The sun was gone from the sky, but still they pressed on. The clouds began to thicken not too far above them, welling up at a lesser size than the pain he felt inside. He didn't think it would rain — they didn't look like storm clouds — but he silently prayed that it did. He could use some rain right now. Water always helped to calm him, give him strength when he had little.
"Got to land soon," said Blackjack.
"Do it now," said Percy. "It's late. We should get some sleep."
"Sure thing, Boss."
Blackjack descended through the sky and the ground loomed nearer. Soon enough they touched down on a grassy hill and Percy dismounted. Blackjack stretched his wings out for a second before folding them and finding a suitable piece of ground to sleep on. Percy took a seat a decent distance from the pegasus and took his satchel off his shoulder, quickly remembering it was only one of two he now had on him. He closed it and set it aside before opening up the one Vesta had given him. A handful of items and a small sheet of papyrus were contained within.
The sheet read, The white canteen contains nectar, and those golden squares are ambrosia. They can be quite fulfilling, but also have great healing properties on demigods. Use them sparingly if you have to, as too much can prove fatal. Do not give to mortals.
Percy flipped over the note to see if anything had been written on the back. When he learned there wasn't, he set it aside and picked up one of the ambrosia cubes. It was very soft, kind of like a greaseless piece of cheese. It had a rich golden texture and looked quite appetizing. There were only four of them, though, so he thought it best to heed the note's advice and be conservative with them. Also within the satchel were two canteens. One was black, and he could sense regular freshwater inside of it, while the white one contained a sweet-smelling liquid. Various jerkies, apples that Blackjack would enjoy, and bandages made up the rest of the bag's contents.
Percy stuffed the items back inside the satchel except for a single strip of jerky. He bit off a piece and was met with a savory taste so good he almost had to wonder if he'd eaten the ambrosia by accident. He supposed it shouldn't be unexpected that a goddess can provide the best jerky he'd ever tasted, but he really hadn't been expecting anything special.
He had planned to eat it slowly, but found himself unable to not scarf the rest of the piece down. After a mental struggle to not have any more, Percy laid down and closed his eyes, using the other satchel for a pillow. He attempted to fall asleep and failed miserably. He didn't know how long he laid there, doing his best to try and not think about Jason. It had to have been at least a couple of hours before pure exhaustion finally let him drift off to sleep, and he wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.
Percy dreamt he was in an ocean. An island was off in the distance and he swam furiously toward it. He needed to reach it at any cost. Not doing so meant death — no, something worse than death, but he didn't know what.
The clouds grew dense overhead while he swam. They darkened and swirled together, looming ominously above like some kind of omen. Percy swam harder, but found the waves resisting him. He couldn't bend them to his will, so he was pushed back whilst doing his best to move forward. He began to panic, and it started to rain.
It was slow and agonizing, but eventually, he got close enough to see a figure on the island. He picked up the pace and the waves died down, for some reason suddenly allowing him to approach. He saw the blonde hair and electric blue eyes of Jason Grace, who was waving his hands around feverishly and yelling for him to turn back. Percy wasn't dissuaded.
The storm picked up. It began pouring down more violently, pelting his skin with droplets of water. He was seconds away from reaching the shore when a huge wave literally picked him up and threw him back. He fell beneath the surface for several seconds, disoriented and inexplicably unable to breathe. His head breached the surface and he began swimming toward the island again, just in time to see Jason struck by lightning. He was blinded momentarily, unable to see, but then he could make out a wave washing up onto the island. It pulled Jason's motionless figure away from the sand and into the sea.
Percy reached the island and crawled toward where Jason had been standing. He then waded back into the ocean and ducked his head beneath the water, but couldn't see anything. He kicked around fruitlessly, trying to find his friend but was unable to see where the currents had carried him.
He wasn't willing to give up, though. He splashed around and looked every which way. His limbs grew sore and his fingers began to prune so badly that a thin layer of his skin began to tear off. He ignored it all, adamantly continuing to search for what was gone until he physically was unable to keep himself afloat. He began to sink and saltwater filled his lungs. He choked and began to fear until his consciousness faded into nothing.
Percy awoke coughing, desperately trying to expel water from his system that had never entered it. The realization that it had only been a dream reached him several seconds later, but the fear and the panic still felt so real. Blackjack was fretting worriedly near him, asking if he was alright. Percy stopped coughing and pushed himself into a sitting position, assuring Blackjack he was fine. He dug into his satchel and took a swig from a canteen, making sure it was water he was drinking and not nectar.
