Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We should just turn it over to Chiron,” Zoë Nightshade, Lieutenant of Artemis, mutters. “Is that not his job, after all?”

The funeral pyre that the hunters had erected for the fallen mother had finally burned down to its final embers, and now they all turned their attention to their leader and patron Goddess, and the… thing currently cradled in her arms.

“Zoë,” Artemis looks her lieutenant dead in the eyes, her voice level as she addresses the millennia-old brunette teen, “I have already sworn an oath, to abandon him now would only incur the wrath of Styx, if not on myself, then on him.” She gestures with her head at the bundle in her arms, currently silent due to a temporary charm that she knew would not last.

Zoë and most of the other hunters present either snort or scoff in derision. “He is a male; it is no less than he deserves. One less man to cause future suffering,” The lieutenant declares, much to the muttered agreement of some of her sisters.

Inwardly, Artemis sighs; she had expected this reaction.

And truthfully, she could not fault her hunters for it. Most, if not all, had suffered from the crimes of men in one way or another, ranging from the emotional and mental to the physical. That was why she had established the hunt to be a sanctuary for girls.

However, while she was the Goddess of maidenhood, she was, just as importantly, a Goddess of children, not the only one, but it was one of her domains nonetheless; just as much a part of her as the moon, hunting, and maidenhood.

As she has that thought, she looks down at the baby in her arms, wrapped in a silver blanket. Currently sleeping peacefully.

It was ironic, she thought, that she should be the Goddess of both childbirth and maidenhood. The two concepts were seemingly contradictory. And if Artemis were being honest with herself, she tended to favour Maidenhood over the care of children. Hell, before tonight and the birth of the boy in her arms, she could not think of the last time she had delivered a child, other than her own brother thousands of years ago.

She’s broken out of her musings by the sound of her lieutenant's voice. “My lady?” Zoë’s earlier harshness was gone, more likely suppressed, in favour of concern for her Goddess.

Artemis takes a deep breath and sighs, “I will not foist this child upon any of you,” She proclaims to her hunters. “I, and I alone, swore to raise this child. He is my responsibility.” She is greeted by solemn nods of understanding from the girls around her. “I will not even ask you to like him. However-” She channels a fraction of her divine aura so that it radiates around her, emphasising her next words- “I do ask that you treat him with respect as he grows up. He is my child now and will be afforded the respect due. Is that understood?”

She doesn’t glare, she doesn’t have to. All 20-odd hunters present reply in chorus, “Yes, lady Artemis!” They all salute her with a clenched fist across their chest.

Artemis nods with satisfaction at her girls’ response. They may not like the idea of a male being in their camp, even an infant one. But they respected their Goddess and her wishes.

“Zoë,” Artemis addresses her lieutenant once more. “Take the others and begin setting up our camp, we shall be staying here for a few days until this one is strong enough to travel,” she gestures down at the baby in her arms.

“As thou wish, my lady,” Zoe bows her head slightly before turning to the girls around and behind her, barking out orders to set up their campsite.

Artemis stands to one side, slightly uneasy. While she knew her hunters were fully capable of setting up their campsite on their own, it felt… wrong for her to just be standing to one side and watching, even with such a delicate package in her hands. But Artemis sighs as she realises that she will most likely be having to delegate a lot more duties in the future, especially if she is now going to dedicate more time to raising her new son.

“Welcome to the hunt, Percy Jackson, child of the moon,” she whispers to the baby, raising him up to her face and kissing him gently on the forehead. Which seems to be enough to wake him, as the boy slowly opens his eyes, revealing them to be a deep sea-green, before letting out the most horrendous wail that would put even a harpy to shame.

Artemis winces at the sudden shrill noise, and it’s only then that she realises that, despite being the Goddess of childbirth and children, she has absolutely no idea how to raise a child.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for the hunters to establish their camp.

The first tent to go up was naturally their leader’s, mostly because they hoped that the tent’s walls would mute the baby’s wailing.

However, it seemed Tyche was set against them tonight as Artemis’s tent barely muffled the boy’s cries.

So, with the child’s wailing as their backdrop, the hunters had finished setting up their camp. And by the time they were sitting down to eat, they were all sick and tired of it.

“I thought the hunt was supposed to be a sanctuary from the constant whine of men?” Phoebe, a ginger huntress, asks.

Zoë doesn’t answer her sister directly; instead, she rises from her seat, a plate of meat, bread, and vegetables in her hand.

“I will go and see if our lady needs assistance,” she says flatly, as she says that, one of the other hunters, a younger girl with naturally silver hair tied back into a ponytail, looks up curiously and watches as her lieutenant walks towards the head tent.

As Zoë approaches her Goddess’s tent, she knocks on one of the outer tent poles.

“Enter,” Artemis’s voice is barely heard above the ongoing crying.

Zoë pushes aside the entrance flap to the tent and is surprised by what she sees.

Instead of the usual teenage form Artemis took, the maiden goddess now looked considerably older, more akin to a mortal woman in her late 20s or early 30s, with streaks of grey beginning to show in her auburn hair, a worried, tired look on her face.

It had barely been an hour since the child started crying. Was it really affecting her Goddess that much?

“My Lady?” Zoë places the plate of food on a nearby table inside the tent and reaches out for Artemis with concern. “Art thou alright?”

Artemis looks up from where she’s holding Percy in her arms, a worried look on her face. “He won’t be quiet, why won’t he be quiet?”

Zoë physically recoils at the tone in her Lady’s voice; it sounded almost… desperate. Never in over 3000 years of serving the moon Goddess had Zoë ever heard her like that, and after having only had the child for less than a few hours.

“My Lady?” Zoë repeats her earlier question, but Artemis shakes her head, now willing to voice her thoughts.

It’s at that moment that they hear another knock at the entrance to the tent. Both Artemis and Zoë frown in confusion, wondering who it could be, before Artemis calls out, “Enter.”

The goddess and her lieutenant both turn to see the silver-haired girl enter.

“Cecilia,” Zoë addresses the girl, “Is something wrong?”

The girl looks nervously between her two seniors, “Actually, I came to ask you that, and to offer my assistance.”

“Your assistance?” Artemis frowns, curious as to what her hunter meant.

Cecilia nods nervously. “Um… yes…”

“What kind of assistance?” Zoë asks.

“Well… the thing is…” The younger girl begins fiddling with her ponytail over her shoulder nervously, “I kinda know how to look after babies.”

