Unacceptable Truths
Annabeth Chase have never felt more comfortable and lazy in her whole life.
She lay curled up in a small patterned blanket with an Amtrack logo on it, her face pressed against the cold foggy window that blurred the trees sowing with the skies and greyish buildings.
Annabeth didn't know how long she'd been asleep when her eyes fluttered open harshly, almost forgetting where she was. She scanned the drafty room, taking in the coppery scent that sprung up. She ignored the smell but squinted at the ticking clock that lay a little crooked on the tall wooden mantel in a deserted corner.
It read, 9:42 PM.
Gods above! She began resting in 1 o'clock in the afternoon, and now it was as dark as midnight. Was her dreamless sleep that nice?
"Good evening to you too," murmured that endearing voice that she'd grown to love over the years. Percy had his infamous black hair sprawled on his forehead, and his seating position seemed to take it up to another level—his legs stretched far enough until the aisle, and the blanket he'd been given was folded so it'd be thick enough to be a pillow.
Annabeth found it hard to speak, or even let out a sound. The hunter to her right had completely covered her face with the blanket and now looked like a rather fashionable smuggler. Not exactly the impression they'd wanted to set when someone passed by their compartment and ran the other way.
Annabeth grimaced, deciding for small talk with Percy. "What kept you up?" she muttered, surprising herself with how throaty her own voice sounded.
"Things. Visions. The usual starter pack for an average demigod." Percy began dangling his legs over the aisle side. Annabeth silently prayed no one came in their compartment.
A silence arose; so thick it was dreadful to endure. Annabeth wanted to talk of so many things, she really did, but was too frightened to do so.
Percy seemed to take note of this and took it lightly. "If you have anything you want to say to me, go ahead. But I think I know what's coming next."
They shared half-hearted glances. "Well, I suppose so you're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to that day," murmured Annabeth, now sitting straighter in her seat and realizing the horrible state of her appearance.
Percy only laughed quietly. No, it wasn't a sneer. It was almost genuine.
"I thought wrong, you know. Just the thought of you being with someone else—"
"Don't worry. I would've done the same thing," choked Annabeth, blinkling rapidly as she harshly pulled a thin line of thread from the camp shirt she wore. At first, she thought their conversation was only until there, but—
"I was a little thick, you could say," said Percy, smiling to himself. "After all, it was just a misunderstanding. But I think you deserve the right to know something. It'll hurt, but you're a strong woman. I think you'll be able to handle it."
It felt like a shooting dagger through her chest. Annabeth hated herself for thinking of such possibilities, but she knew nonetheless what would come.
Percy turned his head at her, those deep seas calm and peaceful in his eyes. Those were the same eyes she'd met at the age of twelve in the Infirmary. Those were the same eyes she had seen in a crowd of Romans when she hadn't seen him for months after being taken away from her. Those were the same eyes that stared at her in disbelief when he'd found her beside his half-brother.
"I . . . how should I say this?" Percy shook his head. Pity. He pitied her. "I don't see you anymore as the girl who once made me feel . . . happy."
A harsh, blinding flash of thunder lit up the starry night. Annabeth felt blank, thoughtless, yet—
"It's all right," she found herself saying. "Thank you, Seaweed Brain, for giving me the best moments of my life. It'd be really shocking if our young selves realized we'd broken up some time in the future, huh?" Annabeth laughed sheepishly.
To her surprise, the son of Poseidon beamed. "Glad we're on good terms, Wise Girl."
"Good to have you back. We're friends, then?" mused Annabeth, feeling lightheaded. Why wasn't she hurting?
That smile that usually meant trouble was all Percy gave her. "Friends. I feel like my twelve year old self again. You had no idea how happy I was when Annabeth Chase finally became my friend."
Annabeth let out a snort of laughter, almost forgetting Faith slept soundly to her right as her elbow hit whatever part of the hunter's face lay beneath the blanket.
They froze, waiting anxiously for the hunter to growl and swear at them, but once Annabeth found herself looking at Percy she burst into a fit of giggles. This resulted in the boy nearly falling upside down on the two chairs he laid on.
Slowly, Annabeth realized she had never felt more happy. It was like a burden on her shoulders had lifted, and she was free to go.
With one last look at Percy, her boyfriend, Annabeth closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she saw him as her friend.
