Chapter 494: Revelation

Chapter 494: Chapter 494: Revelation

[Third Person Pov]

"I don’t understand it," Artemis said at last. Her voice was quieter than before, stripped of some of its usual steel, though confusion still sharpened every word. She stared at Annabeth, the firelight painting restless gold across her face. "Why does it seem like you want me to pursue Lucian? Wouldn’t you rather I stay far away from him? From what I understand, the two of you share a very... intimate relationship."

Annabeth’s expression remained carefully blank. For a long moment she said nothing, as if she needed time to examine the answer.

"Hmm. Good question." Her tone was flat, almost dry. "At first this really was going to be a confrontation. I was going to look you in the eye and tell you to stay away from him. That I didn’t want you anywhere near him."

Artemis didn’t interrupt. She only gave Annabeth a sideways glance, sharp and assessing, waiting.

"But then..." Annabeth’s shoulders lifted in a small, uncertain shrug. "I found you pitiful. So I don’t know. Maybe I felt bad."

Artemis’s head snapped fully toward her. The glare that followed was pure, glacial offense. "Excuse you? You’re pitying me?"

"Or maybe it’s because I can relate to what you’re feeling," Annabeth continued, as though the goddess’s outrage were only background noise. She was turning the problem over in her mind the way she always did—methodically, relentlessly. "I know what it’s like to feel trapped by your family. How suffocating it is. How it feels like there’s nowhere to turn and no one who would understand even if you tried to explain. The only reason my situation ever improved was because of Lucian. He appeared outside my window one night and simply... took me away from all of it."

A faint, almost private smile touched Annabeth’s mouth at the memory—perhaps the fondest one she owned.

Artemis rolled her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical, shaking her head. "How romantic."

Annabeth rolled her eyes right back. "Says the one who’s *fated* to be with Lucian," she muttered. "There’s nothing more romantic than that."

The words landed like a stone dropped into still water. Artemis’s entire posture changed. She sat forward slightly, suspicion and bewilderment warring across her features.

"Fated to be with him? What do you mean by that?"

Annabeth blinked, genuine surprise flickering across her face. "...You’re unaware?" She studied the goddess as though seeing her for the first time. "I thought, as a goddess, you would have been more aware of the mechanisms of fate. You seriously don’t know?"

Artemis looked lost—truly lost—in a way that was almost startling on a being who had walked the world since the age of myth. The idea that a mortal girl might understand something of fate that she herself did not seemed to offend her on a fundamental level.

Annabeth clicked her tongue and brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Why do I have to be the one to spill it?" she muttered, more to herself than to Artemis. Then, clearer: "You and Lucian. You’re both fated to be together. Bound by the red string of fate."

Artemis blinked once. Twice. Then her face twisted into pure, incredulous outrage.

"Huh?! What are you talking about?!"

"Really romantic, isn’t it?" Annabeth threw the earlier sarcasm straight back at her, voice edged with something bitter and weary. "The two of you, chosen by fate to be tied and linked together... stupid bitches."

She watched Artemis struggle to process the information, the goddess’s usual composure fracturing under the weight of it. Taking a quieter breath, Annabeth continued, gentler this time but no less direct.

"The Three Fates took it upon themselves to play matchmaker with the two of you. And now here we are."

Artemis leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and pressed both hands over her eyes for a long moment. The fire cracked and hissed between them. When she finally lowered her hands, they hovered near her mouth as though she were physically holding something back. Her gaze fixed on the flames, unseeing.

’Lucian and I... destined to be together...’ The words turned over and over in her mind.

"Are you seriously smiling right now?"

Annabeth’s voice was flat, almost accusing. Her gaze stayed locked on Artemis with the kind of deadpan intensity that could make even a goddess feel suddenly self-conscious. The Virgin goddess was trying—and failing—to smother the small, traitorous curve of her mouth. The effort only made the expression more obvious.

"Wha—No, I’m not!" Artemis snapped, far too quickly. Color rose in her cheeks. "I was thinking of something else!"

Annabeth blinked slowly, watching the goddess flounder. The irritation that flickered through her was quickly overtaken by something warmer and far more inconvenient: reluctant affection. For all her centuries of power and pride, Artemis looked, in that moment, exactly like what she was beneath the divinity—a maiden hopelessly, stupidly in love. It was almost unfair how endearing the sight was.

Artemis turned her face away, staring hard into the darkness beyond the firelight as though the trees might offer her an escape. After a tense silence she asked, quieter this time, "How do you even know that in the first place?"

Annabeth shrugged, the motion casual. "The Fates themselves told me."

That brought Artemis’s head snapping back around. All traces of fluster vanished, replaced by sharp concern. "Wait. You met with the Fates? They’re elusive. You can’t find them unless they choose to show themselves—and even then, it is rarely a good omen."

"Elusive, my butt," Annabeth sneered openly. "Clingy is more like it. I wish they were more elusive. I see them almost every day. We go to school together."

Artemis stared at her as though she had begun speaking a different language. "Okay. Now you’ve officially lost me. What would those grannies be doing in school?"

"The granny thing is only a disguise," Annabeth explained, leaning forward to prod a log with the toe of her boot. Sparks spiraled upward. "They’re actually all extremely beautiful. They just don’t want to be harassed, so they play the role of old women."

Artemis pressed her fingertips against her temples, massaging slowly. One revelation after another was beginning to take its toll. "I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense... but that still doesn’t explain why the hell they’re attending school with you."

"Why else?" Annabeth leaned back against the log, pure exasperation written across her face. When she saw the lingering confusion in Artemis’s eyes, she continued, "To be with Lucian. They’re in love with him. Technically speaking, Lucian is their fiancé."

Silence fell between them both.

Artemis simply stared at her, half-lidded and unimpressed, waiting—clearly expecting Annabeth to crack and admit she was joking.

Annabeth only snorted. "Do you seriously think Lucian would have gotten away with half the shit he’s pulled if it wasn’t for them?"

That did it.

Artemis dropped her head into her hands and let out a long, loud, thoroughly exhausted groan. She had long suspected that Lucian was favored by the Fates. She had even assumed he was their favorite mortal. But the idea that the three of them were romantically invested in him—that they had claimed him as their fiancé—was a revelation several steps beyond anything she had prepared for.

Annabeth reached over and rubbed a slow, almost sisterly circle between Artemis’s shoulder blades. "What a clusterfuck, am I right? Welcome to the club, sister."

Artemis brushed the hand away, not unkindly but with clear finality. "I’m going to bed. I need time to digest everything you’ve just told me."

"Don’t think too hard about it," Annabeth offered, her voice softer now, edged with the weary pragmatism of someone who had already spent far too many nights trying to make sense of the same impossible situation. "Sometimes just going with the flow is the best thing you can do. It’s what I’ve learned to do if I want to keep my sanity intact. Though even I’m clutching at straws at this point."

Artemis didn’t answer. She stepped out of the ward, informed the others in a clipped voice that she was turning in for the night, and disappeared into her tent without another word.

Annabeth remained where she was, alone now with the dying fire and the soft night sounds of the forest. The conversation had left her with more than she had intended to share—and with a private revelation she had carefully kept from her face the entire time.

While they had spoken of the red string and of Artemis and Lucian being fates being linked together, a single line of prophecy had begun to echo in the back of her mind, over and over:

Condemned to chains; for better or worse.

It was obvious, now that she let herself look at it directly, that the words referred to both of them—Artemis and Lucian. But what exactly did it mean? Chains of fate? Of duty? Of something darker still?

Annabeth stared into the shifting embers, the question turning slowly behind her eyes, and for once she had no clever answer waiting.

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