Sorry for not updating in eons, but life has been so boring I just couldn't bring myself to find the motivation to write. This chapter took me forever, but at least it's one of the longer ones I've written, so enjoy!

V

Storms.

That was the first thing Percy thought of when the girl opened her eyes.

A beautiful, powerful storm which, from afar, seems petty, but was fatal when close. There seems to be swirling bits of clouds in her stormy gray eyes, like the howling wind, like the angry, tossing sea, impatient to reach the shore.

Later, Percy found out that that was exactly what the girl was: beautiful, yet deadly.

Groggily, the girl sat up, her eyes trying to adjust to the light of the morning sun. She rubbed her eyes, her bruises already fading. For some time, she looked around the room, confused, wondering where she was, before she saw Percy. She jumped a little when she saw him, but quickly regained her proud, confident composure, demanding a little haughtily, "Who are you?"

Percy blinked before answering, "Um, I'm Percy. If you're wondering where you are, you're in my house. I found you by the sea last night. Are you hungry?"

"What were you doing by the ocean? What did you see?"

Percy was confused by the girl's question. "Huh? I was, uh… taking a walk. Got a bad dream… And what I saw… well, I saw you… You looked kind of bad, with a lot of bruises and injuries… Are you okay? Where are you from?"

Now it was the girl's turn to blink, looking surprised. "Y-Yes, I'm fine."

"Well that's good." Percy nodded, satisfied, not noticing that she never answered his second questions. "So… you hungry?"

Right on cue, the girl's stomach grumbled, causing her to blush lightly. Percy laughed and held out a hand, pulling her wobbly to her feet. "Oh yeah, by the way… what's your name?"

The girl smiled a little sheepishly. "My name is Annabeth."

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Jason couldn't help staring. And he really, really wanted to scream. Like a little girl. And wave his arms in the air while he screamed like a little girl. And maybe run around the circles a few times as well. Because it was impossible, simply impossible, for his reflection to be one of a girl's.

He opened his mouth, feeling the scream begin to build up in his lungs, but before he could get the sound out of his mouth, somebody beat him to it.

It was his 'reflection'.

The girl inside the mirror screamed so loud and shrilly, it could break glass.

She spun around and ran off, vanishing into the sides of the mirror, her scream trailing behind her.

After a few seconds, her scream died off, and she rushed into the mirror again. Then, she screamed again, and ran off once more.

Through all this, Jason just stood there, his mouth wide open, his eyes feeling like it's going to pop out of his head.

The girl reappeared in the mirror, her choppy brown hair and eyes like a broken kaleidoscope wild. "Oh my gods, no," she gasped, horrified, raising a trembling hand to the mirror. "What in Hades…?"

Jason clamped his mouth shut before opening it again. "I…"

The girl ran off again, screaming, "HE TALKED!"

When she reappeared again not 10 seconds later, she was breathing very heavily.

Jason opened his mouth. "I…"

"Stop." The girl's voice was surprisingly steady. She held one finger up, telling him to pause, while the other hand was pressed against her chest, trying to calm her breathing. "This isn't right. This definitely isn't right. Something is wrong. It's okay. Something is wrong, horribly wrong, but it's okay. It's okay. It's totally okay. I totally believe that everything is okay. Yes, I totally do."

Jason decided wisely not to comment. Instead, he decided to change the topic. "Um… Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Jason," he said in the steadiest voice he could muster and stuck out his hand.

The girl had frozen and was staring at his hand. It took Jason a whole minute to realize that they were at opposite ends of a mirror and could not touch. Flushing, he took back his hand.

"Erm…" the girl looked around the attic behind Jason. "Well, since you've introduced yourself… I might as well introduce myself. Hello Jason. My name is Piper."

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Leo knew that she was perfect. He had known before he had even seen her, when only her songs had dominated his dreams. But now, he knew with even more certainty that she was perfect.

But his painting was not.

Frustrated, Leo tore down another sheet of canvas, replacing it with another. A quick sketch, then the details… he could memorize how she looks, where every freckle was. He could remember every different color of every single strand of her hair, and he could remember every different shade of brown in her almond-shaped eyes.

Another night, another glimpse, and it was morning again.

This was how Leo had spent the past few weeks, drifting in and out of consciousness.

He felt a grin creeping up onto his face. No reason in particular, other than the fact that he's the most awesome person in the universe.

The painting was perfect.

It showed her sitting on a branch, her eyes closed, her lashes brushing her lightly freckled cheeks. Her mouth was open with a song, her hair braided over her shoulder.

She was beautiful, and she was perfect.

Leo knew that she was perfect.

But then slowly, the grin fell away again. Because this wasn't enough.

Placing a determined look onto his face, Leo cracked his knuckles, dragged out a huge chunk of marble even larger than him, and pulled out a chisel and hammer.

Time to get to work.

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When Frank opened his eyes, all he saw was black, and for a scary moment, he was afraid that he had gone blind. Then slowly, his eyes adjusted, and with a breath of relief, he began to sit up and look around to identify his location, only to fall back with a yelp when a flash of pain shot through his head.

