Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or The Heroes of Olympus; all credit there goes to the amazing Rick Riordan. Please read A/N at the bottom.
(Thalia POV)
A calm breeze drifts through the short grass at my feet, creating the illusion of waves sliding across the hill. The moon shines unnaturally dim tonight despite it being nearly full. Even Lady Artemis must be in mourning. Peleus' body encircles the lone pine tree at the hill's peak, his copper scales nearly matching the hue of the fleece perched on the lower branches. I still get a weird feeling looking at the tree, considering that I technically was the tree for a few years.
My thoughts are interrupted by a dull creaking sound from behind me. I swing around on my heel to find the rope ladder leading up to the Argo II jerking as a dark figure descends from high above.
Once he reaches the last few planks, my brother pushes himself off, landing on the ground in a crouch. He quickly stretches himself to full height, dusting himself off with one hand while keeping the brightly lit lantern stable in the other.
"Well?" I ask, glancing back up towards the side of the floating warship, hoping to find another outline returning to the ground.
Jason sighs, a grim look plastered on his face. "She won't even talk to me, Thals. Wouldn't let me in, and I doubt she even listened to me." His pale blue eyes glance back up at the Argo, and I know he's hoping she'll come out as much as I am.
"I guess I should've expected this," I admit, shaking my head.
"She's in mourning. It'll take a while for her to even accept what happened."
"I know, but she's pushing everyone away." I turn towards the rising smoke above the amphitheater. Even from this distance, I can hear to dull murmur of Greeks and Romans alike, filling the stone seats and mourning the loss of a great hero. "She'll need to eat eventually. We might as well get back to them before they start without us."
As Jason and I start down to the dark and empty valley, I can hear him mutter: "Unless she starves herself."
(Third Person POV)
The amphitheater is completely filled, with campers forced to stand at its outer rim. It's not only the campers of Camp Half-Blood and Jupiter that line the stands, but a wide variety of monsters and a couple immortal beings as well. Centaurs halfheartedly canter through the crowd, an odd sight for the usually wild horse-men.
Most of the satyrs and fauns mill around the outskirts of the crowd, the satyrs seeming to have lost their appetites and the fauns not even bothering to beg for any spare drachma. The giant eagles of the legion sit perched on the topmost of the stone walls. Hippocampi drift around the beach, whinnying softly too themselves. Pegesi trot around freely, their heads hung low.
A dim, sputtering flame flickers in the center of it all, and, much like the main campfire, reflects the mood of all those surrounding it. Currently, the light is a dull, purplish black, taking the appearance of a bad bruise.
The color blue, in all its shades, hangs from every available point, in the form of banners embroidered with glowing tridents and rearing horses, each illuminated by a small torch.
At the edge of all the murmurs and shifting crowds, a black feathered wing shifts past a blazing torch flame, its light flickering. No one takes notice of the great, midnight-black pegasus as his careful and subtle hoof-falls speed up into a full gallop. He picks up speed as he feels the gentle slope of the hill under his powerful legs, careful to keep the two, large bags strung over his neck in balance.
At the hill's climax, his hooves leave the ground, his wings stretching to their full length, gliding on the cool night air. The dark horse spirals steadily up towards the Argo II, heading towards its slightly ajar bomber doors. He pulls himself into the airborne stable, shaking off the stray hay that gets stuck in his mane. With little more wasted time he trots into the hallway, heading toward a very specific door…
(Annabeth POV)
I blink the remaining tears out of my eyes, still wondering how I have any left after all this time. Was it really only less than a month ago when Percy told me goodbye? Than when he sacrificed himself to stop Gaia and the giants? It feels as if a lifetime has passed, and I defiantly feel as drained as if it had.
I haven't spoken to anyone since we set off back to Camp on the Argo II. I've turned everyone away, even Thalia. I'd rather feel the pain of my loss alone than with anyone else; well, except a certain black pegasus.
And despite my wanting to honor Percy and his sacrifice, I couldn't bring myself to go to his memorial. It'll make everything too real for me. It'll only strengthen the fact that he's gone, possibly forever.
But the most painful thing is, that in spite of all the odds and what the rational side of my brain tells me, my heart still holds onto the hope that he's alive. That he's still fighting. That he'll survive against the odds and just show up at my bedside, flashing that mischievous grin of his, just like after Mount St. Helens.
