Happy Thanksgiving/Turkey Day, everyone! And if you don't celebrate this, feel free to roll your eyes at the screen.
Luna, SuzuBells, greekgeekgirlbro, Readergirl6262, CrazyBlueOwl, awesomeninja09, and other people: Muwahaha... but it's not their dark side. And hopefully, they won't be traumatized either. ;)
Readergirl6262: I would if I had more time... (read: I'm too lazy.)
awesomeninja09, Dorian Havilliard, and pretty much everyone: Percy's will be after Frank's, so- soon! And you have no idea what I'll be plotting- uh, I mean, planning- for him!
Sophia the daughter of Nyx, 069975688: Thanks! And to the-person-with-the-really-really-long-username: it was murder for me to type out that :P
Enjoy the extra-long Turkey Day special! (I actually hit 3k... but this has a long A/N, so...)
Hazel
Hazel was flattered. Shocked? Yes. Scared? Maybe… okay, yes. But she was also flattered, as strange as that sounded. It wasn't every day that her boyfriend tried to attack a memory in defense of a twelve-year-old, 1940s version of Hazel. But then again… said boyfriend was a son of the war god and could also shapeshift, to boot.
Hazel instinctively jumped forward, towards Frank, who was rapidly shifting forms—from a large, hairy boar, to a lithe lion with a mighty mane. When he was a boar, he snorted and shook his horns threateningly at the boy in the memory. When he was a lion, he roared menacingly. When he was a giant, proud eagle, he dived down at the boy, shrieking loudly. When he was a hissing, forest-green snake, he bared his fangs and flicked his forked tongue out in warning. Hazel frowned as she noted that every one of the animals were vicious and (for the most part) carnivorous. This isn't like Frank… my memory isn't even that bad, really. Could it be because of the one with Sammy's cupcake? Should I have known that it would upset him that much? Why—?
In the end, it was Grudge who stopped Frank. "Calm down, praetor! It's a memory. You're just going to waste energy attacking nothing." Strangely, that did the trick. The lion agilely landed on the ground and changed back to a flustered-looking Canadian. The back of his neck turned red and he rubbed it sheepishly, shifting his weight from one side to another. "Sorry… I wasn't thinking…" But then, he seemed to think of something, and he dropped his arms back down to his sides. Frank stopped avoiding eye contact and gazed defiantly at the group. Hazel decided to ignore his strange behavior—at least until her memories were over. Hazel smiled at Frank. He'd been willing to do that—for her!
But at the same time, things just didn't sit right with her. For one thing, Frank had started changing back to his human form when Grudge called him "praetor". It wasn't like Frank to let flattery influence him so much. Of course, Hazel was glad that it had worked, but… well, things were just off, somehow.
However, when Hazel looked into Frank's familiar, reassuring, warm brown eyes, nothing looked amiss, so she turned back to watch the memory. Honestly, it wasn't even one of the worse memories she had of the Academy. There were worse. Much worse.
Past Hazel was saved from the taunting boy by Sammy, who confidently swaggered up to Hazel, wearing his signature cheeky grin that reminded her so much of Leo. A wistful smile creeped over her expression, replaced by contentment as she glanced over to Frank, her friends, and all the flaws. Whatever was going on with Frank could be resolved. If two heads were better than one… how about fifteen? "Witchcraft, you say?"
"The only witchcraft the lovely Miss Levesque has been doing is making an enchanted key, foolish peasant!" The jeering boy seemed consumed (most likely because he didn't know what "peasant" meant). Hazel remembered him—Robert hadn't exactly been the sharpest knife in the drawer. He wasn't even in the drawer—he was in the junkyard for scrap metal.
"What?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Maybe he wasn't quite that stupid… Past Hazel stood there, caught between the two boys. Between Robert, the tough bully, and Sammy, her smart-aleck savior. It looked almost comical—two boys, one dressed in dirty clothes and an attitude, one dressed in equally dirty clothes and a pointy dunce cap, fighting over Hazel.