Artemis’s frown deepens. “You are a maiden, and only 13, how do you know how to raise an infant?”

“I’ll explain, after we put, um…” She pauses, realising that she didn’t know the baby’s name, and looks at Artemis expectantly.

“Perseus,” The goddess supplies, seeing the look, “Or Percy,”

“Percy,” Cecilia repeats, nodding. “I’ll explain after we settle down, Percy,”

“Any advice would be welcome,” Artemis nods. While she may be proud, she values the opinion of her hunters and welcomes their input, certainly over most of her Olympian family.

“Well, in my experience, there’s a set list of things Babies will cry about.” Cecilia says, “It’s kinda a process of elimination. First, has he been fed?”

The tent would have been silent if not for baby Percy’s wailing. Cecilia, Zoë and Artemis all exchange blank looks for a few seconds before Artemis begins blushing in embarrassment, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Zoë.

“My lady,” Zoë cocks her head to one side, “Tell me thou did not forget to feed him?”

“He was only born less than two hours ago,” Artemis reasons, “Do mortal babies really need to eat that soon?”

“I’m afraid so, Lady Artemis,” Cecilia replies. “I’ll go check if we have any milk in our rations,” she begins to turn to the door, but is stopped by her Goddess.

“No need,” Artemis says, before turning to her Lieutenant, “Zoë, could you hold Percy for just a minute?”

The dark-haired girl instinctively recoils a half step back while eyeing the baby apprehensively. “Errr…” Fortunately, Cecilia covers the older girl’s reluctance by eagerly volunteering.

“Allow me,” the silver-haired girl steps forward, arms out in an offer to take the child.

“Thank you,” Artemis nods in gratitude as she gently transfers baby Percy into her hunter's arms.

Once her hands are free, Artemis begins to remove the outer layer of her outfit, unzipping the silver jacket that all her hunters wore, to reveal the white shirt underneath. Once her jacket is off, she then begins undoing her shirt as well, which snaps Zoë out of her earlier embarrassment of refusing Artemis’s request.

“My lady, what art thou doing?” the Lieutenant exclaims, surprised by her leader’s actions.

“I intend to feed the baby,” Artemis replies, having stopped halfway through unbuttoning her shirt.

Zoë opens her mouth to object but fails to find a reasonable argument against her lady’s logic. So, she tries to offer an alternative, “We can still see if we have any milk in our supplies.”

But Artemis shakes her head. “No, I… I want to do this properly. Anything else would feel… disingenuous,”

Cecilia nods with approval of her goddess’s choice. “Besides, the midwife said skin-to-skin contact is very important for newborns.”

Both Zoë and Artemis frown again as they wonder why the young hunter had been talking to a midwife, but push aside their concerns until Percy has been quelled.

Once Artemis finishes undressing, she takes Percy back from Cecilia, and almost as soon as the baby is close to his adoptive mother’s breast, he latches on, catching the goddess by surprise.

“I guess he was hungry,” she says, somewhat mollified, but also grateful that the child was now quiet.

“Typical male, always hungry,” Zoë scoffs.

Cecilia gives her lieutenant a funny look, “I’m pretty sure all babies are hungry at that age, even our Lady,” she gestures to Artemis.

“I was never that age,” the goddess corrects, surprising Cecilia.

“What?” the silver-haired girl recoils in shock. “But… how…”

“I was born at six years old, due to a curse placed upon my mother. As was my brother.” Artemis explains.

“Huh,” Cecilia looks amused, “Your mom’s lucky then, she never had to deal with nappies, eugh,” she shudders, as if remembering something unpleasant.

With baby Percy sucking away contentedly for the time being, Artemis decides now is the time to get some answers from Cecilia. She quickly glances at Zoë and subtly nods at her. Zoë sees the signal and understands.

“So, Cecilia,” the Lieutenant of the hunt begins, “How do thou know so much about being a mother?”

Cecilia swallows nervously, her throat and mouth suddenly dry. She knew that this was coming, and while the memories were painful, she felt that she owed her Goddess an explanation “Um… well, before I joined the hunt I… I had a brother…”

Artemis and Zoë share a concerned look; both had noticed the use of the past tense, but Cecilia doesn’t notice, as she’s too focused on avoiding their gazes.

“Mom died giving birth to him, and Dad, well… you’ve met him,”

This time, the two other women present scowl at the memory of the thing Cecilia had been living with when they’d found her.

“He didn’t want to take care of Thomas so… it fell to me,” Cecilia says with a shrug.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that,” Artemis says softly, “No child should have to raise their child because of their parents’ neglect.”

Again, Cecilia shrugs, “I don’t regret it, it meant I got to spend time with him before…” She chokes up, tears beginning to well in her eyes, “Before dad…”

She begins crying at the memory, and Zoë quickly, but gently, embraces her, rubbing the smaller girl's back reassuringly. When The Hunt had found Cecilia, they had only found her and her sperm donor. No sign of a brother. The Goddess and the lieutenant could put the pieces together from that.

“Dad always blamed him for Mom’s death,” she mutters into Zoë’s chest, “An eye for an eye, he said.” She sniffs and wipes away the tears from her eyes, “Anyway, that’s… that’s how I know about how to raise a baby, though my knowledge is kinda limited.”

“You still have more experience and knowledge than I do.” Artemis reassures her.

“But aren’t you the goddess of motherhood?” Cecilia asks, visibly confused.

Artemis shakes her head, “No, that would be my mother, Leto. My domain is simply childbirth and the protection of children. Not raising them,”

“So then… this really is all new to you, then?”

“Indeed, it is, I can only hope my efforts are better than the rest of my own family’s lacklustre parenting.”

Cecilia cocks her head to one side in an unspoken question, but Artemis simply shakes her head, not wanting to go into the past 3000 years of Olympians being bad parents.

“You will always have our support, my Lady,” Zoë declares.

“Thank you,” Artemis nods, before looking down and noticing that Percy seems to have finally let go of her breast. “It seems he is finally full.”

“And quiet,” Zoë sighs with relief.

“I think now it’s time for bed, little one,” Artemis says, moving towards her cot in one corner of the tent, but before she can put Percy to bed, Cecilia stops her.

“My lady, you should probably burp him first.”

“Burp… him?” Artemis looks questioningly at her hunter, not understanding.

