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The first rays of dawn poured through the high windows of the temple, spilling across polished marble floors and silver threaded tapestries in gentle ribbons of gold.
Temple of the Moon had belonged to her for the millennia, its marble columns gleamed softly in the silvery glow of perpetual moonlight, their surfaces etched with delicate, ancient runes that whispered secrets lost to time. Here, within this sacred solitude, there was not any audience to witness her movements, not any anyone to question her whims and interrupt her thought. For eons, she had not brought anyone here, not a mortal, not a god, not even her any of her hunters. This sanctuary was hers alone, a fragment of eternity shielded from the eyes of the world, a place of silence where she could be herself without vigilance, without obligation, without the weight of divinity pressing upon her shoulders.
Yet, for him, she had made an exception.
The temple, which had never known the presence of another soul, now opened its quiet embrace to him, and just the thought of it, her beloved lover walking and breathing within her sacred solitude, it just felt right.
Percy slept beside her on a low divan cushioned in white silks, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, dark locks scattered across the pillow. She watched him for a moment, her silver eyes catching the morning light, tracing the curve of his jaw, the way his hand twitched slightly in his dreams, her fingers itched to reach out, to touch, but she resisted, allowing herself the indulgence of quiet observation.
It was their anniversary.
One year.
A single rotation of the mortal seasons, and yet in such a short time, he had become a constant presence that shifted her eternity in ways she had never anticipated.
He stirred, eyes fluttering open to the light, sea green eyes catching hers immediately, a slow, genuine grin spreading across his face, reaching one hand toward her in the softest of invitations, voice husky with sleep, he murmured, “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she replied with a smile, letting her fingers brush his as she leaned forward, her auburn curls cascading over her shoulder, “Happy anniversary, my love.”
“Happy anniversary,” he echoed, voice carrying that playful lilt she had come to adore, the blanket fell to reveal the familiar curve of his shoulders and chest, “One year and you still did not manage to kill me in my sleep.”
“Patience has always been part of my gift,” she raised a single brow, silver eyes narrowing just slightly, though the faint curve of her lips betrayed amusement, the hint of teasing threaded through the statement as she spoke serenely, “Besides, you have proven remarkably resilient.”
They had not spoken much of the morning except in whispers, each touch a sentence, each kiss a conversation. Artemis had allowed herself to dissolve into the quiet rhythm of connection, her auburn curls spilling across his chest as he held her, he had been passionate and attentive, as he always was with her, his hands were familiar with her curves, his body already knew the rhythm that made moans and gasps fall out of her lips, the subtle hum of her desire mingled with his.
They had spent hours entwined, bodies pressed together in the soft seclusion of the temple, whispers and laughter threading into kisses, kisses into quiet touches, and touches into moments that only belonged to them. Percy had a way of moving around her that never felt intrusive, yet every shift of his hand, every glance, every brush of lips along her skin, conveyed an intimacy so complete it left her lightheaded with quiet delight. Artemis had never surrendered so fully, and yet, with him, it was effortless, she let herself be guided, let herself be wrapped in his warmth, in his steady presence, in the unspoken words that passed between them like constellations in the sky.
The only times they pulled apart were to catch their breath, to stare at one another, cheeks flushed, smiles triumphant, bodies marked as a testimony of their love and desire, a quiet glow in their eyes that spoke of shared understanding, of connection that did not need any language. Percy brushed an auburn curl from her temple, fingers lingering, and she caught his wrist, pressing her lips briefly to the back of his hand, a tether of gratitude and of devotion.
Eventually, hunger intruded in the gentlest of ways, and Artemis, who had never cared much for mortal meals, allowed herself the indulgence of planning something simple, something shared. Cooking had never been part of her routine, ambrosia and nectar sufficed, and she had always considered preparation a mundane, even irritating task.
Yet with Percy, even this became tolerable, even enjoyable, almost amusing.
He hovered around her eagerly, brushing against her when he could, whispering jokes and teasing comments that made her lips twitch. The kitchen of the temple was lit by the slanting rays of the setting sun, catching on bowls and silver utensils. Percy touched her shoulder lightly, then the small of her back, then leaned close to breath the faint scent of her auburn curls, murmured something amusing under his breath that drew a laugh from her lips.
