A/N: Happy late 4th of July to my fellow Americans! I realize this chapter is a bit short, but I've been rather busy lately, and so I decided to just release now anyways, even if it's not the typical word count.
I decided to treat y'all with more Percy POV :) Also, the first POV from Jason!
Disclaimer: All rights remain.
Piper
Piper tied her dark her hair out of her face, knotting it loosely. She cupped her hands in front of her, scooping the water from the clean stream and bringing it to her mouth. The cool liquid slid down her throat, offering her temporary relief from the hot afternoon sun.
Jason and her had stopped to take a break, sensing the fatigue of both their horses, and themselves of course. It wasn't easy to navigate the thick forests of Epresh, a task that constantly stimulated your mind.
"Any idea how much longer?" Jason tapped his feet together, though Piper didn't really think he realized he was indulging in such nervous behavior. The blond leaned back against the tree bark, seeking solace under the cool shade. Throughout the entire trip so far, they had barely shared a couple words here and there. It wasn't exactly what Piper had had in mind when she remembered her fantasies to escape, but now that she had, now that she was free (or so she hoped), now that she was wild, she could not complain too much. Jason had a lot on his mind, she knew. He had briefly explained something about a sister, or at least, that's what Piper had thought he'd been mumbling about, so she had decided to cut him some slack and give him space.
"If our horses hold up, we can make it by midnight," she decided, scanning the blue sky above them for any signs of nighttime. So far it didn't show.
"Midnight?" The corner of Jason's mouth quirked up. Piper's eyes lingered on the small scar on his upper lip, the only flaw in his otherwise perfectly symmetric and all-American boy features. Somehow, the little imbalance was endearing. She kind of wanted to touch it. "Kind of cliche, is it not?"
Piper blinked. He'd asked her a question. "What?"
He frowned. "Nevermind that. Are you okay?"
Piper shot him a wry grin. "Are any of us really alright?"
At that, Jason must've realized that she was indeed quite alright, and hopefully, he hadn't noticed her uncomfortable staring. He hid a shy smile. "Okay, Socrates," he joked, shaking his head at her.
Piper beamed. "Actually, I prefer Diogenes and Voltaire."
Jason stared, before his expression morphed into thinly veiled amusement. "Of course you do."
Piper hid a frown, the stab of disappointment hitting her harder than she'd initially expected. "Aren't you going to ask why?"
He chuckled lightly. "I figured you were going to explain either way, so I might as well save my breath," he teased, and Piper was pleased to discover that was more behind the tough royal guard exterior.
"Good point!"
He laughed good naturedly, much to her delight.
"François-Marie Arouet!" Piper exclaimed. "Better known under the pseudonym of Voltaire. He wrote Candide, one of my favorite works," she explained. Jason leaned his head against the tree, sharing the bliss of the cool air underneath the dense leaves. He looked at her as she spoke, and though his unwavering eye contact made her slightly nervous, she pushed onwards.
"Gottfried William von Leibniz, a German philosopher and mathematician of Voltaire's time, developed the idea that, at the time, the world they were living in was 'the best of all possible worlds.' This systematic optimism is the philosophical belief that everything was already for the best, no matter how terrible it seemed. In this satire, and through his use of comical exaggeration, Voltaire showed the world full of natural disasters and brutality. Voltaire also used contrast in the personalities of the characters to convey the message that Leibniz's philosophy should not be dealt with any seriousness. It's much more funny than I make it sound," Piper briefly summarized. Jason still kept his attention on her, his lips curved up slightly in a way that made Piper's knees go weak. Stupid body parts, acting on their own accord.
"I think it sounds funny enough when you say it," Jason murmured, his hidden meaning not gone unnoticed by the feisty brunette.
"You're laughing at me!" she accused, but she was smiling.
"I am not," he promised, holding his hands up in surrender, but laughing nonetheless, and therefore disproving his ridiculous claim. "I just think it's captivating, charming really, how invested you are in these philosophies."
Piper fought a blush at his direct praise. He didn't even try to slyly disguise the compliments like those good-for-nothing royals. She prayed he thought it was a result of the heat outside.
"Keep going," he encouraged, tilting his head adorably. She suppressed the urge to touch him. He just drew her in with his scent, with everything about him. It was nonsensical, Piper rationally knew that, but she couldn't help herself. Clasping her hands together and letting them fall in her lap in case any more body parts decided to do things by themselves without her brain's permission, Piper continued.
"And Diogenes of Sinope," she hesitated, but Jason just smiled to himself as if he knew something she didn't. He nodded a little, probably unknowingly reassuring her. "Plato once described man as a featherless biped, so Diogenes, pretty much the most passive aggressive, sassy guy in Ancient Greece, ran in with a plucked chicken shouting, 'Behold a man!' He's just so badass," Piper dropped a curse, but she was so invested in her storytelling that she didn't really seem to mind. Jason's facial expression only momentarily shifted, a change so miniscule, and then relaxed again, so she didn't think he seemed to mind too much. Good. Or else she wasn't sure how far she'd make it in this trip.
"Tell me more later," Jason requested, standing up, and brushing off his slacks. He held out his hand to help her up, and instead of snarkily snatching her hand back like she usually would have, Piper obliged, entranced by him. His hands were soft and warm, comforting. She tried not to linger too much. "I like your version of storytime."
