Epilogue – Beyond Time
Seasons turned. Wars came and went, mortals rose and fell, constellations shifted in the heavens. But in Olympus, within halls where firelight and starlight mingled, three figures remained bound not by decree, but by love.
Percy carried time in his hands, yet no longer as a burden. With Artemis and Athena beside him, the hours became a gift instead of a chain. He still wove the threads of moments, but always with their laughter in his ears and their touch at his side.
Artemis never surrendered her wildness, never abandoned her forests or the silver bow that sang in her hands. Yet when the hunt was over, she returned not to solitude, but to the warmth of arms waiting for her. The moon still belonged to her, but now she shared its glow.
Athena continued to guide cities and weave wisdom into mortal minds. Yet strategy no longer sat heavy on her shoulders alone. Her counsel was steadier, her thoughts sharper, her laughter freer—for in their chamber, she was allowed to be more than wisdom incarnate. She was simply loved.
Together, the three of them built something Olympus had not seen in ages: a bond unbroken by jealousy, untouched by fear, unmoved by decree. Gods whispered, some scoffed, some envied—but none could deny what had taken root.
They danced often, even when no music played. They argued, too—fierce words between huntress, strategist, and time itself—but always ended in laughter or in quiet touches that needed no apology. They watched countless dawns together, a ritual as steady as the turning of the earth.
And when the years blurred into centuries, and centuries into ages, their love did not fade. It deepened, like wine left to rest, like stars burning brighter against the dark.
For Percy was time, and Artemis the wild, and Athena the wise. None of them belonged to fate any longer. They belonged only to each other.
And so they lived—fierce, unyielding, tender, and true.
Happily.
Always.