Lotus
The next time Artemis met Perseus, she could safely call it the will of the Fates.
As though a matter of repeated memories, she was upon the trail of a monster and a demigod. A vile creature that reeked of rotten flesh and the Pit, that left an almost laughably obvious trail that told it was nothing of substantial intellect. This was no Manticore, though.
As such, she did nothing to assist as Thalia showed the newer recruits the basics of tracking their prey of olde. The experience of teaching, and the bond it would create between the lieutenant and the others, while taking some strain from the eldest shoulders, were a worthwhile 'investment'.
Instead, unfortunately, her mind remained on Perseus. Their last meeting, his bitter words, his indictment of Olympus, the feeling of his lips on her knuckle-
Damn it all! With a single, likely disingenuous gesture, he had cemented himself a position in her mind for weeks! Some blasted curse had taken hold of her, plagued her, coiled and twisted and writhed in her belly at the mere memory of it.
She didn't know what to make of the feeling, and the fact annoyed her far more than she would expect it to.
Thalia missed an indicator, perhaps too engrossed in the thrill of the hunt to notice. Artemis made a quiet note of it, and where it sat, to point out upon return. The girl had taken to tracking decently enough, but mastery was still a fair few decades out. Artemis' boon would accelerate that, and were Thalia Apollo's child it would be half of that, but if she had been Apollo's spawn it was likely she'd never have joined the Hunt.
'No one did.'
Artemis let her breath out in a sharp, annoyed hiss. Right back around to Perseus, a cycle of growing convolution the farther her mind went from the boy. The sound drew a few glances from the eldest among the hunt, who stayed in the rear alongside her, but she dismissed the lot of them with a gesture.
It would not do for any of them to be privy to the web of her thoughts. It would not do for anyone to be privy to her thoughts. May all of existence forbid that Aphrodite even consider it a possibility.
The politics on Olympus were… fragile. A balancing act maintained by most all who participated. Despite the eternal struggle for the upper hand, open conflict was unanimously disastrous on all fronts, and even those quarreling parties would couch digs and games beneath layers of subtlety.
Artemis, though she despised the games, played some of her own. Hence the disaster that would come of Aphrodite gaining the upper hand in any fashion. The damned woman was a shark, waiting for the mere hint of blood in the water.
This could be that blood, should Artemis let even a whisper of a whisper of the notion reach the floating city. Her girls were fairly trustworthy, though even they gossiped and speculated among their circles. Dryads, Nereids, or Aurae, however, could only be trusted to gossip with anything that had ears.
So her thoughts, of or pertaining to or unbidden memories of Perseus would remain just that. Thoughts, unverbalized and soon cast aside. For the better of all involved.
'S'pose to stay away, gods don't want us.'
Was that how the demigods saw the nature of this position? That any of the gods 'did not want' their children? Some were more vocal in their desires to see their children, Apollo and Aphrodite chief amongst them, but even Athena had mourned a relationship never shared when behind closed doors. Even Ares, the bumbling, arrogant oaf, couldn't completely hide the care he bore for his spawn.
All demigods were cared for dearly, in any way a god could care for them. It would take a fool to see it as anything else. Did that make Perseus a fool? To not see the way his father had so ardently defended the boy? How would he?
Few were privy to meetings within the throne room. Fewer still demigods, and only the Olympians themselves had enough exposure to truly understand their peers. Perhaps there was a sense to feeling the way Perseus did, only seeing such small portions of Poseidon or his care.
Fresh tracks, plowing through a puddle of mud, marked the trail. Large, powerful paws marred the soil, and nicked some of the surrounding trees. Brush lay flattened or demolished by the beast's path, creating a trail wider than a minivan through the forest. It was close.
Anxiety and excitement burbled in equal measure from her girls. Younger recruits nocked arrows, their elders simply brushing the fletchings within quivers. Thalia gave their newest recruit, a girl by the name of Sarah, a congratulatory thump across the back.
Did her girls feel as Perseus did? Surely not. Artemis showed affection and care in her capacities, and in no small amount. But did they see it for what it was? How different was the understanding of it, between mortals and gods? What was it mortals did again?
Before they took off again, she darted forward. Her hand found the top of Sarah's head, giving a few quick pats before retreating.
"Very well done. Perhaps, in time, you will be a greater tracker than even Thalia."
While the contact drew a strange look, the compliment had the girl positively beaming. A toothy smile that took the whole of her face to make, in a gesture undeniably genuine. A few of the girls snickered at the comment, and Thalia offered little more than an eye roll before they were moving again.
The touch, it seemed, was not quite the average gesture. Perhaps asking Thalia for council was due before the next attempt. The girl was hardly the touching sort, though… Perhaps Perseus was a better choice?
The question almost stopped her in her tracks. If not for the momentum of their pace, she likely would have. She didn't know where that had come from.