I feel selfish for hoping that. That would mean he's suffering in Tartarus right now, being hunted or maybe tortured. None of us are sure about what would happen if Percy were to die in Tartarus. Since it's the deepest, darkest part of Hades, would his spirit remain trapped, or would he find his way out? I would only hope for the latter, but I have no idea.
I nearly jump as eight low, steady knocks on my door snap me out of my thoughts. A soft neighing immediately accompanies them. I sigh in relief, wiping my puffy eyes and crawling to the end of my bed, stretching out to reach the door knob. As soon as the lock clicks open, Blackjack canters proudly inside with his haul, two cloth bags brimming with borrowed snacks from the camp kitchen. As soon as his twitching tail moves beyond the frame, he kicks the door closed again, using his hoof to reengage the lock.
"Hey BJ," I say, grabbing his burden while he ducks his head, "got anything good?"
He snorts, shaking his neck once he's freed, and hops onto the floor mattress I set up for him, tucking in his legs and resting his snout on my bed. I pull open one of the sacks, instantly finding a bag full of huge marshmallows. I rip open the plastic and toss one to Blackjack, who gladly snatches it up. Ah, comfort food. Pretty much all I've eaten in the past few weeks.
As I attack the junk food, most of it Blackjack undoubtedly took from the Stolls 'secret' stash, the thoughts that have been running through the back of my mind make their way to the forefront; all my worries and doubts about everything I've ever done. More specifically, about everything I've ever done as a demigod. All the quests I've completed and all the losses I've endured because of it. What would my life have been like if I wasn't a demigod? Who would I be? What life would I be living?
I must've looked pretty dejected, because Blackjack whinnies and covers my back with one of his enormous wings, curling it around my side. I wipe my eyes again, not even noticing I'd teared up.
I turn to look into his soft brown eyes, once again left wishing I could hear his thoughts like Percy. But despite not knowing a word the winged horse said, I know he misses Percy nearly as much as I do. He was Percy's loyal steed and one of his closest friends. Blackjack would do anything for him, with hardly a complaint. Now that his Boss was gone, he'd only let me ride him, stay beside him, and would only allow other campers to feed him.
I take a deep breath, carefully considering each word, almost trying to convince myself not to speak them. "Hey Blackjack," I whisper in his ear. He quickly perks them up, digging his nose out of a graham cracker bag to face me, brown sugar covering his chin. For what seems like the first in weeks, I crack genuine smile as I run my hand through his rough mane. "I have an insane, crazy plan. One that's probably completely irrational and dangerous—"
Blackjack pushes himself up to full height and nods once. I give up trying to explain, knowing he's already on board. "Alright. We need to stop by my and Poseidon's cabins…"
(Third Person POV)
"He…he treated me like a sister from the moment we met. He looked out for us, protected us. Even when things got…bad, he never abandoned us. I'm glad, even for the short time we had, that I knew Percy." Hazel sniffles and leans against Frank, who helps her stumble out of the amphitheater's center.
Another murmur shifts through the overwhelming crowd, just as it has after every mourner exits the main stage. The mood fire flickers, responding to their tension. And as to the pattern, an unspoken order of silence falls over the bustling group as the next speaker steps up.
Reyna, praetor of Camp Jupiter, clothed in full uniform, strides calmly and deliberately to take Hazel's now empty space, her metal hounds flanking her on either side. Hundreds of eyes refocus on the new presence.
"As Hazel said," Reyna laments in voice that has addressed many crowds, "it was a privilege to have known Percy Jackson. I will admit, our first encounter didn't leave us on the best of terms. But despite our rocky past, he was the first to show me that perhaps the Greeks were not as horrible as we'd started to believe."
"In one of Camp Jupiter's darkest hours, he stood by us with one life to give, even though our past brethren had called each other enemies, he fought as hard as any Roman. He would have given his life for all of us, and has so earned my complete respect." She nods, slowly turning to her right, leaving the center with an applause to lead her off.
Thalia strolls in after the praetor, her leather jacket reflecting the torchlight. Once again, a quiet consumes the campers and beasts alike, the only sounds being the crackling of the colored flames and the distant growls of monsters.
