The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 3

Percy silently cursed. He should've known it was the Goddess Who Hated All Males. She was in a garden that was behind her palace, for god's sake. However, in his defense, she was in her young adult form—a form that he'd never seen her in. But her silver eyes were unmistakable.

"What are you doing here, boy?" Lady Artemis' was cold—but with her curled-up figure and the tremble of sadness in her voice, it seemed less sharp.

"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lady Artemis," he said, silently berating himself for stammering. But he really didn't want to die. "I-I heard someone crying and I just f-followed it here—"

"So you could prey on a weak female!?" Artemis glared at him, slowly unfolding herself to sit on the bench. He could clearly see the most recent tears she'd shredded floating down her sculpted face. Percy didn't miss her fingers turning white as she gripped the handles of the seat.

"N-no! You misunderstood!" Percy exclaimed, taking a few steps back.

"I don't think there's anything to misunderstand," Artemis said in a patronizing tone. "You chose the wrong prey, today, Perseus. Enjoy the Underworld." She raised her hand, preparing to strike him down.

Percy collapsed into another, more desperate kneel. "Please, Lady Artemis. Let me live. I haven't done anything wrong. I promise. All I wanted was to help. But now I know that you don't need any from a male, so I'll leave. If that doesn't sound good to you, you can kill me tomorrow. But give me today. I still have to attend my friends' funerals . . ." Percy trailed off, realizing he was blabbering in fear.

Eventually, Percy couldn't handle the silence anymore. He looked up—only to be met by two silver globes. His breath caught as he admired her beauty. Maybe this was why Lady Artemis never used this form.

After a few minutes, Lady Artemis flicked her wrist, as if dismissing a pet.

Percy thanked her, then rushed towards the gate as fast as his feet could carry him.

But as he touched the cool gold, he heard crying again. Percy turned around, only to find Artemis in the same exact position and state as he found her in the first place.

He hesitated, not sure what to; a significant portion of his consciousness—the smart one— yelled at him to run, while a smaller, more powerful—and stupider—portion assured him that if Lady Artemis decided to kill him—which she probably wouldn't—it'd be a valiant death.

So Percy chose the obvious one—the one that would (not) benefit him more.

He strode back to Lady Artemis—freezing a meter away from her, expecting her to sense him. 

But she kept on crying.

Growing more concerned, Percy slowly crept forward until he found himself sitting on the very edge of the bench, as far away from Artemis as he could be—but not pressing uncomfortably against the bench rail. He shifted awkwardly, not knowing what to do—and Artemis once again stiffened.

"Came back to die?" Artemis asked, a dangerous tone in her voice.

"No," Percy replied, his voice coming out calmer than he actually was. "I just couldn't leave seeing you like this."

"Like what? Choose your words carefully, male." She spat out the word with disgust.

"Like you have no more hope in life. Everybody you cared about has died. I've been there before. I know how you feel—"

As he talked, Percy noticed that Artemis started shaking. At first, he thought his words were affecting her—just like Lady Hestia—but when Lady Artemis straightened up and glared at him like she wanted to turn him into a jackalope, he knew that he had crossed a line.