Impossible

by intotheyellowwoods

"Her mother would say between hiccups, 'be careful who you love, Thalia. Be careful, because you might end up like me.' That was the only piece of advice that Thalia ever took from her mother." Thaluke, from pre-series to the end. Songfic to 'Impossible' by Shontelle, rated T for swearing.

A/N: Well. This took a while. I've never done Thaluke before and I've always kind of wanted to. On tumblr, one of their ship's songs is Impossible by Shontelle (otherwise known as the song this songfic is based on) so I decided to give it a try.

Disclaimer: I do not own Thalia Marie Grace or any of the other characters in the Percy Jackson & The Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus series.

P.S.: Cover belongs to the amazing Viria13 off deviantart.

P.P.S.:To those awaiting De Tracta Vitrium, my Sally-centric Heroes of Olmpus fanfic, IT WILL BE FINISHED SOON. I PINKY PROMISE.

---

/

I remember years ago
Someone told me I should take
Caution when it comes to love
I did, I did

/

Thalia Grace never liked her mother very much. Sure, she loved her—she kind of had to, the woman was her mother after all—but like was a different thing altogether.

Thalia didn't like it when her mom drank, when her footsteps stumbled and her platinum ringlets fell out of their carefully coiffed updo. She didn't like to see her mom escorted home by police officers who looked at her and her brother with such potent pity in their eyes. She didn't like it when her mom came home with her dress falling off her shoulder, smelling of cheap cologne and expensive tequila, or when her mascara and eyeliner were smudged in dark railroad tracks across her powdered face and her red lipstick had been worn off so many hours before. She didn't like the giggles and the low, soft cadences of her mother's one night stand's replies.

Little Jason was different. If it weren't for him, she would've left so long ago. But Jason was innocent, carefree, not yet twisted by this cruel world. He didn't know about all the bad like Thalia did, he didn't know how fucking terrible this superficial world was. He didn't know that their mom drank herself into stupors, that she caroled bars for married men who'd screw her and leave her just like her godly baby daddy so many guys before.

He didn't know how about her stunts, how she'd chug down wine, wink at Thalia, and then stumble her way to the door in five inch heels, because, "Thalia, baby, the only thing worse than being in the tabloids for doing this is not being in the tabloids." He didn't know how she'd put the bottle of overpriced vodka to her painted lips as she cried, or how she'd say between hiccups, "be careful who you love, Thalia. Be careful, because you might end up like me."

That was the only piece of advice that Thalia ever took from her mother.

/

And you were strong and I was not
My illusion, my mistake
I was careless, I forgot
I did

/

Thalia remembers the day she first met Luke in the same way knows her name. It's cherished, well worn, and cared for as if it was worth a million drachmas.

It was day thirty-three of being a broke, runaway demigod, and she was near starvation.

The ground was cold, frozen. The wood of the park bench she was trying to sleep on was as frigid as ice and about as uncomfortable as if it were made of steel. The mace canister of her spear bumped against her stomach as she shifted positions, fidgeting against her makeshift cot.

Then there was a growl. Thalia sighed, wondered if her day could get any worse, and then flipped herself into a standing position, pulling her mace canister out along the way and expanding it.

It was no use. The hellhound in front of her was now only a mere carcass, and standing over it was the silhouette of a figure wielding a short bronze knife. The figure turned towards her then, but she wasn't scared. This person—male, about five foot six and probably a demigod—couldn't hurt her.

Slowly the figure drew down their hood, revealing a boy with an impish face, startling blue eyes, and upturned lips.

Thalia had learned quickly to analyze people. The boy was tall and lanky. The grey sweatshirt he was wearing was loose, meaning he was probably undernourished and therefore weak. He had a wild kind of look in his eyes, like an untamed animal: suspicious and willing to attack you at any minute.

"You look like you could use a hand." His voice was deep and probably would've been nicer sounding if it hadn't cracked a bit halfway through. "It's dark out, and we're near a dragon's cave."

What a noob, Thalia thought disgustedly, feeling her lips curl into a sneer. If there was anything she hated more than her home, it was not being able to do anything for herself. Who cares if it was a dragon that could come after her? She'd spent weeks roaming around the outskirts of LA, and you don't even want to know the kind of crazies you meet there. She could handle herself.

"I can take care of myself fine, asshole," she snapped back to the still grinning boy in front of her, "so you can go and cry to your mommy now about how pathetic your life is, boo hoo hoo. I don't need your stupid help."

A psychologist back at her school had once told Thalia that she used harsh words to build walls around herself so nothing could touch her. A small voice at the back of her head says maybe the stupid shrink was right after all.

The boy's stupid smile faded at the mention of the word 'mommy', and was replaced by a look of slight anger. So I'm not the only one with mommy issues, Thalia thought indifferently as she pulled her leather jacket farther around herself and stalked away, making sure to hit the boy's shoulder as hard as she could as she passed him.

She's almost out of the park when the bugger catches up.

"Maybe you're right," he started, his eyes glittering and his smile replaced by an even dumber smirk, "but after what I've just seen, I think I might need a badass demigod such as yourself to help protect my scrawny white ass. So let's start again: hey, I'm Luke, son of the lovely immortal and deadbeat god Hermes. What do you think about being the next demigod monster-hunting vigilante duo?"

/

And now when all is done
There is nothing to say
You have gone and so effortlessly
You have won
You can go ahead tell them

Tell them all I know now
Shout it from the roof tops
Write it on the sky line
All we had is gone now

/

When Thalia first starts to wake up, she's confused, dazed. She feels so lethargic and heavy and she can't even move or open her freaking eyes, but she still feels like there's something wrong. Everything is unfamiliar and so foreign—even her own body—but that's not it. Something is really, really wrong.

Thalia feels like a circus act, just lying there with her limbs limp and unmoving. There's a crowd around her, staring, watching. They're all whispering about her, like little hisses in the wind. She feels like she's being pulled in two different directions—one trying to tether her to this world, one trying to pull her out of this backwards world back into wherever she was.

Everything is just one big blur—where is she? What happened? Is she alive, or is she dead? Where's Annabeth? Where's Luke?

Then a voice cuts through the fog. It's so familiar she wants to cry. "Thalia?"

Oh gods. Her mind registers the person, the memory of a small golden-haired girl with intense eyes tickling her brain. She feels curly hair brushing against her face. "It's me, Thals. It's me, Annabeth. Oh gods, Thalia, I missed you so much."

Thalia imagines an anchor tethering her to the spot, keeping her in the present. She wants to be able to say something—a reassurance, maybe, or to ask about Luke—but her mouth stays glued shut just as her eyes do.

Annabeth takes Thalia's hand in her own. The younger girl's hand is warm and helps ease some of the pain the older girl feels. The whispers around them are punctuated with the soft clip-clops of hooves on grass, and a respectful quiet falls around the crowd.

"...the poison was not the only thing that was purged," she catches a voice say. The voice sounds old and sad, like its owner has seen too little and too much at the same time.

The pressure of Annabeth's hand in Thalia's suddenly leaves. Thalia feels the absence of the daughter of Athena's hand around her own like a missing limb.

Around her, she catches the words "it" "she" and "there". Then: "Percy, wait!"

Thalia's confused again. Who the Hades is Percy?

There's the sound of someone taking jagged breaths beside her. Thalia feels a warm hand across her forehead like someone was taking her temperature. "She needs nectar and ambrosia!" a second voice shouts from beside her. It's a young boy's voice, maybe twelve or thirteen. The way his voice sounds reminds her a little of the boy with the golden hair and the sky-coloured eyes, the one she loved.

A chill goes down her back like ghosting hands. Something is wrong, she thinks, her panic heightening. Something is really, really wrong.

Suddenly hands are gently gripping her by the shoulders and she's being dragged up into a sitting position, her head carefully fitted into what she hopes is someone's shoulder.

"Come on! What's wrong with you people?" it's the boy again. He seems to be talking to the crowd of people around them. "Let's get her to the Big House!"

Silence.

Suddenly Thalia coughs, almost involuntarily. She tries once more to peel her eyes open, and finally manages it. At first, everything is fuzzy, warped like a blurry TV. She has to blink several times before she can see clearly.

The first thing she sees is a young boy with messy hair, tattered jeans, and an orange shirt about two sizes too big. She meets the boy's eyes. They're green, the greenest she's ever seen before. For a moment, he looks like Luke. When she blinks, the resemblance leaves.

Thalia shivers. Her mouth opens and words form in hoarse whispers. "Who—"

"I'm Percy," the green-eyed boy responds, gently squeezing her arm. He looks worried. "You're safe now."

She tries to speak again. "Strangest dream…"

"It's okay." This boy isn't really good at reassurances, is he?

"Dying." Her words are more of a statement then anything.

"No," the boy says again, his green eyes wild and concerned, "you're okay."

He pauses before he says his next words. "What's your name?"

Thalia stares at him for a moment, assessing him. Even in her befuddled and weary state, he doesn't seem like an enemy to her.

"I'm Thalia," she replies, thinking that the boy would be surprised. After all, wasn't she supposed to be dead or something?

But instead, he just looks grim as he nods and carries her down the hill with the help of Annabeth.

Annabeth gives her a tear-filled smile as they carry her, but it's her eyes that worry Thalia the most. The intense, storm-cloud grey is flat and almost black. She carries herself with a kind of stiffness. Little seven-year-old Annabeth is no more, faded into a mere memory. "It's okay, Thals," the younger girl says, swallowing convulsively. "You're safe now."

Thalia, always obedient, passes out.