The Princess's cheeks turned a light hue of pink. "Okay," she agreed, saddling her horse as he mounted his own. "But for now, we're racing against the clock."
"Indeed," Jason confirmed, glancing up at the sky once more. Night would fall upon them before they knew it, and they had to get a move on. "Ready?" he inquired, raising a perfectly arched blond eyebrow at her.
Piper felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her.
"Ready," she confirmed, if a little breathlessly, instead.
Percy
The first thing Percy felt was annoyance.
He supposed he should've been used to the feeling (anyone would be annoyed if they had to wake up early each morning to fake royals and stupid 'kingly' duties), but the sensation was dulled by a comforting warmth enveloping him. Namely, the rising sun, splaying orange and red hues across the woods in a brilliant display of nature, and of course, the delectable blonde gently sleeping on his shoulder. He inspected her for a moment, unable to help himself. She seemed so much different when asleep: her forehead was smooth, only traces, shallow indentations of her constant worry and anger etched into her tan skin; her eyelids twitched occasionally, almost as if she were thinking deeply even in sleep (Percy wouldn't have been surprised if she was); her carnation pink lips were slightly parted, occasionally forming the silent incoherent word or two; her figure was relaxed, draped carelessly over him, instead of her typical ready-to-fight posture; her hair fell in slightly frizzy rings, sprawled across the folds of her plain grey attire and dangling over his shoulder.
She was pretty- there he admitted it. But Percy had found that her beauty tended to fade away in the wake of her recent betrayal (and with his brother and the Amazons, of all people). Not to mention, the second she opened her mouth on that balcony, she had spit nothing but deception, pretending she loved him. Had she even cared about him at all? The inquiry left a bitter taste in his mouth. Suddenly cold with the turn of events, Percy pushed the Princess off his body, albeit gently, no longer relishing her touch.
Percy stretched, his back throbbing from leaning against a wooden door the entire night. His back released a satisfying crunch, ending the uncomfortableness and he cracked his knuckles, rising to his feet.
His natural brooding expression morphed into a deeper scowl as he surveyed his surroundings. The memories slowly came back to him in painful tsunamis. His mother was alive.
Percy squeezed his eyes shut, wincing at both the soaked bandages across his torso, and at his mother's deception. Seemed like nobody was honest anymore. Not even his brother. Percy's fist went slack at the internal reminder of Luke. That blow had probably hurt the most. Choosing to momentarily forget the other aspects of his life that were so wrong (like Poseidon, like Luke, like Annabeth), he decided to focus on one issue at a time. After all, there was only one of him. First things first, Sally. He glanced down at Annabeth; he hoped she wouldn't wake up just yet. His mom and him really needed to talk, just the two of them. She had a whole lot of explaining to do.
And with his decision made, Percy rested his hand on the comforting hilt of his sword, perhaps the only stable thing in his life- Riptide- and pushed the front door to Sally and Paul's home open.
…
"Pancakes?" Sally queried the moment her firstborn walked in the door.
Percy blinked in bewilderment, his gaze shifting from his mother, standing in front of the stove in a navy and white striped apron with a silver spatula in her hand, to his baby sister, Estelle, who was happily devouring a syrup-coated stack of homemade blue pancakes. Paul was feeding her, pausing only for a moment to glance up at the son of Poseidon. He offered a tentative smile, but Percy didn't return it, already fed up with the day. Drew had once told him he looked like his father when he was in a mood. Percy had never wanted anything more in that moment that to not look like his dead father. Absentmindedly, the dark-haired young man pondered over the Crown Princess of Sumisu for a moment, seeing as she'd completely slipped his memory in the chaos. The one good thing that had come out of this revolution was that he probably didn't have to marry her anymore. You know, because he was a terrorist. Fun.
"Blue?" he inquired, pursing his lips at his mother who had abandoned him, leaving him to fend for himself in a world of politics and crazies, at the ripe age of three. He wanted to hate her, he wanted to hate her so much, but at the picture of her merrily cooking happy in front of him, his bitterness faded, if only for a moment. In the castle, she hadn't been allowed to cook often, Poseidon claiming it would be inappropriate. We have chefs for a reason. Percy had always thought Sally did it like nobody else though.
"Why change decades of tradition?" Sally chirped, noticing, but ignoring her son's subtle attitude.
"As if you know about tradition," Percy muttered, but his mother heard him. Obviously. She was his mother.
"And so it begins," she smiled at him, and Percy realized just how much he'd missed his mother's happy-go-lucky outlook on life.
"You abandoned me," Percy ignored her commentary. Paul had wisely ducked his head, his attention solely focused on the oblivious two-year-old. Sally didn't look up, flipping another pancake onto a new stack and handing it to Percy. He stared down at the plate as if it held the answers to life.
"Sit down," she waved the spatula at the nearest chair at the dining table.
Every fiber in his body wanted to resist her demand, but Percy still remembered when he was younger and Sally had withheld dessert until he finished his entire meal, seated, like a big boy. She had been so proud and he'd gotten blue cake. Percy's sea green eyes glared at the chair. Mumbling something under his breath, he reluctantly sat down, sliding the plate onto the wooden table.
She beamed. "Continue, hon," she urged him as if he hadn't accused her of deserting him, and she returned to the stove.
