fork down. "His name was Perseus Jackson. He preferred to be called Percy."

It did not escape unnoticed by the girl that her mother said that he preferred.

"Perseus? Like, the Greek myth?"

Her mother, for some reason, flinched at the word myth. "Yes, that one."

"How old is he?"

"He's.." she paused, quickly calculating in her head. "22 years." She didn't say that it wasn't all.

Then again, Andy didn't notice as her mouth turned into a marveling 'O'. "Where is he now?"

"I can't say that—"

"He's gone," Paul cut in, frowning. "We don't know what happened to him. Nico didn't elaborate." His wife gave him a thankful glance.

"Who's Nico?" The man was about to answer, but then the girl said again, "Never mind; don't answer that. But don't you care?" she asked, looking at them with little hurt in her eyes, like it was their fault that she couldn't get to meet her big brother. "He's your son, isn't he?"

"Oh, I do care," the father said solemnly. "But he's my stepson. That's why his surname is Jackson, not Blofis."

"What? Why?" she retorted, remembering something. "And what are those things in his closet? Those bread thingies? Why won't you throw it away?" She did her machine gun talk again. Sometimes, her parents could be really puzzling.

"His father and I never married. Paul here has been a good father to my son. Well at least, before he left," Sally replied, mumbling the last part mournfully. "The bread.. Those are... for emergencies."

"Oh.." Andy frowned, looking down at her food. Suddenly those blue pancakes didn't seem so appetizing. She wanted to ask more about why her brother left, but her mom didn't look too up about it; she was feeling sorry for her. She really wished she could meet this 'Percy', her big brother, but they said he was gone. Just gone.

What do they mean by gone? Like, ran away? Dead? She shivered at the latter.

"Mom," the seven-year old said again after a few moments of silence. "What happened to him?"

Sally sighed in defeat, her shoulders slumped. "He died," she said in a sad, quiet tone. "He sacrificed himself to save his girlfriend, Annabeth."

She gasped, feeling a pit in her own stomach tugging her in. She felt a vision coming into her head. She pushed it away. If that boy really was her brother, it was a great shame that she didn't get to meet him. She felt empty.

"When... when did he die?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"Today," the mother whispered. "On his birthday. Five years ago."

The daughter couldn't help but shift nervously at the irony. "How did he die?"

"They were—" Sally stopped herself. Merely knowing about it could result to something ugly. She improvised. "They were in a tight situation. Only one could get out alive, and the other would have to sacrifice for that person."

"No. I know that's not the whole truth," Andy said firmly. "There were doors. And monsters."

The mother's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"

The girl shook her head. "Don't worry about it. How did he die?"

She was about to answer when the bell sounded. Automatically, their heads whipped around to stare at the door, until Paul stood up and said, "I'll get it."

He stood from his seat and walked to the door. He opened it, and promptly staggered back as if he was slapped. He looked shocked beyond belief.

"L-lord," he breathed dropping into a bow. "It is... graceful to see you here."

"Stand up, blowfish, I didn't come here for respect," a deep voice from the doorway said. Though Andy couldn't recognize it, she saw her mom's eyes widen at the sound of the voice. "I wish to accompany you."

They watched as Paul stood up slowly. "With..?"

"This is Triton, my other son and heir," the same voice replied. "He has come to respect his half-brother."

"It was a shame that I had not gotten a chance to make peace with him, but I reckon mourning with his mortal family could be a good alter," a voice of a younger man said. It paused, and then said, "Pleasure to meet you, Paul Blofis."

Andy's father reached out and shook a hand, invisible behind the door. It made her wonder. Who were these strangers? How do they know her dad's name?

"May we come in?"

"Of course, come in," her dad nodded and stepped aside, opening the door wide. She saw a guy in his late-teens walk in, bearing the stride of a royal prince. He had a regal face; she focused as it split like two sides of a hologram: a guy with moderately long jet-black hair tied into a ponytail; and a dark-skinned carnivorous fish—until the image shimmered and he was only a guy with bright sea-green eyes that radiated power—which also drifted around the room, examining it intently. Then he stepped aside and looked to the door expectantly.

Another man came in, this walking more humbly. Even from here, she could tell that the man was a lot older than he looked. He resembled the younger man, so he must've been his son. Somehow, he seemed familiar to her, though she hasn't seen him before. He had darker eyes than his son had, and they appeared so much more ancient than the body they served. They automatically drifted to where she and her mother were.