When she comes to, she's in a cot in what looks like an infirmary, and the Percy boy and Annabeth are huddled around her sickbed. When the world focuses a little more, she notes that Annabeth's eyes are red and puffy and Percy has his arm around her awkwardly, his own eyes looking worried and confused. When they finally notice that she's awake, Annabeth gives a little gasp and flies away from Percy, who looks at Annabeth quickly before glancing away and blushing slightly.

Thalia clears her throat. "So, one of you lovebirds want to tell me what's going on?" She says it with her usual trademark smirk, but inside she's worried. If she was awake, why wasn't Luke beside her, holding her and babbling nonsense in her ear because he was relieved that she was awake? Why wasn't he being all mother hen, fussing about everything like he usually did when she or Annabeth got hurt or sick?

Annabeth and the Percy boy share a look. It's The Look, in fact, the one where two people look at each other, trying to gauge between them how much they can tell you. Thalia's seen it too much for her own good and she absolutely hates it.

"Zeus's sake, Annie," she snaps impatiently, knowing the younger girl detests that nickname, "I'm a big girl now. Just tell me."

Annabeth glances at Percy quickly, and then looked down and bit her lip. With a shock, Thalia realizes that the other girl looks like she's going to cry. Thalia's studied enough body language and the like to be able to roughly translate it to you tell her, I can't do it. Suddenly, panic wells up in her again.

Percy clears his throat once, twice. He looks at Thalia cautiously, his eyes hesitant. Thalia gives him the worst death glare she can manage through her anxiety. "Well," he began, looking as if he was searching for what to say, "to start, you've kind of been a tree for five years."

Thalia laughs. It's high pitched and breathless and sounds slightly crazy. "Yeah, right," she snorts. "Didn't know they let you bring drugs in here, prissy."

Percy blanches at the insult and glares sharply at her. Thalia, realizing that she's struck a nerve, puts this newfound knowledge into her brain for safekeeping. "I'm not high, okay?" he enunciates clearly as he leans closer to her, sounding irritated and pissed off. "I'm telling you the truth. Ask Annabeth, because you'll probably believe her more than me."

Annabeth keeps her eyes trained on her folded hands as she speaks. "He's not lying, Thals," she whispers. "After you told us to keep going, when you—" Annabeth breaks off and swallows thickly, "—when you were dying on Half-Blood Hill, your father called down a last blessing and turned you into a pine tree. We called it Thalia's Pine. You woke up under it."

At the very least, it's a well fabricated tale. Thalia considers it, remembering the smell that she breathed in, the shadow of the tree, and the pine needles littered around her. The words sound familiar. When she closes her eyes and thinks back to the night, she remembers the crackle of electricity and the call of the eagle.

One last memory hits her. It's the voice of a man—no, not a man, this is something much more, something much more powerful that a mere man—who spoke in a deep voice, authoritative and commanding and at the time, surprisingly gentle. The voice was both alien and frighteningly familiar at the same time. Sleep, Thalia Marie Grace, it had said. It was her father.

Thalia opens her eyes and nods at them. "Okay, you're not lying. Keep going. What's happened in the last five years? What've I missed?"

No one speaks. Percy's looking intently at Annabeth, scooting closer to her with concern present in his eyes. When he hesitantly takes her hand and squeezes it, Thalia looks at Annabeth and realizes that the younger girl is crying.

Percy gawkily maneuvers one arm around Annabeth, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, before turning back to Thalia. He looks at her in the eyes for the first real time since she's woken up, assessing her just as she's assessing him. When Percy looks at her straight on, he looks a little less like Luke than she'd first thought. Whereas Luke was all gold except for his eyes, Percy was different. His hair was a dark brown that was almost black, and his eyes were a vibrant emerald color. His face, although somewhat tanned, was lighter than Luke's. The only thing similar was the vibrancy of their eyes.

"A lot's changed, Thalia," he answers. "The camp's under attack. There are more and more monsters out."

She gives a humorless sort of snort. "So same old, same old?"

"Not exactly," Percy returns, sighing slightly. Thalia notices that his eyes are rimmed with dark circles. "We have a bigger problem than that. The Titan lord Kronos is rising."

Kronos? Thalia stares at him with dread curling in her stomach, waiting for him to yell "psych!" But when he doesn't say anything after a few moments, she finally finds her voice. "Are you shitting me?" She's always been one for using bad language, and that habit only got worse when she was frightened or angry or confused, all of which she currently is.

Annabeth starts crying again. When Percy pulls the blonde-haired girl closer to him, he looks utterly exhausted, especially for a thirteen-year-old kid. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes dulled and rimmed with circles. "I'm not," he tells her, his voice flat. "We don't know how long it will take, but he's rising right now."

Gods, Thalia thinks. A second Titan War? This is bad, really bad.

Percy tells her what's happened so far as best as he seemingly can, with Annabeth adding a few details every now and then. He tells her that two years ago on the winter solstice, Zeus' lightning bolt was stolen from the War Council Room. When the Lord of the Skies found out, he blamed Poseidon. For the first little while, it was only suspicion because Zeus knew that gods could not steal other gods' items of power. But in the beginning of June, Zeus found out about Percy, who Thalia found out was a son of Poseidon. Hades found out too, and both gods were after him (Sounds familiar, Thalia thought drily).

Grover, the same satyr who had tried to escort Thalia and Annabeth and Luke, had been his protector. There was an incident, Percy had said, where he and his mom had been vacationing at the beach when the Minotaur came after them. They raced to Camp Half-Blood. After fighting the Minotaur on Half-Blood Hill, Percy passed out and woke up in the infirmary. He learned about what had happened with the bolt. A few weeks after he woke up, he learned his parentage. At that time, he left on a quest to find the bolt with Annabeth and Grover.

Percy said that at that point, Chiron had believed that it was Hades who had stolen the bolt, hoping to cause a Battle of the Big Three so he could regain his power. The three of them left to Los Angeles, where there was a door to the Underworld. Along the way, they met Ares, who apparently gave them 'help' (Percy sounded slightly bitter, and Thalia suspected that it was actually quite the opposite).

They got to the Underworld and an angry Hades captured them. They discovered that along with Zeus' lightning bolt, Hades' helm of darkness had also been stolen, and that the master bolt was hidden in the shield that Ares had given them. The three managed to get to where Ares was waiting for them with the helm. Percy fought him, but he said that Ares seemed like he was being controlled. After Percy got the helm back to Hades, they flew to Olympus and gave Zeus his master bolt back. Annabeth added that it was like "the gods knew who the real thief was, but didn't want to say so out of fear".

The three returned to Camp. On the last day of Camp, a camper led Percy into the forest, where the camper confessed to stealing the bolt and the Helm. After setting a pit scorpion on Percy, the rogue camper then disappeared.

"The next year, I was at school when Annabeth found me. We took a taxi to camp, and Annabeth told me that bad things were happening. When we reached Half-Blood Hill, we found out what had happened.

"Since you died, your tree created a kind of magical barrier for the camp. It didn't allow monsters in. The only problem was that your tree had been poisoned," he paused, letting the words sink in. "A lot of things had changed. There were a lot of attacks. Chiron had been fired because he was Kronos' son."

He sounded angry. "We were told that the only way to save the camp was to get the Golden Fleece, which was in the Sea of Monsters. Tantalus, the new camp director, ignored me and Annabeth and Tyson, my Cyclops half-brother, and picked Clarisse instead."

Thalia doesn't know who Clarisse is, but she goes with the flow. "Annabeth, Tyson and I sneaked out with the help of Hermes," he continues as Thalia grows alarmed. Why would Hermes help them? Unless… "We got into the Sea of Monsters and managed to get the Fleece. Lu—uh, the camper who had stolen the Bolt and the Helm, admitted to poisoning your tree. He also showed us that he was helping Kronos rise. We barely made it out.

"And then we got back to Camp with Clarisse, and we put the Fleece on your tree, and the rest you know," he finished, looking down and fiddling with his fingers.

Thalia almost doesn't want to ask. All she feels is panic: panic that they're in a war, panic that she or Annabeth might die again, and panic because she thinks that she already knows who helped Kronos rise.

"Wh-wh—" she coughs and clears her throat twice. She looks around the room, looking at anything but the two demigods beside her. She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice steady. "Wh-who was the, um, the demigod?"

Percy knows who she means. So does Annabeth too, and the younger girl is crying again. This time, it's not silent—her tears are coming out in sobs that wrack the younger girl's body and stab into Thalia's heart. Percy, saddened and dejected and looking even more exhausted than before, gathers Annabeth against him, wrapping both his arms around her waist and letting his hands rest gently on the small of her back. As Annabeth sobs into his shoulder, he turns back to Thalia with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry, Thalia," he says stiffly, "I'm really sorry, but the demigod… it's Luke."

NO! She wants to scream, to yell it up to Olympus and to the cruel gods. NO! But her body is frozen solid, unable to move and Hades, her vocal cords won't work properly.

"No," she whispers instead, unable to scream or make any other noise. Her body snaps back into her own control and she glares at Percy with her worst and most concentrated death glare. Somewhere in her brain, there's a small voice telling her to face the truth. She tunes it out and instead listens to the other, more pronounced voice, yelling and shrieking at her that the boy is lying, trying to hurt her, that this is all a joke. Luke—mischievous, caring Luke—is the servant of the Titan lord Kronos? The idea itself is stupid, and she refuses to let herself believe that it was Luke.

"You're lying," Thalia snaps back at him, her voice slipping into what Luke used to call the Run-and-Hide Voice, the one that personified steel and a thousand volts of electricity. She could already feel the air condensing and the hair at the back of her neck rising.