"You heard me!" Sammy looked severely affronted. "She's been making an enchanted key… a key that has unlocked the fortress of my iron heart!" he placed a hand over his heart, and Robert, disgusted, stalked away.
"Man, he's smooth!" Percy let out a low whistle.
"That was quite clever," Duty agreed reluctantly.
"Using humor to deflect… interesting strategy…" mused Annabeth.
"Did he just use the 'key to my heart' pickup line?!" Piper wrinkled her brow.
"So now I know where I get my 'awesome' genes from, eh?" Leo grinned, looking eerily similar to Sammy. Before anyone else could comment, Hera's divine light flashed around the group again. Honestly, Hazel was relieved. Leo and Sammy were just too alike. Watching Sammy was painful; she knew he was dead. Watching Leo? Even more so—she felt guilt-ridden about the whole Sammy/Leo thing, and possibly leading Leo on.
Hazel shielded her eyes with an arm, blocking the light. When she removed it gingerly, she was met with the sight of her and Leo—not Sammy—holding hands and standing on the Argo II's deck, their eyes closed, beads of sweat dripping from their hairlines. Guilt started sniffling. Leo looked extremely uncomfortable, and his flaw was intensely focused on his pipe cleaners. (Hazel knew Leo was serious about his work, but… not even his flaw could be that focused on what were essentially a couple of multicolored, fuzzy wires.)
Frank mumbled something Hazel couldn't hear under his breath, his arm brushing against hers. She turned her gaze to him, an eyebrow raised in question. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You were just figuring stuff out about Sammy…" he trailed off. Hazel felt a wide smile stretching over her face. She hadn't even realized how immense the blame she felt about Leo was. But now, it was like a huge weight lifted off of her. She smiled ear-to-ear. Hazel knew that Percy and Annabeth had once taken turns carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. They'd gotten premature grey streaks on their hair from it. If the guilt was her world, then Hazel's hair would be jumping for joy. (In fact, it was unusually springy.)
Hazel didn't notice Frank fighting to keep control of his mind as he apologized. She didn't notice how he struggled to keep his face stoic, his voice calm. Then she did, and felt responsibility once more. But then it disappeared as quickly as it'd come, just as there was another flash of light.
Now they were standing in a room with a dirty white curtain as a makeshift door, and several unopened, brown mailing boxes scattered haphazardly across the floor. A ragged armchair, a table or two, and a single woman wearing a curious mixture of a waitress' uniform and mystical-looking clothing occupied the room. "Poisoned child! The root of all my troubles!" The woman frowned at herself. "No. She's my daughter!" A face peeked through a slit in the curtain—Hazel recognized her younger self. "She's no daughter of mine!" Frank gripped Haze's hand tightly as her past self noiselessly retreated from the curtain, and Queen Marie laughed.
More golden light. This time, it was Hazel in her cabin on the Argo II. She was curled upon the bed, forming a crescent shape. The covers had been flung to the floor, but past Hazel was fully clothed. Tears streamed silently down her face as she slept fitfully. "I'm sorry… please forgive me?" Oh no… "I didn't know that the ruby was cursed… sorry, Mr. Henry… sorry, Mr. Gasceaux…"
Jason raised an eyebrow, and Hazel started to explain softly. "Mr. Henry died after my mother gave him a ruby. Charlie Gasceaux lost his arm after he bought a golden bracelet." Even just saying that left a bitter taste in Hazel's mouth.
Hazel snuck a peek at Guilt. After all, these memories all had something to do with her… Guilt seemed stoic enough, though her impassive expression looked very forced. But… at least she's not crying. Immediately, Hazel felt ashamed to think that. Wait! Why should I feel like that?! Hazel's mind shouted at another part of her. Because it's the right thing to do! Her stomach twanged. Sure it is… sure… Her heart started to tap dance. It is! Guilt never hurt anyone! Her insides lurched unpleasantly. Yeah? Then tell me—why is guilt a fatal flaw then, hmm? Her conscience had no reply.
