A/N: I own nothing. Enjoy!
The whole palace was frozen, covered with a thin layer of frost. Servants were frozen in place like icy statues. Others had ice spears struck through them. Not a single one was spared as their expressions were forever frozen in expressions of horror.
"See, my boy, what you have done?"
The man clasped Percy's shoulder and gestured to the icy environment.
"This is what happens when you don't listen. You are a monster, you hear me? A monster!"
Percy brushed the man's hand away but his ungloved hand made contact with the man's bare hand, causing ice to immediately cover the defenseless skin. With a roar of pain, the man struck out and Percy felt his face sting.
Percy seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. When his eyes opened, a woman was placing a damp cool cloth over his forehead.
No, he wanted to warn her. She couldn't touch him or else...his mind grew fuzzy again.
The second time he woke up, the same woman was feeding him some sort of warm liquid. It tasted bitter, but he was powerless against the woman who was both gentle and firm in having him swallow every drop. When the bitter fluid went down his throat, Percy fell asleep once more.
When Percy woke up again for the third time, he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings, lying in a soft bed with a rustic wooden ceiling above him.
What had happened? The last thing he remembered fully was falling into the river and letting the waters carry him away.
Percy cautiously wiggled his toes and then his fingers. All limbs were attached, though there was a dull pain in his right shoulder. His whole body felt like he had been dropped onto the plain ground from a hundred feet up. But fortunately, his mana seemed to have been a little replenished, though it was far from being its normal state.
He lifted his head up from the pillow, and a damp white cloth fell off from his forehead. Pushing himself up, Percy inspected the rest of the environment. He appeared to be resting in a small bedroom. A small wooden nightstand holding a vase of wildflowers was beside the bed, while another table held an assortment of jars, basins, cloths, and bandages. His sword, to his relief, was carefully laid on top of the mahogany dresser. A window was to the right of the bed, open and letting in the fresh smell of morning air.
Then Percy's green eyes met piercing amber eyes. The amber feline eyes blinked. Percy blinked back. The sleek cat yawned and broke its stare to lick at its paw, apparently bored of Percy's staring contest.
The door to the bedroom opened, and Percy went on high alert. Though he was grateful that he was still alive and seemed to have been cared for judging by the bandages wrapped around his chest, he still had to be careful. After all, hadn't he just been betrayed by the family he should have trusted the most?
A young woman entered the room with a tray in her hands. She appeared to be the same woman he had seen as he was slipping in and out of sleep. Automatically, Percy sized her up now that he could stay awake properly, an instinct he had gained through years of battle. With curly golden hair, a tall figure, and a clean aura, the woman didn't seem to be hostile or carrying any weapons, but he was still wary.
"Oh, you're finally awake. That's good. I thought you'd sleep forever."
His apparent savior set the tray down on the nightstand and peered at him. He immediately noticed her eyes. They were grey, like a cloudy sky about to rain.
He watched as the jars of medicine on the table floated in the air and rearranged themselves neatly with a wave of the woman's hand.
A witch, Percy realized, as the magic looked different than that of a wind mage's. Witches were rare in the country of Galvador, which relied mostly on mages like him. For the most part, many people thought witches were just a myth to scare children. Just like how the stories went though, the witch before him was quite pretty with a delicate nose and soft features.
Percy might have described her as non-threatening, but her straight posture and a stubborn glint in her grey eyes made him think otherwise. They held intelligence and wariness as both of them sized the other up. In contrast, he had never heard of a witch wearing a plaid apron with her golden hair tied up in a ponytail like this witch was.
"Thank you for taking care of me," he said, cautiously. His voice was dry.
"No need to thank me. I can't just let you die in the river, can I? I'm Annabeth, by the way," she said, cheerfully, as she handed him a cup of water.
The cat jumped down from the windowsill and complained in its meow.
"Ah, and this is Mrs. O' Leary. She's the one who found you in the river."
Percy furrowed his brows as he listened to the witch speak.
"I'm...Percy."
He had wondered briefly whether he should give a fake name given that he was being pursued and branded a traitor to the Galvador kingdom. But the honest and bright eyes of the witch had made him swallow that thought. After all, if she wanted to kill him, she could have done so with many opportunities.
"How long have I been here? Where am I?"
"I pulled you from the river three days ago," Annabeth answered as she prepared some medicine. "And we're in the Forest of Illusions."
Percy frowned. The Forest of Illusions wasn't too far from where Neer's men were chasing him, but neither was the distance little. But since they hadn't captured him in these three days, he expected that they either thought he was dead or hadn't caught up to him yet.
"Forest of Illusions?" Percy questioned.
Annabeth grinned.
"I'm no illusion myself if that's what you mean. But the forest itself is full of strange visions. Most people avoid this place like the plague and for good reason." She looked at him almost expectantly.
He realized that she was waiting for him to explain why he was half drowned.
"Frankly, I'm also not sure how I ended up here."
"Hmmm," Annabeth murmured, clearly not convinced.
He could see the skepticism in her eyes. But it was the truth. He had no idea where the river might have led to when he had thrown himself over the edge.
"Did..did you touch me at all?" Percy asked, hesitantly.
The witch busied herself with the jars on the table. "I had to remove your shirt to heal your wounds. But I promise I didn't do anything to you inappropriately if that's what you asked."
Though her voice was steady, the back of her ears were a little flushed.