Percy leans away from her, looking a little frightened. "I'm sorry, Thalia."

It's the 'I'm sorry' that gets to her. She doesn't want this stupid, insolent boy's pity and sympathy. He doesn't know her, and he didn't know Luke. He has no right to be sorry, she thinks angrily, and launches herself at him, her painted nails outstretched.

Percy doesn't even try to stop her. He merely pushes Annabeth away hurriedly as she swings herself at him. He doesn't try to raise a hand or move out of the way himself, he just sits there as she rakes her long, torn fingernails down the side of his face. Somewhere behind her, Annabeth yells for her to stop. As Thalia ignores her, rage and adrenaline pumping through her veins as she pulls her hand back to hit him again, she accidentally locks eyes with Percy.

His gaze is desolate and determined. Even as blood droplets start to ooze out of the thin score marks on his face, he barely portrays even the slightest hint of pain. "Go ahead," he says quietly, his marred cheek rising as he gives her a half-smile. "When I first came to Camp, Luke was the only one who was nice to me. He was one of four friends I've ever had, and even though I never knew him like you did, I trusted him, too. I have a feeling you're a lot like me, Thalia. I bet you're angry and hurt, and that you feel betrayed. I bet you want to scream and break something and beat something up. So go ahead, I don't mind."

All the anger rushes out of her body at his words, leaving her feeling sad and weak and extremely overwhelmed. He's right, of course, not that Thalia would ever admit it.

Percy has Annabeth in his arms again, and the younger girl is crying harder than before. "You're telling the truth," Thalia says, half a question and half a statement. She remembers the tale of Damocles' Sword, where Damocles, a courtier of the King of Syracuse, was invited to Dionysius' palace for a banquet. The catch was that throughout the dinner, the King had a sword dangling by a single thread over Damocles' head. Thalia feels like she's Damocles, and the sword is the impending mess of emotions that would occur if Percy confirms her words.

He levels his gaze with hers. "I am," he affirms as he awkwardly rubs Annabeth's arm, trying to sooth her. "I'm sorry."

When the metaphorical Sword of Emotions drops, the apology doesn't anger her as it did before. There's one single, heavy moment, and then she starts crying, curling her body into an upright fetal sort of position, wrapping her arms around her legs and dropping her head down to her chest. Luke, she thinks, choking on a sob. Luke. She almost can't truly believe it, but she should have known all along. She remembers it all.

Luke snarled as they walked, his steps loud and angry as they resonated against the cement of the foreclosed warehouse they had bunkered down in for the night. He'd stolen a beer from a homeless man on 43rd, and chugged it down minutes before. He was drunk, Thalia quickly realized. Suddenly, he threw the empty bottle against the steel plated wall in front of him, and the amber glass shattered in thousands of little shards at his feet. "HEY, GODS!" he shouted, raising his arms up to the sky. "So this is just what happens to the mistakes, right?"

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the sky. Thalia pressed herself farther against the opposite wall, pleading with her father not to fry Luke. This was just Luke—irrational, reckless, impertinent, angry at everything and everyone for their screwed up lives.

He sat down abruptly, eyes still cast skyward. "So I guess we're all just collateral damage, eh? You get your nice little fling and satisfy yourselves, right? Then it's 'oh, whoopsies, I knocked up a mortal, too bad, so sad'. And then we're supposed to save your asses later, aren't we?"

He shoved the broken shards away from him, his movements jerky. When he sat back and curled his hands into fists in his lap, blood had already started to drip out of his wounds. "Fuck you, Hermes. You can all rot. I'm not helping any of you."

Thalia had tried to bandage the deeps slashes on his hands the next day, but he'd refused. "Don't worry about me, Thals," he'd said, his cerulean eyes apologetic, "I don't mind them. I deserve it, anyways." Only now did Thalia realize that he had liked the pain, liked the recklessness, liked the feeling of adrenaline. But she never gave up on him. Not until now, at least.

"I'm so sorry, Thalia," Annabeth cries out, her sobs coming out in a never ending crescendo against Percy's shoulder, getting louder and louder with each cry. "I'm so sorry. I tried to help him, Thals, I really did. But it didn't work."

I did too, Thalia wants to say, but the words die in the recesses of her throat as she thinks of the boy that smiled at her, his smile dangerous and wicked and mischievous, and how he kissed her that one night, covered in blood and monster ichor, spinning her around and cupping her face in his warm, over-large hands. The boy who was broken so many years ago, fueled and kept alive only by his hatred for the world and his need for vengeance. The boy so alone in his flashes of rage, the boy who was sweet and told her he loved her and that she was beautiful, and the next minute screamed at the sky in a fit of resentment.

Thalia keeps crying into her knees. Luke.

"I'm sorry, Thals," Annabeth repeats wretchedly. Thals. That was what Luke used to call her. The once affectionately-given nickname sends a stab of pain through her heart.

Luke, she thinks. Why did you do this to me?

/

Tell them I was happy
And my heart is broken
All my scars are open
Tell them what I hoped would be
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible

/

Eventually, the days pass easier. It takes a while before they let her out of the infirmary, several long days filled with sadness and staring up at grimy, water stained oak ceilings. Thalia was about ready to kill someone when they finally let her out; she wanted the fighting, the action, and the rush adrenaline that always came afterwards. She wanted the distraction of training, of learning, of killing monsters. Anything to distract her from his betrayal.

Percy and Annabeth were nice enough to befriend her. Well, she already knew that Annabeth would, but Percy—well, he was a wild card. Thalia had honestly expected him to tell her to take a hike after what happened, but he didn't even have any bad feelings towards her. With the help of ambrosia, his wounded cheek healed in less than a day. Sure, Thalia and him had their fights— they're both children of the Big Three, what would you expect?—but never anything really serious. Along with Annabeth, who added important information that he frequently missed, Percy was the one to show her around Camp, explain to her the rules as best as he could, and escort her to her Cabin. He was more kind than Thalia thought he ought to be, considering how she'd treated him that first day.

The thing about Percy was that the more time you spent around him, the more Thalia's initial, fully conscious survey of him was proved to be correct. It might have been nostalgia, or her wishing for her Luke back, but it was more than that. The more Thalia got to know him, the more he was like Luke.

There were some stark differences, of course: Luke, although deeply angry and bitter and probably even clinically depressed, always held himself to his full height, keeping his shoulders straight and proud. Luke always carried himself with a kind of confidence, like he knew he could beat anyone at anything, steal anything from anyone, be better than anyone. Percy had a habit of rounding his shoulders slightly, and when he wasn't talking to anyone, shrinking in on himself in some natural instinct to not be seen. Outside of the arena, Percy's movements were almost always awkward, unsure, and sometimes fumbling. He blushed a lot and had a habit of speaking in stunted sentences when Annabeth came within three feet of him. In comparison, every single one of Luke's movements, regardless of whether or not he was practicing or fighting, was sure and concise.

But the similarities were striking. Both had a troublemaker kind of smile; Percy's was sarcastic, the smile of a boy who often got detention for things he maybe didn't even do, and Luke's was more wicked, more confident, like he had pulled off the world's greatest prank and gotten away with it. The eyes were the worst, though: both vibrant colors, both mischievous. But the more Thalia got to know Percy, the more she saw Luke in the set of his eyes. It was often fleeting, mere starbursts, but it was there: the anger, both at the gods and the entire world, slowly building, slowly heightening. It was barely there, but it was happening.

Except for Percy and Annabeth, the kids at Camp avoid her for the most part. Thalia's plenty used to it, what with her mostly un-approachable demeanor and her punk clothes. But now she has the added benefit of being a dead-person-turned-tree-turned-person-again, which is bound to create a whisper trail.

The worst is the rumours. The kids in the classes, waiting behind her, or the ones around her as they sit at their assigned tables for dinner. Most of it is speculation, but there's a few nuggets of truth in it occasionally. The campers know her tale. They know she was friends with Luke and Annabeth, and that she travelled with them. Some of them, the older campers, must have seen the toil it took on the other two when she became one with the trees. But it's the Aphrodite cabin that really does it for her.

"I heard she dated Luke when they were on the run," one Aphrodite girl says to her friend as she tosses her (fake) blonde hair and readjusts the straps on her bejewelled armor. "It's, like, just so heartbreaking. I heard the first thing she said was 'Luke'."

No, Thalia thought firmly, trying her damnest to ignore the rest of the life-size Barbie's words. My first words were something along the lines of "who is this strange weirdo standing over me?"

Barbie's friend, a girl with wavy hair the color of milk chocolate, responds with, "yeah, it's just so tragic! I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with him a little bit, he's gorgeous." Of course, Thalia thinks darkly, muffling a humorless snort with her palm. Trust the Aphrodites to not be able to have a serious conversation without at least talking about a 'hot' guy. "Oh my gods, it's even better than Romeo and Juliet!I mean, he's evil now, it's such a tragic love story! I bet Mom loves this!"

From what Thalia remembers from English class, Romeo and Juliet were two duffers who killed themselves because they thought the other was dead. They're right, though, she realizes as she notches another arrow on the archery range. They're right.

The thing about Luke is that he was everything that an Aphrodite girl would love: blonde, fit, attractive, and a bit of a bad boy. Even on the day that Thalia had first met him, there was something about him, some kind of mysterious air. He had that stupid, crooked smile that he only ever really gave Annabeth and her: the right corner raised first, showing off a chipped incisor, and then the left, rising a little but not as far as the right. There was always something about that smile, though, something that pulled you in. Maybe it was the way his mouth curved, dangerous and razor sharp, or his eyes, fractured into bits of sky-colored glass under a thin veneer of happiness. Thalia guesses that it's true what her mother had told her: a bad boy has appeal, but a broken bad boy that's really good inside has even more appeal because he makes you want to fix him.

