At first, Percy thought he was hallucinating.
Maybe he was still haunted by how Lady Hestia, the most cheerful goddess, was depressed. It sure was a shocker—and taught him that nobody was immune to grief.
But the sobs he heard didn't sound like Lady Hestia's. They were more . . . refined. As though, even in a ghost town of a city, whoever it was had to keep their reputation.
Percy didn't want to intrude into anybody's privacy. However, a feeling in his gut moved his legs in search of the person.
He swept the city for an hour.
In that hour, he learned three things:
1) There was nobody in the city.
2) There was certainly nobody in the city.
3) He was definitely hallucinating.
Percy sighed to himself as he trudged to the exit of the city. The campers had started the funeral procedures if Lady Hestia had been right about what she'd heard.
And if he was right about them, they wouldn't wait for him.
Percy quickened his pace as he thought about it. Sure, if they didn't want him there, he certainly didn't have to go. But many of them had been good friends to him, and he wouldn't miss their last days on earth for anything.
He could see the elevator. As he came closer, he could imagine his journey to the camp; the elevator was scary—but fast, he had to admit. Within seconds, he'd be at the bottom. Then it would only take a couple of minutes before he could call the Grey Sisters' taxi. Again, it was scary, but it was even faster than the elevator.
It would only take him five minutes to reach camp. Meaning he would only miss the first few campers . . .
And then he heard another sob.
Percy froze, then spun around.
He was in a small plaza surrounded by palaces. It was on the outskirts of the city—on his way to the elevator—so he didn't bother searching it. Plus, if the person was in one of the palaces, there was no way he was going to try to get to them.
Entering the palace of a god without permission resulted in death ninety percent of the time.
He turned back around, shaking his head in disappointment. He'd just wasted an hour on someone he couldn't help—
Something glinted in the distance. Percy looked that way, faltering as he saw a golden gate squeezed in the middle of two gleaming castles—one silver, and one gold. Could that be where the person was?
He ran there and tried to push it open, but it didn't budge. Percy prepared to vault over it, but when he gripped the gate, it swung open towards him—the opposite direction he'd tried.
Percy felt stupid as he walked into a garden—but it immediately turned into concern when he noticed a figure collapsed on a bench.
As he came, closer, however, he could tell it was a woman his age. A gorgeous woman. She had pale, flawless skin, and a lithe body—and even though her face was covered with her luscious black hair followed by her hands, he could guess that it was also extraordinary. She was shaking with silent sobs.
The moment he was a yard away from her, she stiffened. Two piercing silver eyes stared at him from the black.
Percy immediately dropped into a kneel, bowing his head as low as it would go. "Lady Artemis," he heard himself say, trying to disguise his fear, too afraid to look at her.
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.
"Don't compare us," she hissed out with malice in her tone. "We have nothing in common. You deserve to be wiped out off the planet—"
"Just listen to what you're saying!" Percy burst out angrily. Given the power flashing in her eyes, he was probably going to get vaporized if he didn't stop—but he couldn't. "Will you stop generalizing the minority of male criminals with everybody else? I get that they've harmed you and your hunters—but I've done so much for you Olympians! Can you just not address me as 'boy' and at least give me a chance?!"
Percy had to admit, it did feel really good to get it off his chest. His shoulders felt free of the weight of his frustrations—but he didn't know if they were going to come flying back at him.
Lady Artemis seemed to be surprised—as if she didn't know that any male could talk to her like that—but then her face scrunched up with fury. "Do you know who you're talking to? You do not get to shout at me like I'm the stupid male here!"
Percy lowered his head. "I understand that, Lady Artemis. I apologize for my actions. But it is frustrating for me to not be able to help someone when they need it. As for your situation, I know from experience that speaking with another person helps."
Once again, Lady Artemis stared at him, surprised. But then, she actually listened to him. She sighed, lowered her head, and whispered. "All my hunters are dead." A tear trailed down her cheek once again. "I can't live without them."
