SUMMARY: Percy Jackson has a crush: the bright moon that keeps him company during his night shifts, while he works at a common bar. However, falling in love with a trigger-happy moon goddess doesn't exactly fill the "crush" department. In which Artemis is both amused and horrified at the love-stricken bar boy, Percy likes the sound of trouble, and the love goddess laughs from above. Pertemis
Green eyes, as frosted as sea glass, met glowing silver ones. Their eyes connected, like metal clasps clicking together.
The staring went on for longer than a minute, but Percy couldn't tear his gaze away from those fierce eyes, burning with silver-yellow fire. The woman's chin was propped up, curious, questioning, almost daring. Percy had never been the angry type, but something about her…irked him.
"And I am here for only one thing," echoed in Percy's mind.
Percy bottled his emotions up and threw the mental bottle, filled to the brim with confusion, down a drain that read: Think about your paycheck. He only offered the woman a caustic twist of his lips, and he discontinued their silly staring contest.
One of the woman's eyebrows rose up. There was a smirk on her lips that Percy didn't like.
It felt almost belittling, like Percy's existence was the equivalent to that of an ant's, that of a single atom buzzing in the air, ignored and unneeded.
Like he was small and weak and pathetic.
Percy tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was especially hard when he felt so...small. And it wasn't like Percy had done anything arrogant! He didn't need a customer kicking and punching at his already shriveled-up excuse of an ego.
He fisted his hands behind the counter, nails digging painfully in. Then he offered her the single most blinding smile he'd ever attempted. He said in a polite tone, "Welcome to Moonlit Liquor. What would you like today, ma'am?" He injected as much venom as he could into the final title, without coming across as rude.
While poking fun at his bar friends was all right and generally smiled upon, Percy knew better than to exchange sarcastic, snappy comments to customers, especially this particular brand.
Her eyes seemed to widen a fraction; she didn't respond.
Percy wanted to laugh. This woman—Artemis, as she went by coincidentally—seemed to be completely star-struck by Percy's lack of care or concern. He'd dealt with his fair share of crazy loons, though admittedly none were as…hypnotizing. Percy hated the way he stared, the way he could not pull his gaze from her; she was like a painting, long strokes of smooth acrylic that formed her skin, her hair, her intense eyes. Artemis's presence and appearance—divine, godly, beautiful, powerful—was like that of her namesake.
(Unlike Percy. Percy had fought no gorgons, he'd conquered no cities, he'd saved no damsels.)
He coughed when all Artemis could do was stare. "Have you decided your order, or...?" he said. He suppressed the urge to bat his eyes at her.
Her nose wrinkled in something akin to disgust—Percy almost smiled in triumph. If Artemis saw him as someone worth hating, he would no longer be an ant. He would no longer be small; he would be a problem, and that was all he needed to feel strong.
"Ma'am?" he said, just for the hell of it.
Artemis's voice came out smooth, but her expression reeked of anger. "You have a lot of nerve, Percy Jackson."
Percy stiffened. He didn't think so. He often felt weak because he lived his life the way someone would ideally shade a coloring book's pages: in the lines, not a smear outside, always fixed into a spot. He felt trapped sometimes in this mediocre life.
"...staring at the moon because you believe you own it," she continued, sneering. "Wasting around, serving up drinks, lathered in Dionysus's poison."
"Poison?" Percy guffawed. His quiet, polite nature was folding in on itself, as he unconsciously ignored the first part of her sentence. "It's not like I made alcohol. It's not like I'm forcing any of these people to drink it!"
He was just a worker, making minimum wage, attempting to support his mom and make enough money to go to college. Was that so blasphemously wrong? Was there some horrible sin Percy was committing? Was this goddess—no, this random woman—going to smite Percy every time he tried to breathe?
Percy breathed in deeply. He tried to calm himself down, but it was like turning down a burning stove. It still stung, even after it was shut fully off.
"I don't know what you have against me," he breathed out, "but I'm not here to pick any fights. Tell me what drink you want, and leave this be. Or get one of my colleagues to make you one." Percy pointed at his fiery friend, Thalia, who was serving up a cup of gin to a customer, and Nico, who was shuffling a deck of Mythomagic cards. Percy added, "I'm not here to start any trouble."
"And you believe I intend to?" asked Artemis, her brow raised. Artemis's eyes seemed to glint. It has to be the bright lighting of Moonlit Liquor, thought Percy.