Just another thing she was right about, Thalia thinks miserably, her mother's words echoing around in her hear, ricocheting around in every single crevice. 'Be careful who you love, Thalia. Be careful, because you might end up like me.'

Her hand finds the chain of the locket that she keeps hidden around her neck and holds on. It had always been special to her because Luke gave it to her, but even more so because he'd actually bought it for her. It brought back only bittersweet memories now, and Thalia's only comfort is that she hasn't succumbed to drink and drugs. Sure, she's heartbroken, and yeah, she's definitely more than a little self-destructive, but she's not going to become her mother.

From then on, she makes a mental note to avoid the Aphrodites as much as she possibly can.

/

Falling out of love is hard
Falling for betrayal is worse
Broken trust and broken hearts
I know, I know

Thinking all you need is there
Building faith on love and words
Empty promises will wear
I know, I know

/

When Thalia had first seen him, she wanted to cry. His blonde hair was matted, and he was weak and pale, his skin bleached a pasty off-white color. Still, until then, despite the fact that he'd kidnapped Annabeth—Annabeth, who had held up the sky because Luke tricked her; bound and gagged Annabeth, whose throat Luke currently held a sword to—she'd held onto that stupid belief that there was a chance that she could have saved him. "Luke, let her go," she'd snarled at him, trying to keep her tears at bay.

"So good to see you again, Thalia," he'd said, smiling an unfamiliar smile. It was different, it was fake. It was angry; it was pained. When he'd looked at her, his eyes were unfocused and hardened into spheres of blue-tinted steel. This was not the sweet, caring Luke she used to know.

Thalia was always one to cover her emotions with harsh words and actions, so over the never-ending crescendo of he's gone, he's gone, my Luke's gone, she spat at the stranger standing in her ex-everything's body in front of her.

The General of Assholiness had the nerve to chuckle at her, but Thalia saw it: Luke's jaw hardened, and he'd looked away. He was uncomfortable, maybe even hurt to see her again.

Well too fucking bad, she'd thought, half-angry, half a kind of weary sadness. It's too late to feel bad now, Luke.

"So much for old friends," General Asshole had said. Thalia thought that he didn't know how right he was.

The next few moments passed in a blur. It was like all those poisonous thoughts were a thick, toxic water, and she was drowning in them, coughing, flailing, trying to get her head above water. But it must've had hands—because it just kept coming, flowing over her head, pulling her under, forcing the noxious sludge into her lungs and brain. She had to fight to stay in control of her own body.

"As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you." Not only was Luke evil, but he was gone. He was gone, washed away as if it was as easy as taking a bath. The only thing left was his hatred. The saddest thing was that he must've loved her, at least a little—until she died, his distaste for the gods was at least manageable, and it was kept at bay for a little while after by Annabeth. But soon enough, he turned to hate and destruction, and his love for Thalia turned into love for who his unstable mind thought Thalia was. Clear proof of this was when Percy had told her that Luke had told him that he'd tried to destroy Camp Half-Blood for her.

"I wasn't wrong," Luke had replied to the General, and in that moment, it was clear to Thalia that he still thought she would join him, still love him, still be the same. And gods, did a part of her ever want to, for it to be just like the old days where they were young and stupid and they were free. The truth was that that part of did still love him—the old him. But that isn't Luke, she had to remind herself, forcing her to get herself back into the game.

"Thalia, you can still join us." Luke's voice had been weak, every syllable sounding pained. "Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

It isn't him, Thalia had thought sadly, swallowing thickly against the tangled mess of emotions. It isn't him. He's gone. My Luke is gone.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," he had continued, a slight pleading note entering his deep voice. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

Then he'd looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time since she'd been reborn. His eyes, bitterness and anger embodied in cobalt blue orbs, gained a little more focus. He was different, she noticed, and not just in the way he acted, and carried himself: his face had lost all remaining traces of baby fat, and the angles of his face were now much sharper. He was taller, too—he had to be over six feet tall now—but all these things just strengthened her resolve.

"Luke… what happened to you?" She didn't mean to say the words that ended up flying up her trachea and out her mouth like vomit, but they came out anyways. Thalia's eyes had started to blur, and she blinked furiously against the tears, screwing her eyes up. Her voice had come out as a hoarse, pained rasp, her voice cracking on the end of 'you'. Out of the corner of her eyes, she had seen Percy looking at her with sympathy and concern. Out of all people, she knew that the ditzy, head-in-the-clouds Percy knew the truth about her and Luke.

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?" And she does remember it with an ache in her heart; every single time yell, every single scream, every single curse, every single time they were just two demigods roaming the streets, invincible against everything and laughing at the gods. Every single time it was just the two of them against the world, the two best friends and maybe more that had each other's backs no matter what. "Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

The daze had hurt her, choking her, slamming into her, blinding her. She wanted those memories to be real again, to be relived. Suddenly the silver locket that Luke gave her was painful against her breastbone, burning a brand into her skin. Thalia shook her head from side to side, trying to rid herself of all the pain and memories that stuck to her like tendrils of a spider's web. "Free Annabeth," she had responded tightly. "Let her go."

But Luke wouldn't stop. "If you join me," he told her, his blue eyes lightening as he looked down at her, an edge of a promise in his voice, "it can be just like old times. The three of us together, fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree…"

His voice had faltered, coming to a halt. "It's my last chance," he whispered brokenly, and his eyes were only for hers, burning straight into her soul. "He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

Thalia believed him, believed the fear and terror scraping his voice. She had no doubt that Kronos would hurt Luke, or resort to doing something terrible. He was a Titan lord, after all. The promise in his voice was seductive, pulling her in as gently as soft waves, lulling her into his lies. All I need is the Ophiotaurus, she had thought dreamily, her thoughts slow as honey. She had seen the creature in her mind then, swimming around, doing backflips in the water made of a light azure color. Stop thinking about it! Grover shouted in her mind, but he was white noise, nothing but a slight buzz in her brain. Stop it, Thalia, he's disappearing already!

Behind her, Zoe had yelled a warning as Luke waved his hand, making a sacrificial brazier appear in front of them. Off to her right, Percy had muttered, "Thalia, no."

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke had said, his vocal cords taut. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia."

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him, but saw his army out of the corner of her eyes, legions of monsters carving their way up the mountain.

"This is only a taste of what is to come." His voice had been as soft as a cat's purr. "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp-Half-Blood, and soon after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

She had wanted to help Luke, to fix him, to make him better again. For one, terrible moment, she had actually considered his offer. Luke, she had thought, her brain clouded and dizzy. And then: this isn't you.

She had bit the inside of her cheek hard enough that it would most definitely be hurting later, and the pain and the coppery taste that filled her mouth after was enough to break the surface of his lies. She had forced herself to glare at him, to channel all her heartbreak and pain and sadness into one look. "You aren't Luke," she had told him, feeling her eyes burn and her heart twist. "I don't know you anymore."

"Yes you do, Thalia," he had responded, pleading, his eyes wide and sad. But Thalia couldn't (wouldn't) listen. And when Percy gave the order to charge, she did so gladly, going straight for the boy who had broken her heart.

The Dracanae had fled at the sight of her shield. Despite looking a mess, Luke had still been quickly with his sword, snarling and counterattacking. He fought her, and she had fought back. She didn't think; she just did. Tears had been burning in her eyes again, and she was so upset that lightening had crackled around them. Her spear on his sword, they became blurs, blocking and parrying and slashing and whirling and ducking. It was no longer training, but pure instinct. Luke had been weak, and Thalia filled with anger and pain and adrenaline. Every time she had pushed him back with her shield, he growled and came back, but she could tell that he had been weakening even further.

"Yield!" she had shouted, and for a moment, she forgot about all her pain and heartbreak, and it was just the two of them, practicing in some back alley in the gutters of L.A. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He had bared his teeth at her in response, and as she parried his sword and pushed him back with an uppercut from her spear, she had remembered again. "We'll see, my old friend."

Old friend my ass, she had thought bitterly, sending a particularly forceful stab at his chest. It had caught his chest as he stumbled backwards to avoid it, leaving a thin line of blood across his skin. On one side of him was the golden sarcophagus that held the remains of Kronos, and behind him had been the edge of the cliff. When he had lunged at her, she had pushed him back with her shield, and his sword was knocked down to the earthen ground. Thalia, not even feeling a bit triumphant, had put her spear point to his throat.

His mouth moved, and he said something that Thalia couldn't hear. Could I really kill him? She had thought, feeling tears start rolling down her face.

"Don't kill him!" Annabeth had shouted, but Thalia was too far gone to care about Annabeth's feelings then.

"HE'S A TRAITOR!" Thalia had yelled back, her voice rising and sounding warped. "A TRAITOR!"

"We'll bring Luke back to Olympus," Annabeth had pleaded, her voice sounding desperate, "he'll be useful."

"Is that what you really want, Thalia?" It was Luke again, trying to smile at her. But it wasn't a smile, at least not the one she had been used to. That smile was so broken, so not-Luke that Thalia had felt her heart give a painful squeeze. "To get back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

No, she had thought sadly, looking into his unfamiliar eyes. I just want the old you back, Luke Castellan.