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
"We've done so much already, I'd say," chirped Thalia, handing the brunette a wet handkerchief.
Estelle sighed dejectedly but took it with a grim smile, crimping the clean towel into small folds before damping it on her sweating forehead and temples. She forced a somewhat satisfactory grin at the hunter.
"Well," Estelle began slowly, "ninety percent of the time I'd miss the archery target. I'd hardly call that improvement."
A few campers that strode past them chortled loudly upon hearing this, then began feigning it off as a cough. Thalia stared icily at them, narrowing her eyes.
The hunter huffed, pulling Estelle away. "Well, at least you're trying," she told the youngling as if the campers have never passed by their way. A small uplift from the corners of Estelle's lips shone.
Thalia trudged her boots along the dirty footprinted porch of their cabin, which was showered with little flecks of dust and dirt. She brought her wiry fingers to cloak around the ague iron doorknob, twisting it far enough for the pine and oak door to swing open with a groan.
Thalia scowled upon what her eyes landed on, brushing her choppy strands of hair away from her face.
The cabin was a haughty mess to see. Morning light seeping from the red velvet curtains wandered, right past the glass desk that shimmered from the firelight. Most of the hunters sprawled amongst the floor near the burning fireplace, their laughter echoing. The rest seemed to mind their own work; one was sleeping, another was mouthing the words off of a thick hard-covered book that read on its front cover The Half-Blood Prince, and—
"Phoebe!" protested Thalia, crossing her arms as Estelle wove through the assortment of items on the floor and joined the rest with glee. "You're spreading crumbs on my bunker!"
The ginger-haired hunter grinned back, holding a long thin can to where she stuck her hand in and grabbed a potato chip. "Sorry, Thals. Didn't know this was your bunker," chuckled Phoebe, munching obnoxiously loud.
Being the mature woman she was, Thalia approached Phoebe with a smirk before pushing her away and off her bunker. Phoebe let out a throaty yelp before landing on her arse and on to the cold floor that stoked her skin.
"You git!" Phoebe laughed, a few of her chips landing on the floor as she so desperately tried to pick them all up and toss them back in the can. Thalia couldn't help but laugh as well.
Phoebe hoisted herself up idly, swaying. "Y'know, Thals," she began, crinkling her nose, "there's something wrong with your bunker. Or something like that."
Thalia avoided the hunter's gaze way too quickly as she sat on her bunker, feeling the rock-hard book that lay under her mattress. She patted the soft cotton harshly, letting all the crumbs fall to the ground.
"Really?" said Thalia weakly, aware of the thing beneath her. "I think you're imagining things. It's no wonder you are due to the amount of chips you've inhaled."
Phoebe only gave her a nonchalant shrug. "Whatever you say. It feels like a really big book or something is under there, really."
Gathering up her courage, Thalia gave her a disbelieving look. Phoebe stared back at her before walking away and interrupting the peaceful moment of a hunter that was reading The Half-Blood Prince.
"Gods above," muttered Thalia, shifting uncomfortably. She should've really hid that book somewhere else—in a place where no one went to but her. If Thalia were to keep the damned ancient book of fyrmarcs under her bunker any longer, where she cannot keep an eye on it all the time . . .
She just got lucky. Thank the gods Phoebe did not think of actually peering beneath her bunker.
Thalia needed a diversion, one that wouldn't cause suspicion and would give her a chance to place the ancient book somewhere else.
Nico Di Angelo, she thought, hearing the pounding that began to commence somewhere in her head. The only people who know about the ancient book are gone at the moment asides from Nico, so why not he help?
Oh, gods, Thalia would be screwed if someone caught her doing this; if someone caught her making a false attack on the camp to create a distraction—
It was worth a try.
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
"What in ruddy hell do you want?" muttered Nico, twisting and turning a golden ring encrusted with a tiny gleaming amethyst that lay in its center. Thalia couldn't help but suppress a sly smirk, knowing well what it was and who it was from.
The rough stone edge of the wall scraped Thalia's jacket. Her eyes flashed a bright blue. "After giving you the chance to explain yourself, Di Angelo, this is how you repay me?" she said jokingly.
Nico let out a soundless growl. "Just tell me what you want!"
"Ah, poor Solace. He has to deal with your antics forever," murmured Thalia, eyeing the ring the son of Hades wore on his small finger with a smile playing on her lips.
