Title: Scarlet Heart
Disclaimer: The legal rights to the characters of Percy Jackson and the Olympians belong solely to Rick Riordan. I am merely borrowing.
Warning/s: This fanfic is loosely based on the Kdrama, Scarlet Heart Ryeo. The characters would be OOC, especially Percy. This is a re-shaped history, therefore everything in the past will depend solely on how I will direct it. So to those who are avid fans of history, do not expect anything to be even remotely accurate because none would be how historians thought it had been. More importantly, there will be a lot of grammatical errors.
You're a failure.
The vicious words kept resounding in Annabeth's ears without a certain sign of prospective cessation. Her gut churned in distress as she strived to will the tears away despite knowing that it wouldn't stop even with volition. The damage was deep-seated and it struck the very fiber of Annabeth's concealed weakness.
She'd be a marble if she recovered quickly.
Annabeth clutched her eyes tightly, consequently prompting the fresh tears that were brimming her eyes to gush down. The look of unadulterated scorn on her mother's face was tugging in her mind, refusing to depart.
She had failed to fulfill her mother's expectations, was the repetitive idea in her consciousness. She cringed, once again reminded that she brought shame and disappointment.
However, what was worse, she had failed to attain the only thing she was so certain she would achieve. And with that, she had ultimately failed herself as well.
From her childhood, Annabeth did not lack in confidence and expectations. Both from herself and from others, particularly her own parents. Her inherent eagerness for learning and penchant for perfection—which she had inherited— had created a deep-seated conjecture in her reasoning. One that she had fervently believed for so long. But evidently, one that had been recently proven wrong through her own endeavors, or apparent lack thereof.
Another round of silent sobs racked her body. She might have been displaying utter weakness amidst the curious and critical gazes of strangers, with her arms wrapped protectively around her feeble form, her hair tangled and matted with both sweat and tears, and her clothes dirty and unchanged. But she refused to make her suffering, even more, public through undisguised loud wails.
It was better to die silently, she thought, clinging desperately on her crumbling pride.
XX
Hours past and her back protested from the uncomfortable stillness. Her tears have finally dried, leaving her face uncomfortable and unstretchable.
The throbbing pain in her stomach signaled the hunger that she had repressed for a lengthy period. But now, after finally crying out 23 years of pressure and confined frustrations, it suddenly felt a little easier to breathe.
Annabeth turned to her bag, amazed that no one had attempted to steal it yet. Perhaps her great show of weakness wasn't entirely a disadvantage and had warded off any tingling hands. It was nice to know that thieves still held something akin to compassion amongst themselves.
She found a dried tuna sandwich sealed inside a plastic, one that she had habitually prepared. Annabeth had always been mindful of her omega 3 intakes. The taste was insipid. It had been for the past years of continuous consumption, but she continued, gazing at the lake before her with indifference mechanically chewing on the food.
It was afternoon now, an hour or three before twilight, and visitors of the park concurrently enjoyed the amiable atmosphere. Children were booming with pure laughter as their short legs and endless energy wreaked mayhem across the wide space. Both parents and guardians alike were either seated peacefully above the soft blankets draped across the green grasses, or following behind their ward in pursuit.
Annabeth breathed slowly, wary of the sudden jab of jealousy in her heart as she watched the natural occurrence before her. She realized how much of her years had been spent with monotony.
Living with a sole purpose of being the best had certainly taken its toll in her childhood.
"It is very simple to be happy, but it is very difficult to be simple." The voice was hoarse.
Annabeth whirled around to see an old man, dressed in tattered clothes and covered in an amalgam of soot and dirt from head to toe, looking intently at the spectacle that she had been previously engrossed with. From the way he was garbed, Annabeth can easily deduce that he was homeless, but from the way he declared the adage with certainty, she was starting to doubt the validity of her conclusion.
"Rabindranath Tagore." She uttered when the silence before them stretched far enough.
The old man's chapped lips twitched in what seems to be satisfaction but kept his gaze forward. "Perhaps. He did deserve some kind of credit for his wonderful phrasing. Although, I should think that it did little help. People praise him and agree wholeheartedly but when it comes to application, how easily does it become discarded."
Annabeth blinked, shifting her skeptical stare away from her unusual companion and swallowing the last of her sandwich. "I think it is an illusion. The optimism behind the words compels people to believe it, consequently giving them a fragmentary realization. But the application of the adage's essence is out of the question. Humans are complex in nature, we are bound to do something complicated in accordance to the instincts that we cannot repress." Her voice was small but sure.
"Mhm. And who came up with the notion that humans are complicated? " He continued, and Annabeth scratched her thumbnail. The strange interaction was meant to be uncanny but Annabeth felt nothing of the sort. In fact, she enjoyed it. Exchanging views with a total stranger, and a potential hobo at that.
"Human philosophers throughout the ages. After all, who would know us better than ourselves. "
Her companion snorted. "Did they? Humans take a lot of years before knowing themselves, and this self that they have known can change at a moment's notice. I hardly think it is a good justification. Besides, long ago this complications which I would generalize as the 'evils' of the world are once stocked away in a jar which that blasted Pandora has opened. Although I would say it was a grave mistake not to consider 'curiosity' as an evil." The latter part was spat in disgust.