Then it had happened, so fast and so quick that it was pure instinct. Sensing her hesitation, Luke had made a desperate lunge for her spear, his features wild and frenzied. And… without thinking about it, without even realizing it, Thalia had kicked him away and off the side of the cliff.

"NO!" Annabeth had shouted, but her voice was lost in the hiss of the wind. "LUKE!"

Luke's broken form had been lying on the rocks below them, still and unmoving. Thalia had started crying then, really crying, the tears pouring down her face. Luke, she had thought wretchedly, unable to look at him any longer and turning her head to the side in guilt. Luke. She had been unmoving for a few moments, stiff as Luke was and silently crying.

I had loved you, she had thought as Percy pulled her away from the wall of javelins that were soaring towards her. But you changed, Luke, you changed. You're all empty promises, Luke, and breaking trust. But my trust wasn't the only thing you broke.

Later that night in the Council Room on Olympus, Artemis asks Thalia to be her new lieutenant. Thalia says yes, thinking of the boy with the angry blue eyes and the broken smile.

Family, Luke,she thinks bitterly as she opens her mouth to give the oath. You promised.

/

And now when all is gone
There is nothing to say
And if you're done with embarrassing me
On your own you can go ahead tell them

Tell them all I know now
Tell them I was happy
And my heart is broken
All my scars are open
Tell them what I hoped would be
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible!
Ooh impossible

/

Being a Hunter takes a little bit to get used to. They're a family, all of them, and with them Thalia really feels at home, like those runaway days with Luke and Annabeth. It's different, and she hasn't decided if it's better yet.

As each Hunter has given themselves to a life of eternal maidenhood, they don't do much girl talk, especially since most of them hate the male gender with a fiery passion. But about seven months into being Artemis' lieutenant, under the influence of maybe a little too much sugar, it's unanimously decided that they were to talk about how crappy their ex-boyfriends were (Phoebe, her second in command, tells her that this is what always happens when Hunters get high on sugar).

"Mine broke it off for the town harlot," a daughter of Demeter, Clara, says. She's one of the oldest in the group, about seventeen, but Thalia's noticed that she must be from the early 1900s from her speech. "We were engaged to be married. A month after he left me, he came crawlin' back, sayin' I was his 'only woman',"—she uses air quotes— "so I threw the ring at him and told him to go back to his whore."

Thalia feels the anger rising up in her, boiling steadily to a near dangerous temperature. The painful memories of Luke are still fresh. You know nothing about asshole exes, she wants to scream at the flaxen-haired girl. Nothing. But she stays quiet as the Hunters form a "sharing circle".

Cassie, a fifteen year old and their only mortal, says, "my ex tried to get me to have sex with him. When I didn't, he told everyone I did instead."

Thalia wants to laugh and scream at the same time. All around her, her fellow Hunters mold their faces into looks of sympathy as they mutter reassurances at the curvy brunette and pat her on the arm. You know nothing, she thinks again, setting her jaw. She tries to stay focused, but all she can see in her mind's eye is Percy when he told her that Luke had given his body to Kronos to use as a vessel, as sharp and clear as if it was yesterday. "I'm sorry, Thalia. Annabeth didn't want to believe it either—Hades, I didn't want to believe it—but he's gone. I'm sorry, but he's gone. I don't know, Thals, he might still be in there somewhere deep down, but when he opened his eyes… they were gold."

Other girls around her gossip about their exes. It's mostly the same things: he told me I was worthless, he told me I was stupid, he cheated on me, he spread rumors about me, he used me for sex, blah blah blah. Thalia wants to scream, to bang her head against a wall. MY EX IS KRONO'S FUCKING SERVANT! Sure, all those things were terrible, but nothing compared to him.

A nymph named Amaryllis tells everyone how her mortal boyfriend used to hit her. Thalia smiles at the girl in sympathy and squeezes her around the waist in an awkward side hug, feeling a twinge of pain for the younger girl, but there's a bitter taste in her mouth like old pennies. She's closer than ever to her breaking point.

Finally, it's one from her turn. Phoebe, on her right, tells everyone that she caught her boyfriend in bed with her best friend, who (wait for it) was also a guy. A lot of Hunters either sent her looks of sympathy or had to smirk behind their hands and turn their laughs into coughs.

"What about you, Thalia?" the youngest of them all, an eleven year old daughter of Apollo named Krista asks innocently, her hazel eyes wide and naïve. "Did one of your ex-boyfriends do something bad to you?"

She snaps, her words coming out in a tangled tumble. "My ex-boyfriend was a guy named Luke," she starts, and all the Hunters lean closer, their eyes wide and eager for the story. This is the kind of thing they lap up: stories about how bad mankind is. "When I was eleven, I ran away from home. My mom was always drunk, doing stupid stuff and getting herself in the tabloids. About a year after I ran away, I ran into Luke in the outskirts of Los Angeles, outside of a dragon's cave. He said, 'you look like you could use a hand,' and I said 'I can take care of myself fine, asshole.'"

The girls smirk at each other, but Thalia doesn't pause. "He apologized and we quickly became friends—best friends, even. He was fourteen, a son of Hermes. He was sweet and funny and really nice to me, and he was a really good fighter. Together, it was just the two of us against the world."

The Hunters are exchanging uneasy glances now, their eyes flicking furtively to the sky as if they're waiting to be smited down by Artemis. Thalia's taking about her and Luke's full story, not just the bad part(s). This isn't what they're used to. "A year later we met another demigod, named Annabeth. She was seven, a daughter of Athena, and wearing footie pajamas and hiding in an alley with only a mortal hammer to defend herself," she smiles at the memory, her mouth quirking up a bit. Around her, some of the Hunters smile too at the mention of the adorable little girl. "Some of you may have met her last year at the Westover Hall.

"Togetherthe three of us were a makeshift family, just three homeless, misfit demigods that depended one each other and had each other's backs. A few months later, we were being led to Camp-Half-Blood by a satyr. Because I was a child of Zeus, Hades sent all of his nasties after me. There were hordes of them; hellhounds, dracanae, you name it. Even all three Furies. On Half-Blood Hill, we were about to be overrun by them. So I told Luke and Annabeth to keep going, and I kept fighting. But there were too many of them, and as I died, my father turned my into a pine tree." Thalia hears the sharp intakes of breath around her, but doesn't dare to look up. "Five years later, with the help of the Golden Fleece—long story—I came back to life. I found out that I'd been poisoned, and after another little while, that Luke did it."

Everyone looks up at her now, and Thalia can feel their glances on her, boring into her skull like tiny little laser beams. They must pity me, she thinks bitterly. Well, I don't want their fucking pity. "When I woke up after being a tree for five years because I'd sacrificed myself to save my friends, he wasn't there," she whispers, and she can feel her throat closing, constricting against the rest of her words. She blinks, once, twice, three times, and continues. "You may now know him as Luke Castellan, the servant to Kronos, his right-hand man. Because that's that what he is now: not my—not the Luke I used to know, but Kronos' man, the one who helped trap Artemis under the sky. Luke's body is now Kronos' vessel, and he's the one who's promised to destroy Olympus."

She pauses, and all the Hunters are suddenly on her, hugging her, stroking her hair, squeezing her hand, rubbing her back. She pushes them all back as gently as she can and stares at the earth beneath her.

"He promised me forever," she whispers, and this time her voice cracks pathetically halfway through. Shaking off the outstretched arms of the girls who she now considers sisters, she runs off into the night, tears streaming down her face. When she sits down, sniffling and winded at what must be miles away from the Hunters' campsite, she feels a presence at her shoulder.

"Being a Hunter does not mean that you have to forget your past life," the goddess Artemis says softly from behind her. "You are only human, my lieutenant. What the son of Hermes did to you is something you may never forget, or will never fully stop hurting."

The moon goddess kneels beside her, placing an arm around her waist in a comforting hug that Thalia leans into greedily. When Thalia looks at her to say 'thank you', Artemis' silver eyes are bottomlessly sad.

"It is my brother who is the god of prophecy," Lady Artemis says, "but this will come to an end soon, Thalia Grace. I know it."

And for the first time since joining the Hunt, Thalia doubts the moon goddess.

/

I remember years ago
Someone told me I should take
Caution when it comes to love
I did

Tell them all I know now
Shout it from the roof tops
Write it on the sky line
All we had is gone now

/

Thalia thought the Battle of Manhattan would be a hell of a lot easier on her, but it isn't. Artemis has given them the order to help defend Olympus, so of course she shows up, although every step towards the city feels like another painful mile. When she finally sees Percy and Annabeth again, she almost smiles. Almost. She doesn't think she'll be able to smile at all, though, so that's at least something. Of course, she still says the obligatory "How 'bout you leave that to us?" and at Annabeth's relieved exclamation, the sarcastic, "Hunters of Artemis, reporting for duty," but it still hurts a little.

It is good to see the two. Percy looks different, more focused, more determined. He's actually managed to be taller than Annabeth, too—a feat Thalia wasn't sure was possible. He smiles when he looks at her, and for a brief moment she sees the bitterness in his eyes before it fades into relief and happiness. After being squeezed into a hug by an excited and utterly relieved Annabeth, Thalia strolls over to her cousin, saying, "I see you're still an idiot, Jackson."

"I see you're still a Hunter, Pinecone Face," he returns instantly, and Thalia gives him a quick hug, standing on tiptoe (she hates the fact that she's eternally 5'6'') and wrapping her arms around his midsection, briefly letting her chin reside on his shoulder. She smirks at the way he hugs her—carefully, his hands looped around her waist and resting hesitantly between her shoulder blades, as if he was waiting for Artemis to smite him down—before ruffling his perpetually messy hair and pulling away, giving him the cockiest smirk she can muster.

