The feel of magic slithered along her skin; across her neck and down her spine, up her arms and around her ankles, like a great serpent readying itself to constrict around her, breaking her bones and squeezing the ichor out of her. Compared to the cloying presence of the fog of Prophecy, though, it seemed a pale imitation, one that could be swept away like a gnat. In truth, though, it was far hardier than that. Few things could stand against a glimpse of the Weavers' work, and Hecate was no minor goddess.
The titaness was invaluable, and the possibility that she might turn away from them once more was an unpleasant one. Not least because Artemis now found herself responsible for not just guarding the other leylines but setting up their protections as well. The work itself was soothing, at least. Beneath her clever fingers, the rope of woven celestial bronze twisted and turned over into a strangle snare, better known as a poacher's knot, though she despised that name.
It was an affront to her that little mortal kings thought they could claim forests and plains, which would long outlast them and their petty empires, as well as the animals that had roamed them since long before humans existed. Poaching was but an insulting epithet for hunting. What a pity the Ancient Laws do not permit me to bless another boar. Perhaps a razed city or three would teach them how little their false ownership means.
She laid the trap down and while holding the end of it in her other hand, sent a pulse of power at the ground to burrow deep beneath the earth. Pausing, she tilted her head back to enjoy the smell of roasted stag that came from seemingly nowhere as her sisters gave her offerings, as well as the accompanying rush of energy.
When she could justify indulging no longer, she summoned a heavy weight and tucked it carefully a few feet down into the hole, pushing it into the dirt. Leaves drifted over at a thought, covering the shaft and snare. She preferred a proper chase to snares, for better a quick death by arrow than a slow one by starvation, but some prey deserved to suffer.
The image of Perseus Jackson dangling by his ankle or on one knee with his other leg stuck in the burrow floated before her mind's eye, and she couldn't hold back a pleased, bloodthirsty smile.
She gouged a pit into the forest floor with a flick of her wrist, throwing down arrows with pinpoint accuracy, each landing tip up, ready to impale any unlucky enough to fall upon their deadly silver. A blanket of grass shimmered into existence over the trench, concealing it from view. The sound of wings flapping through the trees broke her from her reverie, and keen-eyed Artemis followed the noise to an owl, which alighted atop a birch branch. Its head tilted to the side, grey eyes too intelligent for an animal.
"What brings you here?" Artemis asked it curtly, turning away to place more traps on the other side of the cornerstone. There a deadfall, with a pine leaning against oak, trunks nearly severed with an impossibly thin slice, connected by a string of braided grass that threaded through the trees' shadows; to the left of it, a body grip made of a metal, colored black as the plague her brother was so fond of, yearning to snap up like a crocodile rising from the depths.
After another flutter of feathers, the response came. "Zeus instructed me to lend aid where it is needed."
"Your offer is appreciated," the goddess lied, "but unnecessary."
"I meant no offense," stated Athena.
She actually sounds like she means that. It was worrying. A polite Athena is a scheming Athena. "And what did you mean?"
The goddess of wisdom's gaze was piercing, sharp as any knife and just as cold. "The Pontifex Maximus has yet to leave for goddess of the veil's manse. It would be better to be overprepared should you be… interrupted."
"I see," Artemis replied. It was too reasonable for her reject; not that she expected any different. "When is our half-brother expected to arrive?" At the moniker, bright eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but little went unnoticed by the Huntress. Not fond of the former praetor? How shocking. Though the goddess of the moon preferred her Greek form, occasionally she would indulge Diana, whose thirst for prey exceeded hers by no small margin.
"I believe the Pontifex will reach the mansion a few minutes after 3pm EST, accounting for standard afternoon traffic and assuming he departs on schedule, though how long he'll be left waiting for the manse to appear varies. The estimated mean based on the data available is 54 minutes with a standard deviation of 9 minutes, excluding outliers."
"Outliers, such as in the case of the sea god getting to her first?"