"Wha—what? I don't—" spluttered Nico, his mask faltering. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Thalia watched amusedly as the boy desperately tried and failed to hide the glittering red stone under his coat sleeve.
An engagement ring.
A wedding.
Thalia's smile grew wider, forgetting what she was supposed to be doing. "Can I be the Maid of Honor, then?" she teased, earning a well-deserved smack from the hissing boy.
Something flashed in Nico's eyes. "We only decided this just in case I—" his breathing turned ragged, "—just in case we don't make it. In the war, I mean."
Thalia was not smiling anymore. She already knew what Nico meant before he had referred to the war. Thinking about her next words cautiously, Thalia told him, "I came here for help."
"What can I do?" muttered Nico, his voice returning back to his sassy and retorting tone as if they have never spoken before until now. "And why."
Thalia lousily leaned on the chapped surface of the cabin. Her words dropped into low volumes, aware of anyone who dared listen in on their conversation.
"Listen, then," she whispered darkly, "and pay attention—let's see how good of an actor your monsters really are."
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
Once a stubbly short man entered their compartment, their immense talking was suddenly drowned by an inevitable silence. He wore a pristine white coat that ran off his shoulders, reaching up until his knees. The way he kept upright and swiftly conveyed the fogged room with those bright eyes had given them enough information as to what he was, and who he represented.
The man beamed at them. "Ah, good morning, my fellow guests!" he spoke with that honeyed voice, as if talking to kindergarteners. "I am the captain here on this train, you see!"
Percy looked up at him with one eyebrow raised. He was quite enjoying himself talking to Faith and Annabeth until this man decided to suddenly bombard in—and yes, it irritated him a lot more than it should have.
He could tell the girls were confused as well. "What do you want?" mumbled Percy sheepishly, adding, "sir?"
"Ah, well yer friendly neighbors are complainin' about the noise. Specifically, from this cabin!" he piped up, a familiar and thick accent lacing in within his words. "We'd appreciate it if y'all quieted down a bit. We wouldn't want any, er, further complaints. Besides, it is four in the morning—the others like their beauty sleep, eh?"
None of them knew how to reply to that, even as the captain suppressed a wink. Percy glanced quickly at the clock atop the antique mantel, realizing it indeed was four in the morning.
Annabeth spoke up first. "Uhm, sir? When are we allowed to order our breakfast? We did include food privileges in our booking."
Percy clicked his tongue appreciatively. He remembered how they arrived in Amtrak Station cluelessly—it was their luck that all their tickets were handled by Annabeth to the registrar since he nor Faith had no idea on how to book trains.
The man's chapped lips formed a sly grin as he adjusted the folds of his coat. "Hungry already, eh?" he mused lightly. "Well, that'd be in six o'clock and a half, lady. If I were you, I'd get as much sleep as I can!"
"Thank you," said Faith quickly, waving her hand in a blatant effort to get rid of the cheery man. "We have something important to, erm, discuss. You may be dismissed."
Percy and Annabeth cast the hunter beguiled looks. Second-hand embarrassment arose as he felt something hot spread rapidly on his face. Even the captain became flustered with his words.
"Oh, well, sure," the man said, seeming at loss for words. "Of course, of course. I'll leave you be, good lady!"
He turned elegantly, his stumped hand reaching for the two mahogany door handles and tugging at them. The compartment doors slid and closed with a screech as the man's clicking footsteps became no more but thick silence.
Faith stared up at Percy. "You look awfully red," she commented, her crooked smile lighting up those eyes that usually sent you running the other way or planned to replace your Oreos with toothpaste. There was no in-between.
"You actually said that to him?" he exclaimed with awe, his eyes showing horror yet pure laughter. "The poor dude looked terrified!"
Annabeth's greys twinkled, utterly amused. "As much as I'm hungry as you two, we need to get back to the topic."
Percy shifted many times before deciding to raise one leg and prop his elbow there. "Okay, now what were you saying?"
"It was about our quest prophecy," murmured Annabeth, unflinchingly gazing back at him. "I've been thinking about who the said prince might be."
If Percy was being honest, he didn't particularly care about these things. In some time, they'd know anyways. Yet, he said quietly, "Who do you think it is?"