She was going to throw up. Bile rose into her throat, but she stubbornly swallowed it back down. She felt coldness. Everything looked dark. Images of her past danced in her vision; there was her mother, controlled by the Voice, and there was Mr. Gasceaux's bloody, mangled arm, still wearing the bracelet, and there was Robert taunting her, and there was the evil rock spire… the rock she had helped to raise. You don't need all of this—any of this! All you have to do is relax and let go.
"Hazel? Are you alright?" someone asked. Hazel couldn't respond. Her insides were fighting a war, with her body as a battlefield, and with her mind being the sought-after prize. What was happening? Was it a side effect of watching her memories? Was she delirious? What is—?
And then, suddenly, everything was back to normal again. Hazel stood up shakily—she hadn't even noticed that she'd fallen to the ground. "I—I 'm okay. Just… it must be a side effect of watching these memories." Even to herself, she didn't sound convincing in the slightest. Hazel would be surprised if anyone actually took her word for it.
Frank looked doubtful, but Hazel sent him a pleading glance. Come on, please let it go… Let it go… let go… Hazel fought to keep her dueling mind under control. She had a splitting headache. I need ambrosia… is this how the gods feel about the whole Greek/Roman thing?
As soon as she thought that, a tray of ambrosia appeared on the ground, accompanied by a note in the same scrawled cursive as before. Hazel sighed in relief as Jason handed to note to Frank to read, forcing him to turn away from Hazel. "Well, if you say so… Hera just told us to keep going with the memories," Jason said (somewhat apologetically), smiling like she's-Hera-we-can't-do-anything-about-it-sadly. Hazel nodded, gratefully gulping down the ambrosia, which tasted of shrimp gumbo (Percy would have a fit), her favorite food from New Orleans. Ambrosia had always tasted slightly bitter to Hazel, but now it was just sweet.
After the golden light cleared, Hazel instantly wished she hadn't nodded. Not that it would make any difference, anyway. This place was the island where she'd died. And Grudge and Guilt could sense that too, apparently.
"Giant… my mother… Gaea…" Guilt muttered.
Past Hazel stood knee-deep in a pile of precious gems. They glittered harshly, surrounding a tall, jagged rock spire that reminded Hazel ridiculously of a unicorn's horn. A vague, humanoid shape was embedded within the rock, silver and gold studding its body. Oil fell in tiny drips off the rock, but when past Hazel glanced at it, it stopped. A cache of jewels that must have been worth millions was the heart—raw diamonds, uncut, uncleaned, and yet still sparkling was the rock-encased giant's heart. Past Hazel looked around and then up at the rock, which was steadily growing taller, the precious metals in its body rising like the tide.
Queen Marie, who did not look like a queen, fell to her knees, despairingly looking from the spire to Hazel and back again. Past Hazel knelt next to her mother and said something, but Hazel wasn't listening. She stared at her mother, drinking in the moment hungrily. She hadn't seen her mother for so long. And now, she could see her again. Hera had given her a chance to revisit the bittersweet memory.
She—Marie—was painfully thin. Just skin and bones, really. Her clothes, a waitress' uniform for the only cheap diner that would hire her, was torn, bloodied, and stained. Her face was gaunt, her hair grey prematurely.
She was beautiful.
Hazel was vaguely aware that her past self and her mother were talking, but she knew what they were saying anyway. Instead, she gazed at her mother's eyes. They were warm, tender, loving—beautiful.
All this, because your mother was greedy! Gaea's silky voice purred in the memory. The demigods all stiffened. Percy had his hand in his pocket, ready to uncap Riptide in an instant. Duty, Loyalty, Pride, Jason, and Annabeth already had weapons drawn. Piper glared at the memory alongside Leo, who sent an understanding glance at Guilt (who glanced back). Insecurity, Grudge, Fear, Inferiority, and Frank scowled, though Inferiority seemed sad—Gaea messed with his life too… Gaea cackled again. Now, Alcyoneus will wake, and soon, so shall I!