Cecilia gestures for Artemis to hand her the baby, “If you’ll let me…”

So, Artemis complies with her young hunter’s request and hands Percy over to Cecilia, who gently rests him against her shoulder, before gently patting him on the back.

“Babies are incapable of burping for themselves,” she explains, “So you have to do it for them for the first few months, otherwise-“

*BURP*

The silver-haired huntress is interrupted by a short, sharp belch from Percy, catching Zoë and Artemis by surprise.

“Oop, there we go, my Lady, do you want to…?” Cecilia offers Percy back to Artemis, who takes him and mimics her hunters' earlier actions, resting Percy against her shoulder, face down, and gently tapping him on her back.

“I am loath to admit it,” Zoë  says as she watches her Goddess nurse her new child, “But he almost looks cute.”

“He is certainly more manageable like this than when he is hungry,” Artemis agrees.

Suddenly, Cecilia has a look on her face, as if she just remembered something, before she rushes out of the tent.

The Goddess and her Lieutenant both exchange quizzical looks, but neither says anything. A second later, the silver-haired huntress returns, a towel in hand.

“I just remembered something,” She says, panting, “Always wear a towel over your shoulder when burping, as babies have a habit of-”

*BLEUGH*

All three ladies in the tent freeze as Percy suddenly pukes all over Artemis’s back.

Fortunately, Artemis is able to clean herself up easily with her magic, letting Cecilia finish burping Percy as she does so. Once done, she puts Percy to bed and lets out a tired sigh.

“My respect for mortal mothers has certainly grown from this.”

“And yet he is still more preferable than thine brother, my lady,” Zoë says with a smirk.

Artemis cracks a small, tired smile, “Almost anyone is.”

Satisfied that Percy was now resting, the two hunters and their Goddess leave the tent to find the rest of the hunters gathered around in a semi-circle, waiting expectantly.

As soon as their Goddess and their Lieutenant appear, the dozen or so girls bombard them with questions.

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?”

“What happened to the baby?”

“Did you finally smite him?”

“Did you turn him into a bunny?”

At the last two questions, Artemis blinks in surprise. “You think I would so quickly harm an infant?” She asks incredulously, almost offended.

“I mean…” Phoebe shrugs and wiggles her hand in a so-so gesture.

Artemis’ expression darkens. “Perhaps I should remind you all that it is not just maidens, but all children are under my protection. Whatever issues I may have with men, children are not a part of them. I am not my grandfather; I will not harm a child because of what he might become.”

She levels a hard stare at the half circle of teens and pre-teens around her, having reverted back to her usual mid-teen form, she is able to look at all of them directly in the eye. She looks each of her girls in the eye to make sure they understand her clearly,

Once she’s satisfied that her words have sunk in, she nods. Her hunters look slightly bashful after being admonished, which might not be a bad thing. It would prevent them from developing too much of an ego.

There’s a brief silence till one of the hunters, one of the more senior ones, an African-American girl, about 15 years old (physically), called Alesha, pipes up with a question.

“So, who’s his dad?” she asks.

Alesha, like Cecilia and several others, was one of the Hunters who had been fully mortal before she joined. Upon learning about the existence of Olympus, the gods, and all things magical, she had become enraptured, likely as an escape from her past.

Whatever the reason, whenever a new half-blood girl joined the hunt, Alesha was always curious as to who their divine parent was, and apparently that extended to Percy.

Artemis purses her lips in thought as she recalls Percy’s brilliant green eyes. “I don’t know,” She eventually says, which was the truth. While green eyes typically indicated ocean sea god heritage, it wasn’t always the case. And even if Percy was a child of the sea, that didn’t necessarily mean her uncle.

Styx, she really hoped Uncle Poseidon hadn’t broken his oath. There was always a chance that Percy was the result of a minor sea god. Though to her memory, she wasn’t aware of Triton siring any demigods in the past.

Either way, it would be unwise to speculate on Percy’s parentage, not before she knew more.

“I’m afraid that’s the truth,” she says, seeing the disappointed look on Alesha’s face, as well as several others. “Now, before I dismiss you, I have one last matter to address,”

Instantly, all the hunters, even Zoë and Cecilia behind her, stiffen to attention.

“In an effort to protect Percy, I will be increasing the mist around the hunt to prevent anyone from spying on us, and specifically him.”

Artemis sees several questioning faces, so she explains.

“While he is not mine by birth, Percy is my child now, under my care. As such, his existence will cause a… stir in Olympus,”

‘Especially if he’s Uncle Poseidon’s child,’ she thinks.

“So, for now, his presence here will remain a secret,” She orders, “Not a word about Percy is to leave this camp.”

Not that her hunters conversed with many outside their ranks, save her brother, or Camp Half-Blood.

“Is that understood?”

Around her, roughly 20 voices all reply in chorus, “Yes, My Lady!”

Again, Artemis nods with satisfaction, “That will be all, dismissed.”

And with that, the majority of the hunters break away into groups of twos or threes, all of them talking amongst themselves, likely about the events of that evening. Only Zoë and Cecilia stay with her, moving from behind her to alongside.

Artemis turns to the younger of the two, “Thank you for all that you have done this evening, Cecilia. I am grateful for your assistance.”

“Just happy to help,” the young huntress beams back, a genuine smile on her face. “If you need any more help, just ask. I’d be happy to help look after Percy.”

Artemis smiles fondly, but raises one hand, “You have done more than enough for tonight. Go, rest.”

Cecilia simply nods in farewell before walking off to her own tent. Leaving Artemis and Zoë alone together.

The two women, both far older than they look, just stand in companionable silence as they watch their hunters settle down for the night. Eventually, once the hunters have disappeared into their tents, Zoë turns to Artemis.

“I must apologise for my actions this evening, my Lady,”

Artemis turns to look at her Lieutenant, but the other girl won’t look her in the eyes, shame written across her face.

“What do you have to apologise for?” Artemis asks, sincerely wondering what had prompted this.

“I have been unable to help thee all evening,” Zoë explains, eyes downcast. “Thou were clearly struggling with thy child, and I did nothing to help, not even something as simple as holding him while thee changed,”

“And I do not hold any of that against you,” Artemis says, “Come here-”

To Zoë’s surprise, the teenage goddess embraces her lieutenant in a hug.

It wasn’t the first time that Artemis had been physically affectionate with Zoë, after all, they had been in each other’s company for over three millennia, and had occasionally found comfort in each other, but it certainly wasn’t a common occurrence, enough that it caught the darker-haired girl by surprise.