They prepared dinner together in a slow, deliberate dance.
Percy chopped vegetables with a practiced hand, though his fingers occasionally brushed against hers, eliciting a soft shiver of amusement from Artemis, she measured herbs and roasted stakes, instructed him lightly on timing, and occasionally let him take the lead, pretending to scold him for adding too much salt and for stirring too vigorously, though her eyes betrayed her fondness, glinting with amusement, Percy responded with exaggerated mock offense, and their laughter echoed through the marble halls.
The balcony of the temple had been prepared with the same care, the stone railing polished, candles flickering in soft golden flames, their light mingling with the fading sun. Artemis arranged them with precise symmetry as he watched her, fascinated, the way she moved, the softness that emerged only when she was with him, when she glanced back, silver eyes meeting his sea green ones, he smiled, and they shared a small, quiet kiss before settling at the table she had prepared.
The food itself was simple but carefully considered, a roasted combination of vegetables and stakes, a crisp bread lightly toasted, a sweet honey glaze on small pastries that glittered like jewels in the fading sunlight. They shared bites from one another, drinking wine that shimmered like liquid gold in their crystal cups. Hands brushed, fingers intertwined between sips, and kisses were pressed to cheeks and the corners of mouths and fingertips, each one deliberate and gentle.
They ate slowly, savoring each bite, he passed her a slice of bread, she offered him a pastry, and with each movement their fingers met, lingered, entwined briefly before retreating in playful hesitation, only to find each other again. Between bites, they spoke softly, their words punctuated by laughter, sometimes, he leaned across the table to press a kiss to her hand, and she would look at him, silver eyes glimmered brightly. When one of them took a sip from their cup, the other would touch it to their lips as well, sharing the taste, a gesture repeated with quiet devotion.
As dinner concluded, the sun had dipped lower, casting long streaks of orange and pink across the sky, the clouds catching the last light of day like molten gold, the candles flickered, reflecting in the crystal cups.
Eventually, the last bites were taken, the last sip of wine swallowed, and Percy reached across the table, brushing a loose strand of auburn curls from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. Artemis allowed herself to be still under his touch, she pressed a fleeting kiss to his cheek, and he smiled, sea green eyes soft, dimples deepening, fingers brushing hers in silent acknowledgment.
They lingered, hand in hand, gazing out at the horizon, letting the quiet of the temple settle around them, the soft flicker of candlelight and the fading hues of sunset creating a world entirely their own. Artemis allowed herself a small sigh of contentment, the weight of eternity momentarily softened by his presence, and the subtle grounding of love that was both fierce and gentle.
Percy leaned back with a slow and almost disbelieving smile spreading across his face, the kind that seemed to glow from somewhere deep within him rather than simply touching his lips. Here, beneath the quiet sky of Olympus, he looked almost a little dazed, a faint flush colored his cheeks, subtle but unmistakable. It might have come from the wine they had drunk together until the decanter was empty, perhaps it came from the countless kisses and bites Artemis had scattered across his skin throughout the day, across his jaw, his throat, the curve of his shoulder whenever he had drawn close enough for her to claim him, over and over.
She did not particularly care to determine the cause.
Artemis suspected she bore similar signs upon her own skin, faint impressions left by wandering hands, lingering touches that had traveled across her shoulders and along the small of her back. The thought passed through her mind, yet it did not trouble her in the slightest, if anything, it settled pleasantly within her chest, another small acknowledgment of the life they had chosen together.
Then, quite suddenly, Percy stood from his chair.
The movement was abrupt enough that Artemis blinked, her attention sharpening instantly, for a moment she wondered if he had remembered something, if some distant noise had reached him that her own senses had not yet registered. Before she could speak, he leaned down toward her, the motion was quick, almost impulsive, his lips brushed her cheek in a swift kiss, light and affectionate, carrying the warmth that so often defined him.