"Hazel, go! You must hurry!" Her mother rose up.
"No! I won't live for that." Frank hugged Hazel tightly, and to her surprise, so did Grudge. Nobody pulled away from the impromptu group hug. It felt… nice. At least until oil bubbled in the spire. A crack formed. The air turned blisteringly hot. Only Leo and his flaw didn't wince from the heat. Metals and jewels and oil and rock and shrapnel and gold and more and more jewels flew through the air, causing the group to duck collectively, though they passed right through the memory-watchers.
The roof feel. The spire cracked ominously, and the group of fifteen scattered, instinctively running for cover. A huge chunk of gold flew through Hazel's arm. It pinched slightly, but otherwise had no effect on her. So we really can't get hurt in these memories… Hazel ran through the gritty, hazy, dust-filled air, and towards her past self and her mother.
She caught sight of them, and had time to think she is a queen before—
Her mother wrapped her arms around past Hazel, and together they sank into the frigid Alaskan waters, until the golden light flashed.
Grudge suddenly crossed over to where Hazel was and softly kissed Hazel and Guilt on the cheek. Hazel smiled at him, warmth spreading through her unexpectedly, and all the others, who had all gathered around her. "I'm fine, guys," she said, and she truly meant it. Watching her memories had actually helped. She felt her guilt about raising the giant fade away, tucked into a distant corner of her mind. Subconsciously, she stood up a little straighter, a little taller, and a lot less burdened.
"Good!" Frank grinned suddenly and crashed his lips against hers. Normally, he never would have done that. And normally, Hazel would never have responded. But… well, things weren't normal. Or at least, that's what Hazel tried to convince herself was the reason. Right? When they broke apart, the others shifted, red-faced, not used to seeing the couple be so public. Guilt and Insecurity were completely red.
"Okay, um… how about it be my turn for memories?" Frank simply shrugged at his flaw, and Hazel just had time to think that he was still acting strangely before the flash of light emitted again.
Like a camera zoomed in on a single subject, at first, all Hazel could see was a brightly colored red and black ribbon. Then, she blinked and saw the smooth silver disk attached to the ribbon. It seemed very heavy and solid—Hazel could sense that it was the real deal. An important medallion, for sure. It was held in a rough man's hand almost gingerly, his palm flat.
"Frank, your mother is a hero," the man, dressed in full army regalia, said, holding out the medal to a boy Hazel realized was Frank with a jolt of surprise. Past Frank's face was drawn, and he looked like he hadn't slept well for several weeks. The two stood in a living room furnished with Chinese antiques and various figurines. There were several comfortable-looking chairs, but neither sat.
Past Frank made no move to take the medal, instead staring blankly at the man.
"Your mother is a hero," the officer repeated, more softly this time.
"Is? Was!" Insecurity stepped forward, his gaze locked upon the memory. Hazel subtly brushed her hand across Frank's—enough to let him know she was there for him.
"Captain Emily Zhang died trying to save her comrades."
Mutters, gasps of realization, and many pitying glances were thrown around the room. Frank stiffened as his past self grabbed the medal of sacrifice and ran out the room.
Immediately, there was a flash of light again. This time, Frank looked about four, utterly adorable, running happily through an overgrown yard. A woman's sweet voice called out for him to not go too far, but he ran towards the woods on the side of the yard anyway. And there was a huge grizzly bear.
Now Hazel is affected... so that's two out of seven so far that are acting strangely... Or is it? Maybe the others are behaving oddly as well, but Hazel just didn't notice?
And remember, after I finish Frank's next chapter, I'm going to start Percy's! This will be updated sometime Monday-Wednesday, because Frank's and Percy's takes some planning... Anyone going to annoy store clerks on Black Friday?
