Chapter Text
Conceptualized as a one-shot, but now planned out to be a short novel. Please show support–it means the world. Inspired by Gambit’s Refrain.
My story, not my characters.
Faded Luminescence
~ yours truly
Even the moon holds craters,
Remnants of a lost sea.
Now it holds naught–
Condemned to futility.
Despite her luminescence,
Cupid’s touch subsides.
For oceans to fill once more,
The moon must kiss the tides.
A stillness blanketed the battlefield as monsters, demigods, and gods alike stood enraptured by the monstrous bulwark of ice; an icy formation separating them from Mother Earth and their very own Hero of Olympus.
Their Hero won, his legendary sword finding its way into the Earth’s heart. The Hero knew what he had done–a fatal flaw and an ultimate sacrifice.
For, still united with the origin of her godhood, her primordial explosion shook the cosmos to its very core.
Gods stood in disbelief. Demigods wept. Gaea’s essence was scattered beyond salvation.
And Percy Jackson was never seen again.
A leaf falls from a branch above, uncharacteristically late given the perpetuating December chill. The audible sound of the same leaf crunching underfoot breaks a certain silver-eyed goddess from her reverie.
Artemis frowns, disturbed by the noise originating from her otherwise silent stride. She shakes her head at her slip-up and a lock of auburn hair falls in front of her eyes.
As she tucks it behind her ear, she is reminded of how she aged herself up before arriving. Looking closer to twenty-five rather than the young teen she was earlier, Artemis didn’t want to deal with heroic mortals trying to find out why such a young girl was walking all alone.
Disregarding her momentary lapse, Artemis presses on. She notes that Central Park is as picturesque as ever as she meanders her way through the snow-covered pines and banks of snowy drift. It’s dark out–close to midnight, in fact, and the moon and stars shining brightly above only serve to further her mental spiraling.
Usually, at this time, she’d be up at Olympus, making brief and forced conversation, cursing whoever gave her such ungodly obligations on the bloody solstice of all nights.
This time, though, she couldn’t take it. Perhaps it was the way everyone–god and mortal alike–seemed so happy, so fake . Perhaps it was seeing the six demigods of the years-old prophecy milling about, enjoying the time of their lives.
But it was definitely a certain constellation shimmering down at her that forced her early leave from the festivities.
Artemis knows the aching in her heart is the worst it's been since her huntress, her
sister
, ascended to the stars, but she can’t do anything to stop it. She’s kept it bottled up for so long and she knew it was going to burst forth at some point.
Unfortunately, tonight was that point.
Another newly fallen leaf crunches underfoot; a nearby squirrel scampers away.
Despite Artemis’s outwardly calm demeanor, her mind is stuck back at Mount Othrys, replaying every moment. Scenarios flash by, quicker than the average human thought, and for once Artemis curses her godly capacities.
She shouldn’t have been captured so easily. Crunch : another leaf falls victim to her boot.
She should’ve beat Atlas. Crunch.
She wasn’t strong enough. Crunch: even louder.
It was her fault .
This time, her boot steps so forcefully on the next leaf that a nearby flock of sparrows takes flight, frightened by their patron goddess, and Artemis is reminded of her transgressions.
She sighs, forcing the voices to quiet, and takes a seat on the nearby park bench. Sure, her heart aches for every fallen huntress, but not every huntress had been there like she had. Her best friend, her sister, is gone because of a stupid mistake she never should have made.
She’s a goddess, for Zeus’s sake.
But maybe, all by her lonesome on this random bench in Central Park, she can refresh and reset.
After all, it is the perfect time for it–Artemis loves winter.
The huntress in her loves the lack of vegetation and the tracks so easily deciphered against the white, snowy landscape.
Yet the mortal in her–instilled by the millennia spent with teenage girls–knows that nothing beats a crisp breath of fresh, December air as snowflakes dance past your face; every so often stopping to land on your cheek, nose, or outstretched palm.
Nothing compares to watching your hunters shed their tough facades and hurl snowballs at each other, youthful joy sparkling in their otherwise weathered eyes.