“My lady…?”

Artemis just hugs her lieutenant tighter and whispers into her ear.

“Know this, my lieutenant, I do not hold any grudge against you for your actions today. I realise that this has all been quite sudden, and even I am struggling to adjust. All I require of you is that you remain by my side, like you have always done. In the coming days, I will be relying on you to lead our girls during those times when Percy requires more of my attention. But just because I now care for him, does not mean I love you, or the other hunters, any less.”

Dully, Zoë realises that tears are falling down her cheeks, another rare occurrence.

“My lady, I… I’m not-” She begins to say, but Artemis pulls away from her and places one finger on her lips, hushing her.

“I have, and always will, depend on you, Zoë. Nothing you can do will change that.”

Zoë quickly wipes away the tears in her eyes, before steeling her expression.

“I promise I will continue to serve thee faithfully, my Lady,” she swears. "I will not let thee down,"

“That is all I can ask of you,” Artemis bows her head.

For a few seconds, the two hunters stand in the silence of the late evening, before the quiet is broken by the sudden, but thankfully faint, sound of Percy crying.

The goddess and her lieutenant both let out a tired sigh of frustration. From several of the other tents in the camp also come several cries of exasperation.

“I shall go tend to him,” Artemis says, her physical form immediately "Goodnight, my lady.” Zoë then turns towards her own tent, more than happy to let her Goddess tend to the child.

Chapter Text

It was the winter solstice on Mount Olympus, and all twelve Olympians, plus Hades and Hestia, were in attendance for their annual meeting.

Correction, all but one were present.

Apollo looks across to his sister’s empty seat and frowns, not for the first time in the past twenty minutes. Arty almost always arrived before he did, and she was most certainly never late. Hell, even Hermes and Dionysus had shown up before she had.

Where could she be?

As he has that thought, he scans across the rest of the Olympian council. Most of them were also glancing over at the empty throne, either with confusion, concern, or annoyance. The latter of which was prominent on his father, Zeus’s, face.

About the only person who didn’t seem to be glancing at Artemis’s throne was his Uncle Poseidon, who just seemed to be gazing at nothing, his expression as unreadable as ever. Apollo wasn’t sure if he was bored of waiting for Artemis or had something else on his mind.

However, he doesn’t get a chance to ponder it as Zeus’s voice booms across the throne room.

“Apollo, where is your sister?!”

The sun god whips his head to look at his father, who is currently glaring at him.

“How should I know?” Apollo shrugs, sure, he kept tabs on his sister occasionally, but it’s not like he spied on her 24/7.

Although, come to think of it… he has been having difficulty contacting her over the past four months, as if she’d put up a shield around the hunt, keeping him out.

However, Apollo is broken out of his musings by Zeus. “Are you not the god of prophecy?” He bellows.

Apollo is about to sigh and roll his eyes, he's about to explain for the hundredth time that that is not how prophecy works, when there’s a sudden flash of golden light, and Artemis suddenly appears in the throne room.

At least… Apollo assumes it is Artemis. Unlike the last time he had seen his sister, the woman before him resembled a young adult mortal and looked completely exhausted, like a mortal who hadn't slept for a week.

However, her rough appearance barely lasts a second before Artemis transforms herself into her full Olympian appearance. 10ft tall, like the rest of the gods, but now as a woman in her early 20s, her hair now flowing loose, rather than tied in a ponytail, and her hunter's uniform replaced with a silver chiton.

As she approaches her throne between Athena and Aphrodite, both goddesses give their sister a look of concern, both with an unspoken message.

‘Are you okay?’

Artemis sees the looks and simply raises a hand to forestall them.

‘I’m fine,’ it said.

She then takes her seat and notices that the rest of the Olympian council are all staring at her, in particular, her father is glaring at her, most unamused.

“Artemis, care to explain your late arrival?”

Artemis bows her head in apologies, “Forgive me, Lord Zeus. I was delayed by a new member of the hunt, they are proving to be… difficult at the moment.” Her mind goes back over the past few months.

The hunters were gathered around the campfire for breakfast. The mid-December morning was cold, but the fire and the hunters’ parkas kept them warm.

They were talking among themselves as they normally did. Sharing jokes, recounting previous hunts, and even a few of them were discussing their newest (male) member. Their Goddess was currently in her tent, feeding Percy.

“I am so grateful that our lady finally soundproofed her tent,” Phoebe sighs, “I think that was my first full night’s sleep last night.”

Several of the hunters around her grumble their agreement. It had been a restless three months since their lady had adopted the child. He was a disruptive element, and worse, he was inconsistently disruptive. One minute, he was the cutest, most adorable creature on the planet; the next, he was a wailing, screeching ball of snot and tears. There had been many a night when the entire camp had been woken by his midnight wailing, and for the first month or two, they had lost more than one prey due to a sudden outburst, until Cecilia had sourced a dummy for baby Percy to suck on.

“How long do you think our Lady will keep him before she hands him over to Camp Half-Blood?” Alesha asks.

Zoë shrugs, “I believe our Lady intends to keep him until he is a teenager, though I cannot say for sure.”

Phoebe and some of the other hunters who are less fond of Percy groan at that news.

The hunters continue to idly talk when they’re interrupted by a loud yelp of pain followed by a string of curses in ancient Greek from Artemis’s tent. A rumble of thunder immediately follows the outburst, and the hunters all look up to see a blood red moon briefly appear in the sky.

Zoë, Cecilia and Phoebe are immediately on their feet, and the trio head straight for their leader’s tent.

Zoë is the first through the tent flap, followed by Phoebe, with Cecilia taking up the rear. They enter the tent to find their patron clutching her exposed right breast, her face scrunched up in pain.

“My Lady!” All three hunters exclaim as they rush to their goddess’s side.

“Art thou alright?” Zoe asks, concern written across her face. “What happened?”

“I’m- agh,” Artemis winces in pain, “I’m fine, Percy bit me is all,”

“Bit you?” Phoebe repeats, confused, “But he doesn’t even have teeth yet,”

“No, but babies' gums are hard,” Cecilia chimes in, “And if he’s started teething…” She trails off as Artemis uncovers her breast for Phoebe to inspect as the hunt’s chief medic.

“Well, you’re not bleeding,” The red-headed medic concludes, after a cursory examination, “And anything less than that shouldn’t be an issue for you.”