He smiled at Sally, before he turned to look at her. His eyes held a silent question.

"Oh," Andy mumbled, understanding. She stood up politely. "I'm Andy. Nice to meet you, sir..?"

The man smiled at her fondly. "They call me Poseidon."

The girl's eyes widened in shock. "Like the god of the sea."

She didn't know why, but then he chuckled and said, "You really are your father's daughter." She glanced at her dad, who was blushing down to his Adam's apple.

The god of the sea—man who happened to be named after him, looked to her mother. "Hello Sally. I'm sorry I couldn't visit in an instant."

"It's better than nothing," her mother replied, quite in a hurry. She stood up and gestured to the vacant seats. "Please, have a seat."

"My thanks, lady," the younger man, who must've been Triton, nodded at her and her mother respectively, and took his seat, his back all straight. Andy felt weird. Why were these people named after all those Greek myths? They even look like the kind of people who lived at the ocean their entire life. Heck, the accuracy is even there.

"We do like Greek myths," the Poseidon-person said, as though reading her mind, while claiming a chair. "But—we're not the real people. Isn't that right, Triton?" He glanced at his son warningly, who looked like he wanted to protest. The guy shut his mouth and nodded, albeit grudgingly.

Her father and mother sat down on their chairs. Have they met them before? she wondered. "So he just turned twenty-two, am I right?" Poseidon began.

Who? Are they talking about..

"Yes, he did," her mother replied. "I'm almost expecting something bad to happen as something always does during his birthday."

"Did you first see her on a bad day?" Triton asked his father.

"Perhaps," the man replied, resting his chin thoughtfully on his weathered hand. "I'm still not sure how that connects, but perhaps."

Andy's father looked awkward and less than pleased. What were they talking about? My mom has already seen him before dad ever did?

"They aren't exactly the kind to be given happy endings," the younger man continued, his tone professional as if he'd been gone through many of this situation. "I haven't seen one so favored by the Fates as him before."

"He was the greatest of heroes," Andy's father cut in, making them all look at him. He doesn't seem too used to the attention. "Even though I'm not involved in all this, you could already tell by how he carries himself."

Poseidon reached for a pancake and bit into it modestly, as Triton stood up and gazed at the pictures in the living room. "This is he, yes?" Andy turned. She saw that he was looking at a photo of her mom and her baby boy. Back then she was clueless to who it was, but now she knew.

"That's my brother," she said to him before she could stop himself. He looked at her shocked, as if he wasn't expecting her to be the one to reply. "He's the one who turned twenty-two, now is he? He was the greatest of heroes. The kind who weren't given happy endings," she suspected, gazing her slight kaleidoscope eyes on her stepbrother's... half-brother. "Is that why he died? He was favored by fate?"

Triton blinked at her, glancing to Sally as if saying, if you hadn't explained then I wouldn't have to. "Child, you don't know what—"

"I know!" Andy jumped from her seat, her eyes shining with anticipation. "He and a girl were at a doorway. He saved the girl and was trapped himself."

Her... half-brother's (let's leave it at that, since she didn't want to rewrite the long brotherly description all over again) jaw dropped in shock. This time his father turned and spoke to her. "How did you know, Andy?" he asked gently.

She felt better talking to the older man. Like... a best friend. Someone she could confide with the truth. "I—I had visions," she replied. "My brother pushed the girl out and closed the doors where there were monsters. And then there were screams."

"Child, you are too young to understand death—"

"Stop, Triton," Poseidon reprimanded his son, who sighed and continued looking at the pictures. The man turned to her. "Do you want to know the truth?"

Andy nodded eagerly.

"To start off, I am his father." He continued, ignoring her incredulous glances to him and her mother, "He grew up twelve years without knowing who I was."

"Why is that?" was her curious inquiry.

The man breathed in deeply and glanced at Sally, who gave a defeated nod. "Do you know of the Greeks' Ancient Laws, Andromeda?"

She gasped. "How did you know my whole name?"

"Your namesake was more beautiful than my sea nymphs, or so her mother says."

"But what has that—" she stopped herself upon realizing something. "You're Poseidon? The Poseidon? God of the sea? Olympian god and father of Triton, the messenger of the sea and son of Amphitrite?"

