Title: Where the Heart Is
Rating: K+
Summary: She never would have noticed the standstill, if not for him. He came into her sanctuary, broken, and made her stop what she had been doing for the past ... she doesn't even know how long anymore. And now she needs to help him (help them all) in any way she possibly can. Gods have mercy on her, because this is not going to be easy.
Author's Notes: I suppose I decided that after years of mental torture, Percy and the gang deserved a little emotional reprieve. A healer of the heart, at a lack for a better term. It seems to me that their group of friends is missing a "pillar" character, and so I am providing it with this story. Thus, this story will contain oodles and oodles of hurt/comfort, a bucket full of angst, and enough fluff to power a pillow fight. The perfect recipe for an interesting story, no? Constructive criticism is welcome. All flames will eventually be converted into puns.
Disclaimer: Rick Riordan is the owner of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series and all characters included there of. I don't own them. Insert. Blunt. Clarifying. Sentences. Here.
- Chapter 1. -
Smoothing the cloth across the marble floor, I pull it back to me and then push it away in a gentle, even stroke. The floor in its entirety is very nearly cleaned. I should start on the mantle after this.
My mouth opens and a small tune comes from my lips before I can even realize it.
The Greek words tell the perspective of a wolf who is wandering the forest in search prey for his family. He searches for days without food or water, looking unsuccessfully, and yet refusing to return home for fear of the shame he would face for being unable to find anything. He comes close to dying by exhaustion before deciding that he wants to die at his home, and returns to his family with an empty mouth. There he discovers that the gods had taken mercy on his family and sent a meaty boar wandering into their cave days ago. They saved some of it just for him and waited for him to return patiently.
It teaches the lesson that family is always the most important thing, and that nothing in the world should keep you from them. Syma taught me the song when I first joined with the temple. My hands stop their motion as that last thought strikes me.
Syma ... I have a friend named Syma.
What happened to her? I cannot quite - oh yes, I remember now. She left the temple to marry a husband. How odd. It feels as though she was by my side, washing these very floors with me, only ten minutes ago. And yet I know she was not.
Is there a reason I have thought of her so suddenly? Something uneasy settles into my breast. There is nothing out of the ordinary, and yet the sensation does not leave.
A shout tears my gaze away from the stone of the floor to the open doorway on the other side of the temple. It sounds like someone is in pain, though I cannot see anything through the thick, velvety darkness of a new moon night. I cast an unsure glance back the flaming hearth and then dash outside with every ounce of swiftness I possess.
I step out into the cool breeze just in time to see a boy get slammed to the ground by an attacking hellhound, hitting his head in the process. The twinkling sword he holds falls out of his limp hand as the boy succumbs to unconsciousness.
"Halt!" I shout at the hound and begin to run for the boy. My feet hesitate at the bottom step of the temple, but I shake my head and quickly get to the boy's side as the hound backs up from him. Those beady, black eyes of the hellhound are taking me in; trying to judge what to make of me. It knows that I am no threat to it, and yet my sudden appearance has confused it.
Taking the boy up in my arms, I begin to drag him back towards the temple. He is bleeding from a wound on his shoulder where the hound's claws dug into his skin, and I fear he might have a concussion.
Apparently, the hellhound is not satisfied with my taking its prey, for it begins to run towards us. I pull the boy onto the steps and whisper the word, "Ieró."
The hellhound slams into an invisible force field starting at the base of the steps and falls back with a whimper. It paws at the air only four feet from us, curiously feeling the shield that now surrounds the temple. The spell does not even budge when the hound rams its side into the field. Realizing it cannot get in, the hound locks it eyes on the boy and growls with fury.
I nod my head in the direction of the forest it most likely came from. "Go on."
It looks up at me now, frustration filling that wide gaze, and gives an experimental snarl. I stare back at it evenly, keeping silent. Finally, the beast makes something like a huff and turns back to face the forest. Just as it reaches the first trees, the black fur dissolves into the shadows the torches of the temple cast on the trees.
Letting out a breath of relief, I look from the boy, to the temple doorway, and then back to the boy. Males are not allowed within the walls of the temple. Yet treating him out here is not possible.
Firming my resolve, I pull his arm over my shoulders and slowly climb up the steps. It is fortunate that this boy is not much taller than me, or his knees might bruise themselves against the marble steps. Gods know another bruise is the last thing he needs right now.
My nerves calm as soon as I see the fire burning safely in the hearth. Leaving it alone for too long makes me feel nervous.
Setting the boy down on the pallet (that the temple provides for any guests we host) in the corner of the room, I move to kneel in front of the giant hearth that takes up most of the space in the temple. The gold, orange, and red flames sway and crackle to produce a warm, familiar sensation; giving off the scent of burning cedar wood.