Nothing can match a late dinner spent around the campfire with her hunters–her family .
Artemis relaxes into those memories, following a newly formed snowflake on its meandering journey. It floats past the outreaching branches and lands on an unsuspecting white-tailed rabbit. A ghost of a smile graces the goddess’s lips as the rabbit struggles to dig through the light snow cover, eventually tiring itself and deciding to just curl up against a nearby sapling.
For a moment her thoughts trend in a happier direction, until Artemis cranes her neck up to follow a starling and the unnaturally bright stars catch her attention once again. Melancholy finds its way back into her thoughts, and her small smile fades.
It is then that Artemis is tapped on the shoulder, surprising the silver-eyed goddess and snapping her from her self-absorption. She almost lashes out at the stranger, holding back only because she knows them to be mortal and most likely ignorant of their transgressions.
Ready to berate the stranger, Artemis whips her head, her breath catching at the sight of them.
“Mind if I take a seat?” The man asks, giving her a small but lopsided smile. “You looked rather sullen, and I take personal offense to that so close to Christmas.” Artemis is prepared to decline but finds herself still preoccupied with taking in the stranger’s features.
He is a tall, tan, and undeniably muscular young man with messy, jet-black hair and a close-cropped beard. The stranger exudes a comfortable demeanor, yet he possesses a well-defined jawline and a certain strength in his posture. His lopsided grin reveals a sparkling set of teeth and Artemis knows that any other young woman would find themselves immediately enamored.
Indeed, standing before her was a spitting image of their very own Hero of Olympus–aged up half a decade and sporting a pair of piercing blue eyes in the place of green.
Most likely due to the stranger’s striking resemblance to one of the only good men she once knew, Artemis gives a small but perceptible nod in response. Seeing her nod, the man takes it upon himself to dust the snow off the bench seat opposite of her and plop down.
“If I may ask,” The man starts, shifting slightly so he could face Artemis more directly, “What’s the occasion for the attire?” He tilts his head, still sporting that small but charming smile. “Date with someone special?”
While Artemis would usually bristle at such a bold comment, she found her cheeks flushing with color. She had forgotten to change her clothes into something more practical, so she was still sporting a classy silver blouse and dress trousers. Artemis realizes that, god forbid, it probably looked like she just came from a date.
“No,” Artemis chuckles, slightly embarrassed at the notion. “Just a celebration, of sorts. I left early.”
The stranger nods, turning his gaze to the moon and letting out a sigh. “That leaves just me, then. I just enjoyed a lovely dinner by myself.” He laughs, but it comes out slightly bitter. “I was supposed to enjoy it with someone else, but I guess they must’ve had other obligations.”
Artemis furrows her eyebrows. It never crossed her mind that this man would get stood up by a woman. “She… stood you up?”
The man nods, scuffling his feet, and rakes his hand through his messy locks. “Yup. Got all dressed up too.” Artemis appraises his well-fitted black button-up and khakis. He looks classy, but easily achieves the roguish look he was likely going for. She also notes that he left the top button of his shirt unbuttoned.
“Does that happen often?” Artemis asks, not believing that this stranger would have much trouble in the dating department.
“You’d be surprised,” The man lets out another chuckle. “My friends say I’m cursed with comically bad dating luck.” He turns his attention back to Artemis, and she is once again struck by the resemblance between him and the kid who saved the world, twice. “Surely you have better luck than me, though. Is there a special someone waiting for you back home?”
The irony of the question led Artemis to look away and re-adjust her stance, tucking one leg over the other. She can imagine Apollo laughing his ass off if he were listening to this conversation.
Artemis tucks an auburn lock behind her ear, bashful from the earlier question. “I guess we are one and the same, then. I’m also known as someone with terrible dating luck.”
True, if you count your only dating experience as the one that ended with your brother killing your suitor.
The man’s eyes widen imperceptibly, obviously surprised at the answer, before his face falls into a small but genuine smile. “I guess it’s just two romantically cursed people, then.” Artemis looks back up at his face to find his blue eyes already locked onto hers. “Maybe it’s fate.”