He couldn't help but smile at her knowledge. "That would be me. He is Triton," he gestured vaguely to his son, who nodded and gave a small smile.

"But wait, if my brother is your son, then that would make him.."

"A hero. A half-blood," he finished for her, proudly. "The greatest of his kind."

Andy slumped on her chair, taking all of it in. The myths going real were making her head spin.

Triton looked at her with interest. "How come you believe us so easily?"

"The visions and... your face."

It made all of them look to the prince, who touched his own face in bewilderment. They saw it do the split image again, before he managed to control it and settled into a human face again. "You must be clear-sighted."

Andy shook her head. "I don't know what that means," she admitted. "But please, tell me all."

The daughter of Zeus stood from her seat beside the bed. She looked down before continuing outside the infirmary. She walked to the silver palace gleaming in the roadside and went in without knocking.

She found the Hunters sprawled all over the living room—some were on the floor, playing board games and doodling battle plans; some were on the couches, having talks about boys and the Hunt; while some were by themselves, doing what they do best.

She found Annabeth at one corner, behind the couch. Thalia half-expected her to be reading an architecture book again, but she held a blue muffin with shaking fingers. In her other hand was a candle, small and unlit. She was staring at the muffin blankly.

Thalia didn't move from her place, watching what she was about to do. Annabeth finally regained control of her limbs, and she wedged the candle inside the muffin. The lieutenant saw her long time best friend tear up. "Happy birthday, Seaweed Brain." She lit the candle and took out Thalia's cousin's picture. The boy was with her best friend.

Thalia's eyes widened. "I suppose I should celebrate this without you again, hm?" Annabeth was talking to their picture, more specifically the boy in it. "Unlike last time.. Well, that wasn't so fun."

The daughter of Zeus frowned in sympathy. "I've moved on. But I guess that was obvious even to you." The daughter of Athena chuckled sadly. "I have a happy life here. I hope you do too, wherever you are.

"I'd once heard from Nico. He says you have a baby sister. I think she's seven now. He says you would've loved to meet her. He says you would've loved her, so much."

Thalia couldn't take it anymore as she heard her best friend talk to a photo like a mental patient. She left the daughter of Athena mourn to herself, but it turned out to be a bad choice as she had to face the bad news.

Apollo came rushing in his sister's palace. The Hunters looked at him confusedly, wondering why he came here when he knew her sister was in his infirmary. He forced a flirtatious smile to the other hunters, making them glare and think this was an everyday occurrence, turning back to their tasks. But when he turned to the lieutenant, she knew that something was bothering him.

She went up to him and dragged him to the palace yard. Once there, she let go of his arm as a hand made its way to her hip. "How is she?"

The god of the sun sighed as he ran a hand through his blond hair. "I'm sorry; I can't identify what has done this to her."

"But do you know what happened?"

The god nodded. "She was plunged into a... coma, as you mortals would put it," he said, his face appearing older with exhaustion. Thalia's eyes widened. "It is not possible for a god to be in a coma, unless he or she was saved from fading."

"But she wouldn't fade! Not with us," the daughter of Zeus said surely.

"I know," he agreed, frowning. "What were you doing when this happened?"

"It was in the morning.."

Thalia woke up. She felt refreshed and satisfied, as if she'd done a very fine job on something. Memories of what happened yesterday flitted in her mind, and then she realized that she was lying on her bed in her tent.

She grew confused. She recalled that she'd fallen asleep... on the watch job.

Thalia blinked and sat up as she tried to remember who had brought her here. All she remembered was... well, almost nothing. Just a light feeling beneath her, as if she was lifted with air..

She shrugged. Artemis might have put her here. It's already a good sign that she was transferred here instead of being woken violently to finish her job.

She swung her legs over and stood. She stretched, wincing as cracks resonated from her bones. It might have been a bad thing to sleep on a sitting position. Oh well, Thalia shrugged again, before walking out of her tent.

It seems that she'd woken too late. The other hunters were already bustling with activity, whilst she was busy slumbering. Appears embarrassing. She called to a hunter who was passing by, a bow in her grip.

"Hey, uh, have you seen Lady Artemis?" She just felt like she had to know what went on while she was asleep. Her mistress, the ever-virgin, falling in love! Who would've thought? She just had to check in their love story. Okay, she sounded like an Aphrodite kid right there. Ew.

