Work Text:
The night sky stretched endlessly above, a boundless, velvety dark space dusted with drifting constellations that twinkled like distant memories.
Each star seemed suspended in a divine silence, and Percy found himself caught in its gravity, as if the world itself were holding its breath just for him. He leaned back against the rough bark of a gnarled oak whose roots had twisted deep into the forest, the cold wind stung his cheeks, crisp with edge of the winter and saturated with the faintest trace of pine.
Below him, the camp of the Hunt settled into its nocturnal rhythm, the glowing embers of their fires dimming to warm hearts of amber. The tents, silver etched at their edges by moonlight, looked like the homes of wandering stars themselves. His gaze drifted, soft yet searching, toward the heavens again, he felt that familiar pull in his chest, something between adoration and quiet yearning, when he sensed, even before he heard, the subtle shift of shadows that heralded her arrival.
Artemis didn’t need footsteps to announce herself, her presence arrived like a ripple of moonlight slipping across calm water, she spoke softly, “You’re staring at the stars.”
Her voice slipped through the forest like a gentle command, calm and confident, yet touched with something more tender, something she scarcely allowed the world to hear. Percy turned his head slightly, catching the gleam of her auburn curls as it shimmered like liquid starlight, she stood with effortless poise, as if carved from the very essence of moonbeams, and then lifted one slender hand toward the horizon, the motion itself a kind of spell.
“Come.”
Percy blinked, a slow, startled reaction that barely scratched the surface of the sudden rush of anticipation flooding his chest, “Come to where?”
Artemis turned toward him with a small, sly smile, subtle, yet laced with a spark of mischief and a promise of the unknown, that smile had undone empires in myth, but here it simply made his heart stumble over itself, “To the stars.”
And then, as if answering her unspoken command, a chariot of pale silver appeared before them, drawn not by earthly steeds but by moonlight itself. The spectral horses snorted streams of cold mist, their hooves striking the ground in soundless brilliance, as though they were sculpting the night with every movement. The frame of the chariot’s glowed faintly, humming with divinity, its polished silver leather reflecting the pale glow of the moon.
Artemis extended a hand toward it with graceful simplicity, “Moon Chariot shall obey to your command for tonight, you wished to see the stars closer.”
Suddenly, his mouth felt dry, his thoughts scattered like startled birds, the enormity of what she offered settled into his bones, he swallowed hard, “Closer, Artemis, that’s forbidden.”
“Those rules tend to soften for you, my love,” she interrupted, her tone was light, almost playful, yet threaded with that unmistakable strand of authority she carried like a second heartbeat, she held out her hand again, steady, certain, warm in a way that cut through the cold night breeze, “Do not overthink, just sit beside me.”
The hesitation that caught him lasted only a beat, a single breath suspended between fear and desire, before he reached for her. Her hand wrapped around his with comforting certainty, anchoring him with the kind of trust only she could command. He stepped onto the chariot, the silver leather surprisingly soft beneath his fingers as he steadied himself, the entire vehicle humming beneath him like a living thing.
Artemis moved beside him with a fluidity that made even the night seem clumsy, her silver eyes gleamed with an unspoken thrill as she grasped the reins, the muscles in her arms tightened with poised elegance, “Hold.”
He barely had time to breathe before the chariot leapt, it shot into the sky with the force of moonlight unleashed, the world below collapsing into a blur of shadow and silver. Wind tore past his ears, fierce and sharp, whipping through his dark locks and slicing along his cheeks, the camp of the Hunt dwindled, shrinking into a cluster of flickering embers, their tents scattering like tiny fireflies across the darkened forest floor.
Percy gasped, his heart slamming wildly within his chest as adrenaline surged through him like a lightning strike, “Artemis, this, this is insane!”
Her laugh drifted toward him, soft and melodic, tinged with the freedom of perpetual night, it blended seamlessly with the roaring wind around them, “Insane? Perhaps. Necessary? Absolutely.”
She leaned closer, her auburn curls brushing against his arm like a whisper of moonlight, the scent of forest and something distinctly hers filled his lungs, grounding him even as the world spun far below, “You wished the stars, they’re yours. Now, just breathe.”