"You sure you're fine, Boss?" Blackjack asked.
"Yes," Percy said dismissively. "Just a. . . vivid nightmare. Nothing to worry about."
"If you're sure."
Half an hour later they'd both eaten and readied for travel once more. They took to the skies and flew toward Mount Othrys. Blackjack attempted to make conversation during the journey and Percy tried to participate, but couldn't bring himself to talk all that much. So for the most part, they flew in silence, taking a break whenever the pegasus needed to rest his wings.
"Where future is birthed beneath the ground,
The eagle falls and hope is found,
End shall crises of morrow and now,
Upon an exchange, should a king allow."
The words of the prophecy uttered by the Fates came into his mind. He felt like it added insult to injury. He'd lost so many people to various killers, yet the person whose death stung the most had been slain by a poem.
Percy sighed. It was no use dwelling on what had already been done. Jason was dead, and now it was his duty to make sure his sacrifice meant something. He was going to get this scythe, deliver it to Jupiter, and then it'd finally be over.
If he'd tried to say that out loud, he wouldn't have been able to finish it without laughing at himself. This would never be over, and he was kidding himself to think it ever could be. He'd retrieve the scythe and then something else would come next — something always came next. There was no final obstacle.
Their destination came into view after a few hours of flying. The mountain didn't look like anything special. It was completely barren and a lot shorter than Mount Olympus. He didn't see anything resembling a titan fortress or a man holding up the sky on its peak. He actually began to doubt if they were going to the right mountain.
Those doubts disappeared as they got closer. Clouds rapidly formed above the mountain. The nearer they got to it, the thicker and darker they became. They swirled around in a spiral, actually touching down and looking to connect with the peak. When they were close enough for it to loom over them, the clouds had gone completely black and were dense enough to block out the sunlight. Blackjack flew toward the top, but then suddenly stopped.
"I can't go any farther," he said.
"Why not?" Percy asked.
"I don't know. There's just some kind of force keeping us at bay. It won't let us get closer."
"Then land. I guess we'll just have to approach on foot."
"On it, Boss."
Blackjack lowered toward the ground, but did so at an odd angle. He veered off a bit to the right, going farther away from the most direct path up the mountain than may have been necessary. Percy was about to comment, then he noticed they were closing in on a cave. He thought he'd had enough of caves, but his curiosity got the better of him. It wouldn't hurt to just take a peek inside.
Blackjack landed and Percy slid off his back. He took a couple of steps toward the cave, getting an ominous feeling. There was definitely something magical about it, but he wasn't sure what could be inside.
"You can take off, but stay close," Percy said.
"Alright." The pegasus spread his wings, but hesitated. "Hey, Boss. Stay safe."
Percy nodded to him and Blackjack lifted off into the air. He turned his attention back to the cave and drew his sword. It was raised up a bit on the mountainside, so he had to climb up a bit to get to the edge of it. Once there, he saw a rather homely looking interior that he only got a second to examine.
Lanterns were hanging down from the ceiling on silver chains, illuminating the entire area. A fur rug covered a good portion of the floor. Off to the corner was an unlit hearth with a cooking pot hanging over it. A chest was pushed up against the wall right next to a crude bed made of wood and covered with animal skin blankets. He noticed all of this at first glance, his eyes probably glazing over some things as there was something more pressing that drew his attention.
Laying on the floor, unmoving and covered in blood, was a dark-haired woman with copper skin, maybe a couple of years younger than him. Her face looked rather pale and there were three parallel slashes across her torso. Percy immediately ran and dropped to her side. He checked her pulse, and thankfully found one. He carefully scooped her into his arms and laid her on the bed before digging around in Vesta's satchel. He was looking for the bandages, but the ambrosia was on top. He picked up a square and stared at it contemplatively for a moment before trading it for the white canteen.
Do not give to mortals, the note had read. This woman wasn't a mortal, he was certain of it. Her blood was red, which meant she was at least human, but she had an aura about her that told him she had magic running in her veins. He uncorked the canteen, gently opened her mouth, and poured a bit of the nectar in.