"Lady Hestia, please pardon this male to reside within the safety of your temple while I tend to him."
The golden color of the fire fades to a soft brown. Lady Hestia approves of his staying here.
I turn back to the boy on the pallet and take note of his apparent injuries: the cuts on his shoulder, a bleeding scratch on his left cheek, a large bruise on his right arm, and the rip in the left knee of his pants. There is also a possible concussion from head trauma, and he has flushed cheeks that show he might be coming down with a fever.
My right hand dives into the fire and allows some of the flames to settle into my palm. I walk slowly over to the boy and let the hand holding fire hover above the wound on his shoulder. So begins the process of recovery for this boy.
Gods, be merciful on this soul.
I dunk the washcloth into the clay basin of water I have conjured and wring out most of the water before folding it and placing it on the boy's brow. His injuries are healed from the magic of the hearth's fire. His fever is breaking, as well.
Pulling back to sit on my knees before the pallet, I study the boy ... no, he is a man. A young man. This is the first time I have been close to a male in ... I do not even know how long.
He is nothing like a girl. His features are sharper: his chin is chiseled, cheekbones are more defined, and he possesses more muscle than most girls I have met. His hair is short and straight, the color of coal, or perhaps the night. His eyes are a light color somewhere between green and blue, although I was only able to catch quick glances of the dazed, unseeing gaze when he entered a brief hallucination spell brought on by his fever. His skin is tanned from many hours under the sun, and he smells faintly of fish and salt. Does he live in a coastal area?
Ah, that is right. I have yet to search his mind for information. The fact that Lady Hestia granted him residence in this temple shows that he is trustworthy enough, but I cannot be sure until I check for myself.
"Forgive me, náftis."
Placing my pointer finger on his temple, I gently push into his mind. The basic information is what I first seek: Percy Jackson is his name, he is currently sixteen years old, his mother lives in a city by the name of Manhattan, and Percy considers his own home to be - oh my.
It would appear that Percy's father is Lord Poseidon. It would explain his peculiar scent, and why some of his favorite memories with his mortal mother occur at the beach. It also provides the reason of why that hellhound attacked him.
Pressing in just a little further, I find his friends: Annabeth, Grover, Nico, Thalia, and so many other names quickly jump into my head, showing me that Percy is very adept at making and keeping friends. And yet, just beyond those friends, there are scattered images of other friends in the back of Percy's mind that are blurry and solemn, as though he does not allow himself to think about them. I sense pain with these friends. Most of them are deceased half-bloods, but others are the mortal friends he used to have who were attacked by monsters pursuing him. He believes it is his own fault that they suffered.
I pull myself away from both the mind and the temple. "You hold strong guilt upon your shoulders, náftis."
Moving away from the pallet, I pick up my cloth and the water basin and move towards the doorway. A trail of his blood has been left one the floors. I wash along the trail, all the way to the outside steps.
Dawn is approaching quickly and so I hurry to finish. Lady Hestia hides this temple from Lord Apollo (with all due respect, we both fear what he might be tempted to do if he discovered a temple with a lone priestess out in the middle of a forest) and the other gods, yet I still do not dare come outside when the Sun Chariot is near in case he sees through the spell.
When the steps are finally clean, I put the cloth into the basin, pick them both up, and walk back into the temple. Green-blue eyes lock with my own as soon as I enter.
I walk to kneel in front of him once more and set the basin down. "Good morning."
"Uh, morning," he says insecurely and sits up, catching the washcloth when it falls off.
"Are you feeling alright?" I take the cloth from him and place it in the basin with the other.
"Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way," he says. His eyes trace over my expression, and so I look back at him patiently. He finally guesses, "Hestia?"
His comment brings a smile to my face. "Not quite. My name is Agele. I am a priestess of this temple of Hestia."
"Oh. I'm Percy Jackson," he introduces himself and holds out his hand for me to shake. I back away from the out held hand with an unsure smile. Unnecessary contact with males is forbidden. The only reason I should touch one is for the purposes of healing or mind reading, as I have already done.
Percy looks from his hand to my face as a frown tugs at his lips. "Is ... wait, aren't guys, like, not allowed in Hestia's temples?"
I nod. "Males are not normally permitted entrance. However, you were injured, and Lady Hestia has given you permission to reside here until you heal."
He throws the wools blanket I have put over him off of his body and begins to rise to his feet. "Well, I'm healed. Thanks, again."
Standing up with him, I hold up my hands and step into his path in an attempt to keep him from moving closer to the doorway. I say, "Your energy cannot possibly be fully restored already. You would be throwing yourself into the hands of wandering monsters by going into the forest once more."
"I can fight," he says, though I am not fooled. The way he looks away from me when he says this tells me he is lying.
"I would rather you not test that theory."
He looks up at me, slight desperation showing in those eyes. "I need to get back to my friends."