"Oh gods…" he groaned, raising a heavy arm to rest on his forehead. Slowly, the memories began to trickle into his consciousness. The arrows; the witch; the cursed jar.

"I see you're awake," a voice said beside him. Frank lifted his arm slightly to find large golden eyes peering down at him. It was the witch. Frank just grunted in reply, too in pain to form words.

"I have questions," said the witch.

Frank grunted again.

Sighing, the witch stood up- the ruffles of her skirt told Frank that. "You should rest first. Wake up when you're better."

Frank's head agreed, and without his permission, it shut down, and the world turned black.

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When Frank opened his eyes a second time, his head was no longer pounding, though there was a residue throb that could easily be ignored.

He sat up, this time more carefully, wincing when the pain in his head flared up for a second before settling again.

The witch was bustling around the cave, humming to herself. She was young and petite, wearing a simple brown commoners dress and had her wild mane of cinnamon colored curls tamed into low ponytail. She seems to be cooking, and as Frank's five senses began to truly wake, a heavenly smell permeated the cave. It was the smell of dinner.

The witch didn't seem to have noticed that he was awake, as she continued to cook, chopping onions, stirring stew, setting the table…

She didn't look any different from the girls Frank had seen in his village, and to his horror, his determination to kill the witch began to crumble, ever so slightly.

Frank took another deep breath, savoring the wonderful scent of cooking, and right on cue, his stomach grumbled, so loud it sounded like the snoring of a bear. It also efficiently caught the witch's attention.

Her golden eyes met his own dark brown ones, and she quickly ladled a bowl with soup before coming up to him, her expression grim. Frank took the warm bowl from her awkwardly, as he could feel her slight hostility radiating from her. To not make her any angrier than she probably already was, he sipped the soup, succeeding in burning his tongue.

"You tried to kill me." The witch's voice was flat. "You shot arrows at me. And you came into my house without permission."

Frank remained silent. One, because his tongue was numb and he couldn't talk, but also mainly because he didn't know what to say.

"Who are you?" the witch asked in her flat, heavy voice.

"Erm…" Frank tried to ignore the lasting numbness of his tongue. "Frank. My name is Frank." It sounded more like, 'Fank. My nem ees Fank.'

The witch frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Frank held up a finger, as in 'wait', but his arms had been heavy, and his left hand dipped, causing soup to slosh out of the bowl and land burning onto his lap. Frank yelped in surprise and pain, mentally cursing his clumsiness.

"Oh my gods!" Hazel yelped as well. She took a rag out of her apron and handed it to Frank, then pulled the wet blanket off him. He immediately missed the warmth of the wool blanket. She took the blanket and draped it over a chair, then turned back to him, frowning.

Frank flushed. "Sorry."

The witch continued to frown. "You're quite clumsy, aren't you?"

Frank's face turned even redder.

"What is your name?"

"Frank." The numbness of his tongue had completely faded.

"What were you doing in my cave?"

"Er…" Frank wasn't sure he wanted answer, but under the witch's piercing glare, he began to tell the whole tale, making sure to leave out bits and pieces such as the encounter with the guardian of the forest.

When he finished, the witch looked shocked, horrified, and angry. "How," she spat, "am I a witch?!"

Frank had no answer.

The witch-who-wasn't-actually-a-witch sighed. "Well, there's nothing I could do about it, I guess. Though how this happened…"

She looked so dejected that Frank decided to change the topic. "You cook nice," he said, realizing that he sounded a little dumb a moment later. The girl, however, did not laugh or mock him. Instead, she smiled gently and took the bowl of soup from him. "Thank you, Frank."

She placed the bowl onto the table, still smiling somewhat sadly. Wobbly, Frank got to his feet, staggering slightly towards her. "Um… do you need help?"

The girl looked up, her exotic golden eyes bright. "Sure, why not?"

She ordered him to the counter to begin cutting carrots while she herself began grinding wheat. "Where did you come from?" she asked after a moment's silence.

"A town not far from the forest," came Frank's reply against the dull, rhythmic thudding of his knife slicing through the carrots.

"Do you have a family back there?"

The soldier hesitated for a second before answering, "My grandmother is still alive."

"What about your parents?"

Frank was beginning to regret answering her questions, but said anyway, "I never met my father, but my mother was alive until I was eight… she died," he stated the obvious.

"That's sad," the girl commented. "My mother is gone as well. I think it was her who moved here- I lived here all my life. Never stepped a foot out of the forest, never gone within a mile near the borders of the forest. Mother said the people outside are all evil and will kill me, and skin me, and eat me alive."

"That doesn't make sense," Frank said, puzzled.

"I know," sighed the girl. "But I'm not about to doubt my Mother. As you should know-,"

"Mother knows best," the two of them finished in unison and chuckled.

When they quieted down, the girl asked in a small voice, "but are the people outside really that bad?"