It worked like a charm. Instantly the color started returning to her face and the bleeding slowed until it stopped completely. Her breathing became more steady and when he checked her pulse he found that her heart was beating faster. He dribbled a bit more nectar down her throat and then placed a square of ambrosia in her mouth. Within seconds, she started chewing it unconsciously and swallowed it. Her wounds slowly began to close and then her eyes shot open.
She sat up so quickly she almost headbutted him. He backed away and stood up from his kneeling position. Her gaze swept over the room for half a second before landing on him and settling into a glare.
"Who are you?" she demanded. She was barefoot and wore a comfortable-looking robe that extended down to her ankles, but unfortunately, the cuts exposed a decent amount of her bloodied skin and upper undergarments.
Percy took a few more steps back to give her space and raised his hands placatingly. "I'm just a demigod. My name's Percy. You were hurt, so I helped."
She tried to get to her feet but winced. Her hands went to her stomach and touched at the slowly healing cuts, and she winced some more. Looking down she noticed how badly her clothes had been torn and hastily crossed her arms over her chest.
Percy purposefully turned his eyes to above her head as he pulled the bandages from his satchel. "I promise I'm only here to help. Let me dress your injuries."
She eyed him cautiously and then extended out one hand. "I can do it myself."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!" she snapped.
Percy reluctantly gave her the bandages. She then held them and stared at him expectantly.
"Turn around!" she finally said.
"Oh, sorry." He awkwardly did so.
He waited patiently for her to finish, but after about a minute he heard a grunt of frustration.
"Need help?" he said.
A few seconds of silence passed before she sighed. "Fine. I shall allow you to aid me."
He turned around. She'd dropped her robe down to her hips which left her entire upper body bare except for her chest wrappings. He felt rather awkward about that, but didn't think too much of it. There were zero sexual or romantic implications there, as she was covered in her own blood and very clearly in pain. The parallel cuts across her abdomen were now completely visible, and he could see how deep they were. The bleeding had stopped and they'd begun to close, but still looked fresh and very serious. The nectar and ambrosia wouldn't be enough to heal them completely, but they might have saved her life.
He took a couple of steps toward her and she extended the partially unwrapped bandages — which now bore a handful of bloodstains — to him without meeting his eyes. He took and stared at them for only a moment before setting them aside.
"That needs cleaning," he said, pointing to her abdomen.
She waved her hand toward the hearth, next to which was a bucket full of water beneath a corked metal pipe. She started to push herself to her feet. He went to put his hand on her shoulder to stop her from doing so, but she flinched at the gesture which made him halt and withdraw his hand.
"Stay seated," he told her instead.
She looked at him warily. "I'm not going to let my bed get soaked."
"It won't. Just don't move too much, and trust me."
She reluctantly waved for him to do what he was planning. Percy walked over to the bucket and dipped his hand in. A feeling of energy spread through him which helped him to relax, followed by a wave of relief. After his experience in the Hollow's lake and that dream, he'd begun to irrationally fear that he might never have water on his side again.
He retracted his hand and a ball of water came with it. He turned back toward her and her eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't comment. He approached and moved the water toward her injuries, but paused. As soon as she gave him a nod of approval, he pushed the water so it came into contact with her skin. It spread over her and wrapped completely around her midsection. He closed his eyes to concentrate, commanding the liquid to pick up all the blood and dirt off of her.
"You said you're a demigod," she said while he worked.
He nodded. "My father is Poseidon, which explains this. You're a demigod too?"
"No. My father is Atlas."
He was so startled by that that he almost dropped the water. He opened his eyes to see a look of shame on her face. "Atlas? The titan?"
"I'm no fonder of that fact than you. I'm a Hesperide — was a Hesperide. My name is Zoë."
"You were a Hesperide? Do you want to tell me the story there?"
"No."
The water had picked up all it could. He retracted it all back into a murky red ball before shooting it out of the cave's entrance. He then picked up the bandages and used his knife to cut off the bloodied bits before starting to unravel them.
"What did you heal me with?" Zoë asked.
"Nectar and ambrosia." He went to wrap her gashes but then she caught his wrist.
"Nectar? Do you have more?"
"Yeah, but you're only supposed to take it sparingly."
"Apply some of that."
He stared at her. "To the cuts?"
"Yes, it helps."
"I thought you were meant to drink it."
"You are," she said impatiently. "It can act as a salve too."
He did as she asked and gently poured a tiny trickle of nectar over the wounds after telling her to lay back. They began to close slightly faster and already didn't look as deep, but he could tell it'd still take a while for them to fully heal. Even then she'd probably be left bearing scars for the rest of her life.