Despite herself, color rushes to Artemis's cheeks and she breaks eye contact, choosing instead to stare at a passing squirrel. “Maybe…” She agrees, suddenly quiet.
After a moment of brief but comfortable silence, in which they both watch the snow slowly accumulate in piles around them, Artemis's attention is pulled back to the stranger when he turns to her yet again.
“If you don’t mind sharing,” the man begins, a kind smile appearing. “Why did you look so down earlier, before I came?” He runs his hand through his hair again, seemingly more nervous than before. She appreciates his tact. “I know I may be overstepping, but is it why you left your celebration early?”
Artemis contemplates answering. It isn’t like her to open up so easily, but there is something comfortable about this conversation.
Maybe it’s because of the anonymity of it all.
Maybe it’s because of the man across from her and his infuriatingly genuine smile.
Who knows?
Before realizing it, Artemis is talking. “They are connected, of sorts. I, uh…” She struggles to find the words, but the stranger across from her just nods and smiles, encouraging her to go on. Do people usually feel so nervous opening up? She continues. “I lost someone around this time a while back. I’m good with loss, so usually I can deal with it, but…” Artemis looks down, not used to talking about her fallen huntress, especially to strangers. “She was like a sister to me. We used to hate those celebrations, and this year I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
She keeps her eyes trained on her hands, fiddling with the bottom of her blouse. Though embarrassed, Artemis is relieved that she finally has someone to talk to about Zoe–it was nice to talk, cathartic even. Artemis is sure that the man’s incredibly comforting aura has something to do with it, too.
A comforting hand lands on her shoulder and she startles, quickly grabbing and twisting the arm before she realizes who it is. Upon realization, Artemis flushes and drops the man’s arm, embarrassed by her overzealous reaction. “Sorry… I’m kind of a jumpy person if you couldn’t tell.”
The stranger just smiles and withdraws his arm, unaffected by how close he came to a broken arm. “I get it–I’m like that too, funnily enough.” His eyes gleam with understanding. “And I can’t pretend to know what you're going through, but I…” He pauses, blue eyes flickering around like he’s trying to remember something, “I think I’ve been through something similar–the loss part of it, at least. And I think I blamed myself for it on more than one occasion.”
This time it was his turn to swallow, shifting in his seat as he tried to find the right words. Artemis just watches him, a small smile growing on her face. It was sweet, this whole comforting thing he was doing.
The man connects his blues to her silvers once again. “I think a little part of me is always going to try to take the blame. But I think the larger part of me always needs to try and remember what they stood for.” He blinks, still maintaining eye contact. “And if they truly meant that much to us, then I know that they wouldn’t stand for remembering them in pain or sadness. They would want us to fight to remember their light, and leave the dark behind.”
He reaches out this time and slowly takes her hand. Artemis wants to jerk away but instead watches him cautiously as he holds it, grounding himself to her. “I don’t know if it was fate that took them away from us, or some greater design. But I’d like to think that even if it was, we choose how to react. We choose how to carry on their legacy and fate can’t take that away from us.” For someone with so much life yet to live, Artemis is surprised by the depth of his wisdom. What had he gone through to verse him so well in loss?
Above all, Artemis understands the man fully. There will always be a piece of her that blames herself for Zoe’s death. But, as she takes a glance up through the pines at her constellation, Artemis knows that Zoe would want her to be happy.
She would want Artemis to think of her, not in regret, but in fondness. Frankly, blaming herself for Zoe’s death is slight to her sister’s memory.
It was a refreshing point of view, and the goddess kicks herself for requiring a man to instill it in her.
Turning back to the man in question, she smiles–a genuine smile. “Thank you, truly…I know that she would never want me to hurt myself over her.” The man across from her only gives a gentle squeeze to her hand and returns her smile with a wide, lopsided one of his own, dimples in full view.
“That’s what strangers are for in the first place, huh?” He lets out a small laugh. “I’d never forgive myself if I saw you sitting there and didn’t put a smile on that face.”