"No," Frank replied firmly. "Okay, some of them are quite bad, but most have good hearts, so you don't need to worry." He didn't mention the fact that she was being hunted, so even if the people outside the forest are okay, she's not going to be welcomed.

"Really?" the girl's eyes were bright. "One day, could you bring me out to see?"

"Sure." Frank was not actually sure. He doubted she'd ever be allowed to go out the forest.

"Are there other people like me?"

No, Frank wanted to say. You're being hunted and people think you're a witch. But he told the curious girl, "Yes, although not many are as nice as you."

"Thank you, Frank," the girl beamed at him. "Oh, and of course, where have my manners run off too? I haven't introduced myself yet!" She held out a hand. "Nice to meet you Frank. My name is Hazel. Hazel Levesque."

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Annabeth looked thoroughly amazed. "What's that?" she asked, her voice a hushed, excited whisper, pointing at a loaf of bread.

"Its bread," Percy told her.

"Bread," Annabeth repeated, as if the word was new on her tongue.

"Yes," Percy agreed. "Bread. Shouldn't you know what bread is? I mean, everybody knows what bread is!"

Annabeth just waved her hand dismissively and continued to explore the town.

"What is he doing?" she asked Percy, nodding at the butcher.

"He's butchering a pig," answered Percy, beginning to bore.

"Does pig taste good?" Annabeth asked.

"Yes. If cooked the right way. Seriously, what do you eat back in your country?" Percy tried again. Honestly, Annabeth was just strange. She didn't seem to know anything. Bread, cake… what does she eat in her hometown? Mud and feathers?

Annabeth didn't answer. Thinking back, she hadn't answered a single question Percy asked after telling him her name. It was getting quite frustrating.

"Percy?"

Percy mentally groaned when he heard Annabeth calling him.

"I've decided what I want to eat for breakfast."

Percy blinked, slightly surprised. He had been expecting another question. "Okay… what do you want to eat?"

She held something up.

"Cabbage?" Percy stared. "You want to eat cabbage for breakfast?"

Annabeth nodded solemnly.

"Annabeth," he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, "you don't usually eat cabbages for breakfast…"

"Then what do you eat?"

"Bread… eggs…"

The strange girl shrugged. "Okay then. Where do you get those?"

Percy sighed. It's going to be a long day…

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"How did you get to the other side of the mirror?" Jason asked. He had seated himself on a stool before the mirror. Piper had mirrored (quite literally) his actions and pulled a chair from outside the mirror's vision span.

"No idea." Piper shrugged. "Just woke up here. What about you?"

"Me?" Jason was confused for a second. "Well, I live here."

"Here?" Piper gestured at the dark, dusty attic behind him. "You've got to be kidding me. How do you live in such conditions? Where do you sleep? You must be really poor… though your clothes suggest otherwise."

"This is just the attic," Jason informed her. "I have my own room. And no, I'm not poor. At all."

"Really? How rich are you?"

"Um, very rich. Like, the richest in the kingdom."

Piper looked impressed. "Really? Even richer than the royalties?"

Jason rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well… I am the royalties."

The brown haired girl gawked at him. "B-But you're too young to be the king… the Crown Prince?"

Jason shrugged.

"How do you not know whether or not you're the Crown Prince?"

"I am the Crown Prince," Jason said, "though I don't particularly want to be it. All the responsibilities and whatnot- it's enough to drive someone crazy."

"I guess I understand," Piper nodded solemnly. "Not fully, but somewhat. You have the pressure and the weight of the whole kingdom in your hands. They describe them often in books."

Jason nodded. He sighed, glancing out the window at the setting sun, watching the birds in the sky, beautifully painted magenta and gold.

"What time is it?" Piper asked.

"Sunset."

Piper smiled sadly. "Me too. I mean, I don't really know, because there are no windows or doors, but the clock tells me so."

"Must be very depressing."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Nothing to do at all." Her expression softened slightly. "Before I arrived here, it was around this time when my father and I would be eating dinner. I still remember, even though it has already been around eight years. After dinner, we'd lie out in the backyard, where we had built a glass tent so we could stay there even if it's raining, and we'd watch as the stars come out. Sometimes Dad would bring a blanket, and we'd fall asleep in the glass tent, though it gets kind of cold in winter."

Jason smiled. "Your father sounds nice."

"He was," Piper confirmed. "The best father ever." Her voice cracked a little. "I don't even know if he's alive now. I'm going to spend my whole life in this room and never see him again."

Jason turned back to the mirror. "Don't worry," he said, his voice a gentle whisper. "I'll get you out."

"That's impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," he disagreed. "I'll get you out, and we'll go visit your Dad together, okay? I promise."

"You promise?" Piper's eyes shifted into a light blue. She placed a small hand on the surface of the mirror. "Really?"

"Really." Jason placed his hand over hers. "I promise."

Piper smiled tearfully, and looking at her ever-changing eyes and beautiful features, Jason could almost feel the warmth of her hand across the mirror.

And for the first time since he saw her, he was completely sure that this wasn't a dream or anything.

She was real.

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