Percy slowly poured syrup onto his pancakes, drowning them as he always did. It felt like he was shedding the last of his armor, and surrendering to his mother, but sue him for being hungry. Besides, it'd been a long time since he'd ate his mother's creations, fifteen years to be exact. The thought was sobering. And with that, he raised the food to his mouth, savoring the flavor. He nearly teared up, but forced himself to remain rigid, seemingly unaffected. This was fucking ridiculous. He had been one of the biggest royal children, the soon to be king of Poseidon's beloved Thasite, and he had been powerful beyond imagination. And here he was, following his mother's every whim. His words would have no effect if he was such a spineless idiot.
"You dumped me at age three," he picked off where he'd left off, "and ran away to God knows where apparently, because you certainly weren't dead like I'd been told. No wonder it had been closed casket," his expression hardened at the memory. "That casket used to give me nightmares, you know."
Sally's expression softened apologetically, but she said nothing.
"Did Father know you weren't dead?"
Slowly, she shook her head no.
"What about Chiron, your blood brother?" Percy ignored the pain that jolted in his chest at the mention of blood brothers. Blood didn't mean family, Percy knew that now.
Again it was a no from her.
"Did anyone know?" he hissed, rubbing his forehead anxiously. He was so angry, so upset, so nervous, so many things at once. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
"No," she murmured.
Percy paused, biting back an unkind retort, even though Sally full-well deserved it. No matter what, she was still his mother. He still remembered her gently bandaging his knee, feeding him, ruffling his hair, kissing his cheek in a way that should've made him a highly embarrassed toddler, but strangely never really had. He'd adored her. She had been his favorite person in the entire freaking world, and he wouldn't have traded her for all the blue candy in the world, and then she'd died and it crushed him. "I think you owe me an explanation," he whispered. He hesitantly poured more syrup on his pancakes, just so his hands would have something to do.
Sally looked him in the eye, blue eyes on sea-green. She sighed, turning to Paul. "Can you take Estelle outside?" she requested gently. "And maybe check on the Princess? Surely, she's woken up by now and is confused." Without a word, Paul stood, kissed her on the cheek, scooped up a squealing little girl who had finished breakfast, and walked out the door, leaving mother and son alone.
"Why did you do it?" Percy whispered, tearing his eyes away from hers as she cautiously sat down across from him. "Was I really that bad, mom?" His voice cracked and he felt shame bubble up in him.
She frowned at her son. "Oh no, Perce. It had nothing to do with you." He said nothing. "Percy, I was being hunted."
Percy didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. His head snapped up in surprise. "What?"
Sally bit her lip, a nervous habit Percy had missed only all too much.
"By whom?" he choked out, flabbergasted.
"I have no idea," she replied honestly. "But I got all sorts of threats, Perce. So I faked my death, fled to these woods."
"I knew they'd lied," he said suddenly. "They'd said you'd killed yourself. I knew it!" he felt like an elephant was pressing on his chest, weighing him down. His entire life, fifteen years of torture after her death, he'd thought she'd killed herself, and to get away from him, for being an imperfect child, to get away from these royal duties. She had not been born royal, only married into the lifestyle.
"I'm sorry," she was sympathetic, but Percy couldn't process it, not now, not yet. Fifteen years. And it was all a lie. "But I had to protect a child, dear, I had to protect you. I had to protect your father, may he rest in peace."
He stiffened at the gesture towards his passed father. "Why didn't you ever come back, then? If you were being hunted?"
"After I'd 'committed suicide,' I figured the hunter would think I killed myself because of their threats, frightened for what they were going to do. So then they'd probably stop searching for me. I'm safe here, hidden in the woods. But if I were to return to the castle, I'd first have to explain my fake death, which is a hassle in itself, and then the killer would be both ticked off, and begin to hunt me once more."
Percy fell silent. "I'm sorry for my previous behavior," he offered, at a loss for what to say regarding the rest of her story. Someone had pursuited his mother to kill her; knots formed in the pit of his stomach. "I didn't know you were being hunted. I should've known you wouldn't have done something so drastic without a valid reason."
"Oh, please," Sally waved away his concerns, swiftly dismissing his apology. "I made my fair share of mistakes as well."
At that very moment, the door swung open with a soft creak, revealing the bedhead-ridden blonde. The pair of them stared up at her, and Sally set out another plate for the Princess.
"Good morning, Princess," she greeted the stunned blonde. There was a troubling look on her face, as if she'd just realized something bad.
"I'm not a Princess anymore, my Lady," she replied elegantly. Percy went back to picking at his pancakes. "You can call me Annabeth."
"And I'm no longer a lady of the royal court," Sally reminded her, sliding the syrup over to her. "Mrs. Blofis works just fine with me, or Ms. Jackson, if you prefer," she gestured to her son.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes at him, and Percy felt like he was wilting under her heated gaze. "I think I'll call you Mrs. Blofis; I've had my share of Jackson to last for a lifetime," she quipped, smirking at Percy, and then smiling at Sally before his mother could detect her sass. Percy rolled his eyes down at the table, his heart thumping faster and louder in his chest now.
"Coffee? Tea?" Sally kindly asked Annabeth.
"I'll take some coffee, thank you," she responded politely, her back stiff like a true royal, even here in commoner territory. She still acted like one of them in so many ways, Percy couldn't help but notice. "Black," Annabeth added, but when it came from her mouth, it didn't sound like an afterthought. Like my soul, she mouthed at him, and he snorted inelegantly into his bite. The corner of her mouth curved up in amusement as she took the cup from his mother.