Color rushes to Artemis's cheeks, and she is suddenly all too aware of their joint hands, warm despite the snow piling up around them.
She withdraws her hand, uncharacteristically faking a cough. Face still flush, Artemis attempts to redirect the conversation. “So… I noticed you talked about fate. Do you believe in it?”
Following a momentary pause, the stranger nods, seemingly unaffected by Artemis's withdrawal. He relaxes, slinging an arm behind the bench.
“I think that if every human believed completely in fate.” He scrunches his nose, pondering the idea. “Then we would go nowhere at all. No one would wish and no one would dream. Personally, I’d like to think I have a say in what I do. But…” He turns his attention once again to Artemis, gaze suddenly intense. “I think some things are fate.”
Since when did he move closer? Artemis feels her face start to color again; the winter weather must be affecting her. Isn’t she a goddess?
Just as soon as it started, the stranger smiles widely, and whatever accumulating tension there was dissipates. “I’ll tell you what I do believe in…” He pauses for dramatic effect and Artemis rolls her eyes. “Christmas miracles! And I think I was your miracle just now. No need to thank me.”
Artemis watches as the stranger smiles smugly, his playful demeanor resurfacing. “Good thing I don’t celebrate Christmas,” she deadpans. That stops the stranger in his tracks, his eyes widening into an exaggerated expression of shock. She lets out an uncharacteristic giggle at the man’s expression.
“I don’t believe it.” He shakes his head back and forth. “You don’t celebrate the best holiday of the year? You live in New York, and you don’t celebrate Christmas?”
A smile graces Artemis's features at his antics. “I grew up Greek, we didn’t celebrate the same holidays. I guess I never saw the appeal.”
The man across from her still sits in disbelief. “So… no eggnog by the fire?” She shakes her head. “Extremely out-of-tune caroling?” Another head shake. “Ice skating at Rockefeller?!” Artemis shakes her head once more and the stranger sighs. “That’s it.” He stands up from their bench and looks at her expectantly.
Artemis furrows her eyebrows. “What are you doing?” Did he expect her to follow him, no questions asked?
He just laughs, amused at her expression. “I’m taking you ice skating, of course.” Mirth dances in his blues. “Can’t leave without introducing you to some of the seasonal magic.”
Her eyes widen imperceptibly at the request. Of all the outcomes, Artemis did not predict that one.
Artemis’s rational, goddess, side refuses vehemently. She doesn’t know this man. Why would she allow a stranger to whisk her away off to Gods knows where?
Her irrational, mortal, component realizes that she hasn’t felt this comfortable with someone in years. Not since Zoe.
Artemis doesn’t begin to unpack that.
The man, taking her silence as disagreement, rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry if I presumed… it’s perfectly fine if you don’t-” Artemis stands up suddenly, stopping his speech.
“Where are we going?” Artemis asks, looking at him expectantly. Her decision was made. A genuine smile creeps up on the man’s face and relief colors his expression.
He starts walking along the path, and Artemis falls into stride beside him. “I know this sounds bad, but I need you to trust me.”
Artemis raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. The look in her silver eyes must have shown as much because the man backtracks immediately.
“It’s somewhere in Central Park, so nothing sketchy like that.” His feet make heavy footfalls against the path, a stark contrast to Artemis's inaudible steps. “It’s just a more secluded, unknown area. I had a feeling that you would enjoy it more.”
Artemis relaxes her face and throws him a small smile, touched by his mindfulness. He was right, on any account. She much prefers tranquility to the bustle of New York City.
The two walk in silence for a few minutes, surrounded only by sparse wildlife and the rustle of leafless branches in the December breeze. Her silver orbs follow a late-falling leaf as it drifts down, meandering through the air. It comes to rest the man’s nose, and Artemis watches with amusement as he startles, quickly throwing the leaf off of him. A faint blush colors his cheeks, obviously self-conscious of his overreaction. He is jumpy, Artemis concedes.
Her eyes trace his striking side profile, and Artemis realizes she knows next to nothing about the stranger trodding to the right of her.