Without realizing it, I feel my hand reaching out to give a comforting touch to the area just below those eyes. It freezes just a few inches above the skin. I quickly pull my hand back to cradle it against my chest and turn to walk towards the fire.
"Are you hungry?"
He hesitates and then answers truthfully, "Yeah, a little."
The fire glows a bright, golden color as something appears in its center. I reach into the flames and pull out a tray containing a glass of orange juice, a plate of eggs, a bowl of melon, and a single, square cake of ambrosia set on a napkin. I hand him the tray.
He studies it with a slightly impressed look, sits down, and begins to eat. "Cool trick you got there."
I laugh and sit down across from him. I can see why he has made so many friends. There is something about him that draws one in; something that makes you want to become his friend. I recall Syma being a much similar case. She was well known in our temple.
Oh, I am thinking of Syma, again. Twice in such a short span of time? I have not thought of anything besides the hearth and Lady Hestia for so long. Why are these thoughts coming to me now?
Percy looks up from his food expectantly. "Aren't you going to eat anything?"
"No, I do not think I will."
"Why not?"
Why not, he asks? Because I am not hungry. Come to think of it, I have not felt hungry or tired for ... gods, I cannot even remember how long. Is that unhealthy? Well, I am not dead, nor even close to dying. Should I be worried?
"Agele?" he asks uncertainly.
"I ... am not hungry."
He shrugs. "Suit yourself." Popping another piece of melon into his mouth, Percy asks, "So, you're a priestess?"
Nodding, I say, "I maintain this temple and tend to the fire."
"That fire?" he asks, indicating the hearth.
"Yes. Like my Lady, I remain here to care for the hearth. She contacts me occasionally through the flames."
He asks, "Then how long have you been a priestess?"
"Ever since I was a little girl."
"Wow."
I feel a smile come unbidden to my lips once more. "Most priestesses of Hestia remain in the temple for thirty years."
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
His eyes scan the temple around us, taking in the marble walls lined with columns and the ceiling-less roof that displays the dawning sky. "Hey, where are the other priestesses?"
My smile drops in an instant. "They have married and left the temple."
"Wait, so you're alone here?" he asks, frowning at me. "That sucks. Why don't you leave?"
"For the same reason my Lady does not leave her own hearth in Olympus. There needs to be someone who watches over it. Someone who remains at home to await the others' return."
"But you're the only one here. No one is going to return if you're the only one who knows about this place." Percy blinks owlishly and then asks, "Speaking of which, where are we?"
His question takes some thought, because the location of the temple changes as often as the location of Olympus. I tend to lose track occasionally. "I believe we are currently in a forest in the middle of the state named Kansas. The heart of this country, just as temples of Hestia are always placed in the heart of the cities."
He smacks his forehead with his palm in what I suppose to be a frustrated gesture. "Oh, man, Annabeth is going to kill me!"
"If you do not mind my asking, what brings you so far away from your home?"
"How do you ..." He trails off and then shakes his head. "Right, goddess of home. Anyway, I was fighting this hellhound that was trying to attack some of the new half-bloods trying to get into camp. I jumped on its back, it dashes into the trees, and then next thing I know, I'm in Kansas. I fought it for a little bit until it tackled me and I passed out. Which is probably around the time you found me."
I nod my head in affirmation. "The Mist is heavy around this part, due to Lady Hestia's protection of the temple, and so it attracts them."
"You mean the area around here is full of monsters?" he asks, dread evident in his tone.
"Regretfully, I must say yes. You are, however, safe within the temple walls."
He sighs. "Great. Just great." Looking up at the sky (now fully daytime) he asks, "Do you mind if I send an Iris message to my friends? They're probably worried."
"Of course." I walk back to the pallet and pick the basin of water up. Just before I hand it to him, I feel myself hesitate.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"... You plan to contact those at the camp of demigods, do you not?" I ask, feeling uneasy.
Looking confused, he says, "Yeah. Is that a problem?"
I shake my head. "I simply ... you also intend to reveal the location of this temple to your friends?"
"Well, yeah, but they're not going to hand the location over to any enemies or anything like that."
"I am more concerned with their parents. The male ones, to be exact," I say, wringing my hands in front of me. To refuse a god's advances is to bring a divine wrath upon yourself, and yet my vow of chastity must not be broken. This is why it is best that they do not know of my location.
He stares at me for a few, uncomprehending moments. "Oh." Finally, his eyes widen and he looks around the temple, as if re-realizing that I am alone day and night here. "Oh. Ok, no, I won't tell them where I am, then. Just that I'm safe and I'll come back soon."
"Thank you." I nod and return to the hearth's side while Percy takes the basin out of the doorway, most likely for his privacy.