"So, Percy," she said louder now, probably so that Sally would hear. "Catch me up on the family drama, won't you?" she requested, and though he probably would've abolished anyone else for the comment on a clearly touchy subject, a recent wound, it wasn't so bad from her. He shook his head at her and launched into a thorough explanation, Sally interjecting details as he spoke, retelling his mother's tale.
She tilted her head at him in deep thought as he spoke, absorbing his information like a sponge, and realized she looked sort of cute like this. Percy swallowed down the realization as Sally talked. He was so fucked. Royally, irreversibly, completely fucked.
Nico
Luke's coronation would be tomorrow, he would be King now that his father was dead, and Nico honestly wasn't sure how to feel. It was… weird, to say the least. The younger Calbourne brother was certainly different, now with his true colors on display. He was quiet, lonely, in some ways, or so the son of Hades suspected, and Nico could almost relate to the young Prince. Nico couldn't help but recognize that look on Luke's face whenever they passed each other. After all, it was the same face Nico imagined he wore when he thought of a certain Prince. Longing. It was wistful, sad, angry, a million emotions plastered all at once, mixed in an ugly display of his heart. And while Nico couldn't quite decipher who Luke was so held up over, he had figured out his own emotions for a while now. And he fucking hated it. He hated him. He hated the older Prince for being so good, for being so strong, for his kindness. He hated his fucking face, and it certainly didn't help that he had a handsome face.
Nico felt revolted by his own thought process. The ex-Prince haunted him even now, even a hundred thousand miles away from here, or wherever the hell he was. Here in the training room, Nico still could not find his own peace.
Every time he slashed at the training dummy, his sea green eyes came to mind. Steadying him, encouraging him to strike higher or lower, to give it his all, to not worry about hurting him. He was so different from his brother, and though Nico found some solace in their differences, in the fact that his heart didn't prick every time he laid eyes upon Luke- a reminder of his confusing emotions for another, but it was driving him nuts.
He couldn't afford to feel like this. But despite the hordes of girls Persephone rotated him through, none held a candle to the Prince. None smelled of the salty sea and fresh ocean air, none had his energy and natural charisma, and none were quite that sort of masculinity Nico admired. And therein lied the issue; Nico could not learn to love a female, try as he might.
He'd heard about this, this disease that ate away at people like him. Men with men was not a reality he could embrace. The legends say the Gods created them to love the opposite, that the Greek Gods had created beings, those who were too powerful, and split them into two to minimize casualties, and so they were doomed to spend the rest of their lives searching for their better halves. Men and women, women and men. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he let this go? Why couldn't he just be normal? It was official; Nico was as straight as Annabeth's hair.
Bianca would've known what to do. But Bianca wasn't here anymore, and that only made it hurt worse.
In a fit of rage, Nico angrily sliced the dummy in two clean halves, right down the middle. He fumed silently. Why must the son of Poseidon invade his private thoughts like this? Why must he wake up in a cold sweat, images of the dark-haired boy pressing into him swirling like a hurricane in his brain? It was sick. He was sick. Nico felt the familiar internal nausea building up again.
Slashing at the remains of the dummy, Nico fell apart, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. He glared at his hand, now injured as a result of his outburst. Lifting his soiled and bloody hands from the now stained hilt of his sword, he carefully examined the scars. Sharp and stinging, streaking across his hand like a crescent moon. A brilliant, garnet-and-ruby red moon. Cutting across his left hand in a neat row. Absentmindedly, Nico dug his fingernails into the clean wound, forcing more blood to haphazardly spill out.
It hurt, but Nico had found through the past few weeks that he really didn't mind so much. Good. Let the pain numb him until he couldn't feel anymore. He impassively squeezed tighter. His white skin turned red. Blood he no longer shared with a sister, blood he shared with a dead girl. His blood walked alone, and it spilled alone. His sword fell to the ground with a loud clang, but he hardly flinched.
"Sir?"
Nico spun at the interruption. He squinted at the young man in front of him, recognizing the fair, blond hair, sunkissed skin, and caribbean blue eyes after a moment. Nico was hit with the sudden realization that the boy in front of him, around his own age in fact, bore a striking resemblance to the young Calbourne Prince- Luke. But upon closer inspection, the Prince could clearly see the small, yet significant variations. For one thing, Luke was about a year older than him, so he was taller, and though this boy was still taller than Nico, Luke would easily have a couple inches on him. Where Luke felt cold, sending shivers down your spine whenever you passed him, the man in front of Nico radiated warmth, much like the sun in the sky emanated a pleasant heat, except in a less suffocating manner-
"May I help you?" Will Solace offered, pointing to the wound on Nico's palm, and effectively cutting his spiraling thoughts off. Nico blinked. Oh, right. Injury. Healer. Duh.
"How did you know I was injured?" Nico asked suspiciously. Did Athena and Frederick honestly just keep him hidden in the training room in case someone so much as scratched themselves? Back home in Pevanshire, Hades and Persephone did no such thing. Nico's mood soured at the thought of home, a place that was just now an empty castle without Bianca. He tried not to dwell on it too much, at least not here, not with Will watching him carefully, no doubt waiting for the darkness to escape the cracks in his facade. Nico stood stiff, holding his chin high with pride he didn't feel anymore.