"Where've you been the last year?" he asks, unconsciously tapping his finger against his pocket, where Thalia knew Riptide was kept. "You've got like twice as many Hunters!"

She tries not to think of Luke—no, Kronos, she has to sadly remind herself), as she musters up her response. Years of lying and pretending her life is perfectly fine has given her splendid acting abilities in this field. "Long, long story," she retorts, laughing a laugh that sounds completely fabricated as she gives him a teasing, arrogant look. "I bet my adventures were more dangerous than yours, Jackson."

"Complete lie," he rebuts instantaneously, giving her an incredulous look. There's something in Percy's words that remind her of him, and Thalia has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself in the present.

"We'll see," she forces out, trying to keep her voice as casual and teasing as possible as she suggests that he, Annabeth and her go out for cheeseburgers when (she almost said 'if' instead) the battle was won. He accepts easily.

"And Thalia," he adds, looking her in the eyes. In that moment, she's sure that he knows about what happened (or rather, what never did happen) between her and Luke, and somehow has an inkling about how much emotional pain Thalia's in, "thanks."

Her eyes well up with tears, and in order to keep Percy and the rest of the campers from seeing them, she looks down and shrugs. "Those monsters won't know what hit them," she grits out, setting her jaw. If there was one thing Thalia could do right, it was kill monsters. She slaps her bracelet, making Aegis open, and shouts, "Hunters, move out!"

The mass of silver-clothed girls reach the Lincoln Tunnel in no time, and they wait in hiding for a few minutes, concealed in nearby foliage with their bows drawn and at the ready. Those few moments are the worst for Thalia, because it's just her and her poisonous thoughts. This is all because of Luke, she thinks miserably, those torturous words repeating in her head in a steady, toxic mantra. This is all because of Luke, this is all because of my best friend. This is all his fault. Why didn't I stop it? Why didn't I see it before?

It takes forever but finally the monsters arrive in hoards, and when Thalia gives the signal for battle, the Hunters give a horrible, echoing war cry as they all set into the monsters with a ferocity she's never seen before. Phoebe, Thalia's second, gives her a small smile as she takes down two Scythian Dracanae at once.

It is at that moment that she knows that they're doing this for her—all of the Hunters have formed an unspoken pact to end this, to put a stop to this for Thalia. Beneath the despair, there's a small flame that gives her slight relief from the sudden cold inside her. These girls are her family, her friends, her siblings. And right now—to cheesily quote the Three Musketeers—it's one for all and all for one.

This realization brings the remembrance of a long forgotten memory: Halcyon Green and his prophecy for her future. She's remembered those words for a long time—they had been seared into her brain, in fact—but time had faded this memory. Someday soon, you will sacrifice yourself to save your friends. I see things that are… hard to describe. Years of solitude. You will stand tall and still, alive but sleeping. You will change once, then change again. Your path will be sad and lonely. But someday you will find your family again.

And to Luke, he'd said, Fire, I saw fire. Hard to be sure. Luke, I also saw a sacrifice in your future. A choice, but also a betrayal. His path is hard to see, but if he survives today, he will betray—

Thalia had grabbed the keyboard from Halcyon before he could finish, but she's certain that he'd meant to finish with 'you'. Once upon a time, Thalia had thought that the old man was crazy. Now she realized the truth in the Seer's words: she had found her family again, and it was the Hunters he'd been talking about. And with Luke, Halcyon had been talking about Kronos. She can't be sure, but she was pretty sure the sacrifice had something to do with her and Annabeth.

She can't think about it anymore, so she throws herself into the fight, drawing her silver hunting knifes and slashing at the hordes of monsters, not caring about how long it takes, just that they all die. She doesn't care how badly she gets hurt—she only cares about how many of the damned things she takes out. Sweat pours down her back as she fights, and blood stains the silvery material of her clothes. But still she fights, fights for Luke and what he did to her, and keeps fighting on a rush of adrenaline that will surely leave her dead on her feet later. She fights in a whirlwind—she herself isn't really sure what's going on half the time—until it's all a blur, slashing and stabbing and parrying and ducking until all the monsters are gone.

Then she and her remaining Hunters (sadly, they lose a fair amount of them) go back to the Plaza Hotel and rest, but Thalia doesn't stop. She sees to an injured Annabeth, and then goes with Percy to see Prometheus. She doesn't ever stop fighting, because she knows that if she does, she'll fall apart. So she fights, and she fights some more, leaving Phoebe to lead the Hunters while she helps Percy, a recuperated Annabeth, and Grover get to Olympus. And she keeps on until that stupid Hera statue falls on her, at which point she goes unconscious because of the pain (but on the bright side, she doesn't have any time to think about him).

As she flits in and out of consciousness, sometimes dreaming, sometimes hallucinating, sometimes conscious, she hears the world around her: shouts; evil, cold-sounding laughter; the sharp snicking sound and metallic clangs of weapons fighting against each other. She isn't quite sure how long it's been—time sort of melts together in her brain—and she can't quite focus on anything except for the pain that's burning up her leg in licks of red-hot flames.

Around the fifth time she regains awareness, she's being helped out from under the statue by a few Cyclopes. At first she's alarmed, but then she looks at the Cyclops gently maneuvering her legs out and recognizes him from photos—Tyson, Percy's half-brother.

"Hello, Thalia," he says solemnly, but there's a grin stretching his face from ear to ear. His one eye is alight with pure joy. "You are Percy's friend. I have heard about you. Hunter of Artemis."

She grits her teeth and nods. Percy's brother, if possible, smiles even wider as he cautiously slides a makeshift stretcher underneath her. "I would hug you," he tells her as he readjusts her slightly, gripping the ends of the stretcher with both hands before cautiously handing her to two waiting Cyclopes, "but you are hurt."

She somehow manages to laugh as she's carried towards the central part of Olympus, a sort of choked sound that bubbles up her throat and sounds a little like a sob. Tyson must have noticed it, because he looks down at her with something like concern and befuddlement at the same time. "We have won," he says. "Be happy, Thalia! I cannot tell you more. Brother told me he would explain, but he says that something happened that would make you happy."

Now it's Thalia's turn to be puzzled. What could possibly make me happy? She wonders as they walk into the door of what she now realizes used to be the Throne Room. He's obviously dead. How is that supposed to make me happy?

Percy is the first to spot her. He nudges a grimy Annabeth in the ribs, who turns to see her. The girl looks absolutely dejected, but she still manages to give Thalia a bittersweet smile as she runs up to her stretcher, Percy hot on her heels.

"Thalia!" the younger girl cries out, her voice only slightly louder than a breathy call. She jogs alongside the stretcher, cradling her seemingly-injured left arm close to her chest. "Are you okay?"

All the things to ask me, and she asks if I'm okay. Thalia almost manages a smile. "'M fine, Annie," she grits out. "You?"

Annabeth knows what Thalia's really asking, and Thalia's worry only skyrockets when Annabeth bites her lip and looks down, tears forming in her eyes. She looks like she's about to faint, Thalia realized, her heart beating faster. What happened?

Percy wraps one arm around Annabeth's waist to comfort her, careful to avoid her injured arm, and places his other hand on Thalia's shoulder gently as he gave her a reassuring smile that made a gash on his mouth reopen. "I'll fill you in after you get fixed up, okay, Pinecone Face?" he asks, looking down at her worriedly with sad, angry eyes.

Thalia nods, about the only thing she can do with all her emotions clogging her throat and making it once again impossible to speak as the pair jog off to their previous positions. She swallows once and determinately stays still as the two Cyclopes carrying her gently place her down into what must be the makeshift 'field hospital', and a nymph starts to examine her with cool, clinical fingers. Then suddenly Thalia turns her head to the left, and lets out an audible gasp.

A few feet away from Percy and Annabeth is a body being wrapped in a green and white shroud made of what must be the finest silk. She can't completely tell who it is—the body's pretty much covered already—but she knows the person's tall and, well, given the circumstances, probably him. Her suspicions are confirmed only a second later when one of the Fates wrapping his body readjusts the shroud around the body's face, and Thalia glimpses a piece of familiar-looking blonde hair.

She freezes. Of course, she knew there was a pretty good chance that Luke would be dead, but seeing it in person… it hurts more than she thought it would. Thalia lets out a sort of strangled noise, and as the nurse gently turns her legs to see if they're broken, tears form in her eyes.

"Shh," the nymph soothes her, obviously taking the noise and her tears for physical pain instead of emotional pain, "it's okay."

No, it's not, Thalia wants to scream at her, but once again, she can't speak. She doesn't even feel like she could breathe against her rapidly constricting chest and trachea, for that matter, but it somehow happens in short, painful gasps of air. She snaps her head to the right, unable to see anymore.

"Wait," a voice suddenly calls out, infused with utter despair and a kind of power that only the gods carried. Despite her better knowledge, Thalia turns her head back to see who the owner of the voice is.

The god is familiar and not familiar at the same time. His eyebrows, slightly upturned at the ends, are furrowed together. His mischievous blue eyes are red-rimmed with pain and his eyes are full of despair. His usually salt-and-pepper hair is more grey than anything else and slightly over-grown, and his laugh lines looking more like wrinkles that anything else. His gait, usually springy and bubbling with energy, is lethargic, his feet barely leaving the floor as he shuffles forward. His shoulders are downturned, stiff with pain and guilt and despair, and he's leaning heavily on his caduceus. It's Hermes, god of roads, thieves, travelers, and messengers.