"What would you like?" Percy's tone was back to prim, proper politeness. He released his balled-up hands, feeling calmness wash over him. "We have all sorts of wines, spirits, beers, vodkas, tequilas, rums, brandies, whiskeys, and more."
Artemis stared at him, almost disbelieving the sudden mood-shift. "I'd like a shot of coconut brandy," she said.
"One shot of poison coming up," said Percy wryly, and he went to the back. He could feel Artemis's gaze on his back, as sharp as a knife, but he ignored the prickling on his skin in favor of getting on with his job. He hoped Artemis wouldn't file a customer report to Mr. D; the man would have him fired, before Percy could even say, My name's not Peter Johnson.
He just needed to keep a cool, collected head and ignore Artemis after making her drink.
Percy might pass a few glances at her afterwards (because Percy Jackson wasn't blind), but he'd try to focus on more important things. Like keeping his job, or the moon in its neglected corner. He turned back to the bar's counter, and Artemis's eyes had not faltered from him. He sighed, and with quick, skillful fingers, he poured the coconut brandy into the shot cup. He put it on the table, the translucent liquid almost shimmering in the small glass cup. Artemis was about to take a sip—
"You, er, have to pay," said Percy, pointing at the menu sign where prices could be clearly read in navy-blue cursive.
"You didn't make the girl pay."
The girl? Percy questioned, his mouth twisting.
Artemis had to be talking about Annabeth...but Annabeth had left hours ago in a fit of drunken bubbles and Piper's singing. Artemis hadn't been in the bar all that time ago; Percy would've noticed her. How could Artemis know about...? Was Percy being stalked? Did Artemis know Annabeth?
"That was different. You have to pay," Percy said thickly.
Artemis set the glass down. She put her hand into her pants pocket, and she extracted a leather wallet. Percy tried to dissuade his jealousy by repeating "Fake leather, fake leather, fake, fake, fake!" in his head, but he knew it was a lie. Somehow, as if magically, Percy could tell it was real. Inside, a fat wad of dollar bills rested, and Percy felt a sense of unease rise. It hurt to see money in a wallet that was not his own.
In comparison to Artemis, Percy probably had a grand total of $1.50 in his own cheap plastic wallet.
She fished out a ten-dollar bill, and with a smooth, honeyed tone, she said, "You can keep the change."
Even when Artemis was trying to get a rise out of him, she was... It was...
He grabbed the crisp bill, his expression painted over by monotony and civility. "Thank you," he said, and he went to the window with a dry towel.
He stared at the moon, trying to ease himself. His exhaustion from the late-night hours was making him antsy and jumpy, making him more prone to emotions that he typically didn't express. His quiet jokes and sparkling eyes were gone.
The moon glowed, a beacon of safety and comfort.
Percy cleaned the window, stared at the sky, and the moon stared back, a firm disc of soft, unflinching white light.
Artemis was definitely staring now, as goosebumps bristled his back.
Oh, moon, he thought to himself. He'd thrown away the name "Artemis" in favor of "moon" again. He couldn't distinguish the moon—his Artemis—from the impassioned, angry customer. He walked over to the table, wondering if he could escape Artemis's stare if he went to the back and helped with dishes. Then, without a single word, Artemis redirected from Percy.
Then he noticed Artemis striking up a polite conversation with Thalia.
Thalia's electric-blue eyes widened a few times, and though Artemis's expression was stricter, less emotional, Percy could tell Artemis found Thalia's company pleasant.
It was hard not to like Thalia, even if she was loud and rash. There was something about her cocky confidence and her devil-may-care attitude that drew people in.
Artemis and Thalia seemed to get along, but every once in a while, Percy felt a whistle of sharp air near him. He felt her staring, peeling away at his layers like a razor. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, per se, but Percy wished he could do the same. He wished he could simply unravel this strange, ethereal woman with a single glance.
The bar's atmosphere made it hard for Percy to discern their voices, and they came out as laughing, whispering nothings.
The way they talked, Percy could tell it wasn't a regular conversation, the ones Thalia usually shared with curious, drunk customers. It didn't feel like "girl talk" either, judging by Thalia's tense, taut expression and Artemis's cajoling one. It felt like Thalia was making a deal with the devil.
That explained why Artemis was so…enchanting.
Was Artemis a secret talent scout, attempting to convince Thalia into joining some fashion or modeling cult? Thalia pursed her lips, and she nodded once. Anxiety was a chirpy bird in Percy's chest, but Percy stood there, frozen to the ground, watching with assessing eyes. Thalia couldn't join Artemis and leave their little bar, in an attempt to pursue fame. She saw what fame had done to her famous, movie-star mother, who'd sacrificed the wellbeing of her children over easy cash and glory. Thalia had seen the effects in Luke Castellan, a boy who'd been swayed into playing lackey to powerful men.