"The prophesied Wielder." Annabeth, being the one closer to the mystified window, reached for the air conditioner above to adjust the winds blowing harshly on their skin. "It makes sense, doesn't it? Chaos wishes for someone to be his heir, to rise along with his creation. If he was king, then the wielder was the prince."
Percy furrowed his eyebrows at this, considering. He could tell Faith was too.
A distant soft click rang as the foggy air that arose slowly dissipated into nothingness. It felt more warmer than it had been for the past few hours.
Faith threw the ragged blanket off her shoulders, revealing her slashed tunic that bore the colors between the stars. A long, beaded silver necklace lay on her throat—Percy recognized the symbol of the moon.
The hunter began folding her blanket into small and careful folds. "That makes sense," she began, not meeting their gaze, "and I wholly support Annabeth's theory on this. But what I'm curious about are the next few lines."
"The daughter of the Marked, beware," cited Annabeth, putting a finger on her chin in thought, "For seconds of moments be ensnared."
The horrible feeling in Percy's stomach did not reside.
"It's you, then," said the daughter of Athena, giving Faith a sly glance. "Daughter of the Marked. Being cursed is what makes you marked. I haven't worked out the line after that, though."
Faith had now finished folding her blanket, whose selvage looked ruined and stretched to the point of easily falling apart. She set it aside on a small desk drawer that stood next to the tall mantel. Tossing her nest of hair to the side with a bland expression on her face, she crossed her legs and stared into nothing.
Percy felt a pang of pity settling somewhere deep within.
"For seconds of moments be ensnared," he repeated the line from the prophecy, really trying to think this time, "ensnared. Gods be damned, why did Rachel have to come up with such difficult words? It doesn't even rhyme with beware."
Percy almost let out a sigh of relief when a small smile danced on Faith's thin lips. "It kinda does," she countered, "the d in ensnared just ruins it a little."
He, somewhat, looked a little too happy to be seeing the hunter was not wearing her glowering look. Percy started, realizing they were talking in their own little world whilst Annabeth silently looked away.
"No, no . . . that can't be right, it can't be . . ." Annabeth kept muttering to herself before he'd spoken up. Did she know what that line in the prophecy meant?
"Annabeth?" said Faith, raising an eyebrow at her in wonder as she, too, noticed her constant muttering. "You're starting to make me think you're having a mental breakdown of denial in your head."
Annabeth's greys snapped up, her lips parted slightly. She paled a bony white.
"I think I know what that line means," she whispered, her eyes frantically looking around but eventually meeting Faith's sharp stare. Annabeth began again, her voice slightly steadier, "But it's just a guess, really, there—there's a fat chance I'm wrong—"
"Spill it, Chase," demanded Faith, ticking her head to the side. Percy began twiddling nervously with Riptide in its pen form, and it dawned on him it had become a habit as to distract himself whenever he's bored or nervous—
"I—it's just a guess, all right? Well, ensnared means capture in simpler words, and—"
"Get to the point!" snapped Faith, something flickering in those eyes. She almost looked hopeful. Percy hated himself for knowing; knowing the fact that the hunter wished to serve some purpose for once, no matter the cost.
Even if the cost happened to be her own life.
Just thinking of it struck harder then he'd thought.
"I think . . ." Annabeth turned away, escapes of shuddering breath creating a snowflake of mist on the mullioned window. "I think Faith would lose her memory."
*.·:·. ✧ ✦ ✧ .·:·.*
10:21 AM, the avant-garde clock read as the long lengths moved with smooth and subtle ticks.
A small, metallic sphere with a flat end sat on the top of the sliding compartment doors. A few distant coughs from the speaker echoed loudly, ringing in their ears.
"Ah, hello? Hello, captain speaking," spoke the voice of the man that belonged to the same person who had entered their compartment at four in the morning. "We are shortly to be arriving at the next stop; the Montauk Point Lighthouse! For those who wish to roam around, well—" a chuckle sounded, "—it's your lucky day! Just remember to return in five hours, or else you'd miss the train."
The last word echoed, bouncing off the thin walls. Faith shut her eyes, waiting for the annoying buzzing noise from the speaker to stop.
"I think . . ." Annabeth turned away, escapes of shuddering breath creating a snowflake of mist on the mullioned window. "I think Faith would lose her memory."
Horrible. That sensation of rolling anger, pain and mortification had made her loll her head to the side.