The god limps over to the shroud with faltering steps. The Fates—who Thalia now noticed had picked up Luke's body themselves, and were about to carry it out of the Throne Room—stop short and look up at the god, who freezes for a one tense moment, before stiffly bending at the waist and unwrapping the shrouded body's face with uncharacteristically trembling fingers. The god stops, his mouth falling open in a small o, and swallows once before bending down further and pressing a kiss to Luke's forehead. His mouth moves, and Thalia can see he's saying something, but she can't tell what. She then watches as Hermes slowly straightens up, rewraps Luke's head in the burial shroud, and nods at the Fates to take him away.

Her heart pounding in her chest and her eyes burning with tears, she turns her head to the side and only half-listens to her surroundings as the gods set about repairing their respective thrones, bustling about and idly chatting. Once the nymph is done and Thalia's (now officially deemed broken) legs are being supported by crutches, Percy and Annabeth finally shake off Hephaestus and amble over to Thalia.

Percy sits criss-cross-apple-sauce across from her, Annabeth quickly following suit. He gives her a sad sort of smile as he speaks. "After you got taken out by that statue," he starts, exchanging an anxious, worried kind of glance with Annabeth, "Grover, Annabeth and I made out way to the Throne Room. The only people there were Lu—I mean Kronos— and Ethan Nakamura, a son of Nemesis. We talked for a while, fought a little. Nothing we did was working. Kronos tried to get Ethan to kill me. I talked Ethan out of it, and it backfired. Ethan died, his last wish being that the minor gods had thrones on Olympus, and Kronos came after us, even angrier than before.

"Kronos hurt Annabeth. By ourselves, we would never have been able to stop him, because he could slow time and stuff. But then, Annabeth remembered the Prophecy."

Percy took a breath, staring down at his fiddling hands. "You know how the Great Prophecy went, right? 'A half-blood of the eldest gods/ shall reach sixteen against all odds/And see the world in endless sleep/The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap/A single choice shall end his days/Olympus to preserve or raze'? Yeah. Annabeth figured it out. Her knife—the one Luke gave her when you three met all those years ago—was the cursed blade. Although I was the 'half-blood of the eldest gods', I wasn't the hero of the Prophecy," Percy paused and took a deep breath, like he was about to give Thalia really bad news. "Luke was."

Thalia's mouth opens in a soundless gasp, but Percy plows on. "After Luke had hurt Annabeth, she got right back up, and somehow caught his sword with her dagger. She figured it out, what all of it meant. And somewhere inside Kronos, Luke heard her, and he started fighting back. When Annabeth said something about Luke's mom seeing his fate, he said, "service to Kronos, that it my fate!" My. He said 'my'.

"But Kronos was also fighting back for control. He pushed Annabeth again, and she fell. I was already injured at that point, and I couldn't… I couldn't get up and help. But then Annabeth said, 'Family, Luke, you promised,' and then all the sudden, Luke was in power again."

Percy gives Thalia another of his sad smiles, but this one has a little happy in it, just peeking through. "Kronos was already changing, leaving Luke's body and getting his old, fully Titan body back. But when Annabeth said that, he just gasped and staggered. 'Promise,' he repeated, and then, after a little while, we gave him Annabeth's dagger and he—he stabbed himself."

Thalia's not sure if she should be happy or sad or both. She can't even really believe her own ears—Luke turned good again? He saved the world (literally)?

Percy leans over, and with one hand awkwardly around Annabeth's waist, he places his other hand gently on Thalia's knee, careful not to hurt her already injured leg. "After, he said, 'Good blade,' he said. He told us that he'd try for Elysium; three times, for the Isles of the Blest. As he died, his last words were last words were, 'Ethan, me, all the unclaimed… don't let it happen again.'"

Thalia starts crying, her hands covering her mouth. She feels Percy envelope her in his arms, and Annabeth circle the two of them a short moment later, but suddenly she's just crying crying crying,tears flowing down her face in broken, stuttering hiccoughs. She doesn't know if she's happy or sad that Luke had finally done the right thing, or if the floodgates have just opened and all her emotions are just pouring out, but she's still crying.

The Fates are cruel, she thinks bitterly. He didn't deserve it. Luke didn't deserve it. And he didn't—not really, anyways. Because the Fates were cruel, the world was cruel, and the egotistical, every-celestial-being-for-themselves gods were even crueler. But I guess all we had was already gone, anyways.

Eventually she stops crying, and eventually, the three pull apart as the meeting adjourns. Thalia pulls herself together for the Council meeting, forcing herself to stay in the present. She watches as Zeus thanks Hades (a first, she's sure, and not just because of how pained her father looks when he says those words) and Poseidon (again, in which he looks like he's drinking straight lemon juice—not that she would know what that looks like), before turning his godly attention to the others. She watches as he grants Tyson, the newly-appointed general of the Cyclops Army, a new 'stick', and as Dionysius appoints Grover a Lord of The Wild (at which Grover promptly passed out due to pure excitement). She smiles and grins at Annabeth as Athena appoints her the Architect of Olympus—something Thalia knows Annabeth has only dreamed of her entire life—and chuckles quietly at what must be the only time she's ever seen the younger girl utterly speechless.

She watches with apprehensive and cautious eyes as the gods offer Percy immortality, as his face molds into a dumfounded expression and Annabeth's into a sad and anxious one (Thalia sighs then—could it be any more blatantly obvious that the two are completely in love with each other? She thinks to herself derisively, shaking her head slightly in dry amusement). She watches as Percy looks over to her, his eyes searching her face until he looks away and—get this—apprehension dawns on his face, and he tells Zeus thanks but no thanks. She watches as Annabeth's face glows (literally glows) at him, and she can't help but feel a little sad again.

That could be me, she thinks sullenly, swallowing convulsively and looking away for a second. That could have been me and Luke. But she still forces herself into the present, giving Annabeth a sly wink before focusing in on Percy's alternate demands for his gift. She's happy for them, she really is. The two deserve it, after all.

"From now on, I want you to properly recognize all the children of all the gods," he's saying, his voice starting out unsure but getting more and more confident with each passing second. When the gods all look uncomfortable and Poseidon asks Percy for further clarification, Percy continues.

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents." Thalia feels the edge of accusation in Percy's voice, whether he hears it himself or not. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason."

Zeus' nostrils flare as he spits out, "you dare accuse—"

"No more undetermined children," Percy interrupts, cutting the God of the Sky off as if it was nothing. The boy's green eyes as hard as sea glass itself. "I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right and survive."

Thirteen, Thalia thinks with an uneasy sort of jolt in her stomach. That's when I was turned into a tree.

But she's happy—she's actually so happy she'd probably get up and hug the living daylights out of Percy if her damn legs worked properly—and incredibly proud of Percy. She listens as he states the other terms of his gift: all minor gods (and 'peaceful Titan-kind' too) deserve a general amnesty and a cabin for their children at Camp-Half-Blood. Hades' brood should be allowed a Cabin at Camp Half-Blood. No more pact of the Big Three, because it 'didn't work out anyways' (the latter part which he states with a kind of smirk directed at Thalia). She waits for a moment, watching as the gods mull this over, and (surprisingly) unanimously vote in favour of it. She watches as Percy grins, a wide, childishly endearing thing that Thalia's not completely sure he's even aware of, and glances back at Thalia and Annabeth each with a look of joy.

Thalia's beyond proud of him. She knows—and she's pretty dammed sure that he has an idea about it, too—that that was one of the reasons Luke was turned against the gods: he didn't feel as if anyone cared about him, or loved him. Before she can stop herself, she thinks, but I loved you, Luke. Instantly, she regrets it.

As Percy and Annabeth leave, Poseidon calls an honour guard for Percy, and Tyson, leading it, shouts, "All hail Perseus Jackson: Hero of Olympus… and my big brother!"

She makes that odd half-sob, half-laugh sound again.

Later, when she drops in at Camp to say an official 'Happy Birthday and thanks for saving the world, idiot' to Percy, she finds him sitting on the beach, holding hands with Annabeth. When she gets closer, limping on her crutches, she yells a teasing, "Percy and Annabeth, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

The pair whirl around, blushes forming on their cheeks like splattered tomatoes. Percy gives her an embarrassed smile and Annabeth looks up at her sheepishly until Thalia tells them that it's okay, and that just because she's a Hunter doesn't mean that she can't be happy for her two best friends. She chats a while, her mood becoming increasingly bittersweet as she watches the two blush when they look at each other. Eventually, Annabeth leaves to do some sort of counsellor-ish duties, and Thalia and Percy are left alone.

There's a moment of silence, and then, "is this the part where you tell me that if I hurt Annabeth, you'll hurt me?" Percy asks, half-amused, half-nervous as his eyes flicker to hers and then back down to the ground.

Thalia snorts. "No," she answers succinctly, "but I will hurt you if you hurt her, mind. Although she's perfectly capable of making sure you never ever walk again herself."

Percy looks intimidated. She takes this moment to study him. She's heard that he's got the Curse of Achilles now, but he doesn't look that much different. She looks at his eyes, and then—yep, it's there again: those eyes, hardened, bitter, angry at the gods and lonely. The way Luke's eyes looked before.

Thalia tries to think about what exactly to say. "Look, Kelp Head, just…" she trails off, her trachea closing. She clears her throat thrice before trying again. "Look, Perce, just don't… don't become him, okay?"

Percy's face changes into a look of sympathy and concern as he scoots over to hug her. "I won't, Thals," he promises, his voice low, "because I have you and Annabeth to keep me grounded."