Artemis leaned in, smiling, eyes glittering in the too-bright light. At that moment, Percy thought that if he were in Thalia's place, he might've actually considered whatever Artemis was offering. Percy knew that beauty was not skin-deep, and it ran in a person; he knew evil could play dress-up easily, but sometimes, evil looked so good, it hurt.
Not that Artemis was evil, just…rude and prouder than a peacock flexing its blue-green feathers.
But aside from that, Thalia knew better than to accept offers of fame and glory. She'd seen examples in the people closest to her… She couldn't just…
Thalia then nodded in Percy's direction unsubtly, and Percy suddenly felt this conversation was about more than seducing Thalia into stardom. Percy walked forward abruptly, sure this conversation was suddenly about him.
"What's your problem—?" Percy finally said to Artemis, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and Thalia. His gaze then fixed on Artemis. He felt exhausted, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.
Before Artemis could respond to Percy's question, Thalia butted in with, "It's nothing, Percy."
"Have you gotten tired of gawking from your moonlit perch?" Artemis asked him dryly.
Percy's eyebrows furrowed. This felt like an insult. This was an insult, not a friendly joke. Not one of Piper's songs, or Thalia's jabs. It felt as personal as a blow to the chest.
"That's not what it is," Thalia told Artemis hurriedly. She adjusted the tie on her outfit, smoothing it into perfection. This was particularly uncharacteristic for Thalia Grace, resident badass of Moonlit Liquor. "He just likes to look at the moon sometimes. He's not being weird or anything—yeah, surprising, I know."
And Percy agreed with that, but Thalia was obviously only saying that for Artemis's benefit.
Disgust was etched all over Artemis's features, and she wore it well. "I don't trust him."
"You don't trust any men," reasoned Thalia.
Artemis's gaze was punishing, and even Thalia flinched a bit. The girl tilted her head down and stared at Artemis's boots. On the other hand, Percy was having enough of Artemis using her wealthy status to treat people like shit. It was one thing to treat him rudely, but Thalia was one of his best friends. Only they had the freebie to insult one another.
Percy wanted to say something, but he didn't know what...
"'Moonlit Liquor.' The speaking of my name repeatedly. A boy obsessed with the moon," Artemis listed off dully. "This smells of a god's work."
His previously open mouth closed with a click. Percy had never felt more confused in his life. Was this a roleplay thing? Did Artemis expect Percy to puff his chest out and say, "Ah, yes, it is me, the almighty god. Tremble before me"?
Percy didn't know what was in that brandy, but he was a hundred percent sure a shot couldn't get someone this drunk.
"What's going on?" Percy questioned, his eyes fixed on Thalia. "Thalia, do you know her?"
"It's hard to explain," Thalia said, looking embarrassed.
"Thalia," he pressed, his eyes begging for answers.
"She's an old friend, okay?" Thalia finally admitted. Percy's jaw opened in gob-smacked horror. Thalia laughed at Percy's expression but sobered up quickly, under Artemis's silver scrutiny. "But...uh, she doesn't like you much, Perce."
Percy let out a stupid, unfunny chuckle like, You think? Percy had never formed and broke an opinion quicker in his life. He'd gone from admiring and love-stricken...to confused and weary in the span of two minutes.
His close, tight-lipped friend continued drolly, "Let's get back to serving glasses, okay? It looks like a few more customers have come in..."
"No, no, Nico can handle them."
A long, droning silence occurred between them, while meanwhile a saxophone's notes blared from the overhead speakers.
"Thalia, I know you're smart enough to...know not to join her," said Percy finally, when he had enough of the quietness and uncertainty.
Thalia's dark brows shot up. "Do you even know what you're talking about? How...?"
"I just...know," Percy let out. The two of them, gazes resolutely focused on Percy sharply, seemed to almost wait for Percy to continue, and he said quietly, "Please. Don't leave."
Thalia's face pinched, drawn out in anger. "It's my choice, Jackson."
Percy had never felt so frustrated in his life. A part of him truly, desperately didn't want Artemis to steal Thalia away, taking away a close friend of his for her gain. If Artemis could convince Thalia into joining...whatever it was, what was to say she wouldn't convince Zoë? Or Piper and Nico?
That wasn't all, though...