“So… ” Artemis starts uncertainly as his eyes bring their full attention to her again. “What brings you to NYC?” The corner of the man’s lips quirk up in amusement, and she quickly elaborates. “I mean… do you work here?” The man allows a fuller smile to grace his lips.
He nods, looking forward again. “Yeah, I guess I do. I’m a bartender at a local bar.” Artemis's eyebrows raise–it was unexpected, but she could see him in such a role. The man continues. “But I’m also in my last year at NYU. I’m studying education. It's, uh… ” He swallows and shoves a hand into his right pocket. “My stepdad is a teacher, and he kind of inspired me. I love to work with kids–I want to teach them the way I wish I was taught.”
Artemis smiles. It’s hard not to. Watching him talk about something he cares so obviously about is endearing. “NYU, huh? Didn’t peg you as the genius type,” Artemis teases him, oddly carefree. His vulnerability is slowly breaking down her walls as well.
The man looks back at her again and chuckles, appreciating her teasing. “And I didn’t peg you for the hilarious type.” He quips, fondness coloring his tone. Artemis looks away, her face warming again. Maybe she had a fever. “And no,” the man continues, “while I’d love to admit to my genius, I’m a swimmer there. I’m a better swimmer than student, to be honest.”
That explains the physique. She noted that he was muscular, but on the lean side, like a swimmer or fighter. He just happens to be the former.
His attention is on her once again. “What about you? What brings you to NYC?” He teases, referencing her earlier slip-up.
Artemis laughs, looking away. “I’m not studying, like you. I’m a prosecutor, of sorts, in a family business.”
It’s too easy to create this narrative for herself. Everything feels so trivial–is this how mortals feel? A nearby deer skitters away across the snowy landscape, most likely alerted by her acquaintance’s clumsy steps.
The man just nods, glancing up at the stars like he’s committing it all to memory. Her mouth quirks up. “Are you located in the city? Or just here for the celebration?”
Artemis takes a moment to consider. “Yeah, we’re in the city, but I travel a lot.” She shrugs. “Just the nature of my position, I guess.” The man nods again, seeming to understand.
“What's it like, being in the family business?” He asks, breaking a stick underfoot. “I can’t imagine it’s all it's cracked up to be.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his messy black locks. “If my family had a business… whew.” He exhales dramatically.
She smiles, tucking a strand of auburn behind her ear in turn. “It definitely has its downsides.” Artemis thinks back through the millennia she’s been a goddess. “Sometimes I just want to throttle my brother for saying something stupid, or my father–who runs the damn thing–for being so dense.” She’s thankful Zeus is likely piss drunk on his son’s wine at the moment. “And frankly, we are quite dysfunctional, but we make it work. We always have.”
Artemis finishes speaking and looks up at the man, who gives her a small but genuine smile. She wonders what her half-sisters would think of her right now, sharing a moment with a male she’s barely met.
“How’s having your father as a boss?” The man asks, his attention still fully on her. He grins sheepishly. “Sorry if I’m prying too much–you just really interest me.”
She blushes despite herself and hides behind her auburn tresses. “No worries,” she reassures him, cheeks still slightly warm. “It’s sometimes a struggle. I’m not exactly… ” She pauses to find the words. “A legitimate child of his, so it’s hard to be recognized for who I am. But I demand it.”
The man smiles, a mix of understanding and pride, and Artemis is reminded of his (conventional) attractiveness. “That’s commendable, truly.” He gives her a slight nudge. “I can’t imagine what you have to go through. But I guess I can relate to the father part.” He scratches the back of his head, timid following the admittance.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re an illegitimate child?” The man nods, his expression darkening. The intensity flashing through his eyes unnerves even Artemis. She’s seen that expression before.
The man’s fists clench for a split second before relaxing. “My birth father had me with my mother, then left. He was scum.” He lets out an exhale, forcefully expelling the tension. “I think I met him at some point in my teens, but I don’t remember.” He looks away, embarrassment coloring his tone.
He doesn’t remember?
