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Kinda *PercyxArtemis*

Summary: His life was never easy. His first love? Left him for the next big thing. His marriage? 'In shambles' was putting it kindly. When a new threat arises, will he be able to overcome everything, or will the name Perseus Jackson be another on the list of fallen heroes?

Link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13613546/50/

Word count:301k

Chapter:55(COMPLETE)

Prologue

The wind rustled against his cloak, the only source of sound in an otherwise deserted street.

It wasn't easy to find such a desolate spot on Olympus, the city of the gods, but he prided himself on doing the unthinkable. This was the second time in a week that he ended up in this very street. To others, the isolation might be uncomfortable, depressing even, but for him, it was the one way in which he could give his multiple train of thoughts a free reign. He needed to escape from others once in a while. It was the only was he maintained his sanity.

The wind suddenly picked up in its pace, and clouds gathered overhead. A deep rumble of thunder could be heard. Most people would have been unsettled with the abrupt shift in the weather, but he was unfazed. Is it really time for another meeting? It definitely hasn't felt like one month. Regardless of what his opinions were, there was no possibility of evading a summons by the king of the gods himself.

Steeling his resolve, he suddenly vanished from where he previously was, reappearing right outside the gates of the Olympian throne room. Unlike most other gods, he didn't add any great theatrics upon his entry or exit. He personally believed that a silent, sudden entrance was much more effective. He had tried to persuade the other Olympians to adopt his method, but they all refused, be it due to their hatred of his very existence, their desire for a flashy entrance, their lack of motivation to actually train, or (and this one really confused him) because they thought that such a novel method should be his own.

Pushing the massive doors open, he strode into the main hall. Fourteen thrones were placed in a U-shape, each representative of their occupant's domains. He strode over to his throne, the last on the left-hand side, and waited for the others. As he sat wondering what was taking the others so long, eleven golden flashes of light filled the air.

Any mortal would have been sent straight to the Underworld if he or she witnessed it, but he lounged on his throne with a look of boredom, not that they could notice it under his hood. He glanced towards the front of the room, taking a quick look at Hestia and Hades. Even after a century, they still marvelled at the fact that they had finally been included in the council.

Another flash of light emanated from the middle of the room, depositing a drunken god of wine amidst them. The cloaked figure grimaced at the sight. It had been a glorious day when the inebriated god had been booted out of the council. It's not like he had ever done anything whilst he was a part of it. Not wishing to see the marble floor covered in vomit, he quickly raised his palm and transported the slightly green Dionysus to the god's bedroom in Olympus. If he had to make a mess, let him do it someplace where others don't have to witness it.

Scarcely had he dropped his arm when the smell of ozone assaulted his sensitive nostrils. The odour became increasingly pungent until a dazzling flash of lightning struck the two thrones at the head of the arrangement. When the light dimmed, it revealed Zeus and Hera in all their glory atop their respective thrones. He was thankful that the hood concealed his features, as he was exerting himself in order to keep a straight face. Even after all these years, Drama Queen hasn't felt like not putting on a show whenever he enters.

Zeus gazed around the throne room, until his eyes landed on him. The electric blue eyes hardened a little, instructing the figure to maintain proper decorum in the hall of the gods. The figure rolled his eyes, but complied with the demand, sitting straight in his throne. Satisfied, Zeus returned his attention to the council at large.

"Olympians," he boomed, "Another month has passed,. Another month of peace and prosperity in both our and the mortal world." The figure zoned out after the first line, not bothering to listen anymore. It was basically the same thing Zeus had said in the previous meeting, and the on before that, and so on for Chaos knew how many. I have to give it to him. He knows how to take one script and milk it for its worth.

Although on one hand, the shift from the bi-annual meetings to holding one every month meant that problems could be dealt with much more easily, it still meant that he had to listen to Zeus' speech six times more often. Hades should add this as a torture in the Fields of Punishment; having someone listen to Zeus prattling on twenty four hours a day. He'll break in no time.

As he continued contemplating how horrible an individual must have been in his life to deserve such torture, he felt an incessant digging in his ribs from the left. Turning his head slightly, he asked in a monotone, "Anything bothering you, Hermes?"

The messenger god just jabbed his thumb toward the head of the room. "Poseidon's about to finish delivering his report. You're up next."

He groaned softly, but knew that his report was mandatory for a council meeting. His was always the second after Poseidon's, followed by Artemis', Hades', and Demeter's. Then the meeting progressed to any petty grievances among the gods, with Hermes acting as the representatives for the minor gods. He looked forward, just in time to hear Poseidon ending his report on the state of the seas. Breathing deeply, he ran over his report one final time within his mind as Zeus looked at him.

"Monaxiá, how go your domains? Smooth as usual, I expect?"

"Yes, Lord Zeus," he hated formality, but he couldn't shy away from it in an official council report. "Apart from a small upsurge on the southern coast of Italy, the tides have been normal. The monster population has also been stable. The only thing I wish to add is that Aphrodite ought to arrange some means of sending her daughter from Ohio to Camp Half-Blood. Should I contact a satyr, or would you see to it yourself?" he ended, directing the last question towards the love goddess.

Said goddess lifted her head up from her mirror, somehow having found fault with her already perfect makeup. "It's alright. I'll contact The Lord of the Wild about it," she replied. Before, she might have added a flirtatious gesture or sentence, but after she had nearly got her neck slit with a throwing knife a few decades ago, she seemed to finally get the message and desist.

Zeus nodded, and turned his attention towards the giant twelve-year old girl. "Artemis, how goes it in your domains?"

The moon goddess began her report, and Monaxiá tuned out once again. He didn't pay attention for another hour, until Hermes brought up the dispute between Hecate and Hercules. It seemed that Hercules had challenged Hecate to an honour duel a few days ago, confident that his own strength would enable him to overcome an adversary who mainly focused on "party tricks". He was still in Apollo's hospital, recovering from running off the edge of Mount Olympus and falling all the way down. He was still baffled as to how both Hecate and the ground had suddenly evaporated into thin air.

At long last, the council meeting drew to a close. With a loud shout of "Council dismissed," Zeus flashed away with Hera in another bolt of lightning. Slowly, all the gods either flashed away or made their way towards the doorway in order to attend some business on Olympus. Monaxiá raised himself off his throne, running is hands along the armrests shaped in the form of hellhounds with swords lining the outer side. He was almost at the doorway when he sensed something approaching him from behind.

At the last moment, he spun gracefully towards the left, narrowly avoiding the silver hunting knife. Extending his arm, he caught it before it managed to hit Hermes, who was blissfully unaware that he had almost been skewered. He looked towards the silver throne, only to see a scowling huntress give him a look of absolute loathing before flashing out, the knife also vanishing from his hand.

He should have gotten used to it, after over nine decades of similar treatment. Still, he could feel a small crack form in his already broken heart. His hand subconsciously ran along the simple silver band on his right ring finger. It's partner had been destroyed long ago, but he still wore it, unable to give it up. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Apollo gazing at the empty seat, his face awash with sadness. The usually cheerful sun god turned towards him, and said, "Even after all this time, it's still the same, isn't it Perseus?"