"Or perhaps the box and what's locked inside it shouldn't have been created in the first place." She added, amused at how educated the supposed hobo was.
Her smile fell off when the old man abruptly subjected her to his intense gaze. His eyes glowed seemingly ethereal, like a vortex sucking off power and also radiating it.
"My dear .." He drawled. "It was inevitable. The evils can only be contained for long. I do not blame humans though, they hardly had good models anyway. What with the bickering and abuse of power. "
And he smiled, showing all of his stained teeth. "You're very existence is fascinating, Annabeth Chase."
Annabeth willed stupefaction not to surface. "How do you know my name?" Her voice was steady without a hint of a tremble which she considered a feat.
In her peripheral vision, Annabeth could see the familiar pull of a small smile gracing the old man's nonchalant countenance. "Does it matter?"
And Annabeth involuntarily shuddered. But she did not make a move to recoil, her curiosity more paramount than fear.
The subsequent moments were spent in complete tranquility as they both remained silent, surveying the view instead.
Despite the clock ticking and the sun moving down to gradually give room for the darkness, the number of people haven't waned. Some had even brought cases and vans full of equipment. As if sensing her confusion, the old man stated in his soothing baritone voice, "People have once again gathered today, for soon enough, the moon will embrace the sun."
It took Annabeth a split second to comprehend his convoluted words. "A solar eclipse." True to her understanding, telescopes and several instruments have been properly and carefully placed and readied. A group of students was sectioned in the center and a few people have neared them.
"That's how mortals put it now these days." There was a sigh of acquiescence.
Annabeth quirked an eyebrow at the statement and the sigh afterward but opt to remain quiet nonetheless. It was strange how the atmosphere suddenly flipped.
She stared intently at the sun's moving form, squinting her eyes at the excessive amount of light. She knew there was a certain probability of causing damage to the cornea and to the whole eye itself. However, Annabeth felt compelled to watch the phenomenon now that she sees it in a different light.
It wasn't just a mere blocking now, but a union.
A soft cry in proximity snapped her out of her trance. After seeing black and repetitively blinking to regain her vision, she discerned the wild thrashing and unorderly splashing of water on the lake. A series of coughing soon followed, the movement quickly turning sluggish.
"The child!" Annabeth yelled, eyes broad in fright.
Before she could ponder her movements, she ran forward and jumped into the lake. The loud cries of help were lost into a drone as she swam towards the distressed figure. She tried to keep the child and herself steadily afloat and a small boat with what seems to be the child's father onboard neared them in a hurried pace. The small boy of six or seven with raven locks in her arms wailed in both terror and comfort, arms clutching her in fear.
On the other hand, Annabeth's breathing was labored, and her body was shivering against the cold water. She had previously thought it was a bad idea to jump in the water, and now, at least she had proven her thought correct.
Another success to feed her ego. She mused.
The hurtling thoughts aimed to distract her were useless as the indistinct pain made itself more prominent. The ache in her head pulsated, and her right leg was seized in excruciating pain. She was losing her energy rapidly and it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to fatigue.
When the child was finally taken out her embrace, she stopped, submitting herself to the unnatural force that was seemingly pulling herself downwards. In a last attempt to save herself from sure death, she raised her fingers to grasp the proffered hand.
To no avail, she closed her eyes peacefully, oblivious of how she was rapidly losing consciousness with the last memory of the dimming sun plastered in her mind.
XX
Year X991
The echo of hastened and punctuated footsteps was conspicuous against the silent sizable hallways. All the mirth and wickedness which were supposed to be the brothers' essence evaporated in a snap. Connor and Travis Stoll, both sons of Hermes and appointed messenger of King Odysseus were stomping their way through with only one goal in thought, to reach the king.
When they finally reached the humongous marble doors that held the luxurious chambers, without sparing a second they entered and sunk to their knees, already expecting an acute admonition.
"How dare you enter the King's chambers without permission!" Without fail, the King's loyal subject, a man whose austerity governs the strict implementation of the laws, yelled in disbelief.
King Odysseus waved his hand, wanting Terminus to calm down before he erupts in fury. He steeled himself as the grim visages of the twin messengers' became visible. The pounding uneasiness in his gut swelled.
Odysseus never liked his tendency to have premonitions.
"Speak." Despite the firmness of his voice, the King was far from feeling unshakable.
"Your Majesty, His Highness Achilles had fallen in battle." His face remained stoic.
The only indication of the King's surprise was the sudden intake of breath. The brothers' continued to bow their heads to hide the look of sheer grief.
Terminus on the other hand flared. "Achilles is dead?! What an outrage!" He roared. "Speak the truth before I cut your insolent tongues!"
"Your grace! We bear no lies, even if we wish we do instead."
"You dare continue this—"
"Terminus."
The shudder among their bodies was instinctive. Regardless of the fact that Odysseus was known for his wit and not for his build and strength, one cannot deny the amount of raw power dwelling in the King's core. The intimidating aura that was concealed by his cheery disposition was now out for everyone to feel.
With eyes that held turbulent emotions, the King spoke with fatal tranquility. "The Fates have spoken and now their subjects must follow in nature. Alert the privy council, the princes will be called to the imperial court. It seems that a selection on the new crown prince will soon transpire."