Thalia smiles, warmed at his kind words and assured for the moment that he's telling the truth. With a goodbye and one final hug, she hobbles away on her crutches, leaving for the Zeus Cabin.

It's still the same: slightly musky from disuse and filled with Hippy Zeus statues. Her little alcove, hidden away by a moved bronze brazier, and her backpack and sleeping roll all still reside in it.

Thalia sighs, and with a sinking feeling, examines the pictures: the photo booth roll, one of the only ones she's actually in; the campfire, where Luke's mid-laugh, his mouth open wide, and Annabeth's giggling, staring up at him with adoration; and Luke excitedly pointing to an alley that had turned out to house a hydra. There's one more, one that's already lost the stickiness of its tape and fallen to the floor: Luke, smiling at the camera, his eyes happy and mischievous and carefree. The picture, Thalia figures, must have been taken in what is deemed 'the good old days'.

Thalia knows he's dead, gone. She feels it in an ache inside her very bones, pressing into her skull from all directions, clenching her stomach and tying it into knots. She knows. And all of it really, really sucks.

She purses her lips, a single tear fighting its way down her face. "You thought no one loved you, Luke," she whispers to the empty cabin, her voice echoing around the walls hollowly. Impulsively, she bends her head down and briefly touches her lips to the picture of Luke. Its surface is cool and alien against her mouth.

With another sigh, she unclasps the locket he gave her from around her neck and shakily drops it into the unused backpack. She feels the small weight of the pendant missing as if it was a limb as she gets up and takes a final look around the cabin, hesitating in the doorway.

"But I did," she whispers bitterly, turning away from her old cabin and not looking back.

/

Tell them I was happy
And my heart is broken
All my scars are open
Tell them what I hoped would be
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible
Impossible, impossible

/

They say only time heals emotional wounds, but when they say 'time', Thalia learns that they mean a lot of it.

Her life slowly sinks into a familiar rhythm as she reaquants herself with the world fully. She Hunts—actually, she wholeheartedly throws herself into the Hunt, killing monsters, helping demigods when she can, and killing even more monsters. Her fellow Huntresses evolve into a makeshift, slightly screwed-up second family.

A few months after the Second Titan War, she goes to that restaurant with Percy and Annabeth, and they trade stories over three dollar cheeseburgers. Her and Percy have sort of fallen into a pattern where they're both trying to one up each other. When she tells him that she killed the Chimaera the week before, he tells her that he killed a Colchis Bull when he was thirteen. She fires back that she singlehandedly took down three griffins without breaking a sweat, and he retorts that he killed the Minotaur. Twice. And it continues until Annabeth, half-amused and half-exasperated, points out that it's closing time.

The kid grows into the role of an annoying brother to Thalia. Sure, she loves him, but she kind of wants to strangle him and fry him to ashes half the time.

Things change for the worst again. Olympus closes four months after the end of the War, and Artemis is called back. When Percy mysteriously disappears a few weeks later, Thalia is the first one that Annabeth calls. The young girl was crying, panicked, flustered, and distraught. Thalia comforts her, and with the blessing of Artemis (who, apparently, is not following the no-communications-with-mortals rule), she and her fellow Hunters set out to find the annoying son of Poseidon. Thalia refuses to lose yet another male figure in her life slip away, especially after Luke.

On the trail of Lycaon, she stumbles across Jason, who is apparently alive and as she later figures out, Roman, and two other demigods and a satyr. She doesn't believe it at first—don't get her wrong, she's plenty happy to have her long-lost brother back—because it's so farfetched, but it really is him, staple scar included. The two demigods with him, (surprisingly) a daughter of Aphrodite (and as far as she can tell, a love interest of Jason's) named Piper and an annoying son of Hephaestus named Leo, leave shortly after to finish on their quest, but she manages to catch up a little. The three of them get Hera, the Loose Cannon, back from her Mother Earth designed prison, and the Second Giant War begins (Thalia's starting to sense a pattern about all these Ancient Wars reinventing themselves, and she doesn't really like it).

Annabeth finds Percy at the Roman Camp, and Thalia is told that they're all on a quest: Annabeth, Percy, Jason, Piper (now dating Jason), Leo, and two other Roman demigods named Hazel and Frank. She tries to help them any way she can, but it's kind of hard to when she's halfway around the world from them.

Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus about a month before the anniversary of the Battle of Manhattan. She worries about them constantly, and during that time, all thoughts of Luke are put on the backburner.

When the Giant War is finally over (and Annabeth and Percy are both alive and well, rescued from Tartarus), Artemis gives Thalia the day of The Anniversary off. She rushes to Camp-Half Blood, greeting the pair enthusiastically but gently as to not break any more of their bones, and along with the rest of the Seven and Nico, who tagged along, chatted about past quests and other demigod stuff.

As they talk, she notices how the pair have changed—not sharply, not too noticeably, but in the way they carried themselves, like the world had beaten them down and they were only barely keeping themselves from being crushed (which, in retrospect, is a pretty accurate description). And Percy's eyes are worse, darker and angrier than ever before. In the back of her head, Thalia blames the gods, and she knows Percy does too. He's falling into what she calls 'The Luke Trap' even more than before now.

Annabeth leaves to go distract herself with plans for Olympus and repairs for the remnants of Camp Half-Blood after the battle with the Romans. After a half hour of exchanging fond and amusing tales passes, Percy remembers his mother and rushes to find Annabeth so they (along with the Seven and Nico) can visit Sally. The group disbands one by one, saying goodbye to Thalia distractedly. She noogies Nico, pulls Jason into a hug, accepts hugs from Annabeth, Piper (who Thalia quite likes and heartily approves of) and the Roman daughter of Pluto named Hazel (who Thalia finds to be a really sweet girl), and accepts handshakes from the Roman son of Mars Frank (awkward, a bit like Percy) and Leo (who's still annoying).

Before Percy and the rest leave, Thalia pulls him aside, biting her lip nervously. After a moment's hesitation, her looking at the ground and Percy looking down at her in concern, she pulls him into a tight hug, burying her face into the material of his thin t-shirt. As he returns the hug, she croaks out, "Remember what I said, Percy. Don't—don't become him, alright?"

When Percy pulls away, he gives her a sad, tired sort of smile as he places his hands on her shoulders. "I won't," he vows, his lips tweaking into a bittersweet kind of smile, "I promise."

He keeps his promise, and life continues. Thalia Hunts. Percy and Annabeth pick up the pieces and rebuild their life. As the years pass, she watches them get better. Annabeth starts to laugh more, and Percy's eyes lose most of their bitterness. She watches as they get engaged (actually, she's the one that helps Clarisse throw them into the canoe lake, which she's assured is 'camp tradition'. Thalia even manages to convince Artemis to let her be Annabeth's bridesmaid (something she's sure must be a first) at her Percy and Annabeth's wedding.

Thalia watches as the pair and the rest of her misfit friends get older and build lives for each other. Changes occur. People become different.

But every year, on Percy's birthday and the anniversary of Luke's death, Thalia asks for the day off from the Hunt and goes to Camp Half-Blood, sitting down at the lake and twirling her old locket in her hands. And every year Percy finds her there, and he sits there with her, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. About halfway through, Annabeth will come and sit on Thalia's other side, and the three will talk and chat and laugh, easing the pain inside Thalia's chest.

Slowly, she begins to forgive Luke. The pain fades, but never disappears. She never forgets.

And so life goes on.

/

I remember years ago
Someone told me I should take
Caution when it comes to love
I did...

/

Deep down in the Underworld is a man with dirty blond hair and shockingly blue eyes. He's a loner, for the most part; the other ghosts largely ignore him, as all he ever really does is sit down on a rock and examine a puddle of plain water in front of him. He wears a clean white t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a pair of navy skater shoes. When he turns to the left, there is a scar on the side of his face. He is a son of Hermes, and a Hero of Olympus. He is twenty-one years old, and his name is Luke Castellan.

Most of the ghosts make fun of him and mock him. In the Underworld, not many know of his story, or how he died. They think he's stupid for staring at the puddle, or possibly even extremely vain. But Luke knows better: the puddle is not actually a puddle, but more a looking glass than anything else.

For two hours a day, it allows him to check up on his friends—a desert blessing and an ocean curse at the same time. Sometimes he checks up on Percy and Annabeth, who are together now and both happier than he's ever seen them, especially Annabeth. He watches as they get older, as they go through Tartarus and the Second Great Prophecy, as they get engaged and then married, and eventually, as they start a family together.

But most of all, he checks up on Thalia—his beautiful, spunky, tough-but-really-soft-inside Thalia. He watches as she makes a home with her Hunters, how she cries at the anniversary of his death, how she tells Percy not to become him. He watches as she finds Jason, her long-lost Roman brother, and slowly learns to trust him too. He watches as the years pass, and she gets less and less sad, and the hurt slowly starts to fade. But the hurt is definitely still there, clear as a cloud-free sky; he can see it in her eyes when she enters the Zeus cabin and takes the locket he bought her out of her backpack, and holds it in her hands as gently as if it were made of tissue paper.

"All I know, Thalia," he says to the empty cavern, staring at the mirage of the raven-haired girl in the surface of the pool before him, "is that I love you, and I hate myself for all I've done."

---

*cries over own writing because feels*

Thanks for reading! Please drop me a review if you liked it.

~dontforget2live (aka Alex) x

P.S. go check out my tumblr (there's too many fandoms on there to count): abundantmetaphoricalresonances DOT tumblr DOT com (link's on my profile)