Athena stiffened, spine straight as a spear and tense as a strung bow for an instant before her demeanor loosened. "Hecate has no reason to join the traitor and every reason to despise his son."
So sure? "Only recently did the boy demonstrate any control over his domains. Would it be wise to entrust him to take another, one that holds so much weight?" Sending the boy to stake a claim over the Mist would be foolish, even if he has a route of attack through the Death Mist, assuming he holds it at all.
"It matters not," replied Athena, head tilted like a bird of prey but lacking any predatory glee. "The abomination's pleas will fall on deaf ears and then he will be silenced."
The goddess of the hunt smiled, smelling blood in the air. And oh, how sweet it is; elk cannot compare to owl. "Then why, pray tell, do you look like your eclipse is imminent?"
"Enough." Is it? "If you are so confident in yourself that would reject my help, then on your own head be it."
"Your offer comes too late," said Artemis caustically. "If strength of arms is required, I need only look to the stars. If it is counsel I desire, I'll seek out Nereus. It can't be that difficult, as I believe even the boy was able to hunt him down." On a quest to free you, you fool; mind your own tongue before you choke on it, she told herself. Any sympathy for the demigod, real or false, would not be looked upon kindly, and Zeus was no stranger to paranoia. He'd not remained king for thousands of years by being unwary, though, with how he'd acted the last few years… she pushed her musings from her mind.
The other goddess' lips curled into a sneer. "I had thought, mistakenly, it seems, that the cornerstone was in capable hands."
While she bristled at the insult, the huntress was glad for the distraction her half-sister's pride. "I was not informed of that the boy would hold any domains; a rather important omission, wouldn't you agree?"
She turned away to wave into existence a hundred moons, which unseen tides wore down to chalky spikes of light grey rock, leaving a fine dusting of powder on the forest floor. It vanished as the lunar blades began circling slowly, spinning faster and faster until they were little more than a deadly blur in the air at the nadir of the leyline, above where the cornerstone laid beneath the grass. This one, she recalled, was of emerald. It was the last emission of the Sky's apology to the Earth; a promise of love unending in the absence of the children that were cast down to Tartarus. Unrequited, and foolish, as love so often was.
"You seem troubled," observed clever Athena after a stretch of silence.
"I am," the goddess of the moon replied dryly, pointedly facing her half-sister once more.
War's bottom lip was caught in her teeth while her fingers danced like those of a weaver; if they held thread, Artemis imagined that a banner would be forming at her fingertips. She's nervous, unsure, or, at least, she wishes me to believe she is. It was always difficult to read Athena. Her tells were as obvious to Artemis as the Copernicus crater was against the dark Ocean of Storms, but just as untrustworthy as any man; her half-sister was all too skilled at deceit.
Finally, the goddess of wisdom spoke. "A problem shared is solved twice as quick. If you wish to speak of it, you know where to find me." Then she was gone, leaving behind a single feather long as a sword, pale as alabaster with streaks of grey.
It was beautiful, yet dangerous. Artemis tucked it into her quiver nonetheless. She doubted it would ever fulfill its purpose, but only so much discord could be tolerated without drawing the king's suspicion. Not that it would be warranted, she thought. Not yet, came the unbidden and unwelcome reply. She sighed, heavily, silver eyes flicking around the small clearing. Each trap was tucked away out of sight, and unlike Hecate's protections, these would deter those with crimson in their veins as well. A perfect ambush against any being that traveled here along the leyline or otherwise, but she doubted it would do more than stall Poseidon should he spring it.
Still, a delay would be most welcome, mused the goddess of the hunt, thinking of more than just her preparations. Athena is not like to let a question remain unanswered, nor a challenge. Sooner rather than later, the prophecy will come to light; the cover of darkness must not be wasted. What it would be used for, Artemis wasn't sure, but it would be treasured nonetheless.