No, no, she knew where- exactly where- that had come from, loathe as she was to think of it. That stupid gesture. The warmth, the softness of his lips, the fuel to the fire that had warmed her cheeks.
She knew the source, even if she didn't know what it meant.
Admittedly, the behavior he had shown was unique to himself. Most males that dared to speak with her didn't dare touch her, and none with their lips. A bold maneuver, very bold.
That was it. She was stunned, that's why it stayed in her head and made her heart bump a feverish beat and brought a strange warmth to her features.
Yes. She was stunned by the audacity that it took to behave in such a manner. The gall Perseus had mustered to lay his lips upon the skin of a virgin goddess. Of course.
"My Lady?"
Thalia had managed to catch Artemis at unawares, though she didn't jump at the question.
They had reached the edge of the city, like the stark drop off into the oceanic abyss, a sudden end to her domain and the beginning of that of man.
The hunters had stopped. Each stared at her in turn, with the occasional suspicious glance to the world surrounding them. Why they had waited, she wasn't certain, until she took a closer look at the nearest building.
Broken windows, fresh glass speckling the street around it. A shattered door barely hanging on its hinges, deep gouges in the walls around it. It appeared that the beast had finished a hunt of its own. A shame.
"Thalia! Phoebe! With me." She ordered, hands moving to her daggers and her feet carrying her from the sanctuary of the woods, "We will try to bait the beast into the open, have your bows at the ready."
They snapped to follow the orders, and Artemis strained to listen for the beast as she approached the building.
There was nothing, mere silence from within the walls.
"Shit."
Were her ears able to twitch, they would have. That not only came from inside, but sounded remarkably familiar.
With less caution now, she pushed to and through the swaying door.
In here, there was not a surface unblemished by the massive claws. Floors, walls, stairs, overturned tables and smashed chairs, Hades there were even a mark or two on the ceiling. The splintered shreds of wood crackled underfoot, and the silence lingered.
She could feel the tension radiating from the girls on either side of her, though neither showed fear. Both had played these games far too long to be afraid now.
"Holy shit Percy!"
The trio whipped to face the stairs, Artemis' suspicions confirmed. That was the satyr- the one Perseus was acquainted with. It would seem, thanks to a demigod that had become quite the thorn in her side, their hunt was spoiled.
"Percy?"
By the time Artemis had sheathed her daggers, Thalia was already halfway up the stairwell. For all the bickering, distance and lack of general contact, she seemed to care quite a bit for her cousin. With a glance that gave wordless command to Phoebe, Artemis moved to follow.
Though she was in no hurry, the upstairs of the building erupted into a panicked chatter… was that crying?
She'd only reached the top step when Thalia almost sent the both of them tumbling right back where they had come. The girl looked frantic, pale, wide eyed.
"Medkit!" She squeaked, already bolting past Artemis with the word. The silver blur that was her lieutenant vanished around the corner mere seconds later. Interesting, Thalia rarely ever got frazzled by an injury.
Curious, and with a undercurrent of something that resembled dread, Artemis slipped through the hole that had been a doorway, and understood Thalia's panic in an instant.
Perseus, though perhaps it was more apt to say what was left of Perseus, stood at the room's center. That, in and of itself, was impressive.
Three evenly spaced gouges curved across the right side of his face, starting at his ear and digging deep enough to make what skin that remained dangle from the bone.
The next wounds were at his ribs, as though a beast attempted to take him down. They raked across his sides and down, the curve and depth of the wound both tapering near his belly, only visible by the opening the attack had made in a hoodie turned a shade of purple it likely shouldn't have been. A good thing, it very well might have disemboweled him had it followed through.
His last visible injury was not much better. Bloody, ugly punctures from large fangs in the meat of his thigh, each wider than her thumb and likely about as deep as the digit was long. Still, he stood, staring at her with a muted, distant surprise.
The satyr fluttered about, akin to a windblown butterfly, visibly uncertain as to what he should do in an attempt to aide his friend. He met Artemis' presence with a far more 'present' shock, mouth falling open for a moment before he cast her presence aside. Bold, and admirable, for beings as obsessive as satyrs.
The last inhabitant of the room could be no older than eleven years. A shuddering, weeping mess of a girl, knees curled to her chest and a puddle of vomit to her left. The mortals of this day and age were not used to the truth, the violent nature of this world.
Percy wheezed, saying something indecipherable to her ears. He did succeed in catching her eye, and she noticed it.
He wasn't bleeding.
No blood spilled from his wounds, despite what already stained a large portion of his clothes and the floor. The wounds even looked wet- wet.
Oh, the boy was far more clever than Athena gave him credit, using water to keep from bleeding. Perhaps it would keep him from healing, but in the same hand it would keep him from dying.
"Perseus." She greeted, "I did not expect to find you here, I must admit."