After that, all three of them fell quiet, trying to distract themselves. Faith knew exactly why the daughter of Athena hesitated to tell her. This fate, this terrible fate—no one deserved this, even the most awful people.
Faith could also tell Percy was mildly concerned. He know seemed to talk to her carefully, a facade layered beneath his spoken words. And, oh, gods . . . if she wasn't going to make it in this damned mission, then saving her brother . . .
Her eyes hovered delicately over the silvery bracelet she wore—a worthy accessory masked as a lethal weapon.
"So, what?" started Faith, beginning to get rather irate of the deepening silence between them. "My stomach's never felt more full, and my legs are getting numb from sitting all day."
Percy was the first to whip his head towards her direction, as if surprised she'd spoken. Annabeth merely gave her a side-long glance, listening.
"My legs feel stiff too," muttered Annabeth, staring down at her legs with a scrunched nose as she tried to move her foot an inch, resulting with a hiss and a colorful curse.
"I want to visit the lighthouse," declared Faith, folding her arms. She not only needed exercise, but the calming fresh air . . . it might just clear her senses right.
Percy swallowed, glancing about. "You sure? We might run into, er, monsters . . . or other bad things," he said weakly. Faith tried stopping the rushing heat from flooding her cheeks—he was worried for her. She had also noticed how he had said we, not you.
"I'll be fine," Faith reassured him gently, offering a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "I just want a walk outside to get some fresh air."
The hunter made to stand up, noticing that the sound of screeching and whining iron scraping against the corroding rails had disappeared—the train had stopped. From the outstrip, she could brightly see the yellow-tinted light that coated the world with its beauty, ranging from vivid purples to glimmering gold.
Percy and Annabeth stood up too.
"You're not going alone; like Hades you are," said the raven, those eyes calculative. "Even if I have to suffer using every muscle in my body to bloody walk, I'm still going."
Faith couldn't help but show a smirk. She distinctively arched her head far enough to meet Annabeth, who stared back. Well, what can I say? the daughter of Athena seemed to be saying wordlessly, Percy's right. I'm going.
The three had brought their necessary items, not risking to leave anything behind. Once they left the train, they quickly hurried to the nearest thrift store to purchase more appropriate clothes and receive less attention.
"This is outrageous!" gasped Faith, staring in pure disbelief at the clothing rack of sparkling dresses. "I've looked everywhere—"
"Me too, in the Woman's Section," said Annabeth exasperatedly.
"—and there's literally not a single shirt in here!" raged Faith, throwing glares here and there at anything or anyone that comes by sight. A few people scuffled back, clearly taking the safer route and deciding to stay a good ten feet away from the screaming hunter.
The glowing red sign that read, Mates With Dates lay almost everywhere in the store they were in. Apparently, as Annabeth had said, this was the closest clothing store there was. The second nearest one was two miles away, and she doubted they'll be able to go that far and return just in time.
"I'm thinking of going to the Men's section just to buy some decent clothes," hissed Faith, eyeing a midnight twinkling chiton that reached until the knees. She noted how the front could've easily exposed the wearer's neck; the back also looked ostentatious. A long V-shape slid along the back, thinning until it was no more than a little stitching. "I mean, look at these dresses!"
"Do you have a problem, Madam?" queried a sweet high-pitched voice that made her turn around in question; and bland curiosity.
A blink was all the saleslady got as a sign of surprise. Faith supposed the woman was astoundingly pretty—her black, ravishing hair looked fine enough to consider her role as a saleslady. Otherwise, she would've been mistaken as an ordinary but rather beautiful buyer.
"I, er—well—" Faith took immediate notice of the young woman's eyes. Was it possible for one's pupils to change colors so quickly? They were a gentle soft brown at first, but then it had switched into a striking blue then dissolved into a familiar sea-green.
A hand grabbed her elbow, tugging Faith away. "Nope, we're good. Thank you!" said Annabeth quickly, dragging the hunter to the other direction.
Faith couldn't help but ask, "Is it possible for someone's eyes to change colors in one second?"
Annabeth gave her a look of incredulity. "You sure you don't know who that is? I'd honestly think it'd be a bit more obvious," she murmured, quickly letting go of the hunter's arm.
Faith pursed her lips for a moment's thought, and— "No," she decided. "Why? Do you know her?"
"Let's just say we don't want getting tangled with a particular love goddess as of now."