Artemis nods her gratitude as she redons her shirt. Meanwhile, Cecilia is looking around the tent as she realises something.

“Um… my lady…” she begins hesitantly, drawing the attention of the goddess and the two senior hunters. “Where is Percy?”

The baby hadn’t been in Artemis’s arms when they had entered, and neither was he in his crib or on Artemis’s bed.

Artemis’s face flushes golden with embarrassment. “I… may have lashed out in anger when he bit me,”

Cecilia’s heart jumps into her throat. “My lady, what did you…”

She stops as she hears the faint sound of rustling over by a pile of fur blankets. All eyes in the room turn towards the pile of furs in time to see a small black bunny emerge, with tiny antlers on its head and a silver streak going down the middle of its back.

“Oh. My. Goddess.” Cecilia practically squeals with how adorable the baby creature looks as she kneels to pick it up. "He is adorable,"

Meanwhile, behind her, Zoë and Phoebe are trying to suppress their laughter, and not doing a very good job of it.

“My Lady…” A smile creases Zoë’s face as she addresses her goddess, “Tell me thou hast hexed Perseus.”

Artemis sighs, “It was an instinctive reaction…”

At that point, Phoebe stops trying to suppress her amusement and bursts out into full-blown laughter.

“BWAHAHAHAHA You- He- HAHAHAHA,” the red-headed hunter is doubled over, clutching her stomach as she laughs heartily.

The sound must’ve carried to outside the tent, because soon half the hunters are crowding into the magical dwelling.

“What-?” one of them begins to ask when they see the Jackalope bunny in Cecilia’s arms and puts two and two together.

“Is that…?” Alesha asks, and Cecilia nods.

“It’s Percy,” the girl explains, “Artemis cursed him after he bit her while feeding.”

And that brief explanation is all it takes to send the hunters of Artemis into fits of hysterical laughter, all while their goddess just sighs and shakes her head.

Back in the present, Apollo frowns; as the god of truth, he knew when someone was lying, and as far as his divine senses could tell, his sister was telling the truth. However, his brotherly senses knew there was more to it. Artemis was holding something back, though what exactly he could not tell. And given that it involved the hunt, it was unlikely that Artemis would talk to him about it.

He’s stirred from his thoughts by the sound of Athena asking a question,

“If they are proving this difficult, why have you not expelled them yet?”

Artemis lets out a sigh, “Because I do not hold their actions against them, they currently do not know better. They have promise, it’s just going to take time and patience. However, in my experience, it is the most difficult cases that need my help the most.”

There are nods of approval and muttered agreement from the other goddesses and some of the more sympathetic gods.

“Very well,” Zeus huffs, deciding that the meeting had been delayed enough already, “Let us get down to business.”

The council meeting was as dull as it normally was. In fact, as far as their annual meetings went, this one was more uneventful than normal, primarily because, for once, Zeus and Poseidon didn’t get into an argument.

Sure, Zeus and Hades had a brief row, but the usual loud, boisterous debates that often occurred between the lord of the sky and the king of the sea didn’t happen. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Artemis.

More than once, Zeus had made some off-hand remark that could have been construed as an insult against the sea god, but if Poseidon had heard them, he had responded with little more than a perfunctory nod and a muted ‘mm-hm’.

Not that Zeus noticed or cared, as it meant he got away with puffing up his chest without a challenge, atleast not from one of his brothers. Hades, however, still made sure to keep his youngest sibling in check.

As the meeting drags on, Artemis studies her uncle’s face. Of all the gods on the Olympian council, she respected him more than she did most of the others, except maybe Dionysos, due to his connection to nature and the wild, and Hades, due to the fact that he kept to himself. That wasn’t to say she was friendly with her uncle; he was still a man, with similar flaws to her father. However, she’d always held a distant respect for the sea god.

She couldn’t articulate why exactly, perhaps it was because that, like her, he was a hunter. Whereas she and her hunters tracked down and eliminated the monsters that roamed the surface world, Poseidon and his court kept an eye on the monsters of the deep, safeguarding the oceans.

Or perhaps the respect was born of the fact that her primary domain, the moon, and his, the sea, were inexorably linked in the constant push-pull of the tides. Distant, yet connected.

Either way, she sensed something was troubling him. And she suspected she knew what it was.

Eventually, the council meeting comes to a close, and her family begins going their separate ways. Hades disappears into the shadows, Hermes speeds off, trying to catch up on the time he’s lost in the meeting, Dionysus disappears in a thicket of grapevines, and Zeus and Hera, like always, are the first to leave in a flash of lightning.

Artemis sees Poseidon begin to rise from his seat, possibly more sluggishly than he has in previous years, and she knows she has to act quickly before he leaves.

The goddess of the hunt rises from her seat and quickly crosses the throne room, calling out.

“Lord Poseidon, Uncle, may I speak with you?”

Fortunately, it works, as the lord of the sea looks up at her in surprise. He was showing more interest now than he had for the past hour or so.

As she passes the brazier in the middle of the room, Artemis catches her brother’s puzzled look out of the corner of her eye. She also notices that the diminutive form of Hestia is also looking up at her, but unlike Apollo, the goddess of the hearth has a more knowing look in her eyes, as if she knows why Artemis is meeting with Poseidon.

That would hardly be surprising. Artemis reasons. As the family deity, Hestia most likely knew about Percy’s existence from the moment Artemis had adopted him.

“Is something wrong, Lady Artemis?” Poseidon asks as she approaches.

“No, nothing’s wrong, uncle,” Artemis reassures him, making sure to keep her voice low so that those still present can’t overhear her. “However, I would like to talk to you in private, it’s a… personal matter,”

The lord of the sea arches one eyebrow in a question, “Is this perhaps related to why you were late?” he asks, matching her volume, and Artemis subtly nods.

“Very well, your place or mine?” He asks.

“Mine,” She replies, and with a tap of his trident on the ground, Uncle and Niece disappear from the throne room in a flash. Leaving the remaining Olympians quite perplexed, except for Hestia, who simply nods sagely. The coming conversation was much due.

The two Olympians arrive in Artemis’s personal palace on Olympus. The room they are in is cosy, akin to a hunter’s lodge. Trophies and pelts line the floor and walls. Deer antlers, Bear skins, and atleast three different Hydra heads, amongst many more. There’s also a fireplace, with a mantle lined with small wooden animal figurines, whittled by a knife.