His chest rose and fell in quick succession, chest expanding with icy wind and the addictive nearness of her, instinctively, he shifted closer, seeking warmth against the cold bite of altitude, “I, uh, I don’t even know where to look.”
“Everywhere,” she said, her voice settling around him like a soft cloak, “But not away from me.”
Her hand slipped over his, resting lightly atop his fingers, an anchor in the vast and infinite night, his pulse slowed, settling into a steadier rhythm as he turned fully to her, and within her silver eyes, ancient and ethereal, something soft shimmered.
He smiled, breathless and joyous, and spoke softly, “Noted.”
The chariot climbed higher still, slicing through drifting clouds that wrapped around them like strands of spun sugar, Artemis leaned back against her seat, posture not threatening yet mighty, one hand still threaded through his in that silent, unwavering connection.
“The sky is vast,” she murmured, gaze sweeping across the horizon, “It reminds us of smallness and infinity all at once, you understand that feeling?”
Percy tilted his head, trying to steady the thrum of exhilaration inside his veins, “I think I do, especially when the person beside you is Artemis, goddess of all things terrifying and beautiful.”
Her lips curved, amusement flickering across her features like a ripple across still water, “You’re fond of flattery, aren’t you?”
“Only for you.”
Artemis sighed softly at his words, a sound so delicate it seemed strange coming from her, she shifted slightly, leaning toward him until her auburn curls brushed against his cheek like the brush of a comet, the chariot tilted with the motion, wind spiraling around them, and then she pressed her lips to his cheek, light and teasing, a fleeting warmth that sent a shiver across his skin, “You’re not bound by mortality tonight,” she murmured, her breath a soft warmth against his skin, “For tonight, you’re a possession of the stars, as close to me as anyone can be.”
Percy shivered, this time not from the cold, he met her gaze again, heart hammering with a rhythm he could neither tame nor ignore, “I like being close to you.”
His hand rose toward her, tentative at first, when his fingers grazed her jawline, she tilted her face into his palm with quiet approval, a small gesture that made something deep within him ache with tenderness.
For a moment, everything around them, the clouds, the stars, the rushing wind, all of it seemed to stop, the moonlight illuminated her face with stark and ethereal clarity, revealing every nuance of her expression, the faint smile tugging at her lips, the softness lingering in her silver eyes, the vulnerability she offered only to him.
Slowly, deliberately, she rested her forehead to his, their breaths mingled, the warmth of hers mended with his in soft, steady waves, “You remain steady,” she whispered fondly, a smile tugging at her lips, “Even during flight, even among the stars, you remain steady, I trust you.”
“And I trust you,” he murmured, voice low and reverent, his own breath stilled, caught somewhere between fascination and an emotion he couldn’t name without breaking, “With everything, always.”
Their lips met, first in a tentative brush, warm and featherlight, the kind of touch that felt like testing the edge of a miracle, but then the moment deepened. It shifted, slowly at first, like a tide gaining momentum, then with growing certainty as Percy leaned into her and Artemis welcomed him fully. The chariot surged upward as if the sky itself sensed the union, carrying them higher into the woven domains of cloud and starlight.
Wind rushed around them in silvered currents, wrapping their bodies in a shimmering and restless cocoon, Percy felt it whip past his ears like soft, cold ribbons, but all the chill of the night surrendered the moment her hands settled on him. One slid along his shoulder, delicate only by conscious choice, while the other rested over his heart as though to mark it, memorize it, and embrace it.
His hands rose with instinct, he let them trail along the lines of her shoulders, the smoothness of her auburn curls brushing the backs of his knuckles, then down along her arms before settling gently, reverently, at her waist. Her divine skin contrasted sharply with the heat in his chest, grounding him even as the world vanished beneath them.
“You taste like moonlight,” she murmured between kisses, her lips brushing his with a soft laugh threaded like silver through her words.
“You smell like brownies,” he replied, breathless and half dazed, the warmth of humor combined with something fiercely tender.