"I heard you drop your sword, your Majesty," Will briefly explained. "My quarters are near the infirmary, and the stone walls are designed to just barely separate the infirmary from the training room for easy access during emergency situations."
Nico bit back an oh. He didn't want to sound like a child (though he nearly was, at least, in this world).
Will eyed him oddly, making Nico strangely self conscious. But before he could cover his hand and pray the castle healer would forget, or better yet, take a motherfucking hint, Will had already reached out, his fingers comforting and warm to the touch against the vulnerable inside of his pale, green vein-exposed, inner wrist. Nico felt the urge to pull away, immediately defensive to the touch of strangers. As if Will could sense the young Prince's discomfort, he rubbed soothing circles on his wrist. Working efficiently, Will bandaged his hand, cleaning the wound, and treating it appropriately. Five minutes later, Nico was staring blankly at his hand, surprised by the care in which Will had treated him.
"Thank you," Nico murmured, against his better judgement. Surely the healer would be weirded out, not used to gratitude for the higher ranks, but Nico had been raised differently. Bianca had always been a huge proponent of manners, though Nico had always felt it was less strange coming from her. She had been so genuine, so sweet, so unreal that it was hard to believe anything she did was anything less than natural. From Nico, it felt stiff, awkward, and foreign in his mouth. If Will noticed, he didn't say anything.
"You should be fine in an hour," Will promised. The healers were like magic, and they were chosen as castle healers for a reason. For some unknown reason, their touch was like magic, healing large wounds in a matter of hours, sometimes even minutes, leaving no trace behind. It was just another unexplainable phenomenon that they had always overlooked without another thought.
Nico just grunted, refusing to make eye contact with the kind healer.
Will smiled at him brightly anyways, and Nico couldn't help but wonder if anything hurt that boy. What's more, he wasn't sure why he even cared. Of course, that was foolish. He didn't fucking care. He'd cared a whole lot about Bianca, and look where that landed the two of them, tragically apart like some stupid Shakespeare play. Nico scowled at his hand with resentment.
"Sir," he beamed, nodding a little, before spinning on his heels, and leaving the way he'd come. Nico felt pitiful for the sunny boy all of a sudden. He was still happy, like a little flower thriving in the sunlight with plenty of water. This world would crush him soon enough, bulldoze all over the cute little flower. Nico felt irrationally disappointed by the thought, almost like he wanted to protect him or something, almost like he cared. But that image wasn't quite right. Nico didn't care about anybody or anything, not anymore, not ever again.
Nico found himself staring at that hand in equal awe about a half hour later, unwrapping the bandage to reveal smooth skin, just as good as it has been before sharp blades ripped at his calloused skin. And now, it was soft. For a moment, Nico thought he could still feel Will's skin on his, his gentle touch, his easy smile.
It was haunting, and terrifying, because Nico had been down this road only once before, and he wasn't sure he was ready for what was coming because this time would be the same outcome, he knew, only so much worse.
Jason
In the back of his mind, Jason could barely register Piper saying something about reaching the Amazons or something, but if he was being completely honest, he had absolutely no idea what she'd said. His mind was awfully… preoccupied, to say the least.
His sister was alive. She was alive. She was breathing. Her heart was beating steadily somewhere out there. And she was an Amazon.
It went against everything Jason knew, but somehow, it was everything he had been waiting for all his life. They had been set up to fail, by the Gods, by fate, by a godforsaken snowstorm the night Thalia was born, he didn't fucking know, but all he knew was that they'd been over the moment they began. And he could run as fast as he could, but somehow he could never quite catch up to the force that was his older sister. A force not to be reckoned with. But he would be there soon, at the Amazon camp, and even if they locked him up, killed him, he didn't care. He was finally breathing her in. He was drowning on her. And he'd found her now, so they didn't dare say it was too late. Please.
He would beg for her on his goddamn knees if he had to, but as far as he knew, Beryl Grace was dead, and he had never known their father. She was all he had left, a shining beacon of hope in all this darkness that was to pass over them, and now that he knew Annabeth would be there too, amongst the golden warriors, it only reinforced this idea that Jason would finally be where he was almost meant to be- by Annabeth and Thalia's side. He would fight for them, a powerful asset, with plenty of royal knowledge. He would do whatever he had to do so that Thalia would not leave him again, so that Annabeth would be his best friend forever, for all of eternity, so that…
Jason stole a quick glance at the brunette beauty riding on a white stallion next to him. And perhaps he would stand by another soon enough.
Every time he remembered their encounter at the royal ball, his cheeks turned pink. He prayed that if she saw she thought the wind was making his cheeks cold. To be caught embarrassed would only heighten his embarrassment, but he couldn't help it. She'd been so unorthodox, so real, and only the Gods knew just how badly Jason needed that something real in his life. An uncharacterized smile cracked through his impassive, royal guard facade, the small scar on his upper lip stretching with his suppressed smile.
Thalia was supposed to be dead. Annabeth was supposed to be a dead girl walking. And Piper was supposed to blend in.
Perhaps things were not as they seemed, perhaps this was a roller coaster that only ever went up. And Jason knew he was an optimist, maybe even to the point of delusion, but he'd always thought it smart to take pleasure in the little things in life. Who knew when you would next find solace in something, no matter how small? So as the darkness wrapped around him, he welcomed it with open arms, those blue eyes in his mind, his reason for pushing forward, his cause. He would see them again, he would squeeze the living hell out of the body those eyes belonged to, and soon. He would ruffle Annabeth's hair. He would befriend Piper if he was lucky. So it would be okay. Maybe not perfect, but okay.