Artemis's eyebrows furrow. “You don’t remember?”
Suddenly, the roles were reversed. The man flushes, once again smiling albeit bashfully. “When I was seventeen, I was apparently in a really bad accident.” He pauses to find the words. Artemis gives him a small smile, encouraging him to go on. “My memory from around twelve to the accident is really spotty. I remember some vague feelings and references, but nothing more.” His expression turns wistful. “I remember I loved someone.”
Artemis gives another reassuring smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “She must have been a lucky girl.”
The man swivels back around, fixing his eyes on hers. “Maybe. I don’t remember.” He laughs, though it comes out forced. “No sense in dwelling on the past, especially if you don’t remember it.” He then shoves his hands in his pockets, uncharacteristically quiet.
What does she say? Artemis doesn’t have much experience in comforting. He isn’t a huntress; she doesn’t think giving him a bow and allowing him to catch dinner for the night would be much help.
Yet, before she could try valiantly and ultimately fail, the man glances up and his expression morphs into one of childlike excitement.
“We’re here!” He sends her a wild, lopsided grin. “Come on, I’ll get your skates.” The man strides off ahead of her, heading toward the scenic vista with a certain bounce in his step. Artemis shakes her head amusingly and follows in his footsteps, a smile forcing its way onto her lips.
Being with this stranger is so different, so refreshing . She would give anything to experience life like he does.
And when the man said secluded, he meant it. There is something picturesque about the scene. Surrounded almost completely by vibrant green pines, the whole clearing covered with a dusting of snow, sits a quaint frozen pond.
Artemis smiles. He was right; she much prefers this to any public rink, even Rockefeller.
When she finally catches up to the man, he’s removing a plank from the bottom of a pine and pulling out two sets of worn skates. He looks up, grinning when he catches Artemis looking at him.
“Here, take these, they were my mom’s.” He hands her two of the skates and Artemis takes them, mildly perplexed.
She takes a glance around, noticing the absence of people. Sure, it's past midnight and the pond isn’t huge, but it’s New York City–someone’s always around.
“Why aren’t there any…” Artemis gestures to the clearing. “People here? It’s surprising.”
He just chuckles, beginning to put on his skates and gesturing for Artemis to follow. She does. “It’s my mom and I’s special spot.” A genuine smile finds its way onto his roguish visage. “It’s usually moving water, but for a couple of weeks in December a pair of beavers dam up the river, so it freezes over.” His eyes make contact with hers, reliving years of treasured memories. “No one thinks of coming here but my mom and I. I found it when I ran away from her at the park one day–one of the best decisions of my life.”
The man finishes up tying his skates and then laughs, slightly bashful. “You’re the only person I’ve brought here outside of my family, but I… ” He rubs the back of his head. “You looked like you needed it, so here we are.”
Artemis's heart swells, color rushing to her cheeks. Despite herself, she wonders how in the world a male like this would have trouble finding love. What kind of woman would ghost this man?
An idiotic one, that’s for sure.
“Um,” she clears her throat, still flushed with color. “I'm honored, then. And… ” Artemis smiles at him. “Thank you. I know you might not believe me, but it means a lot.”
And it did. The last time someone went out of their way for her, not for a goddess but just Artemis, was…
Her eyes widen–she can’t remember.
The thought makes her look away, a faint blush threatening to escape. The huntress in her loathes to admit it, but this male was special.
Artemis finishes tying her skates, refusing to look up at the man across from her. Once done, she glances back up, and, expectedly, the man is still looking at her, his expression indecipherable.
Upon noticing, he stands up, grinning expectedly. “We better get out there while the night is still young,” he jokes.
Artemis returns his grin, his excitement infectious. The two hobble out awkwardly toward the pond, trying not to fall on their skates. It isn’t difficult for Artemis, but she humors him.
A haze has settled down in the clearing, and Artemis notes that the scene seems straight out of a Hallmark movie–not that she watches them. They step onto the ice and begin to glide side-by-side.