Percy was shocked that Artemis actually confided in him, but quickly recovered. He thought of something smart and funny to say to cheer her up, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was: "You have for a while now."
Lady Artemis shot him a confused glance—mixed with suspicion—and he quickly explained. "Please don't mind me asking, Lady Artemis, but did you assemble your hunters the moment you were born?"
"Well . . . no," she admitted. "Why?"
"You had to assemble them yourself," Percy assumed. "So, why not think this is just a long break for yourself—until you assemble the next Hunters of Artemis?"
Lady Artemis' nostrils flared. "You insolent demigod. I lost all my hunters—the ones that I had been nurturing for hundreds of years—and you just want me to forget them? You are stupid."
Percy recoiled, hurt. Sure, he knew that one could take his words in the wrong way—it was a sensitive topic, obviously—but he was just trying to help. And distracting oneself from grief—which disrespected the dead—by doing something else helped. A lot.
But when he tried to explain his, Lady Artemis shook her head stubbornly. Her only words were: "You males and your ideas disgust me."
At this point, Percy was done. He was getting berated and insulted and bullied—and all he was doing was trying to help. If Artemis wanted to grieve, let her grieve, he thought. But I won't be dragged down with her.
However, before he could get up, Percy realized that his "disgusting ideas" were helping. By just being there, Percy was being a distraction—Lady Artemis' grief turned to anger and contempt, and just for a little while, she forgot about her hunters.
So Percy decided to finish the job and stay. "Why don't you discover more people who could help you?"
"What can you possibly mean?" There was exasperation in her tone but mixed with intrigue.
"You think you've just lost the only people you love in the world," Percy explained. "While that might be true, think about it. Before you had your hunters, you had to have cared about someone, right?"
"My mother, Leto," Artemis said after a thoughtful silence. "But she's still trapped on Delos . . ." An understanding expression suddenly appeared on her face.
"There was one other person with you if I know my history correctly," Percy reminded her gently. "And he's still with you."
"Apollo," Artemis breathed out. Then she shot Percy an angry glance. "What does this got to do anything with my little brother? He's just a—"
"I'm going to stop you right there, Lady Artemis. Lord Apollo doesn't deserve to be insulted and berated as much as he has in the past."
"You have no idea what he's like," she said bitterly.
"Oh, I think I can assume what he's like. In fact, I think I have a better idea of what he's like than you."
Artemis glared at him. "You don't have to deal with him flirting around with your hunters for millennia, among other things."
"He's not doing that because he wants to bed them!" Percy exploded, furious. "It's the only way to garner your attention!"
"Attention?" Artemis repeated, her anger giving away to confusion. "Why would he need that?"
"Because nobody cares about him! Lord Zeus ignores him since you're his favorite child! And then Lady Hera hates him—and targets him because she's the only one who has a mind—"
Percy interrupted himself, stopping short when he realized that Lady Artemis was really glaring at him now. There was an intense aura of power around her as though she was about to go into her godly form and disintegrate her.
Only, Percy didn't care anymore. He knew he had one last moment on earth—and he wasn't going to waste it.
In a flash, he was on the ground, prostrating in front of Lady Artemis respectfully—so low that his face was kissing the grass. "I beg of you, Lady Artemis. Please visit your brother once. I guarantee you that you've misjudged him. Save for Lady Hestia, he's the most compassionate of gods—especially to his children. He's the only one that can help you—because he's lost everything and then some."
A tense silence filled the air. Percy closed his eyes in defeat. Lady Artemis wasn't going to listen. She was too stubborn for her own good—
There was a bright flash that Percy saw with his eyes closed—and Lady Artemis was no longer sitting on the bench. Percy sighed in disappointment. All of this effort for nothing?
But then, as he pried himself off the ground, he saw a silver flash explode from the inside of the humongous golden palace to his right through a window close to the ground floor. Lord Apollo's palace.
Percy smiled, exiting the garden. Maybe Artemis wasn't that stubborn after all.