And Jason had always thought that okay was a whole lot better than nothing.
Malcolm
For him, nothing would ever be the same again, though he suspected it was like that for everyone else too. Especially Nico. Guilt flooded his senses at the reminder of the young Crown Prince, and the fate of his older sister, of Malcolm's own betrothed.
He felt sort of sick when he thought about her. Her funeral would be in two days time, and Malcolm wasn't sure he would make it out alive. Bianca and him had never really gotten the true chance to get close before her demise, but he'd felt close to her, it was just the way she had made him feel, had made everyone she let in feel like. It was nauseating. Night after night he was plagued with the same pictures in his head of a bloody Princess, a sister on the run with a traitor, a grieving little brother, a dead father, and a new King for Thasite. Every time he fucking closed his eyes, he could see it all playing out, and in the end, it finished the same way. No matter whose deaths traded off, the conclusion did not falter; Malcolm could not save them all. Could not save Nico, and his parents, and Annabeth, and Perseus, and Bianca (who he had already failed), and himself. This was the end, more or less.
He wanted so badly to fight in the wars coming upon them, to fight for something, to feel alive one last time before he wasn't. He dreamed of dying on his feet like a martyr, but he couldn't because dying is easy, young man, living is harder. Malcolm swallowed thickly, hardly listening to the royal court. Tomorrow Luke would have his coronation for Thasite, and he would attend, standing stoically next to King Frederick, his hand impassively placed on Queen Athena's shoulder in a false pretense of comfort. Why give comfort where there was none? Why give hope where none was deserved?
And Annabeth.
What was he to say? He'd chosen against her in the end, and deep down, Malcolm had always known it would come to this- his country, his people, his parents, or his sister. He had known when he spent his nights worrying to Bianca about his little sister's rash behavior. He had known when Annabeth interrupted the board meetings and he'd had to keep quiet. He had known when Annabeth had a little outburst at that breakfast so long ago, what felt like ages ago, and he'd sided with Perseus. This was the natural order of things. And even then, even if he would not have admitted it unless there was a sword pressed to his throat, he had known the answer all along.
He would choose his land, he would choose his defensiveless people who were fucking counting on him to lead them through this war to victory, to heaven, to a safe haven. But it had never felt more real than when he'd had to look Princess Piper in the eye and tell her no, may my prayers be with my dear sister, may the Gods know what the hell is going through her mind, but no, I will not be coming with you.
Malcolm had always been a worrier, and he was well aware of his worrying- a fact that was so kindly pointed out by his sister so long ago.
"You look stressed."
"I am not."
"You are, too. I bet you even have grey hairs," she smirked.
"I do not!" he proclaimed indignantly.
"Want me to ask your servants? Settle this once and for all?"
"No!"
She laughed, throwing her head back in that way he loved. "So I win."
"No…"
"Yes," she mocked, flicking him on the forehead. A begrudging smile reached his lips.
Annabeth had never been a worrier. Malcolm had always admired that a whole lot about her. Maybe she made rash decisions, maybe she didn't always think things through, consider the consequences, but he loved her for it- no- he loved her regardless of it. He remembered spending his childhood desperately wishing he could've been as intelligent as her without having to think it through as much, without having to take his time.
He wished she'd taken her time before joining the Amazons. He would never see her again, not now, not until she was on the other side of the battlefield and they were face to face, blood dripping down their weapons, fearful of each other, fearing to harm each other, but knowing that they had committed to opposite worlds, and that this was the punishment for their decisions.
Malcolm pursed his lips, realizing he had not listened to one word of the royal council's meeting. And right then and there, he made the first hasty decision he'd made in a long time, maybe even in forever (and forever was an awfully long time, he had realized when thinking of Bianca, of Annabeth, of Perseus, of Nico, of his parents, of lots of things that lasted forever).
When push came to shove, and Annabeth stood on the other side of the battleline, he would let her kill him. Better to die than to remember her life fading before his eyes from his own hand. If she were to die, he would really be the one who paid for it. So he would die for her. He would die for his love of his sister in the end.
What was he to say? He'd chosen her in the end, and deep down, Malcolm had always known it would come to this- his country, his people, his parents, or his sister. He had known when he spent his afternoons wishing he was anywhere but stuck in Kingly duties, with his sister instead. He had known when he had interrupted the board meeting and left in search of Annabeth, because he simply could not bear to argue of arbitrary topics for another couple hours, only to break, and regroup, and do it all over again. He had known when he had a little outburst at lunch with the current Kings so long ago, what felt like ages ago, and he'd stood his ground, remembering his sister's wise words before entering that fucking stage where puppets obediently played their parts. This was the natural order of things. And even then, even if he would not have admitted it unless there was a sword pressed to his throat, he had known the answer all along.
He would choose his sister above all else. Over his land, over his defensiveless people who were fucking counting on him to lead them through this war to victory, to heaven, to a safe haven, over it all, he would choose Annabeth. His world began and ended with Annabeth, always only ever her. Because that's what love meant to him, to her, that's what true loyalty was. And for her he would lay down his life. For her, he would give it all away to see her standing. For her, he would breathe his last breath.