Artemis appraises the man’s fluidity on the ice. “Did you play hockey growing up?” He just laughs and turns one-eighty, showing off by skating backward in front of her. Artemis rolls her eyes.
“No, surprisingly enough.” He glances behind himself, making sure he won’t crash. “Things with water just come naturally to me.” He shrugs. “Even if it’s frozen.”
Artemis smiles to herself. It was almost too good to be true. “That explains the swimming and bartending, huh?” Artemis pushes off–knocking the man in the shoulder–and twirls one-eighty, skating backward now instead of him.
He’s not the only one good at skating–having a few centuries of experience helps, it turns out.
The man’s blues sparkle in amusement. “I guess. If the amount of tips I get is any indicator, I’m an amazing bartender. Or,” he grins devilishly, “it’s just my roguish charm.”
Artemis rolls her eyes again; she’s been doing that a lot tonight.
She really should pay attention to where she’s going before she meets a tree.
“You’d be surprised,” Artemis deadpans, fondness coloring her tone, “Some girls don’t fall for you after just a smile.”
Even if said smile was quite, as he put it, roguish .
The man tilts back his head and laughs. When finished, he gives her one of his signature lopsided grins, dimples in full effect. “Really?” His eyes glint dangerously under the moonlight. “I’d like to meet one of those girls.”
Despite herself, Artemis feels her cheeks flush faintly. Could goddesses get fevers?
Artemis breaks eye contact with the man, unable to decipher his expression, and returns to a smooth glide alongside him.
They skate alongside each other, doing laps around the small pond. It’s relaxing–comfortable, even. Artemis would never have guessed they weren’t in some secluded forest, let alone in the middle of a city.
On one hand, Artemis is completely out of her element. She can’t remember the last time she let down her goddess pretense, especially around a male. And yet…
She doesn’t feel out of her element. Somehow, she feels at ease. She doesn’t have her usual cavalier facade. She’s just her, Artemis.
She likes being Artemis.
She’s brought back to the moment at hand when the man speaks, breaking their comfortable silence.
“What’s your favorite color?” Artemis laughs, the simplicity and randomness of the question catching her off guard.
She drags the toe of her skate on the ice. “Silver, I guess.”
The man chuckles. “Fitting,” he muses. What?
Artemis breaks eye contact, suddenly reserved. “It is?”
He laughs again, swiping a lock of jet-black hair out of his eyes. “Your eyes.” He gestures to her face. “I’ve never seen a pair like yours. It’s like two moons staring back at me.”
Oh . Artemis puts more force into her strokes. Of course he was talking about her eyes. She tries in vain to play off her embarrassment. “What’s yours? Blue?”
He just smirks. “How did you know?” Her cheeks color again. She doesn’t respond, instead gliding alongside him in silence.
The man breaks the silence again. “What’s your favorite flower?” This time, Artemis raises an eyebrow at him, perplexed. Where was this coming from?
Upon seeing her expression, he looks away, adopting a bashful expression. “Sorry if this seems intrusive. I’d just–” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
His uncharacteristic timidity brings a smile to Artemis’s face. This man goes from charming and talkative in one second to almost embarrassed in the next. He’s as unpredictable as the sea–it’s endearing.
She decides to humor him. “Lilies.” The man glances back at her, a relieved smile on his face. “Lilies are my favorite flower. You?” She turns the question back on him.
His eyes widen, apparently caught off guard. “Um–” He chuckles. “I’ll admit, I didn’t get that far. Maybe…” His eyes dart around. The man is so preoccupied that he fails to notice the newly fallen branch in front of him
In an impressive display of clumsiness, the man trips–skate caught on the twig–and careens sideways into Artemis.
The goddess squeaks uncharacteristically as the two tumble off the ice and into the snow. The man manages to pull Artemis into him and absorb the force of the impact, letting out a grunt as they land on the powdered ground.
Silence pervades the air as the two lie in shock. A sparrow chirps overhead, bewildered by their patron goddess’s situation.
Artemis glances up at the man, still processing what had just taken place. He makes quick eye contact with her before looking away, blushing hard.