There are several armchairs around the room, two of which are currently facing opposite each other next to the lit fireplace. Artemis gestures to one of the armchairs, lined with a soft fur blanket.

Poseidon takes a seat, and once both he and Artemis are comfortable, he begins.

“You wished to talk to me about something, dear niece?”

Artemis looks up at her uncle before averting her gaze to stare into the fire, her mind debating how to best broach the subject she wished to discuss, knowing that, if she is right, this will not be easy for the sea god.

After a moment or two pondering, she decides that the direct route will be best. She looks back at her uncle and addresses him.

“Sally Jackson is dead,” she says flatly. No sympathy, no scorn, no emotion. Just stated plainly.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, her suspicions are confirmed. Poseidon slumps back in his chair, closing his eyes, and lets out a long, mournful sigh of heavy acceptance.

“It is as I feared,” he says.

“Then you do not deny that you were in a relationship with a mortal, despite your oath?” Artemis challenges. How the sea god answered next would determine what she says about Percy.

Poseidon shakes his head in response to Artemis’s question. “No, I won’t deny it. Not now. To do so would dishonour her and disrespect her memory.”

Artemis slowly nods, that had been the kind of answer she had been looking for. Her Uncle was not so prideful that he’d lie to save his reputation.

“I’m sorry,” Artemis says simply, but again, Poseidon shakes his head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, dear niece, unless you were the one who killed her.”

“I was not,”

“Then I am grateful to you for telling me,” Poseidon says, his eyes still shut, his head tilted back to look up at the ceiling. “When I could not find her several months ago, I began to worry, fearing the worst. It appears my fears were right.”

Silence ensues for a minute or two as Artemis lets the lord of the sea process this news.

“How did it happen?” He eventually asks.

“Attacked by a cyclops,” Artemis answers sombrely, “I killed it, but… I was too late.”

Poseidon lets out a humourless chuckle, “Of course, it had to be one of mine. The Fates do have a cruel sense of irony. Only fitting that one of my children should enact the punishment for me breaking my oath.” He sighs again, “It should have been me; she did nothing wrong.”

“That is not how these things work,” Artemis shakes her head, “As well you know, uncle,”

“I know…” Poseidon says, a single, salty tear rolls down his cheek, before catching in his beard.

“You truly loved her, didn’t you?” Artemis asks.

“Like I have not loved another mortal in a thousand years,” Poseidon replies, finally opening his eyes and looking at his niece. “There will never be another.”

A small part of Artemis can’t help but wonder if that statement was, in fact, a promise. Either way, it’s enough to convince her that Poseidon deserves to know about Percy.

“Did you know she was with child?” she asks.

Poseidon nods, “Perseus, I believe she was going to call him.” He chuckles, this time with genuine amusement, “I originally objected, quite passionately, at the idea of my son being named after one of my brother’s children, until she told me her reason.”

Artemis quirks one eyebrow up, in a silent gesture for him to continue,

“She said that Perseus, the original hero, was one of the only heroes to have a happy ending, she hoped that our son…” he chokes up as tears begin to stream down his face, “She had hoped that he’d have a happy ending too, despite his heritage,” He hangs his head in his hands, “Chaos, what have I done…”

Artemis rises from her seat and moves to kneel beside her uncle, resting one hand on his knee in a reassuring gesture.

“Your son is not dead,” she says, this time with a sympathetic tone in her voice.

Poseidon’s head jerks up immediately, not sure he actually heard her properly.

“Perseus… he’s…” He dared not finish the sentence for fear he was wrong.

“He is indeed alive,” Artemis confirms, “I delivered him myself, Sally died giving birth to him.”

Poseidon frowns, “Then why have I-”

“Why have you been unable to see him?” Artemis pre-empts him, “because I increased the mist around the hunt, so that no Olympian may find him. Between that and my own divine presence overshadowing his, I hope to keep his existence hidden,”

“Why?” Poseidon asks, confused, “He is not your child, and he is a boy, why go to such extreme lengths to hide him?”

“For two reasons, really,” Artemis explains, she had not even told her hunters the full truth of this. “For his protection, and ours.”

Poseidon still looks confused, but he gestures for Artemis to continue.

The goddess retakes her seat opposite her uncle and then clarifies. “As your son, he is eligible to be the child of the prophecy.”

Poseidon nods slowly, “Unless your father has also broken his oath, which isn’t impossible.”

“For the sake of argument, we’ll say he hasn’t,” Artemis retorts, although both Olympians internally chuckle at the improbability of that. “Your son would grow up to be the one who either saves Olympus or tears it down. As such, if any, such as my father, were to discover his existence, I do not doubt that he would try and smite the child, just to remove the potential threat.”

Poseidon scowls, “Yes, he can be scarily similar to our own father like that,”

“I swore an oath to protect Percy and to raise him,” Artemis continues, “And if that means protecting him from his own divine family, then so be it.”

Poseidon nods in understanding, “Okay, so I understand the part about this being for his protection, but I fail to see how this protects our wider family as well.”

“Simple,” Artemis leans back in her chair. “If Percy is the child of the prophecy, then I intend to give him no reason to turn on us, or at the very least, on me.”

Poseidon raises one eyebrow, “Kill ‘em with kindness?”

“Why would he betray those who have shown him nothing but love and care?” Artemis reasons.

“So,” Poseidon concludes, “You’re doing all this just to try and manipulate a potential child of the prophecy into supporting the gods, rather than turning against them?”

Artemis opens her mouth to reply, but reconsiders at the last second, closes her mouth and looks into the fire beside them as she thinks. After half a minute of silence, she answers him.

“No, as much as I would like to say yes, these are but justifications I imagined one night when pondering how I would eventually explain this to my father, or even my brothers,” She turns back to look at Poseidon once more, “In truth… I love him. Yes, I was close with Orion and Callisto. Yes, I care deeply for my hunters, but this is something more, something… different.”

“It is the love for one’s children,” Poseidon says with the wisdom of experience.

Artemis looks deep into her Uncle’s eyes. Of all the Olympians, he famously, or infamously, had a deep love for his children, all of them, whether god, demi-god, or monster.

“You have truly accepted Perseus as your own son.”

It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, one that Artemis cannot deny.

“I have nursed him with my own breast, rocked him to sleep in my arms,” she says with a fond smile, “How can I think of him as anything else?”