It galled her to admit it, but the other maiden had made a good point: a friendly ear would be much appreciated. Not her brother, but perhaps her sisters. Too many weeks had passed since she'd met with her hunt. She'd left them in Yellowstone with orders to remain there and savor the taste of leisure. The instruction had not been taken well, at first, for it was not in a hunter's nature to stay still except when awaiting prey. Still, she hoped they were enjoying the break.
Mortals, even ones that did not age, would break when pushed too far and for too long. Her follower's ranks were thin in the wake of him, may he boil in his own blood and feces in the depths of Tartarus. He was unworthy of stalking through the stars that her closest companion ran through, unworthy of being remembered each time one looked at the night sky. It was a tragedy that she'd been confined to Delos when her sisters fought him. How many might I have saved?
She wiped away a tear that shimmered like liquid mercury. Yes, it would gladden me to see them again. Mind made up, she began to glow brighter and brighter, until no mortal eyes could look upon her without turning to ash. For the briefest instant, the moon vanished from the sky as she took her true form. All hunts on Earth ceased. The chaste and those in the throes of childbirth paused while each warm light dimmed, as though in mourning.
As she reappeared in the forests of Yellowstone, so too did the moon return to the sky, a manifestation again helming her chariot while predators chased prey once more. The sudden sense of loss ebbed from mothers and maidens too quickly for their human minds to notice, and radiance breathed new life into glimmers and glows across the world. She felt refreshed, as she always did after becoming whole, as every god did when embodying their domain.
The smell of the trees, free of the over-sweet stench of the Mist, was rejuvenating as well; evergreen spruce, lodgepole pines, white-barked aspen, and bushy junipers towered above scattered clumps of periwinkle lupine and bright yellow marigolds. To her left, there was a gathering of jackrabbits, and a doe was slowly meandering her way from behind her. Ahead, but out of sight, lay the hunt's campsite.
She strode forward leisurely, savoring the walk through the Wild. The sound of laughter- and a familiar voice cursing, though without true rancor- soon became audible, and she smiled as the tents came into view. Woven of silver lace, softer than silk and stronger than steel, there were only nine standing in the clearing. Not too long ago, would have been twenty-two. Further back, when she was still young, there would have been fifty. Never again, she vowed silently, not for the first time. My hunters are above mere soldiers.
The tents were arranged in a circle, centered around a pair of cyprus picnic tables, organized to form a longer one. At the northwest end burned a campfire, as warm and welcoming as any hearth. Above it was a spit, which dripped red drops that sizzled when they landed on charred logs.
Parthenos was the first to see Artemis; the daughter of Staphylos' face lit up, and she nudged her shorter sister, Hemithea, who elbowed her back sharply with a grumble before turning to the goddess with a smile. The Greeks, who were near identical with olive skin and high cheekbones and ochre hair, were the two eldest of her hunters, now, but neither of them wore the lustrous circlet that marked one as her most trusted. That honor went to Artemis' half-sister, Thalia Grace, who was snorting in laughter as one of the new recruits finished her story.
"I swear, it took him half an hour to figure out how to land after getting untangled, and when he did, he-" the former praetor paused as her eyes flickered around her, finally resting on her patron. "Lady Artemis!" She bowed her head respectfully.
"He did what? And who?" asked Artemis lightly, conjuring a silver chair at the head of the table opposite the fire. It was reminiscent of her throne on Olympus, though far plainer; she had no need to posture before her hunters.
Reyna blinked her dark eyes once, twice, before continuing. "Jason, and well, he immediately got tangled up in the ropes all over again when he tried flying down. We ended up having to cut him out."
Snorting loudly, her lieutenant told the former praetor, "You're a gold mine. I can't wait to see him again."
Artemis, having had over much personal experience with younger brothers, felt the faintest simmer of the same glee that showed on her half-sister's face. Her amusement died down when her lieutenant's did as well, though, Thalia's lips twisting into an unusual smile. It was reserved, which was anathema to her half-sister. Thalia could be quiet, at times, but when she wasn't, she raged or wept or chortled. Such extremes were expected; this half-measure was not.
