Wow, I opened my email and I got like 21 from FF. Most of them were favoriting this, so thanks :) A few were reviews, which I appreciate. You guys were begging me to write more, so I did :D Go crazy.
2/Percy
Lost.
That's what he is.
He knows that almost instantly, experiencing that somehow familiar feeling as soon as his eyes open. He doesn't know how or when he's felt that before, but he recognizes it.
He doesn't know his surroundings, or the people he's sitting with. He can't remember who he is. He barely remembers his own name, let alone the kids who claim to be his friends. They laugh and joke around him, as if he's known them for a lifetime, but he doesn't know a single one of their names.
When his instructor changes shape into a monstrous animal with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle, he pulls a sword from his pocket instinctively, slicing the demon in two before he realized what he was doing. As the sword melts into a pen in his hands, he looks up into the stunned faces of those around him, and he knows he's done this before. He looks curiously at the small pen in his hand, and knows that this cheap ballpoint piece of plastic is way more than what it seems; a part of his past.
He clenches it in his fist. Then and there, he vows to himself; he will find out who he is, if it has to take him a lifetime.
Things turn to a blur. He winds into a world that doesn't surprise him, one of unforgiving gods, merciless threats, and planned years of constant, difficult training. The unusual sense of déjà vu settles over him, confusing not only himself, but the others around him.
They tell him he's lucky; the *Parcae must like him. Somehow, he's shaking his head before the words are out of their mouths. Somehow, he knows the three rulers of life love to mess with him. He tells them they must hate him, and it suddenly strikes him he's said so before.
He's an outcast. He knows he's been one before. A freak, even among "his own kind." He knows he isn't supposed to be there. It feels wrong, wearing the purple shirt, being offered the strangely shaped golden sword, the dark tattoo all of them bear.
They question him constantly as they bustle him to a spot they call the Wolf House. They ask him his last name, where he came from, how he survived for so long. He can't answer anything but I don't know. He begins to hate it.
They push him into a house-like ruin without answering any of his demands, throwing him half-worried, half-pleased looks, as if they hope he will never come out.
He faces the darkness. You've faced worse, he tells himself, though how he remembers that, he doesn't know.
The massive she-wolf waiting inside hardly gives him a glance before snarling. She hisses that he's an enemy, crouching as if she's prepared to spring. He protests, yet she's already growling.
A voice calls from the shadows, a girl with a black braid and dark eyes that are so familiar it sends pain shooting through his head.
The she-wolf, after threatening the girl a few times and essentially giving up to her, turns to him, reluctantly announcing his status as a "pup."
The girl leads him outside, beginning to explain his new life, but he isn't listening. He, somehow, already knows.
That night, they discover who he truly is. Son of Poseidon. Greek. Leader.
Their attitude turns threatened, suspicious, accusative. They demand answers, yet he has none. They argue over whether to dispose of him. The Aye vote majors over the Nay and they swing for his throat.
He squeezes his eyes, thinking he would rather die at the hands of a vengeful lightning god than be executed by them. But, to their utter shock, the blade shatters upon reaching his skin.
They stare at him. He rises to his feet, looking calm and impassive, as if he's always known, and they watch him walk out.
He's given painful dreams, of curly-haired twins, a friend or two in black, an old man in a wheelchair. He knows, somehow, that they are part of his past, he just can't figure out how.
Not soon after, a deadly goddess of wisdom accuses him of attempting to kill her favorite owl. Even as he protests pointlessly, he knows that this has happened to him before.
He and two others set out to find the true murderer, going on a venture he knows he's done before. On this quest, he realizes why his memories are gone, and who is to blame for their absence. Upon his long-awaited return and a new revealed threat, he's rewarded with not only a position as leader, but the thing he now values most: answers of his past.
He searches for them.
He confronts the thief who still holds his memories hostage, but is refused passage to them. He argues.
He needs to know.
It's only on the day they spot intruders that his wish is finally fulfilled.
His soldiers are already there, pointing every potential weapon at the strange, yet so familiar demigods gathering outside. He's shoving through them before he knows it, shouting to hold their fire, don't kill anyone, wait! Then he reaches the front of the line.
She stands directly in front of him, with a Yankees cap sticking out of her jeans pocket, a blonde ponytail curling over one shoulder, a glittering bronze knife strapped to her arm.
She looks so familiar it makes his head hurt, but he shakes off the pain and looks back at his director. The wolf nods in reluctance.
Turning back, he makes himself smile, and holds out a hand. "Hi, I'm Percy Jackson, praetor of the First Legion; who're you?"
The moment the words are out of his mouth, he sees something in her eyes, a look that defies her expression declaring that she's never seen him before.
She grasps his hand firmly, then drops it after a while of shaking. She looks him directly in the eye. He watches her composure break once more, a miniscule trace of pure, heart-wrenching on her face, before she opens her mouth.
And, just for that second, he feels that same pain too, for a reason he would only discover later.
"Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena."
Okay, don't go psycho (hey I can spell that) on me while waiting for chap 3; I'm already on it.
~ Mia ~