He took naught a semblance of a step, legs giving and sending him to his hands and knees. Blood hit the tile flooring all at once, splattering akin to a popped blister. She stared at his hunched form, watching a few stray drops land in the newly made puddle. The satyr all but shrieked.
"In such a state, no less."
Thalia, a whirlwind of silver and fear, returned at last, taking in the scene within an instant. Curses and vulgar words left her lips like water, and she momentarily fluttered about him as the satyr had.
"My lady! I need help!" Her tone hit a fevered pitch as she slid to her knees before Perseus. Again, her hands hovered uncertainly. It had been some time since the hunters had sustained an injury of this severity, at least without death long before anything could be done for it.
The satyr jumped to help, both moving him as carefully as one could manage to the mattress in the middle of the floor. Perseus only offered a strangled groan in response to being moved.
Artemis had never seen him this injured, actuall, not that she could recall. Never so severely, at least.
Thalia flitted about now, fumbling the medkit and it's latches. The case slipped, clattering against the wood flooring and damn near scaring the youngest demigod out of her skin.
"My Lady!"
"Move."
The girl retreated in an instant, giving Artemis more than enough space to drop to a knee before Perseus.
She prodded the wounds, assessing each under Thalia's intense stare.
He was smaller than he had been. She could feel the more pronounced ridges of his ribs, a dwindling tone of muscle. His words flashed through her mind yet again. Dreams. Of Tartarus, of death, of the sky.
Her heart pattered, heat soaking through her collar, methodical pace stuttering for but a moment that would be imperceptible to most. Thalia, however, was not most, and Artemis could tell the girl had caught it.
It was certainly not the time for such thoughts.
"Needle, farrow extract, nectar." She ordered, though her needle already threaded into his skin. He hardly even winced, but there was no need to cause undue pain and they were not even started on all the stitching to be done.
The farrow landed in her hand, a balm Artemis had asked of Demeter that was made from a special strain of the plant. An excellent numbing agent, they kept a surplus of the stuff for anything from dagger wounds to missing limbs. She let the needle hang from Perseus' skin, in favor of smearing a glob across as many of the wounds as she could manage with the amount. It hardly covered one side of his ribs, but by the minute more blood oozed past the water in the wounds.
She made relatively quick work of the first- the perks of being related to the good of medicine- with neat, even lines. The silence stagnated.
"I won."
The comment was a wispy, half-breathed thing. A force of will, undoubtedly hampered by the shearing of his cheek. The satyr gave a choked, teary laugh that hardly left his throat in response.
"A feat worthy of praise." Artemis hummed, "Though if I recall, your last struggle with the Nemean Lion ended far better for you."
"Got-" He winced with the word, or perhaps she had missed a spot applying the extract. Maybe both, "smarter."
"What lion?" At last, it seemed, did the girl's sense return to her. She had abandoned her corner, still staring at Perseus with some blend of horror and compassion. She wouldn't reach Artemis' chest when they were both standing, most likely a runt.
Artemis blinked, and mentally checked herself. When had she grown? Hadn't she been shorter than Thalia when they had approached the building? Before she'd even dropped to a knee to tend to Perseus?
The satyr opened his mouth to answer, but Artemis interrupted.
"The Nemean Lion, my girl." Her hands finished the last stitches on one side, and she slid to his opposite side to begin the process anew, "its hide cannot be cut by any weapon, teeth capable of piercing any armor, claws capable of shearing steel."
"No way."
"You saw the beast for yourself." Artemis shrugged. There was only so much a skeptic could rationalize, "A fine prey, one that your 'savior' has taken from me."
She didn't really mean it as harsh, nor serious. Would it have been a good opportunity for her girls? Certainly, but she was not so foolish as her family to think that a mortal would throw his life away upon the mere premise that not doing so would spoil her game. The beast was dead, little else mattered.
What she perhaps foolishly did not expect was the look her comment earned from her patient.
She had hardly even expected him to be lucid enough to understand what she was saying, but was met with a sharp glare.
His eyes were almost exactly like Poseidon's, a vibrant green reminiscent of a shallow sea that pulled her in, practically put her upon a beach, watching the methodical, mesmerizing roll of crashing waves. She could feel the breeze, the sun, the warm waters of the Mediterranean washing over her, engulfing her, swallowing her as some great beast.
The warmth, physical and nostalgic and something else she couldn't muster the sense to understand soaked to her very bones. Like a wandering snake, twisting its great coils about her spine, weight resting atop her hips, tongue fluttering across her nerves and sending a show of sparks through her very being.
"My Lady?"
Artemis blinked. Blood soaked her sleeves. A muted breeze pulled ever so softly at her hair. She stared up at Perseus, he stared back.
It wasn't often she blushed, but there was nothing else to call the burning that flooded her features. Resolutely whipping back to her work, she moved with renewed fervor.