“And you are not concerned about the ancient laws?” the Lord of the sea queries.

“The hunt has always granted me leeway in that regard,” Artemis replies nonchalantly, as if the matter were of no concern.

“I think this is a bit beyond that,” Poseidon smiles mischievously. “Should your father discover what you are doing…”

“I will deal with that matter when it arises,” Artemis says with a note of finality that indicates she didn’t want to think about what her father would do to her, especially if Apollo’s punishments over the years were any indicators.

Poseidon nods, but says nothing, respecting his niece’s wishes.

“So…” the lord of the sea decides to change the topic, “Am I correct in presuming that my son is the ‘difficult new member of the hunt’ that delayed your arrival earlier?”

Artemis grimaces and reflexively massages her chest as she recalls the pain of Percy biting her. “It is remarkable how a being with no teeth can possess such a strong bite,” she thinks aloud.

Poseidon let’s out a single, deep, hearty laugh, “Ha, welcome to the world of being a parent. While I do not possess first-hand experience of being a mother, I do remember watching my wife nurse Triton. It appears that immortals and mortals share some similarities.”

“Over three thousand years and I have never felt such pain,” Artemis grumbles.

“And yet you still love him,” Poseidon states.

Artemis purses her lips, not willing to admit it, “Only after I had cooled down enough to uncurse him,”

“You cursed him?” Poseidon panics, briefly fearing that this had been a mistake.

“I only turned him into a jackalope,” Artemis shrugs, “and only for half an hour, if even.”

Poseidon lets out a sigh of relief, nothing permanent then.

“Admittedly, my hunters were more fond of him as a little bunny than as a baby,” Artemis chuckles, remembering the amount of cooing and fawning her sisters-in-arms had done.

“That is hardly surprising,” Poseidon reciprocates her smile. “But you’ll forgive me if I ask you to refrain from turning my son into an animal again,”

“Only if he deserves it,” Artemis promises with a small, amused smile.

“Just… please be patient with him,” Poseidon’s voice turns soft, almost pleading, “I know you have your father’s pride, and his wrath…” He trails off as Artemis bows her head in recognition of that fact.

“I am aware,” Artemis says, her whole attitude becoming sombre. “Whilst Percy was hexed, I spent some time… reflecting, while I cooled off. I had transformed him reflexively; I didn't even think about it. I just… did it.” She slouches down in her chair. “My own son, and I cursed him out of anger,”

“One could argue you were justified in doing so, he did bite you,” Poseidon argues, curious to see where this would go.

“Perhaps,” Artemis concedes before countering, “but it got me thinking. How many times over the years have I lashed out with so-called righteous anger? Kallisto, Polyphonte, Niobe’s children, the people of Kalydon, how many innocents have I harmed because I could not control my anger? Because I let my pride be wounded?”

Poseidon regards his niece with respect; clearly, Perseus's presence amongst the Hunters was already having a tremendous effect.

“Do not be too harsh on yourself,” Poseidon tries to reassure the moon goddess, “Pride and a quick temper run deep in our family, save possibly Hestia, the saint that she is.”

But Artemis is quick to refute that assertion, “But that is no excuse, I profess the evils of men, and yet I am no better than my father, my brothers, than you, with all due respect.”

Poseidon takes no offence; he knew that, even amongst the Olympians, his wrath, when angered, was legendary.

“The only difference between me and the rest of my family is that I do not go around fornicating with mortals,” Artemis sighs in defeat.

“But you wish to change that?” Poseidon inquires. "The wrath part, not the... ahem, 'fornicating with mortals',"

“I have to,” Artemis concludes, “I have seen what our family has done to our demi-god children in the past, hell, several of my hunters are living proof of it. I will not allow myself to be like them,” a steely edge of determination enters her voice, “I will not allow Perseus to end up another cautionary tale about the wrath of the gods,”

“Such change will not be easy, nor will it be quick,” Poseidon points out, not intending to discourage, but simply to be sure that his niece knew what she was in for.

“I know, but I have my hunters to lean on; they have already helped me so much.”

“Very well,” The sea god nods, satisfied. "Then I wish you well in your endeavour."

Again, the two gods sit in silence before Poseidon speaks up, this time with a request.

“Would it be possible for me to see him?” He asks.

Artemis initially reacts with surprise, not expecting the question. But immediately realises that she probably should have. Again, her uncle was infamously fond of his children.

Artemis purses her lips as she thinks. “It will have to be brief,” She eventually says, “And this will likely be your one and only visit, atleast until he grows up.”

Poseidon understands, “No different than if he were with Sally,”

“And no flirting with my hunters,” Artemis adds with a dangerous tone as she rises from her seat.

Poseidon raises his hands in a placating gesture, “I would not dream of it, dear Niece,”

“You cannot fault me for being cautious, you have met my brother after all,” Artemis reasons.

With a slight tilt of his head, Poseidon concedes that she has a point as he too stands up.

“Shall we go then, unless you have anything else you wish to discuss?”

Artemis simply shakes her head before the two gods disappear in a flash of light.

Back in the Hunter’s camp, the girls are making dinner preparations when their goddess steps out of the trees, accompanied by a man with dark hair and beard, dressed in Bermuda shorts and a horrendous Hawaiian print shirt.

Almost immediately, weapons are in their hands. Bows, spears, and knives, both for hunting and cooking.

“Peace,” Artemis raises one hand in a gesture to stand down. She was now back in her usual teenage guise. “Lord Poseidon is here as an honoured guest.”

At the mention of the sea god’s name, weapons are instantly lowered, and the hunters present all bow out of respect.

“Apologies, my lady,” Zoë approaches the two gods, “We were not expecting thee to return with company.”

“It is fine,” Artemis replies, “I applaud your vigilance, and do not worry, Lord Poseidon’s visit will be brief.”

“May I inquire as to why the lord of the sea is visiting us?” Zoë asks.

Poseidon looks to Artemis with a questioning look on his face; how much should he reveal?

Artemis sees the look and simply nods; her hunters could be trusted.

“I am here to see my son,” The lord of the sea answers Zoë’s question.

Zoë’s eyes go wide at the implication, and around her, the rest of the Hunters begin muttering among themselves. Immediately, Zoë shakes herself out of her shock and rounds on the hunters.

“Return to thine tasks,” she orders, “Idle gossip will not feed thee.”

The hunters all jump at the orders and quickly return to their various tasks for the evening.