Another piece of him was truly so twistedly, stupidly jealous. He hated how success and fame was being presented to Thalia on a silver platter. Where had Percy's golden opportunity been when his landlord had almost kicked him out? Where was his "golden opportunity" when Percy was taking care of his mom's hospital bills, or counting nickels in front of the cashier?
Sometimes, his jealousy came in little bouts. Other times, it reared its ugly head in crucial moments.
Such was one of these moments.
"Thalia, you can't seriously want to leave," Percy said.
His tone practically reeked of insecurity, and Percy cringed. He could be better than this, so why was he reduced to this? A begging, tittering mess, clinging on desperately to his old coworker.
"You are trying to hold her down, from reaching her true potential," Artemis said dully, eyeing Percy like he was dung.
And it really hurt.
Being small, being poor, being nothing. Being someone who people forgot about. In corners, on the edges of life and reality, thrown away in an invisible trash-can like the invisible piece of trash he was. It wasn't like Percy didn't try. He tried to laugh and meet people with a wide smile and an exchanged hand. He tried to make money, spending hours for small cash that could barely cover rent. He tried laughing away his troubles. He tried, but Fate didn't care.
Why would it? He was a nobody.
"Fine," he said, and the roughness of his voice had disappeared, faded. It was gone, along with his energy, and Percy rubbed at the black circles edging around his eyes. "Fine," he said again, as if savoring that word. It tasted like dung. He stepped back, his demeanor reserved. "I'm sorry."
Thalia looked very conflicted. She opened her mouth a few times, almost like a tongue-tied guppy. Then she finally stopped, realizing Percy was going to drop the subject. Percy wasn't even angry; he wasn't even sad. He was withdrawn, back into the hermit-shell he'd crawled out of.
Artemis's gaze was acidic, unapologetic. She nodded to Thalia, as if trying to ignore Percy. Percy's eyes squeezed shut in frustration. "Do you agree to the terms?"
"Can we..." Thalia breathed out. "Can we take this outside?"
Artemis pressed, more insistently this time, each word carefully pronounced: "Do you agree to the terms?"
"Yes."
"You know the pledge, Thalia Grace," Artemis said smoothly. Percy backed up a little more, not being able to separate his gaze from the sight of his friend leaving him. From the sight of the hatred reflected in the other woman's malicious, glittering eyes.
"Can we...please take this outside?" Thalia implored with hopeful eyes.
Percy knew why. She wanted to sign the papers, fill the written agreements, and shake Artemis's hand, without Percy's searing, judging glances. It made sense that Thalia would leave like this. She'd entered and filled the application process for Moonlit Liquor alone. He remembered the day she'd come in, all brass knuckles and colorful, dark tattoos marking her pale, freckled skin. She'd been intimidating as hell, but even then, Percy thought they could be friends.
Suffering together.
The important part was the togetherness, something that'd stayed for years.
"Let's go then," Artemis said, her chin tilted up. Her eyes fixed on Percy's, and a condescending smile lined her mouth. Percy had the impression that Artemis hated Percy for some other reason, not just interjecting to Thalia's job-change. He recalled Thalia's words, of Artemis hating all men.
Was that what it was?
Thalia eyed Percy one final time, her face bleached of emotion, and Percy went to the corner of the bar table, trying not to meet their eyes. He felt really pathetic. He didn't have a reason to be upset at her leaving, but yet, his stupid traitorous brain played his sickest, worst emotions: jealousy and clinginess. He should be happy for his friend's good fortune. He should smile at Thalia and make her promise to visit. He should have one last drink with her at Moonlit Liquor, sipping rosés and laughing about the "good old days," like they were seventy-year-olds instead of twenty-five. He should be happy.
Percy still could not rein down these horrible, gut-wrenching emotions. They sashayed through his mind, and it was impossible for them to stop.
Percy looked up from the table to the bar's entrance.
Artemis and Thalia left, their heads turned back, the door's bell jingling happily behind them.
"I, Thalia Grace, pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and will join the hunt," Thalia recited.
"I accept your pledge," said Artemis benignly. Her eyes looked distracted
Thalia swallowed, her eyes dark with a kind of startling blue fire. "Thanks," she bit out. She didn't add any titles like "my lady" or "my goddess," like she'd heard other hunters use for the moon goddess in front of her. Thalia was dedicated enough to join Artemis... But Thalia had a bit of an ego problem, and even though she learned of this Greek mythology humbo-jumbo, Thalia wasn't going to start worshipping the gods.
