Raven

She rolled over and snuggled further into the sheets, her cheek rubbing against the warm cotton. Happily sighing, she wrapped her arms around the pillow and shifted onto her stomach. Her eyes slowly creaked into focus, and then flew open as she gasped. Those weren't her sheets and this wasn't her bed. She jerked upwards and frantically looked around. She was alone, but the room was cluttered, with armor and clothes scattered about. Were those... Yup, there were boxers on the ceiling fan. So that was a bad sign, but forever the logical thinker, Raven refused to panic. She ran through the information quickly.

Clothes- completely intact, but missing her battle armor

Hangover- absent

Chloroform side effects- none

So, those were good signs. All good signs; but she was there, and she needed to figure out why. The room was bright, cluttered, and clearly housed at least one male. She had spent enough time in the barracks to recognize a male touch when she saw one, and the boxers were a big hint. She looked a little closer and noticed the exposed wooden walls. The place was strange, it appeared to be only one room, and maybe a bathroom, but it was devoid of any sort of amenities. Shrugging, she put the thought out of her mind; she couldn't worry too much about where she was right then. She glanced around one more time, before climbing out of the bed, scolding herself for not taking off immediately.

The door flung open, just as she started to move towards it. Her eyes locked on to a guy she had hoped to never see again, unless she was burying his cold corpse. Percy Jackson stood in the doorway. She knew exactly who he was, even if she had only seen him in person once. He was her enemy and his face was not something she'd ever forget.

"Hey, good to see you awake. How'd you sleep?" He smirked a little and his eyes flicked back towards the bed. She felt the blush spread across her cheeks. If she had to guess, and she did, she would say that was his bed that she woke up in. War strategists didn't deserve this kind of humiliation, and she resolved to ignore his juvenile tactics, at least for the moment. She was definitely missing parts of her memory, and she'd need more information before she acted. She wouldn't want to take on the god's prize fighter without some sort of tactical advantage.

"Just peachy," She crossed her arms over her chest, which she knew as well as anyone was a sign of defensiveness, but as far as she was concerned she was in the middle of enemy territory and defensiveness was pretty much a requirement. His eyes flicked down for a minute and her lip curled in disgust.

Percy started gabbing but Raven stopped listening, doing another mental check of her wellbeing. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had missed and she scrambled to look at her shoulder. She yanked the neck of her t-shirt to her side and strained to see the wound. She had been stabbed in the shoulder during the fighting on bridge, and the last thing she remembered, the wound had been festering, and struggling to heal. As far as she knew, she had passed out in a bunk bed in a YMCA basketball gym. She spotted a mirror to her right, and pushed past the jabbering teen, finally managing to see where the gaping slash had been.

There was nothing, not even a faint scar or scab. All that was left was a tattoo, an intricate trident, with designs like waves and ripples. It wasn't very large, around the size of her fist, but its meaning was clear. She didn't feel like she was going to throw up, she didn't feel faint, she didn't feel like crying; she felt nothing, absolutely nothing.

The words rolled off her tongue like marbles, smoothly sliding and hitting the floor with a sharp click, as shattering as gunfire.

"I'm yours." She spun back to Percy, her hands clenched and her stomach seemed to want to vomit whatever was left in her all the way back to the East River. Percy looked uncomfortable, but satisfied he didn't have to explain it. "You own me."

"Yeah," He answered, his cheeks red and his expression sour.

...

Raven realized with grim irony that she knew exactly where she was and that did not make it any better. She shoved her way outside and ignored the gaping son of Poseidon in her wake. She knew this courtyard, she knew those basketball courts, and she most certainly knew the cabin with the owl adorning it's entryway. She had hoped to never see that place again, not unless it was burned to the ground with the rest of this camp. The space was packed, and Raven easily jogged through the crowd without anyone noticing her. She vaguely remembered some of the faces, but most of them were strangers. That made it simpler. She had an inkling as to why she was here, but that didn't matter, if she could get out and get to the city, if she could find Luke, it would all be okay. She just needed to get herself there. Her first step had to be getting out of this snake pit with a meadow façade.

She crossed the stream, ignored the splashes, and even though her stride didn't falter, she felt it, she felt the prickling sensation in her shoulder. She could feel the sharp pressure, as if someone was pressing a needle into her slowly. She jogged across the empty volleyball courts, and the sensation increased, the irritating prickling felt more like a stabbing more and more with every step. She had to slow, but forced herself to keep walking towards the pine tree she could spot up ahead. Her stomach lurched with harsh memories, yet she continued to stumble towards the property line. If she could just get over the hill, just get over the hill. Her shoulder burned and seared as she tried to force it to move, but she had to keep going. The pain intensified, and her legs gave out. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe, all that was left was searing red and the trunk of Thalia's tree. She grabbed at the pain, her mind forcing her to relive the knife stabbing in, sliding before pulling out, and leaving the horrific feeling of being eaten alive to destroy her. Her teeth clenched, trying to lock in a scream, but she breathed heavily through her nose and her back arched as the pain swelled to insurmountable proportions. It needed to stop, she was so close, so close.

"Oh my gods." A voice broke through the haze and she felt a hand running down her back. "What's wrong?" The most miraculous thing happened then. The pain faded, it slipped away like a physical thing, like a fog retreating back over the ocean or a snake slithering back into its den. The threat wasn't gone, but the immediate crisis was over. Raven flipped over, gasping air with greedy breaths , as her whole body trembled. She looked up at the boy crouching over her. Percy flippin' Jackson, of course. She had spent the last four years figuring out how to destroy him, never thinking they'd ever have to meet.

Of course, he just looked down at her with super concerned puppy dog eyes. It made her want to punch him, repeatedly, with brass knuckles. She heard someone else approaching and groaned, which made Percy sit up a little, as if to clear the way. Great.

"What happened? I thought you said she was out like a light!" That voice was horrifyingly familiar, and Raven glanced at the pine tree's bark mere feet from her. She knew it was coming, but that didn't stop her from avoiding his eyes.

"Annabeth?!" Grover squeaked, and of course, because this reunion had come right out of the Fields of Punishment to be her own personal hell, another old friend arrived.

"It's been a long time child, it's good that you have come home." She looked up at her mentor, her teacher, the closest thing she had to a father, and she spit on his hoof.

"Save your breath old man. I'm not your prodigal son," She scoffed at the ludicrous idea, and sat up slowly, ignoring the slight twinge of pain from her arm. "Seaweed brain here dragged me back and freakin' branded me; this is not my home."