Zoë turns back to her goddess and their guest. “Apologies, my lord and lady. If you wish to see thy child, he is in my lady’s tent. Cecilia is caring for him.”

Artemis nods slightly with approval. When she had left for the Winter Solstice meeting, she had left Zoë in charge of the camp as normal, but asked Cecilia to look after Percy. And the silver-haired hunter had gladly accepted.

“Thank you, Zoë,” Artemis bows her head in gratitude. “That will be all for now.”

“Yes, my lady,” Zoë salutes her goddess with a fist clenched across her chest, before bowing to Poseidon and leaving the two Olympians alone.

“Come,” Artemis gestures for her uncle to follow her to her tent in the centre of the camp.

She decides not to announce her presence, in case Percy is asleep. Instead, she and Poseidon simply slip into the tent, and are greeted by the sight of Cecilia facing away from them, with Baby Percy in her arms, looking over her shoulder directly at his father and adoptive mother.

“Mama,” Baby Percy coos, and Artemis’s breath catches in her throat.

At the same time, she can see Cecilia’s shoulders tense, and she lifts Percy off her shoulder to look at him.

“Did you just…?” The hunter asks the toddler.

“Mama,” Percy repeats, and Artemis can just feel the tension coming off of Cecilia, for the exact same reason Artemis had tensed.

“That was your first word!” Cecilia exclaims, “Oh my gods, your first word…” the girl's shoulders sag, “Your first word and my lady wasn’t here to hear it…”

Cecilia seems to stare off at the back wall of the tent before shrugging, “It’s fine, she doesn’t need to know, we can just pretend you didn't say anything.”

“Mama,” Percy says once more, clapping his hands, looking directly at Artemis over Cecilia’s shoulder.

“I’m not your mama,” Cecilia whispers to Percy, “Your mama is brave, and powerful, and kind, and-”

“Here,” Artemis interrupts, before her hunter embarrasses herself too much.

Cecilia practically jumps before spinning around.

“M-m-my lady,” She stammers out in shock, “I didn’t hear you enter. When did you return?”

“Just a minute ago,” Artemis replies, a fond smile on her face, “I appreciate you trying to spare my feelings; however, it is unnecessary. I heard Percy speak.”

“You heard-” the silver-haired huntress stops as the pieces fall into place in her brain. “That’s why he said, Mama, he saw you.”

“That would be correct,” Artemis nods, “And do not fret, even if I had not been here, I still would have heard him from Olympus. I will always hear him call my name,”

“As will I,” Poseidon adds, and for the first time, Cecilia seems to notice the sea god.

“Who…?” She begins to ask, but Artemis preempts her.

“This is Lord Poseidon, Percy’s father,” Artemis explains, “I’ve allowed him to see his son before returning to the Ocean.”

“Oh, I see,” Cecilia says dumbly as she realises that she is standing before both of Percy’s immortal parents. Thankfully, she recovers her wits quickly. “Um, do- do you want to... hold him?” She offers hesitantly, holding baby Percy out to his father.

Poseidon quickly glances at Artemis, even though he was Percy’s ‘biological’ father, Artemis had shouldered the responsibility of being Percy’s mother, and he was only here by her grace.

Artemis subtly nods in response to his silent question, and Poseidon gently takes Percy from the hunter’s arms. While the child had looked average sized when being held by Cecilia, he seemed positively tiny in his father’s muscular, hairy arms.

“I’ll be waiting outside,” Cecilia says, wishing to give the two Olympian parents time alone with their son.

The silver-haired hunter quickly leaves the tent, leaving the two immortals alone with their demi-god son.

“I forgot how fragile our mortal children are,” Poseidon says, looking down at his infant child.

“I will admit, it has been a small shock,” Artemis concedes, “As I am used to dealing with them in their teenage years, or slightly earlier.”

The sea god examines the child in his arms. Percy looked like he wasn’t quite sure what he thought about this strange creature with hair on his face. He wasn’t upset to see him, but at the same time, he definitely wasn’t as happy as he had been when he saw Artemis. He had light olive-coloured skin, which Poseidon knew would darken with age to match his own tanned complexion, and he had his sea green eyes. He also had a light mop of jet-black hair, except for a long silver streak going down the middle.

“He has your eyes,” Artemis comments after a while, seeing her uncle staring down at his son. “That was what tipped me off that he might be yours; only your children have such deep green eyes. Just as surely as Athena’s have grey ones.”

Poseidon nods in agreement with he wisdom of that, before frowning, “What about his hair, I know he did not get that silver streak from me or Sally,”

Artemis takes a deep breath and sighs, “I believe that was my doing, the result of a blessing I placed on him the night he was born.”

“A blessing?” Poseidon asks, curious.

“A simple blessing of protection and favour, no different to what any other god may grant their child, and yet…” She trails off.

“What?” Poseidon inquires.

“And yet, I cannot help but wonder if it may have done more than that…” Artemis thinks aloud, “A simple blessing should not have affected him physically in such a way. I have never had a child of my own to bless before.”

Poseidon opens his mouth to ask a question, but Artemis pre-empts him.

“Yes, I have my hunters, but that is a blessing specifically for them that grants them eternal youth; what Percy received was my blessing as my child.”

Poseidon purses his lips in thought, “Hmm, and he would be the first child of yours, no? Obviously, you did not give birth to him, but you’ve never claimed anyone as your child, even through adoption.”

“No, I have not, the hunters are my sisters,” Artemis explains.

“Then truly we are in uncharted waters,” Poseidon states, “A child born of one Olympian and raised by another. Time will only tell what this may result in. But I think Perseus will be a very special child indeed. And if nothing else, he is very fortunate.” He then hands Percy back to Artemis, who takes the child in her arms.

“If I have not done so already, I must express my gratitude for what you and your hunters have done,” Poseidon addresses his niece, “Know that the oceans will be forever indebted to you and the hunt, and should you ever require our aid, I swear on the Styx that we shall do all that we can to help you.”

Thunder booms in the distance as a declaration of the oath.

“I promise that Percy will be raised well and treated fairly,” Artemis replies, “He will become a hero unlike any other in the past.”

Poseidon rest one hand on his son's forehead, and gives his own blessing to his son in combination with Artemis’s “I do not doubt that,” he says, “He will undoubtedly do great things.”

And on that day, the moon and sea, two domains connected but separated over a vast distance, drew forever closer.