The hunter shook her head. "We haven't seen her since so we took the initiative and started training. We thought you should be the one to wake her, if ever she is in her tent."

Good thing she was the lieutenant. "Oh, well yeah thanks," she called to the hunter as she turned to a run towards her mistress's tent. She skidded into a stop in front of it.

"Lady Artemis.." Thalia approached the tent and knocked. It wasn't in her plan to knock, but, just a sign of respect. There isn't any answer, soo.., she smirked inwardly and barged in. She looked on in shock. Her mistress lay on her cot, her face calm and tranquil as if... as if she was in a coffin.

Nah, she mentally slapped herself and advanced toward the goddess's lying form. Goddesses don't die. Even dumb atheists know that. They just don't believe it—which makes them dumb.

"Lady Artemis," she called, louder this time. The goddess didn't so much move. The daughter of Zeus furrowed her eyebrows. "Artemis. Artemis!" She stepped beside the cot and leaned over her mistress. "A-a-a-arrtemi-i-i-is!"

Still no response.

Thalia frowned. Was something wrong? She was hesitant, but..

She reared her hand back and let go, making a sharp crack emanate from the strike. Her hands involuntarily went up to cover her mouth. She glanced around quickly, before remembering that the tent was soundproof. She sighed in relief and gazed down at the goddess's golden cheek, the twelve-year old's eyes still closed.

The daughter of Zeus growled in frustration. Artemis should be awake by now.

"APOLLO!"

"And that's it."

"I think it was something in her sleep." The god of medicine stroked his chin thoughtfully, as if he hadn't considered this before.

Thalia rolled her eyes in response. "No shit Sherlock."

He ignored her. "Dreams come in voluntarily for gods. Why does my sister want to dream?" he wondered aloud. "She usually doesn't want to get involved with Morpheus."

Suddenly Thalia blushed bright red. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, um, nothing," she mumbled, biting her lip as she looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Something might have happened there... but of course Thalia wasn't going to mention it. "What do you think happened?"

"Well.." He blinked and glanced at the direction of the infirmary. "I speculate that there may be life-like scenes in her mind, powerful enough to make even Artemis believe that she was awake, when truly, she isn't."

The lieutenant opened her mouth, before closing it and thinking. "So you're saying that.. She's living in her... um, head?"

The god nodded. "Along those lines."

"How do we wake her, then?" she asked. "I mean, the Hunt would be almost in chaos without her. I can barely control them myself. We need her."

Apollo pursed his lips uncertainly. "I'll look for a remedy," he told her after a few minutes. "I'll let you know when I found anything."

Thalia had no choice. She sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Lord Apollo."

The god nodded back and teleported to his palace in a blinding light.

Artemis walked around, checking on the Hunters' tasks. A Hunter approached her and reported that the surrounding perimeter of the camp was clear. She nodded and dismissed the hunter, feeling slightly miffed. She retreated to her tent and sat on her bed.

Something was wrong. The Hunters didn't seem too... welcoming. It was as if they knew what she'd done these past few days. But it can't be like that, since Thalia knew, and she was acting the same way, so that can't be the reason.

From what she recalled, it's been two days since she last had contact with Percy. And everything seemed so... robotic.

If she didn't trust her hunters as much as she did now, she would've thought that some psychopathic titan exchanged her hunters for defective automatons. And they would've killed each other, which wasn't much of a happy thought.

"Lady Artemis," her lieutenant, Thalia, ducked under the tent flap and looked at her. She had a grim expression, but her eyes were blank—showing no emotion at all. "There is a god outside the borders. He wishes to talk to you."

Another thing that she noticed: the wording of her hunters had been a lot more formal. And she hated it.

"I will go in a minute. Thank you Thalia," she told her half-sister, hoping for a better reaction. Alas, the girl simply nodded back, her face neutral, and left.

Artemis sighed in defeat. She stood and took her bow, and followed her lieutenant outside.

Who she saw—well, she did not expect.

It was a tall man in a long black cloak, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. He stood tall under the shade of a tree. He could easily be mistaken as a mortal man, but he was a god, alright. How did the hunters know that he was a god?

"Morpheus," she said. "What have you come for?"

The god bowed his head. "I wish to speak to you in private, Lady Artemis."