She sat back up and he began wrapping the bandages around her. He then finally asked the question that had been on his mind the whole time. "What caused this?"
"Dragon."
He paused. "A dragon did this to you?"
She nodded. "It is my curse. Whenever I attempt to leave this cave, my father's dragon descends to stop me from doing so. Earlier, I had a. . . feeling. I ventured too near the exit and she caught me by surprise."
He continued wrapping the bandages. "So. . . you've been trapped in this cave for how long?"
"One thousand years? Yes, that sounds about accurate, more or less."
He gaped at her. "A thousand years? You haven't been able to leave this cave in a thousand years?"
She sighed sadly. "Indeed. Resources appear in the chest every time I run low, water comes from the pipe on the wall, and the hearth is never short on tinder. I have everything I need."
Her voice sounded bitter, as if she could readily name a thousand things she needed but didn't have. He tied off the bandages and took a step back to give her space. She started to lift her robe back up to her shoulders, but then remembered the rips.
Percy gestured at the chest. "You have more in here?"
She nodded. He opened it and pulled out the first article of clothing he found — another silken robe — and then handed it to her. He turned around and waited for her to change. After a few seconds, he asked another question.
"So, why are you being forced to stay in here?"
She didn't answer. After about half a minute, she said, "You can turn around now."
He did so and found that her ruined robe had been discarded somewhere and she now wore the fresh one he'd handed her.
"I think I need some rest," she said. She did look very short on energy.
"Right," Percy said. He tried to think of an appropriate way to say goodbye, but didn't get a chance.
"Could you. . . stay awhile?" Zoë asked. "Just in case?"
He contemplated for a bit. He wasn't exactly pressed for time, and it felt wrong to just leave her to spend another thousand years trapped in here. But he still didn't like the idea of sitting around doing nothing with a random — admittedly pretty — woman he didn't know while Reyna was waiting for him on Olympus. He wanted to get the scythe and return as fast as possible so they could figure out the best way to give Jason his well-deserved rites.
"I really have something I need to be getting to," he finally answered.
"Please," she said with an expression that showed an internal struggle. "I just need a few hours' slumber, and then we can speak."
His curiosity won him over. He wanted to know more about her and why she was cursed. He had to learn if there was a way for him to free her. Plus, she was Atlas's daughter, so maybe she would be able to tell him something that could help him extricate the information he needed.
"Fine." He walked over to a corner of the cave and sat down.
"If you grow hungry, feel free to cook something," she said before laying down.
She slid beneath her covers, still fully robed, and rolled onto her side so her back was facing him. Percy pulled a canteen from his satchel and took a swig of water, then leaned his head back against the wall.
Percy had found a sack of beans within the chest as well as a small assortment of spices. He wasn't exactly a master cook, so he just boiled a bunch until they were soft and mixed in a few spices that had pleasing smells. He dished out two bowlfuls and began eating his serving while Zoë slept, leaving hers near enough to the fire to keep it warm. He probably hadn't done the best job in preparing it, but considering how few hot meals you got to enjoy on the road, he thought it tasted rather excellent.
Eventually, Zoë woke up and accepted the bowl he handed her. She sat down cross-legged on the rug facing him, a decent gap between the two, and ate her food. He judged by her lack of a negative reaction that he didn't do too poorly — admittedly, it's not exactly easy to ruin beans.
She looked better. Her face had a lot more color to it and she seemed to be more energized. She didn't look as bothered by the cuts the dragon had inflicted upon her, although still occasionally grimaced if she moved her torso in the wrong way.
They ate in silence. Percy, who'd been eating his beans rather slowly just so he had something to do, started consuming larger spoonfuls while Zoë ate quite quickly. If he hadn't had a headstart on her, she'd have finished before him. As it stood, her bowl still emptied less than a minute after his.
He finally broke the silence by saying, "Not hurting as bad?"
"No," she replied. "Thanks to you. I'd have healed on my own, albeit a lot slower and in much more pain."
"You sound like you're talking from experience."
"You think this was the first time I ventured near the exit in a millennium? I've survived much worse."
"And here I was thinking I'd actually managed to save someone's life for once."
An awkward silence followed lasting several seconds, during which he adamantly stared at the floor while practically able to feel her eyes on him.