Even though he has left, my thoughts drift towards Percy. How strange it is for a son of Poseidon to have ended up here. As far I know, there are no special relations between Lady Hestia and Lord Poseidon. This is not a case of history repeating itself, as I know it sometimes does. What ever this is, it is the first time to happen.
And yet, surely somethingmust have brought Percy here. Fate, perhaps? Was his need to be healed what brought him to me? No, I am sure the children of Lord Apollo would be well adept at healing the members of Percy's camp. Or could Lady Hestia have wanted to divert Percy's attention to herself through this temple? For what purpose? No, Agele, it is not your place to question the gods.
I conjure up another cloth from the fire and begin to clean the mantle of the hearth. The patient strokes of the cloth against the stone are well known to me. Silence seeps into my mind, clearing away all thoughts and worries to leave blissful contendedness instead.
"-ele? Agele!"
With a gasp, I turn my head to meet a very green gaze. Who ...? Oh, yes, Percy. "You finished rather quickly."
He gives me a look somewhere between confusion and worry. "I was out there for ten minutes."
I smile. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
Looking back to my cloth, I say, "Time escapes me when I am cleaning."
"Seems like time isn't the only thing that 'escapes' you."
"I do not understand."
"I was calling your name, but you weren't answering."
I stand up and take the basin from his hands, careful to avoid contact of our fingers. "I am sorry, then. Is there something you need?"
Percy takes on an uncomfortable expression as he turns his gaze away from me. "Look, would it be cool if I - no, nevermind."
"What is it?" I ask, my curiousity piqued.
He bites his lip and continues. "Annabeth ... wasn't too happy that I couldn't tell her where I was. She's my girlfriend, by the way."
"Am I not your girl friend, as well?"
"What? No! You're just a friend!" he exclaims, blushing a bit.
Well, of course I am. "I do not understand the difference."
Percy groans. "A girlfriend is different from a friend. I ... I'm in a romantic relationship with Annabeth. Not with you."
"Agápi sas?" I offer.
How fickle the English language is. To be completely honest, it is my least favorite of languages. Still, Lady Hestia insists I learn the tongues of the countries we move to around the world. I am fluent in many different languages and dialects for this reason.
"Uh, yeah, I guess? Anyway, she was upset, because I wouldn't tell her where we are. Especially when I mentioned the part about me being alone in a temple with another girl."
"I do not ... oh, Percy! No, you must correct her suspicions at once!" I hold the basin out for him, again. "Please, give her my apology."
Percy shakes his head, something turning dark in his gaze. "No, I'm not going to apologize."
Pulling the basin back to myself, I ask, "Náftis?"
"I told her there's nothing going on. She just never trusts me," he says, though I have a feeling these words are directed at no one in particular. His negative feelings pouring out of him, more than likely.
Percy glares at the wall to our left and says bitterly, "I trust her enough to leave her at Camp with a bunch of other guys, but when it's me who she needs to trust? Gods, no! I'm a cheating, lying, seaweed brain, as far as she's concerned!"
"I mean, does she really think I'm stupid enough to leave her for anyone?" he asks himself as he begins to pace the length of the temple. "I've saved her life more times than I've saved anyone else! I fight everyday just to keep her safe and happy, and she can't even trust me to know that she's the only one for me?"
"You love her."
He turns and snaps at me irritably, "Of course I love her! Why else-"
Percy freezes as his eyes widen in surprise at his own words. I feel the urge to smile, but suppress it due to the fact that now is not an appropriate time for humor. He is in need of emotional healing, just as I discovered he was during the mind reading.
"-why else would you risk so much for her?" I finish for him. Letting a soft smile grace my features, I ask, "Why else would you remain so loyal to her, even when trapped, alone, with another girl?"
His head twitches slightly on his neck, as though he is beginning to shake his head in disagreement, yet then thinks better of it.
"Agápi sas. 'Your love.' Agápi mou. 'My love.' Your love is with her where ever you go. This is what it means," I explain, thinking back to the nicknames the day-dreamer Syma used to give the man she eventually married. 'Agápi mou' was her favorite, by far.
"I love her," he says in astonishment.
A soft giggle escapes me despite my efforts. "And she loves you, as well."
"How do you know?"
"She does not distrust you, náftis. Her love for you is so strong that I can only imagine how unbearable it must be for her to think she might lose it."
He blushes once more and looks at his shoes. "You don't know that."
"Perhaps not." I hand the basin back to him and say, "Though we shall never know unless you ask."
Shaking his head, Percy pushes it back towards me and says, "No ... no, I'll tell her face-to-face when I get back to camp. She wouldn't want to hear it through an IM."
My eyes travel to the doorway. "Then you must return at once."
"Come with me."
Another giggle bursts from lips and I smile at him. "Do be serious about this!"
Percy sighs.