This whole hunters thing, though... She...
Thalia just wanted, needed, to escape this life. She had enough of working here, had enough of her family problems. Her mommy issues, her daddy issues (how the hell was it possible to have daddy issues when Thalia didn't even have a dad?), her bad-run with addictive substances. Working and serving Artemis was going to be Thalia's way out; it was going to be her way of reinventing her life.
(She tried forgetting about Jason. Her brother could handle himself. Clearly.)
(And Percy could, too. She'd make sure Artemis wouldn't smite Percy the first chance she got.)
"And that's...it," Thalia said. One vow, and now Thalia had the blanket version of immortality. She could, and probably would live, for centuries. She'd see the robot take-over or an alien invasion; she'd see everything in her life. She could start living.
(Percy. Jason. Nico. Zo. Pipes. Annabeth. Luke.)
(Death, death, death.)
Thalia clutched her head, feeling an incoming pounding ache there. Artemis's brows furrowed a little, but she looked unconcerned.
From thin air, Artemis summoned a small white cup of a glittery drink. It looked like snow, except thinner and very clearly a liquid. It sparkled, and it reminded Thalia of the moon. Fitting, she thought.
"Moonwater," Artemis explained. "It will heal you physically."
Thalia took the drink, and she indulged. It tasted like water with a tiny tinge of something metallic. Like silver, or mercury.
She sipped it silently, and her headache eased slightly. She felt the tiredness leave her brow, and her swollen right ankle mildly ease.
(But something still hurt because even moonwater couldn't fix what was not purely physical.)
His six hours went by without much of a fuss.
Nico popped in from time to time, asking where Thalia was. Percy only shook his head silently, his eyes hollow and sad, his lips pursed. Nico seemed incredibly unconvinced, and through his last few hours, he pushed the topic a few more times. Finally, when Percy was sick of Nico's pushing, he said simply: "She left for home. Something happened." That got Nico off his back, and the quiet boy went back to the corner, his eyes suspicious.
Percy served the customers silently. He only offered a polite, brisk "Hello" and "Thank you," his eyes distracted and roaming. His feelings at the moment were unexplainable...inexplicable, so he shut them down. He looked at the window.
The moon was hidden behind stormy, dark grey clouds.
He turned his head back to the customer, and they all looked the same. Little blobs of human ink that talked and laughed and asked how Percy's day was.
Shitty. Horrible. Sad.
"I'm great," he would say with a cheery smile. "How about you?"
Then he'd smile a few more faulty smiles, pour a few more glitzy, colorful drinks, and mope. Was this his life now? Was this his own little brand of hell? The feeling of pouring and handing, soaping and rinsing, wiping and drying...until he died? Twelve hours in this bar, more even. The rest of his time spent asleep with nightmares plaguing his mind. Everyone he cared for...gone.
Thalia isn't gone. She's just not going to work here anymore. She'll still visit.
But...would she?
The question stung because it was true. Thalia was an independent go-getter with nothing tying her down. That would be fine by itself, but that meant she waited for no one. When she left, she left. Permanently.
That's not the only thing you're hung up on, his mind chimed in.
"Hello, welcome to Moonlit Liquor!" Percy would say brightly, plastering on a smile at some random customer. "What can I get you?" He'd add an honorific thereafter.
You're ignoring it, aren't you, Percy?
And the customer would list some drink off, and Percy would make it with a smile, following the instructions Mr. D had given him when he'd first applied for a job, some years ago. He would make it quietly and hand it politely, say the total, and the customer would pass him some money. No tip, of course.
You don't want to acknowledge it, is that right?
Percy clutched the bills tightly in his hand, before storing them off in the cash register, clutching his head tightly. A new headache, not dissimilar to a migraine, was beginning to thrum about in his head, to the beat of three syllables:
Artemis, the tiny voice in his head said. And the name echoed throughout, like some pious siren: Artemis, Artemis, Artemis.
And Percy tried banishing the thought, but it was hard. Artemis was beautiful, she was arrogant, she hated men, she made him feel weak and useless, she stole one of his closest friends.
His mind, however, was a traitor in its own right. Percy worked to the rhythm of the name.
Artemis, Artemis, Artemis...
A/N: Wow... Thank you guys so much for all the reviews/favorites/follows. This isn't my proudest chapter, but things will come. I swear. Reviews are worth more than a thousand words (or whatever that idiom was), so please leave them. Even hop onto a Guest account and give one; I'll read them. Tell me what you like/hate and what you want to read. Thank you for the read.