"Lady Artemis."
"Thalia. How fares the hunt?"
"We're doing alright," the girl offered with a quick glance around at her companions. "Our stocks are still looking good. We haven't run into any serious trouble. There was the odd monster or three, but that's about it."
Artemis hummed thoughtfully, plucking a lustrous goblet from thin air. From the bottom welled up boar's blood, spiced with cinnamon and ginger. After a deep quaff, savoring the flavor, she asked, "Were there any noteworthy kills?"
From the corner of her silver eye, she noticed Marie and Ada perk up, but it was Thalia who answered, gesturing over to Marie. "Lil bandit," the daughter of Hermes scowled at the nickname, blond hair shining in the moonlight, "over there got a wicked snipe at a hellhound jumping from one tree to another. Hit it right in the eye. And Ada managed to sneak up on a gryphon. Slit its throat before it even knew she was there." The mortal girl was one of the older ones at nearly four hundred years and had a talent for stealth in lieu of the divine strength many of her other hunters could call upon.
"Well done," Artemis praised. "Crafty shots like that are the mark of true mastery. And gryphons have excellent hearing; taking one by surprise is no mean feat." Only possible because she is free from Lamia's curse, but impressive regardless.
The two hunters thanked her, Marie's pale face blushing violently while ebony-skinned Ada maintained her composure, but both looked deservedly proud of themselves.
"Does your return mean we'll be moving on soon?" asked Thalia, after congratulations were given by the rest of the girls.
Artemis grimaced. Believe me, this is preferable to the alternative; better to be restless than conscripted. "Regrettably not. Justice may not come as swiftly as it should, but it does so nonetheless."
Thalia stiffened, as did Reyna. A few seats down, at the edge of the table closest to the fire, Marie began drumming her fingers against the cypress top nervously, while Parthenos took a hasty drink of- Artemis sniffed- chamomile tea. There was a distinctly awkward silence for a moment, letting the sighs of the soft breeze and the rustles of the woodland creatures make themselves known.
Ah. Yes, most of them would have fought with the boy, either against Kronos or Gaea, wouldn't they? Artemis had barely enough time to explain the situation before leaving them in Yellowstone; the God-King was not known for his patience, so she had not dallied to take in their reactions before answering his summons. Now, they'd had a month and a half to stew in their thoughts.
"It will be good to have the matter resolved," Ada finally said diplomatically, though with an undeniable touch of hesitation.
Her lieutenant looked grimly down at her plate. It was covered with bits of fat too chewy to stomach and rust-colored juices from the freshly roasted hind. The smell lingered, pleasant and hearty, so at odds with the tense, uncomfortable atmosphere it wafted through. Still, Artemis preferred the scent here with her sisters than through the offerings received at a distance. Thalia raised her electric-blue gaze, brows furrowed together as she opened her mouth.
"Walk with me, Thalia," said the goddess before her half-sister could speak whatever treasonous thought her mind brewed. Standing, she strode away into the forest without looking back. The following footsteps were light as fletching, but little escaped keen Artemis's hearing. Her lieutenant caught up with her quickly, stalking silver shoulder to silver shoulder through the brush.
Neither spoke at first. Artemis, thinking carefully of how to word the not-quite-reprimand, vaguely recognized that she'd begun unconsciously following the tracks of a rabbit. The trail was only three or four days old, but so very faint. It must have rained recently, she mused, indulging in the perspective of the manifestation which drove her chariot across the night sky. It was freeing. The silver reindeer with gilded horns were galloping swiftly in front of her; the breeze was colder and faster so high in the air, rushing through her hair; below, the world looked so small, full of tiny fields and forests and lakes.
Thalia cleared her throat and looked at Artemis expectantly. The goddess sighed and slowed to a more mortal pace before blocking out any unwanted eyes or ears. Held for too long it would draw attention, but she'd notice any divine presence that tried to encroach upon their conversation, especially in the heart of one of her domains.