"That's not what I meant. You...you didn't feel anything when you touched me? Or notice anything strange?"
For all of his life, no one had been able to touch him without wearing gloves since he had been given the poison from a young age. In fact, the poison caused his own organs to slowly freeze and die of frostbite if it stayed in his system too long. It was only with the daily antidote that he could prevent the internal damage.
Annabeth cocked her head to one side and studied him.
"Hmm, I did notice that whenever Mrs. O' Leary touched you, frost would grow on her paw. I also brought in a few chickens and the cow in, and ice would grow on all of them. But I didn't feel anything whenever I changed your bandages. Does your ability affect just animals?"
Percy suddenly had the image of the witch plopping a chicken on his chest. Before he could say anything more, he coughed. Annabeth quickly refilled his cup of water.
"Well, first eat and then rest a little more. Then we'll talk about the extent of your injuries while I clean out the bandages, as well as this strange ability of freezing anyone you touch."
Annabeth handed him a bowl of porridge drizzled with honey and blackberries. Percy was glad that Annabeth left the room after, because he wanted a little time to think to himself.
Her reaction to him was completely different than the reactions of people Percy had experienced all his life. Most people treated him with fear. Others viewed him as a tool to control others. It was all Percy had ever known in his life since he was born.
It was hard for Percy to ever escape from the nickname of the "Beast of Galvador," earned from a battle with a neighboring kingdom so vicious that his dark hair had been dripping with blood. After so many years, he had become so immune to the horrors of war he often wondered whether he had lost part of his humanity.
But despite his notoriety, Annabeth the witch didn't seem scared like most people would be. Either the witch had not heard of him and was naive, or she was powerful enough that she was not scared of him.
"Meow," Mrs. O' Leary mewed plaintively.
Percy touched the cat hesitantly, but Mrs. O' Leary hissed and stepped back as frost immediately sprung up from where he had brushed against the cat.
So the uncontrollable ability to freeze others through touch was still there.
"I'm sorry," Percy apologized to the cat.
It felt strange to apologize to a cat, but the cat seemed to understand his words.
Now, the cat seemed to stare pointedly at the porridge which Percy had neglected to start eating. The cat nudged the bowl back towards Percy with her nose. Her sleek tail twitched impatiently and only stopped when Percy picked up the spoon.
What a strange cat, Percy thought. Usually animals avoided him once they realized that his touch brought nothing but pain.
Malcolm Chase stared out into the gardens from his room in the magic tower. He hadn't been back in the magic tower since that day ten years ago. The whole place felt foreign. But then again, had it really been a home with a tyrant of a father and the ghost of a mother long gone? His sister had been gone for nearly a decade, too.
"It'll be your twenty-first birthday soon."
Malcolm turned around to see his uncle enter the room.
"Uncle Randolph," he welcomed.
His uncle grinned and patted Malcolm's back. "Welcome home, nephew."
"Thank you, uncle."
Uncle Randolph closed the curtains. "It is good that you're at the top of your class at the Royal Academy. You have eight more months until you become of age. Make sure to study well and get plenty of sleep."
"Yes, uncle."
Uncle Randolph sized him up. Satisfied, he nodded. "You've grown well. My dear brother Frederick would be proud of you."
His voice choked up, as if he was remembering the olden times.
"I'm alright, Uncle."
"Yes, I can see that. Well, get some rest, nephew."
As soon as Uncle Randolph exited, Malcolm dropped the complacent smile and attitude. He wasn't stupid. He knew what Uncle Randolph was doing behind his back as the current guardian of the magic tower, not to mention who had been sending all the assassins in the middle of the night. Fortunately, Malcolm's wind magic had finally developed in time to take care of the first assassin.
Malcolm tossed his necktie and threw it across the room before plopping down on his bed. The last time he was in this room, his father, Frederick Chase, had been the leader of the magic tower. When Frederick had died, Malcolm had been too young to inherit the position, so the status of leader temporarily passed down to Frederick's brother, Randolph. Malcolm was then immediately sent to the Royal Academy to study. But he knew what his uncle was doing those years in the magic tower.
Randolph had been slowly eliminating anyone not loyal to him so the status of leader would permanently stay with him. Malcolm scowled. It had taken all his best acting to put on a pretense that Frederick was still a loving uncle while planning to dispose of his nephew. Fortunately, Malcolm had been making connections of his own while developing his own wind magic for the fight of the true master of the magic tower.
Malcolm held up his wrist, where a leather cord with a few wooden beads were attached. His sister had made it for him for his tenth birthday. He could still remember her lovely face, framed by the golden hair and grey eyes they shared.
The next day after his tenth birthday, Frederick Chase was dead and his sister was accused of causing their father's death. She disappeared right after that.
He clutched the bracelet. His sister had said it was a lucky charm. But the bracelet was also a constant reminder of guilt. His sister had taken the fall for him.
Annabeth, Malcolm pondered. He hadn't seen her all these years. Hell, he didn't even know whether she was still alive.
Where in the world was she?
A/N: I think as of right now, I'll probably have the fanfiction version of this story be updated once every week, probably Sunday before 9PM PST, so that's when ya'll can expect an update. Of course, I have to work on the Wattpad version a little faster, so here's to hoping my time, motivation, and creativity doesn't run out!
Edit: If you see Adrian or Evelina anywhere, that's from my original story. I probably just missed changing those names to the PJO version, my bad, ya'll.