"Well," the daughter of Zeus starts, "I guess the first thing I could say is: Percy could be a real kelp-head." A couple rare smiles appear. "There were times when he could be completely oblivious and yeah, even childish. But I can honestly say he's the most selfless person I know. Hades, he even saved my butt on more than one occasion." She shakes her head, sighing. "He—" her words are abruptly cut off by the pounding of hooves against stone.
Thalia swings around, jumping back before she collides with a black-furred chest. She shakes her head, bringing the midnight pegasus into focus as her eyes meet the rider. Her blond hair swirls in the subtle breeze, almost appearing gold. A Camp backpack is slung over her shoulder, accompanied by two others slung with rope over Blackjack's back.
"Annabeth," she questions, backing slightly farther from the pegasi's stomping hooves, "what're you—"
Annabeth ignores her, her stormy eyes on the amphitheater's inhabitants. "There's only one reason why Percy's gone," she announces, directing Blackjack in a small semi-circle path, walking in a slow trot. "Only one group to blame." Her sudden interruption is met by soft whispers that grow into a low rumble.
"That one reason," she says angrily shaking her head, "that one group: is the Gods! They're the only ones to blame!" Her words are met by looks of pure disbelief, some obviously taken aback by her outburst.
She continues on, waving her hand to the rows of demigods. "How many of you have lost a loved one, or a close friend, all because of a stupid quest." She moves on, not waiting for a response. "Too many! All because the gods needed us to run some tedious errand, to appease them, to gain a favor we'll never receive."
"Annabeth!" Thalia yells, catching her attention. "Look, you're not thinking clearly. I know Percy's death is hard on you, but you're not thinking this through."
Annabeth turns toward her friend, Blackjack moving with her. She shakes her head slowly. "Thalia, this is the clearest I've ever seen. I'm only starting to realize what I always knew. I'm just sad it took Percy's sacrifice to make me see it." She once again pulls Blackjack to face all the campers.
"Percy's dead because he was forced to give too much. No matter what he did, the gods always asked for more until…until they finally asked for the ultimate sacrifice. The only one blame here, is the Olympians. And the only reason I'm here is to say: I'm done. I'm done being the gods' slave. I'm finished being their pawn!" In one swift movement, she pulls her New York Yankees cap out of her pocket, the one her mother had given her for her twelfth birthday, and throws it into the now roaring flames. Thalia turns, snatching it from the fire before calling after her. Annabeth ignores their pleas as she and Blackjack take off towards the shadows leading to the outer edge of camp.
(Annabeth's POV)
The camp is a blur as we speed by the cabins and arena, making our way to the very top of Half-Blood Hill. Thoughts and feelings rush through my mind just as fast, even a sort of shock that I'd pulled through with my plan. I was saying goodbye to everything I'd come to know, from the place where I'd spent the better part of my life.
As we reach the top of the hill, Blackjack slows to a stop, casting a glance at the dark valley. I pat his neck, running my fingers through his course main. "I'm not sure where we'll go," I admit, staring off into the distance. This plan wasn't something I'd extensively and meticulously combed through like I normally would; it was rash and in the moment, and I found myself unsure of what I'd just done. I shake my head. This isn't definite. All I know is, I can't be here, not now, not so soon after I've lost him. I'd rather figure out something more permanent away from the influence of the Olympians.
"Come on, BJ, let's go," I whisper, tangling my hand in his mane as he spreads his enormous wings and takes flight.
A/N: Gods, I'll probably have to edit this a few times. Why'd I finish this at 12:00 A.M.? Oh well. Anyway, this is just a one-shot that I currently don't have any plans on pursuing. It just kept nagging me till I wrote it. If anyone reads this, thanks for reading! Since I really don't have any ideas for this story, I would love to see if any of you guys do! As long as you give credit, I'd like to see if you come up with anything for this storyline. I don't know, I might write more if I get another idea. Most of it comes to me at random times, so I guess we'll see. The Story I'm currently working on is The King of Tartarus, which is a Supernatural crossover, but most of the story is Percy Jackson. Please check it out! If you've read this full note, you deserve an invisible blue cookie!
UPDATE: 9/12/13: I haven't gone too far into it yet, guys, but I'm starting to get some ideas for the story. It's only a start, so I'll see where it goes.