The goddess narrowed her eyes at him, but she waved her hunters away from the scene. When they were the only ones left, she spoke. "Now, what is your reason for being here?"

Morpheus breathed in and hesitated, as if he didn't know how to say the things he wanted to say. "Have you noticed a problem?"

"Not a problem, but.." She looked up at him. "I've noticed my hunters acting rather... strange."

The god cleared his throat. "Well, the real reason I came here is to let you know.."

"About what?"

"That I have no control over this," he said, as if it explained everything.

"What do you mean this?" she demanded. "Why would you have control over what?"

"I am the god of dreams," he said to her, his expression grim. "And it is the first time I don't have control over one, unless I let it be, which I usually don't."

"What does that connect with anything?" she asked haughtily, not quite getting it.

Morpheus sighed in exasperation. "I meant, that I do not control this dream you call a—"

He stopped abruptly, tilting his head to the side as if he could hear something that she couldn't. Then he looked at her, a little apologetic. "I'm afraid I've used up my time," he told her. "I have to go. It has been a pleasure—"

"Wait! What were you about to say?" She reached to his shimmering form, desperate for answers. She felt that this was extremely important.

"—to see you, Lady Artemis. Farewell... for now." The god gave her a grave smile and shimmered out of existence, right in front of her.

The goddess stared at the spot he once was, clenching her fists so hard they began to draw blood. A growl formed at the back of her throat. What was he about to say?

She tried to think. Morpheus was the god of dreams. He controls and shapes dreams of mortals and possibly, gods. He said he doesn't control this dream that.. That she calls what? A game? A hunt? Those aren't dreams, she thought. I am not dreaming. Certainly not.

But then she felt like she was lying to herself. She wasn't in a dream, was she? She woke up hours ago. And she woke up yesterday. And the day before that. And any other circumstances that she'd slept. She wasn't sleeping, definitely not now. No. She was awake. If not, then what, when she talks to Percy, she was dreaming in a dream? Sounds ridiculous.

She decided to test it. She walked up to a Hunter, who was in her turn to shoot the targets. "Annabeth."

The blonde turned and looked at her blankly. "Am I awake?" Artemis knew it was stupid to ask such a question, but she had to make sure.

It was probably the first time she saw emotion in a Hunter's eyes these past two days. The Hunter blinked and turned back to the target, hiding her eyes from the goddess's view, full of amusement and that daughter-of-Athena-all-knowingness. "You are very much awake, milady. I reckon you can feel it," she replied with so much mockery that Artemis wondered why she still didn't show the girl her place.

Nevertheless, with the Hunter's response, she was sure now. She shrugged off the retort and placed it as an acceptable response to her question.

She looked up at the sky. It was almost dinner. She walked back into the camp and found the Hunters preparing the table. They seemed so... mechanical. In sync.

Artemis pushed the thoughts away and sat down at the table with the other hunters as the ones assigned to cook served the food.

"Hey, Lady Artemis!"

Percy came skipping to her with a stupid grin on his face, the type that made her stomach flip. And also the type that made her think that he was up to something... stupid.

He seemed awfully cheerful today. "You look down. Let's do some archery! Maybe it'll cheer you up," he suggested. He reached down for her hand, but she slapped his away. "Aw, don't do that."

"What has gotten into you today?"

"Hm. Well, for one thing, Zoë said I was getting better at archery. She says hi, by the way," he added before she could speak up. "And um, Lord Ouranos told me that I'm already good with the air and lightning things, since, you know, it comes with dad's powers."

"After just ten years of training?" If she recalled correctly, ten years was five to her.

"Yep." He grinned at her. "And so I get to start flying early!"

Artemis merely blinked at him. "A son of Poseidon, flying?"

"It's Chaos," he said, and it took a while for her to understand. "But yeah. It's fun, trust me. You've done it before, yeah?"

"Not exactly flying-flying, but flying-teleporting, It isn't the same thing."

"Sounds like that." Percy was nodding, as if he just agreed to whatever she said without knowing what it was. "Anyway, still want to do that archery?"

…

"You're doing it wrong."

Percy frowned, looking to her. She was doing the stance that Zoë had taught him, and, well.. Yeah. It looked a lot more correct than what he was doing. She looked to him expectantly.

He nodded and tried to imitate the stance. Tried. He was only doing the same thing he'd done earlier. He struggled to fix it, but.. For some reason, he wasn't used to the correct position, unlike when he trained with Zoë, he could easily get it.