“I have something for you,” he spoke against her cheek, and planted another chase kiss to silence her before she could even part her lips, his voice held a note she did not hear often from him, he was certainly thrilled, but threaded with it was something softer, something almost nervous.
She arched her brow slightly in silent curiosity, she did not immediately question him, instead she remained seated, watching as he turned and disappeared back inside the temple, the soft glow of candlelight spilled through the open doorway as he vanished beyond it.
For a few moments, the balcony felt strangely still without him there. The wind shifted gently, brushing cool fingers across her skin and stirring the loose strands of auburn curls that had fallen over her shoulders. The candles flickered, their flames briefly stretching before settling back into quiet steadiness.
Percy returned only moments later.
He stepped back onto the balcony with an expression that was both endearing and slightly suspicious, his shoulders squared as though trying to appear composed, yet the faint spark of anticipation dancing behind his sea green eyes betrayed him entirely. His hands remained hidden behind his back, fingers clasped around something he obviously did not trust himself to reveal too quickly.
He stopped directly in front of her.
“For you,” he said quietly, then he brought his hands forward, and resting in his palms lay a silver necklace.
It was simple at first glance, yet as Artemis looked at it the craftsmanship revealed itself, the chain was fine but strong, each link polished to a quiet sheen that caught the candlelight without glaring, elegant and beautifully made. At its center hung a crescent shaped pendant. The curve of the moon had been shaped with remarkable care, its surface was smooth and polished, reflecting the faint glow of the balcony candles and the pale shimmer of the stars above them, there were not any gemstones set into it, not any decorative flourishes meant to draw attention.
Artemis rose slowly from her seat.
Jewelry had never held much meaning for her, for centuries she had seen ornaments as unnecessary adornments and decorations for the gods and goddesses that sought attention and wished to showcase their wealth. Yet as she reached out and took the necklace into her hands, something within her chest tightened.
The silver caught both candlelight and moonlight at once, the two sources blending together across its surface, and it gleamed softly between her fingers.
“I had some favors I could pull,” he spoke while rubbing the back of his neck with a faint, self conscious smile, his eyes drifted briefly away before returning to her face, “Figured I should do something for our first anniversary.”
She looked at him then.
Sea green eyes met silver.
He stood there in the fading light, the gentle wind tugging lightly at his dark locks, leaving them slightly tousled around his forehead, his cheeks still held that faint warmth and his eyes, hopeful and sincere, watched her face for any reactions.
Perseus.
Her Perseus.
Her heart leapt, and without another word she stepped forward and pulled him into a fierce kiss, one hand still clutching the necklace between them. The kiss was sudden and unrestrained, carrying gratitude and affection and the quiet certainty of a choice she had never once regretted, and when they finally parted, both of them were breathing a little harder than before.
He blinked once, slightly stunned, though the smile returning to his lips quickly betrayed how pleased he was by her reaction, he asked softly, glancing down toward the necklace, “Do you mind?”
Artemis smiled.
It was a slow smile, the kind that softened the sharp grace of her features and filled her silver eyes with unmistakable warmth. She placed the necklace back into his hands and turned slightly away from him, lifting her auburn curls with one hand and revealing the graceful curve of her neck, the motion was elegant.
He stepped forward.
His fingers brushed lightly against the back of her neck as he fastened the clasp, his hand lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, fingertips grazing her skin before finally withdrawing, when she turned back toward him, the crescent pendant rested perfectly against her collarbone.
He leaned forward, capturing her lips in another kiss.
This one was softer.
Slower.
When they separated, he rested his forehead gently against hers, he whispered, “Happy Anniversary.”
Artemis breathed softly, her hands settling naturally at his waist, the moon had risen fully now, pale and radiant above them. Its light bathed the balcony in shimmering silver, stretching long shadows across the stone floor until their silhouettes intertwined at their feet.
“For every year that follows,” she murmured, voice low and certain, she touched the pendant lightly, her fingers brushing its curved edge as though testing its reality.
Yet this, this she would wear.
And for the first time in her life, Artemis found that forever did not feel like something to endure.
It felt like something to anticipate.
With him by her side.