Why is he blushing? She didn’t fault him for not seeing the branch.
Oh . Maybe it’s because Artemis, the eternal virgin goddess, is still sprawled across the man’s toned chest.
Artemis blushes profusely and scrambles off of him, pushing herself to a seated position beside the man. He sits up beside her, their shoulders centimeters apart. Tension blankets them and Artemis refuses to meet his eyes.
She hasn’t felt embarrassment like this since Apollo beat her in an archery competition last millennium.
Artemis hears the man let out a quiet sigh. “…Water lilies.” She shoots her eyes over to him, and he gives her a small smile. “Water lilies. They’re my favorite.” Artemis lets out a small chuckle, her shoulders relaxing. The tension around them slowly fades into a more comfortable silence, though her mind still races.
What’s come over her? Just the thought of being so close to a male would have repulsed her earlier that night. And yet…
The moon shines down on her, brighter than ever.
For the first time in her life, Artemis doesn’t see the man beside her as just another male. He’s the person who comforted her, a complete stranger, in one of her darkest times. The person who opened up so deeply about himself just to ease her mind. The person who then took her ice skating at his family’s special spot. The person who made her laugh and blush, despite herself.
The person she was able to shed her tough exterior and be Artemis with.
Artemis swallows, suddenly overthinking. “Do you think…” She feels the man’s eyes on the side of her face, but she refuses to meet his gaze. “Do you think gods can change?” The weight of her question is palpable.
He takes a sharp breath in, unprepared for the depth of what she is asking. “I think most people would say no. That they’ve probably spent so much time knowing nothing but immortality it’s virtually impossible.” Artemis’s heart drops. “But I’d be lying to myself if I agreed with that.” She perks up, watching the man with a hopeful feeling in her chest. “I think anyone can change. It would take a lot for a god to change.” He turns his head, holding her gaze. “But I’d like to think that if they wanted to, anyone could. Even gods.”
Her heart rate quickens. Did she want to change?
Gazes still locked, blue and silver intertwining, the man moves imperceptibly closer.
If she wants to, she could, right? That’s what he said. Artemis trusts him.
He’s moving closer, eyes still locked onto hers. Her heart beats faster.
Around them, nature stills. Their breaths mingle.
The clouds part above, illuminating them in a beam of moonlight.
The moon was bright tonight. Too bright. What was she doing? Gods weren’t meant to change.
The moment comes crashing down around her, and Artemis shifts away despite her body rejecting the action. The man follows suit, an indescribable look flashing across his face.
She looks away, faking a cough. “I, um…” Artemis stumbles over her words. “It’s getting quite late, and I have work in the morning.”
The man just smiles, not quite reaching his eyes. “I totally get it.” He stands up and offers a hand to her. Artemis takes it, releasing his hand immediately after standing up. “I’ve taken too much of your time already,” he apologizes, and Artemis finds herself shaking her head in disagreement.
“Don’t be sorry. Truly.” Artemis locks gazes with him, everything about her expression genuine. “You don’t know how much I needed this.” Needed to meet him . “I can’t say I’ve ever had a night like this.”
This puts a real smile on the man’s face, albeit mischievous. “In a good way, I hope,” he teases. Artemis chuckles, returning his smile. A nervous look flashes across his face. “In any case, I’m bartending tomorrow at Atlas, if you’d like to come.” He runs his hand through his messy locks, bashful. It’s cute. “If you want to, anyways.”
Artemis already knows the answer. “It’d be a shame not to see your famous bartending skills,” she jests. The man tilts his head back and laughs, the sound warming Artemis’s heart. Why did this night have to end?
Artemis knows why, of course, but it doesn’t make it any less disappointing.
The man fixes her with another lopsided smile, dimples resurfacing. “I hope I’ll see you there…” He trails off, and it hits Artemis that he’s asking for her name.
Right, those exist.
It would be so easy to respond with Diana or Luna.
“Artemis,” she answers.
His eyes sparkle, a weave of blue and silver under her moonlight. “Well, my goddess, I’m Percy.”