Her quiet chuckle brushed his cheek like a pulse of warmth in the cold wind, it was scarce, precious, and Percy leaned into it, chasing the sound as though it were as important as the kiss itself. His fingers threaded through her auburn curls, reveling in how impossibly soft it felt, like strands spun from starlight itself, every motion felt like a choice, a promise, a confession without words.
The kiss grew deeper, slow, passionate, unhurried but filled with a gravity that anchored them together even as the sky tilted around them. Artemis moved with deliberate intention, her hands gliding across his chest in long, slow arcs that felt like both exploration and claim. Around them, constellations drifted as silent approval of ancient witnesses suspended at their orbit as the chariot curved through their midst.
When they finally parted, only for breath, their foreheads touched once more, the chariot eased its pace as though responding to the quiet between them, gliding instead of racing. His hands remained on her waist, fingers curling slightly as though afraid she might slip back into the heavens if he let go, her thumb traced slow circles over his back, anchoring him with every breath.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, amusement tilting her lips, “Completely, beautifully ridiculous.”
“And you’re terrifying,” he murmured, voice quiet with exhaustion and exhilaration both, “And perfect. And,” his voice faltered, emotion catching at the edges of the words, the word he had already said, confessed, over and over, swelling through him like a tide he couldn’t stop, “I love you.”
The quiet that followed was not emptiness, it was full, warm, alive, a breath held gently between them, a silence that felt like cupped hands rather than distance. Even though they had spoken these words before, they settled between them now with renewed heft, reshaping the atmosphere around them.
Artemis moved first, she leaned to him, slowly, as though savoring the inches between them, and brushed her lips against his, a soft vow, “I love you,” she whispered, voice blending with the fold of clouds around them, only meant for him, “And I always will.”
And they kissed, deeper this time, richer with the truth laid bare between them, Percy felt his heart give a startled, joyful ache as her hands slid up his back, drawing him closer until their chests pressed together and their breaths merged.
And then, soft but certain, her voice threaded into the kiss, words shaped by a goddess who had spent eons holding herself apart, “I want to keep you here,” she murmured against his lips, the confession slipping out like something she had tried to bury, “Within my arms. Under my moon.”
His breath shuddered, she kissed him again, longer, slower, with the kind of hunger that had nothing to do with possession and everything to do with fear of losing what she loved, “Artemis…”
Her fingers curled at his nape, firm, claiming, “I know you cannot stay,” she whispered, her forehead pressing to his, “But when I hold you like this,” her breath trembled in a way he had never heard from her, “Every part of me wants to keep you close, wants to protect you from every danger, even from time.”
His hands tightened gently at her waist, not with fear but as a assurance, “I shall not leave you, I promise.”
A small, fragile sigh escaped her, “I know,” she said softly, “But the world is vast, and you are mortal, and I,” the words cut off, swallowed by a kiss she initiated as if the only way to quiet her own vulnerability was to pour it into him, he kissed her back, slow, grounding, steady, and felt her melt, tension loosening beneath his palms, “I want you safe,” she breathed out softly, “I want you here.”
“I will be here,” he whispered back, the chariot tilted, drifting past constellations that glimmered like ancient blessings, his pulse hammered not from fear but from the depth of her devotion, fierce, protective, ancient, and impossibly tender.
For several long moments, they simply held each other, suspended between worlds, letting the wind and stars wrap around them while her arms tightened around him with a possessiveness softened only by love.
Eventually, Artemis guided the chariot downward, though with reluctance threaded through each movement, when they finally touched earth again, Percy hesitated before stepping off, his hands still wrapped around her as though leaving the sky meant relinquishing the moment, “Say the words when you wish to see the stars,” she said gently, laying a hand over his heart, “I shall hold you through the ride.”
“I know you will,” he brushed his lips against hers one last time, smiling softly, they stepped down together, the cold breeze of the forest greeting them as though nothing in the world had changed, yet everything had, her hand remained attached to his, her grip firm, almost protective, as if daring anything in the mortal world to try taking him from her now.
Above them, the stars shimmered like quiet witnesses, the moon glowed brighter.