"Here, let me help you." Artemis went over to him and nudged his limbs to the correct angles. She studied him a bit, which made him a bit uncomfortable as something in him stirred. After a few moments, she nodded approvingly. "Great. Now relax and do it again."

Percy did as he was told. And, ah.. No such luck. He was about to give up when slender arms came up from behind him, making him stiffen. He turned his head carefully, following the pale and lithe limbs to a face so beautiful it made him catch his breath.

Strands of her auburn hair hung around her gorgeous face, the others tied into a bundle. Her beautiful silver eyes shone, set in concentration as she righted the flaws in his stance. Her jaw was set on his shoulder, tickling it slightly. She was embracing him, and he relished the warmth from her body. She was a goddess.

But alas, he missed the feeling of her close to him as she stepped back. "That should be correct now. Relax and try it again."

He did as he was told, and finally got it right. He stood straight and smiled at her. "Thanks... Moony."

Artemis glared at him. Despite this though, she was blushing at the nickname. "Don't call me that."

Percy grinned at her cheekily. "Make me."

"If you call me that, I'll call you.. Kelp Head."

"That's sooo unoriginal."

"What if I change it to.." She stared at him challengingly, thinking up of a name. Percy thought that she looked cute when she wears those eyes, asking for trouble. "Void Brain!"

His jaw dropped, which made the goddess laugh. Her laugh sounded like bells, angelic and cheerful. "A void for a brain. Your nickname for me is trash compared to that."

"Well," he said smirking, getting back his composure. "It's not about the names. It's about who gets more pissed in hearing it. Moony!"

Artemis tried not to show her annoyance, but in truth, she actually liked it. "Void Brain."

"Moony!"

"Void Brain!"

"Moony!"

"Void Brain!"

"Moo—"

"Okay, enough." She looked away flustered as he laughed happily in triumph. "I'm tired. Let's sit."

"Sure. Whatever you say, Moony." He grinned and jumped back before her fist could reach him, and led her to a comfortable spot to relax. Once they settled down, a thought struck him.

"Hey Moony." The goddess glanced at him pointedly. "Why do you hate boys?"

Artemis hesitated. "I think you would know why."

"Because they are stupid, unfaithful and disgusting?"

Not all, she thought, an image of a handsome son of Chaos flashing in her mind. She shook it off and replied. "Yes."

"Then why are you talking to me?" He raised an eyebrow at her, truly curious.

She sighed. "You are not like all boys. My former lieutenant, Zoë, respected you. She even became your best friend."

"Is that all?" Percy inquired her, frowning. "I think there's more."

Artemis glared at him, which made him shrink back and raise his hands up. "Okay, okay. That's all," he chuckled nervously. She softened and continued looking up at the sky. "Um, just out of curiosity.." She turned back to him, staring. She saw that it made him uncomfortable. She thought that he looked more attractive when he was nervous. "What do you like in boys?"

She recoiled, surprised at his inquiry. "What.. I like in... boys?"

"Yeah. I was... wondering."

"They don't have anything to like in them," she replied, turning away. "At least, not from me."

Percy smirked, leaning over her. They were so close that she was practically breathing in his air. "What do you like in me?"

Her mind told her to push him away, but her body liked the warmth coming off from him. Her heart shushed them. She sat up slowly, and instinctively, he leaned back. "The fact that you're not like all boys."

Percy groaned. "You've said that already."

"I can say it however much I want," she declared, smirking at him triumphantly as he pouted. It faded when she continued, "I like that you're loyal, brave, gentle, fun, strong; among other things. In my opinion, you are the most tolerable man in the universe."

He blinked, his cheeks reddening slightly, before grinning. "Tolerable?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Likeable."

He raised an eyebrow, all quirkiness gone from his eyes. It was obvious that he was waiting for something. But what? Artemis wondered. She pursed her lips and looked at him questioningly. He hesitated. He breathed in deeply and sat up straight.

"Artemis, do you know people who love me?"

Her eyes widened. What, did he think that there weren't? The thought made her upset. "Of course. There are many who love you," she said, like me, she added inside her head. "Your friends, your family, your mother Chaos, your trainers. Every one of them loves you."