These were, while not the worst looking on first impression- that title could only belong to what was left of his cheek- the most dangerous, assuming he hadn't nicked his femoral artery in the scuffle. Since he wasn't dead, she was certain he'd been lucky. It was good that, albeit with the aid of utter mortification, she'd managed to stitch them rather quickly.
With that, blessedly, out of the way, her attention turned to his thigh. The stream of blood that oozed from the wound stuck the jeans to his leg, forcing the medical need to the fore of her mind, she gently pulled at the denim. It peeled from the skin, still warm and wet and staining her fingers with his blood.
"Thalia. Lotus concentrate, gauze, and coagulant."
She scrambled to comply with the request, which let Artemis study the extent of the damage.
There would certainly be scars from all of these. Even the shallowest of gouges left by the lion's fangs was a good three inches into the muscle of his thigh. Again, she wondered just how he'd managed to put any weight on the thing when she'd walked into the room.
"Why did the lion chase us?" The girl asked, and Artemis didn't respond in favor of focusing on cutting through the jeans and avoiding his skin.
"Monsters eat demigods." Thalia responded. The strain of stress in her tone had lessened, though not vanished, with each stitch, "We taste better than regular mortals or something."
"Welcome to the demigod crash course kiddo." The words were off, slurred and lisping, from the man she stitched from ribbons. For a moment, Artemis wondered what part his cheek had to play in the effect, "errything wants to kill and eat you."
"Hush!" She finally ordered. Talking sprayed flecks of blood from his cheek and subsequently all over her.
The fabric hit the wood floors with a wet smack, a pseudo emphasis to her command. In Artemis' peripherals, the satyr and the now found demigod looked almost green.
It was fairly good, as far as the sort of wound went. The lion hadn't the chance to thrash its head about, resulting in fairly 'clean' punctures, which made her job all the easier.
With no hesitation, she poured a healthy dose of Lotus on his wound and the gauze in turn. It should have stung, though he gave no indication he noticed. Perhaps he didn't. The coagulant was quick to follow, a floral scented slime older than most of the huntresses in Artemis' service.
The satyr twitched, clearly intent to assist but entirely unwilling to draw Artemis' attention. There was nothing he could do to help regardless, and any attempts would only have served to get in her way.
By the time she finished wrapping his leg, the blood was flowing freely from Percy's cheek. His body swayed unsteadily, threatening to pitch this way or that without Artemis' hold. In concert, it served to stain shimmering silver, pasty skin and even the rich auburn of her hair. A tacky, unpleasant feeling that made her skin itch to be rid of it.
She could- it took a mere thought to be cleaned of nigh anything- but the way she juggled keeping him upright while patching his face would soon make a mess of her again. Why waste the energy?
The bandages she'd applied already darkened with blood, though at a pace sedate in comparison to what it should have been.
"You saved me." The girl moved on shaky legs, putting herself behind Artemis and before Percy. For a long moment, the words bounced about the room as the girl searched for the words, "Why did you? Why leave… Camp?"
'If not me, then who?'
Though that conversation was something Artemis alone was privy to, the words felt palpable in the room. A weight upon her chest.
"Perseus is a good man." She offered for him, never hesitating in her stitching, "I have little doubt the satyr gave word of your existence, as satyrs are to do, and he came to retrieve you. Is that not correct, Perseus?"
She punctuated the question with a sharp look, demanding no movement on his part. Percy tried to nod a conformation at the last word, though Artemis was ready for the motion and kept his head locked in place. Of course, the one time a god requested a word from him he'd have the gall to nod.
"But why not leave me?"
The words were soft, almost a whisper, and the silence returned.
Artemis tied the last of the stitches, dropping the needle to Thalia's waiting hand, pasting the proffered bandage across the scars, finally releasing her hold on his head.
Like a puppet without strings, Perseus fell to the mattress, resulting in various noises of alarm from the other inhabitants of the room. She scrutinized the wounds, which did not reopen with the movement, and considered her job done.
"The nectar, Thalia, as much as his body can bear." She ordered. Thalia gave a sharp nod in response, already moving to her downed cousin, "Satyr, I trust you have transport?"
He nodded, visibly struggling for words. She didn't need any, and didn't wait for them. Instead, she looked to the young girl.
"My girl, I would like to speak with you, if you are willing to listen."
She scurried to Artemis, with a not so subtle glance at Perseus where he lay.
"And Perseus, if you would refrain from getting into such trouble again?"
He offered nothing, and Artemis slid from the room. She needed to get a distance between herself and the object of her cyclical thoughts.
Something was at play, some hand of the Fates. Regardless of her intentional tracking weeks ago, it was something else that had pushed him beyond the safety of the Camp or his mother's home. Combined with today, the satyr finding the girl and the Lion tracking her and Perseus coming to her aid, it was all something more than mere coincidence.
Something was at play, but what part did Artemis have in it?