"You've lost someone," she said.
He didn't say anything.
"I can't pretend I'm good at reading people," she said. "Since being imprisoned here, I've only ever seen my sisters, who visit rarely to ridicule me. In fact, you're the first male I've seen since. . ."
He looked at her. "Since who?"
She shook her head. "It's unimportant. What I was saying was, I can see that you're in pain."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Who was it?"
After a moment, he answered. "His name was Jason. I. . . I honestly didn't know him for all that long — only a number of months — but he was like a brother to me. When I'd lost my sense of purpose and been forced to turn my back on the people I considered my family, he acted as a true friend, even though it took him a while to fully trust me."
"I'm sorry. How. . . how did it happen?"
Percy was silent for a brief spell. "I'm not ready to talk about that just yet."
There was a quiet in which the only sound was from a gentle breeze that blew through the cave's entrance. He'd meant what he'd said. He wasn't ready to talk about what happened, not with some woman he'd just met. His heart ached as the face of the one person he'd be willing to let himself become vulnerable in front of came into his mind. He wanted more than anything to be with her right now, so that neither would have to cope alone. The thought of Reyna was enough to get him to talk about why he was here in the first place, but Zoë had a different topic in mind.
"The reason I'm no longer a Hesperide," she said, "the reason I'm cursed — it's a man. I fell in love with a demigod named Heracles and aided him in stealing a golden apple from the garden I'd sworn to protect."
"Heracles? The Heracles?"
"You know of him?"
"Everyone does. He's the most famous demigod that ever lived."
"Oh. . . I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But, being locked away from society, I've not really been able to keep up with the goings-on of the outside world."
"That has to be rough."
She shrugged. "Regardless, after. . . after he accepted my aid and I gifted him Riptide, I never saw him again. He never gave me credit for helping him trick my father, and my sisters disowned me. And because of my choice, Atlas cursed me with this fate at the first opportunity — when I'd struggled to survive on my own and tried to go to him for forgiveness. I've been here ever since."
After taking a second to let her story sink in, Percy said, "How do I help you?"
She furrowed her brow. "What?"
"There has to be a way to lift the curse. I want to help you."
She shook her head solemnly. "There isn't."
"What if I killed the dragon?"
She laughed humorlessly. "It's impossible."
"It can't be."
"It is. The dragon — she breathes fire hot enough to melt stone; she moves at speeds too great to even comprehend; her scales are harder than metal. She cannot be slain."
The back of Percy's head thunked against the cave wall as he sighed helplessly. He was tired of not being able to help the people who deserved it. He was plenty adept at slaying monsters and defeating corrupt warmongers, but when it came to people relying on him, he never seemed able to give them the aid they required.
"So that's just it then?" he said. "You're trapped in here for all eternity, and there's nothing that can be done about it?"
"I came to terms with it a long time ago. You needn't fret for me, although it is rather touching."
Percy just sighed dejectedly.
"Why did you come here?" she asked. "How did you happen to find me?"
"I. . . I came here to speak to your father, actually."
She seemed only mildly surprised. "What for?"
"He knows something that's going to help me finish a quest. I flew here on my pegasus, and I guess some sort of magic drew him to your cave because we landed right outside."
"It must have been the same thing that drew me too close to the exit. I'd felt a primal pull, as if something significant were approaching."
She made eye contact while saying that and he broke it.
"What is it you need to learn from him?" she said.
"I need to find the scythe of Kronos," he answered. "Would you happen to. . .?"
She shook her head.
"Just as well," he said. "Looks like I'll have to talk to him anyway."
"I wish you luck with that. My father is a difficult man, with little love for heroes. I have doubt that he'll give you what you want without something in return."
"Like what?"
"Other than taking his burden from him? I couldn't tell you."
"I guess I'll just have to find a way to get it out of him." He got to his feet. "If you're feeling better now, I really should be —"
"Wait!" She hurriedly stood and took a step toward him. "I need to thank you."
"Oh, right."
"Only in part for the medicine. I cannot tell you how lonely it gets in here. Your company, even for this short while, is something I'm extremely grateful for."
"Yeah, well, I couldn't imagine having to —"
Suddenly she advanced and kissed him. One second passed, then two. His surprise cleared away just enough and he pushed her away, only using enough force to take her lips off his.
"What are you doing?" he said, attempting to retreat a step back from her but bumping into the wall.