"Speak your mind," invited Artemis.
Thalia clenched her jaw. "You won't like what I have to say."
"I did not ask if I would like it," responded the goddess.
"Fine. I think Percy's done more than enough for the gods to deserve the long, boringly happy life he's always wanted, not being hunted down like a criminal."
"He is a criminal, and a dangerous one at that."
"Right," scoffed Thalia, clenching her fist tightly. Her knuckles were bone white while her fingernails, short as they were, dug into her palms, as though aching to hold her spear. "If he was going to turn traitor, he would have by now. He's had plenty of chances."
Artemis hummed consideringly, stepping onto a fallen tree trunk and gracefully treading across its slick, moss-covered bark. "His existence, such as it is, is treachery in and of itself."
"Then my father should just let him fucking ascend and be done with it!" The girl wilted a little at her patron's stern glare but held firm. "You lot have already offered it to him once."
"There have been recent… complications that prevent such a course," replied Artemis. She eyed her lieutenant carefully; keeping her hunters out of the fight meant keeping them uninformed, for the most part. Sighing, she steeled her resolve and prefaced, "You must swear not to speak of this. Not on the dread river," she said, holding up her hand as Thalia opened her mouth, "but you must promise me to keep this to yourself until I tell you otherwise."
Straightening up after ducking beneath a low-hanging pine branch, Thalia nodded. "Alright, I promise I'll keep my mouth shut."
"The sea god has been conspiring to take our father's throne; Perseus was but a distraction, and a tool to divide the council." A ploy that worked all too well, thought Artemis.
"I… see," said Thalia. For a moment she was quiet. As they passed a grove of lady's tresses, with small, white blossoms spiraling up to about knee-height, she spoke again. "Percy wouldn't abandon his father."
"No," came the grim reply. "I did not think he would."
Her lieutenant stopped walking to lean against a willow that leaned over a wide stream, orange leaves given a glittering sheen by the moonlight. It looked like a waterfall of molten silver, cooling as it cascaded down, though dim in the night. Parting the curtain that hung low, inches from the ground, she approached Thalia.
"Percy once mentioned that Po- that the sea god's kingdom includes several cities throughout the oceans," the girl said slowly.
Artemis tilted her head in acknowledgement. "He does, and quite a few at that."
Thalia, unable to hear the silent caution in her patron's words, proceeded anyways. "How much do you know of his rule beneath the waves?"
"I know that, with the exception of Oceanus's attack, there has been little trouble in recent years. However, I'm hardly privy to the specifics." Mind yourself, sister. You tread on dangerous ground.
Neither spoke for a while. The waves of the river lapped at the shore, gentle but persistent. With the wind whispering through the leaves, it sounded like a quiet discourse between tree and stream.
"Do you ever think that…" the girl couldn't seem to bring herself to finish her sentence.
Artemis took pity her on her. "There is little that escapes my notice," she said evasively. She has a point; the wars against Kronos and Gaea were poorly handled, in large part due to Zeus' pride. Her father was not a fool, but he was arrogant, and seemed to lack caution or have too much at the worst of times.
"Percy doesn't deserve this," Thalia muttered, looking at the stream, and the mention of the boy caused Artemis' mind to drift back to the first lines of the prophecy Apollo had given.
A roaring trident and hidden serpent,
North, South, East and West by dead children sent.
Its meaning had seemed obvious to her, though she'd known that prophecies could be tricky even without Apollo's reminder. Not that he had any better ideas, she groused. The 'roaring trident' seemed to be Poseidon- who else could it be? Regardless of where specifically the cardinal directions referred to, it was clear that Perseus would soon die, and Poseidon would travel with the 'hidden serpent' to avenge his memory.
The thought of the boy's death was… confusing. It would be nothing less than thrilling to kill him, to see a fletched shaft sprouting from his throat as he bled and gasped for air that wouldn't reach his lungs. The thought of him still and lifeless, though, felt barbed, carving gouges through her psyche. He'd fought in two wars for the gods; he'd taken the weight of the sky from her and earned Zoë's approval; he'd fallen into Tartarus for a young maiden, and they'd both made it out, closing the Doors of Death behind them.