We will ascend, she'd told him so long, when she'd broken his heart into a million pieces, when she'd made his choice clear for him, when she'd told him she'd found her cause, her purpose for being. For gold and glory.
Malcolm clenched his jaw, the promise burning deep in his chest as he realized the weight behind it, the blood that would spill, his own, and all that vow entailed. His mantra might have been a little different than the one beating in Annabeth's heart, but it meant just as much to him as her Amazons meant to her: For her.
Annabeth
"So what now?" Annabeth breathed out once she was all caught up. Her mind was whirring with the new information, desperately trying to figure out Sally's situation. Who would have wanted to kill her, she who had been nicknamed the Kind Queen? It was a mystery to her, and Annabeth had never liked not knowing things.
"We're going to the Amazons, right?" Percy cleared his plate, and then hers as well. She muttered out a reluctant, quiet thank you.
"You're still going?" she asked, surprised.
"Of course," he glanced at his mother, and she smiled reassuringly at him. It was still strange to see the former Queen. Annabeth had been too young when Sally had 'died,' and she barely remembered the funeral, but she'd heard only the best of things about her. "My cause has not changed. Democracy, we promised," he breathed, and something in her ribcage melted at the hopeful look on his face. She ignored the organ-melting feeling. Rationally speaking, organs didn't really melt. Stupid, charming face.
"Well, I'm glad," she begrudgingly admitted. She would've missed him, and though she would've understood his decision to stay with his mother, his generous step-father, and little sister, she knew it was the truth. "But no, the Amazons are the second stop," she announced, and this was even news to Percy. She had been sitting on the front porch after waking up alone, stewing over all that she knew. They had to figure out this monster thing, they had to. Percy raised a questioning eyebrow. "The monsters."
Percy's lips twisted into a frown. "The hydra," he recalled. "It's not real. It shouldn't have been."
The blonde nodded vigorously. "Right. But the fact is, it was real. And that's terrifying. And nobody's heard of this phenomenon." She looked at Sally who remorsefully shook her head no, confirming her statement.
"But-" Sally spoke now. "I have heard of people seeing something. Even if nobody saw the mythical monsters you speak of, I've heard of another monster."
Annabeth and Percy both looked at her in a split second. She had not known about this. "What do you mean?"
"But it was a long time ago," Sally conceded. "I remember hearing about some scary stories when I was younger, just a little girl in the villages. There's more forest behind these woods, endless acres," she explained. "When we circled around campfires, the older children would tell stories of an unnamed figure with two horns on his head, and he supposedly knew everything about every myth ever told. Said he was terrifying, that his eyes alone would make you faint. That you'll know when you're nearing his territory; it's extremely hot there. He supposedly resides in the thick of the forest, somewhere closer to the center of the forest, where there is no other civilization, away from the streams. They say he chokes his trespassers with the heat and then they're never heard from again."
Annabeth blinked. "So if this guy exists, and he supposedly knows everything about myth ever told, he might know why we're seeing monsters," she deduced.
Sally slowly nodded. "But it's just a children's tale. I don't know how much is real, if any of it is. And for your sake, I hope some of it isn't true," she gnawed on the bottom of her lip nervously. Out of the corner of her eye, Annabeth saw Percy swallow thickly.
"It doesn't matter," she decided, her mind made. She hoped desperately that she wasn't signing her death warrant. "It's a chance, and no matter how small, I must take it. Monsters should not exist. At least, not like this. The only monsters in this world are our inner demons and the bloodthirsty beasts who create these wars, who sit on thrones." She did a onceover of Percy. He had fallen silent at her words and accusations of the royals. A wise decision, she thought. "And you, you're injured. I'm going alone." Suddenly, he wasn't so quiet anymore.
"Are you insane?" he protested almost immediately. "You're not fucking going alone." Neither woman flinched at his vulgar terms, Annabeth used to it, and Sally seemingly uncaring. She didn't seem like the type of lady to get easily bothered by much, Annabeth had figured out. "You'll die before you even make it to the center of the forest," he scoffed.
Annabeth's eyes flashed in false anger. Would the stupid, thick-headed idiot just let her save him, just this once? For all he had given for her? To allow her this small repayment that still didn't cover all his generosity? "And that's final," she hissed, spinning on him.
His eyes lit up in return and he chuckled darkly. "No the fuck it is not. I'm coming and I'm helping. We're in this together, remember?"
She momentarily softened at his sweet words, but hardened when she saw him wince at his bandages brushing uncomfortably over his sensitive skin. "Oh, please. You can hardly bear the pressure of the bandages," she pointed at his chest, and he glared at her. His glare was chilling, but she swallowed her fear, praying that she wouldn't crack under the pressure. They indulged in a silent staring content, her jaw set and eyes fiery, his gaze colder than Antarctica and his lips pressed into a thin line.
After a few minutes of his uncomfortably cool stare on her, she angrily caved. It seemed her decision wasn't so final after all. Stupid Prince. "Fine. Fine! Fuck, you can come along," she relented, crossing her arms over her chest.
His lips twisted into an uncharacteristic, victorious grin. If she'd known he would've smiled this gorgeously, she would've caved a long time ago. She irrationally worried he could hear her heartbeat, the wild palpitating roaring alongside her blood in her ears.