"But," he exhaled wearily. She could see that he was really sad about something. It broke her heart. "Aren't they just... using me?"

She froze in shock. Why would he think of such a thing? "They aren't. They love you. As a friend, as a brother, as a son. They do."

"My friends. They love me because I save their lives each time," he said. "My family. My trainers. They love me because I bring pride to them. Chaos. She loves me because she thinks I can replace her, be of use, when I can't. It's not—"

"Don't you dare continue, Perseus Jackson," she warned through gritted teeth. How selfish he was to think that no one loves him. "What about me? Don't I?"

He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes showing surprise, but she cut him off before he could start. "Look at yourself, Perseus. You are honorable. You are noble. You are selfless. You are loved. Everyone wants to be like that. But you? You throw it away. They wanted to be the hero—"

"But I don't!" he screamed, stopping her. Then he seemed to realize what he just did, and inched back, burying his face in his hands. "I don't. I don't want to be a hero. I want peace. I want to go home."

The first moment, he was a lone boy, looking for someone to love him, to make him feel special. The next, he was a lost boy, lost in his own thoughts, responsibilities, and miseries. Then as she watched him, sobbing softly into his hands, she realized that he was a lot more distressed than she was. Quests, pain, death, and grief made up his whole life, starting at a young age even before he discovered his demigod life.

She wrapped her arms around him in an effort to comfort him. He immediately latched on to her like a lifeline, his tears soaking her shirt. She tightened her hold on him, not wanting to let this moment pass. Most men would shy away, hide and use their tears as an excuse to destroy things, but Percy cried openly in front of her, already showing her his fears and secrets. He truly was the best man one could ever hope for.

A few minutes passed as he let all his bottled feelings go by tears. He regained his composure, but didn't pull away. Artemis didn't complain. He sighed into her hair, which made her heart flutter. Then he pulled away. She instantly felt colder, shivering slightly.

He stared at her, then at her soaked shoulder, then at her again. "Sorry," he murmured timidly. "That was embarrassing."

"Don't be. At least you let all of those go." She meant it.

"Yeah, but.." He stared at the dark patch on her shirt. Then he took off his own, making her eyes widen in surprise. He offered it to her as he turned away. "That was my fault. Here."

It was then that she felt how cold it was in the night, and how he tried to hide his almost unnoticeable shivering. "No. It's too cold. You should have it."

He shook his head defiantly. "It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me." He pressed the shirt to her hands, and went to hug himself.

She knew that she couldn't change his mind, so the best thing she could do was to accept his offer. As she slipped on his shirt, she caught a whiff of his natural perfume: a cool, salty breeze coming from the sea. She breathed in, the scent intoxicating. She felt warmer, but it disappeared when she saw Percy, sitting alone and shivering.

Artemis hesitated, but moved closer to him, sitting shoulder to shoulder. She heard his chattering teeth slow, his breathing becoming softer. She was glad that she could at least give a little comfort. Then something made her wonder.

"Percy," she mumbled, as if afraid to disrupt the peace and quiet.

"Yes, Moony?" She didn't feel the least bit annoyed, as she knew that this was a sign that he was back to normal. And because she knew she was the cause.

"Can't you control the temperature?" The wind came in soft but fast swirls, cool and gentle. But it came in fast, which was making them cold.

"I can, but.." He exhaled slowly. A translucent cloud came out of his mouth. "I'm too weak."

She had to agree. The crying must've drained all of him.

"Do you know the best body heat procedure?" she asked, hinting on something.

He got it. He turned his head to look at her, a smile of amusement lighting his face up. Even in the dark, with only the moon illuminating the surroundings, she could still see the tear streaks on his face. "Are you asking for a hug?"

Her face colored at the way he said it. "I just need some heat."

His smile widened. "Body heat procedure. Hug."

Artemis turned away. She heard him chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pressing his skin to hers. Before she could stop herself, her hand made its way around his bare waist. They sat there, relishing each other's warmth.

She could feel herself drifting off in his arms, her eyelids drooping. She closed them. After a short while, before she could fall asleep, she felt him fidget. She opened one eye and saw him peering through her hair, which was almost covering her whole face—except for his side. She closed her eyes again, opting to truly sleep this time.

But then she felt a pair of salty lips rest on hers.

AN: Thank you for reading. Now quick, pull yourself up that cliff! Have a nice day! ~SmartzyFan