No, she admitted reluctantly, the boy does not deserve death, regardless how pleasing it would be to give it to him. It will be a pity when he passes into Hades' realm. "The boy has had an unlucky life, but unfortunately, it matters not. Our father will win; he made the sea god a mortal as punishment last time, and I have little doubt that the consequences for this rebellion will be far greater. Perseus will fare no better."
Thalia bristled. "His name is Percy. Not 'boy, or 'Perseus'. Percy." She grimaced when Artemis raised her brow, but the goddess nodded in acknowledgement. "Is father's victory really so sure?" asked Thalia.
Artemis hesitated. Minor gods such as Triton and the rest of the Poseidon's children could not compare to Olympians, and Poseidon only had himself, yet even the most powerful of their pantheon could fall to enough divine recruits. The boy- Percy, she corrected herself, feeling a flare of annoyance as she did so, likely held many of the less powerful gods' favor. Zeus' reign had not lasted for millennia without reason, though. He was strong and vicious, and would seek victory at any cost. A poor king, she thought before she could stop herself.
Sighing, she nodded, then paused, cocking her head like her sister so often did.
Three heads claim renown but the first shall drown,
The next be crowned, and the third cast down.
She'd thought, perhaps, that Triton would be the one crowned, taking his father's place as king of the seas. A weaker monarch would be more easily controlled, after all, and the messenger god paled before his father's might. Yet… perhaps it would not be Poseidon that lost his crown. Enough, she thought. One that is trusts the path they walk through Prophecy is one that falls to its tricks, and it will not be me.
Still, even as she led Thalia back to camp, the thought whispered enticingly in the back of her mind. What if Zeus lost?
The goddess was thankful when the pair arrived at the camp, letting her push aside her errant musing to make rejoin those she called her own.
"Artemis!" called Parthenos, who was hanging from a tree by her pointer and middle finger. "My dearest sister has made the outrageous claim that none can hold themselves up as long as her! Tell me truly, would you brook such a challenge?"
"You know very well I wasn't including her," snapped Hemithea, who clung to the branch of an aspen.
Her sister gasped. "Worse and worse your disrespect grows. Have you no shame?"
"Funny how you waited until I was gone to say so," laughed Thalia.
"Perhaps we thought you needed the handicap," Reyna suggested with a smile.
Artemis's lieutenant sputtered in mock fury as the goddess picked up her goblet from the cypress table, willing it to refill with elk blood. "Might I ask what, or, more accurately, who, spurred Hemithea to say so?"
Seven fingers pointed to Ada, the only one remaining at the table. She stood and bowed dramatically. "What can I say? I had an apple and then an idea. The rest just fell into place all too easy."
"I'm quite certain the queen, the love goddess, and my sister are feeling vaguely offended, though they know not why."
"Oh no, what a shame," muttered Thalia with a vicious grin that belied her true feelings. Yes, she has no reason to be fond of Hera either, does she?
Artemis winked at her lieutenant and waved her hand. A yelp sounded from an evergreen spruce, followed by a thud. "That's cheating!" shouted Marie as she lowered a red squirrel gently onto the ground.
"A hunter must be ready for anything," declared Parthenos even as one chipmunk took up residence in her hair while another crawled down the arm hanging at her side.
As they dissolved into light-hearted bickering, Artemis walked past her conjured chair to take a seat next to Ada at the picnic tables. Tomorrow, Thalia's half-brother would speak with Hecate, for good or ill, but tonight, Artemis would make merry and laugh with her sisters, who were bound by bonds stronger than blood.
So this is the last of the chapters pre-written on AO3. Going forward I'll be updating on both sites at the same time.
If you have any feedback, be it on the pace or style or characters or whatever, it would be much appreciated.