She looked confused, and then hurt. "I. . . I thought. . ."
It took him a bit to regain himself. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but —"
"Just go." She crossed her arms and turned her back to him.
"Zoë —"
"Go!"
And so it went. It was a sour poetry how often the people he wanted to help one way or another wound up hurt. It happened with the rebellion, who'd been slaughtered for accepting the freedom and amnesty he'd worked to grant them. He'd forgiven Titus and wanted him to have a happy ending after all the suffering he'd endured, but couldn't convince him to not turn himself in for desertion. He'd failed to save the Oracle of Delphi's daughter before she was murdered. He'd run off to Carthage in an attempt to free the missing Nico and Bianca, but not only were they already dead but three more innocent lives were lost because of that decision. Now he'd come to the aid of an injured girl and accidentally broken her heart. He had to wonder if he was cursed. When he eventually went with Reyna to help her search for her long lost sister, would something improbable occur that led to both their deaths? How could he ever possibly claim the title "Savior of Greece" when he'd failed to save even a single life?
He was being ridiculous — he knew that. He'd stopped Alabaster from killing a legionnaire at the ship raid. He'd discovered Marcus's treason and defeated him before he could assassinate the consuls. He couldn't even guess how many deaths he'd prevented by killing Luke and the traitorous rebels. Saying he'd never managed to save anyone was an exaggeration, but when things like this happened, he couldn't help but be reminded how many people he'd once held dear and how few of them were still alive.
He needed to learn how to stop himself from being so absorbed by previous events. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered he'd made it to the top of the mountain. He had to figure out how to adapt to the past and start looking forward. He still had Reyna, and that's all that should really matter. As soon as he got the scythe he could return to her, tell her what happened with Zoë and apologize, then just focus on the future and the present. Life would be so much simpler if he didn't spend so much brain power wallowing in past misfortunes. He couldn't solve the crises of yesterday — only those of morrow and now.
The climb had been trivial with a mostly direct path up, only containing a few tricky ledges he had to clamber over. It probably hadn't even taken an hour to reach the peak, which surprised him. It had looked a lot more daunting from the bottom. It seemed likely that whatever magic this mountain possessed might have been at play there.
A relatively flat bit of land was what had awaited him at the peak. It seemed any and all remains of the Titans' base had been weathered into nonexistence over the millennia since the Titanomachy. Percy was thankful for that, as the tales stated that even Zeus had trembled at the sight of it. He'd never considered himself particularly cowardly, but he definitely didn't want to see anything that the king of the gods himself feared.
There was one bit of land raised slightly higher than the rest. The clouds above were jet black and all billowing down to that one point, forming a lumpy, swirling hemisphere stopped from touching the ground by only a man. He wore no more than a loincloth and was down on a single knee. The clouds rested on him, supported by his extraordinarily muscular arms, his palms facing up and at level with the top of his head. His face was contorted with obvious agony, and his eyelids looked heavy, as if he could fall asleep at any moment. Then he actually did.
His arms gave out and he fell forward. He would've landed on his face had he not caught himself. The sky dropped onto his back and his spine looked ready to snap like a twig. His eyes were shut, then a moment later they shot open as if he'd been hit with an instant night's rest. With a great effort, he pushed the sky back up above him and held it fast, but already his sudden energy seemed to be waning.
Percy took a deep breath and approached Atlas.
A/N: So, quick note before anyone mentions it. Zoë is completely different. She's not talking archaically. She didn't immediately hate Percy because he's a man. She's not a badass. Why is that? It's simple: it just wouldn't make sense.
First of all, because of this story's setting, the English language doesn't exist. All dialogue is written in English because this is a story written in English, but they're always speaking either ancient Greek or Latin. Correct me if I'm wrong, but ancient Greek did not have a form of the/thou vs you, or thy/thine vs your, etc. Her unique speaking style doesn't translate, so that explains that.
Second, her personality is different. Well, not really. I'd say more her personality hasn't yet developed. In canon, it's not her experience with Heracles that made her despise men — it was only the starting point. Joining the hunters and hearing all the stories the other hunters told her was what built up her distaste over time. And because she's yet to join the hunters, she's not learned and mastered all the skills she has in the books and not been through the experiences that gave her her hardened personality. I'm not going to say it's definitive that she really was how I wrote her in this chapter before becoming a hunter, but it is plausible, and it's canon to this fanfiction.