"Excellent," he drawled, pleased with her answer. She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back, Mom," he turned to Sally, and all of a sudden, Annabeth felt like she was intruding on a personal family moment. Even though the three of them knew Percy might die, it felt like a promise she was more than willing to hang onto. "I have a baby sister whose affection I have yet to win. And I swear, I'm going to be her favorite, just you watch," he was so good at lightening to mood, and Annabeth found a grin spreading across her face, his smile ridiculously infectious. It seemed his mother wasn't resistant to his powerful emotions either. A tiny smile quirked up at the corner of her lips.
"And," he looked at Sally once more, thoughtful. "I changed my mind. I think I will take that coffee, after all. A little sugar and cream please," he requested, grinning wickedly at her when Sally beamed and went to get him a drink. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the smile. Sweet like me, he mouthed teasingly, and she felt her face flush pink. That fucker had some audacity. She sneered at him, childishly sticking her tongue out. (They were both children half the time, okay? And that was okay, too.)
Percy took a large sip, an obnoxiously loud one at that. Annabeth felt her eye twitch in disdain. He smirked her, knowing exactly what he was doing. "First coffee, then murder," he murmured cheerily, and she rolled her eyes so hard that for a moment, she was frightened they would fall out. Sally excused herself to go check on her husband and daughter. The blonde bid her a polite smile as she parted from the pair.
"I think I'll go shower," Annabeth sniffed, concealing an amused expression at Percy. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she thought he was funny. He already thought he was too funny for his own good. Idiot.
Percy was thoughtful. "Maybe I'll join you," he winked.
Annabeth's face turned bright red, scandalized at his forwardness. "You have no shame!" she berated, hiding her face and scampering off to the shower. She could hear him laughing behind her as she excused herself.
Annabeth groaned into her hands as she let the water rain over her, embarrassed by her reaction to his teasing. She was positive that boy was going to be the death of her. It was nice playing with you. But I play to win, she remembered his words on that goddamn dance floor. Suppressing a shudder at his suave attitude, she scrubbed herself cleaning, hoping to scrub the memory of her pressed against the wall, his sinful lips fervent and demanding on her own, away. Her face had turned pink once more just thinking of their secret passion in that abandoned room.
Annabeth groaned, and she swallowed down the realization as she showered. She was so fucked. Royally, irreversibly, completely fucked.
A/N: Percabeth is totally crushing, and hard lol. Those poor, lovesick fools. Too bad they're both too stubborn to say anything XD (Psst Diogenes and Voltaire are my favorites, sooooo, that's why Piper rambled about them of all philosophers haha) Until next time~
Fangirl xx
Reader: Omg, me too! Delving into Sally's backstory will be really fun; I really wanted to talk more about it in this chapter, but I needed to move on to our main protagonists because now that they're all in different places, I really wanted y'all to hear from all of them. I'm really glad you understand Percy's distanced emotions; I know many of the other readers are kinda angry with him for it xD But idk man, I feel like if I was fucked over that many times, I'd just want to protect my heart too. Ok, can I just say, I freaking love how you analyze my entire chapters XD It's kinda fun to read through. I agree with your sentiment on democracy. I feel like he's lost. Yes, I feel like Malcolm is trying hard to forge his own path, and he's in this moral grey zone like Percy, just unsure about how to feel about everything. The monster thing is… interesting for sure ;) Glad I can keep you hooked; thanks for reading!
Guest: Thank you so much!
Bookgirl: I killed Sally off in my other story, so I was like, why not haha. I'm not sure how I can fit Apollo in, I've gotten all sorts of requests for this story, and I'm trying to fit stuff in, but I'm also not sure lots of it will flow with my plot. But I can definitely promise Will Solace will be playing a larger part soon, if you catch my drift ;) And for the death, like I've told everyone else, I make no promises :P
Vanilla: One: Aww thanks, lol. I really wanted to incorporate Paul and Sally :)
Two: YES! ANOTHER CASSIE FAN, HI! XD
Three: Honestly, if you want any good recommendations, feel free to stalk my FF account haha: I religiously favorite and follow things :) I've only read one Red Queen FF, and it was kinda messed up, but I liked it XD, so I'm not sure I have a recommendation for you yet haha.
Four: Thank you! I feel like the love/hate relationship is very true to the canon books, so I wanted to keep that aspect. It's just a coincidence that Mare/Cal are also like that ig haha, though it certainly is a common trope.
Five: Omg, I love Evangeline a whole lot, too! She's very badass haha, so I totally get it. And yes, I like Mare quite a bit too. Ik a lot of people thought she was too whiny, but I actually kinda liked that she was so stuck to the cause of the Scarlet Guard, that she would make foolish mistakes. Idk, she just felt more real, ya know? My personal favorite is kinda fucked up, actually, but I've always had a soft spot for the mastermind, the vulnerable, yet psychopathic typical villains XD So my favorite is actually Maven haha :P
Six: I've always felt like Perce is v smart, despite how the fandom portrays him, and much more pessimistic than Rick can reveal simply because of his demographic. So I feel like my portrayal of Percy will be much different than Cal, hopefully, if I do well lol. I'm actually considering that plot twist with Perce, but I'm not sure yet how I want this all to end, so I haven't given it much thought yet. One chapter at a time, one step at a time~
Seven: My sister and I are about 2 and a half years apart.
Eight: OMG NO WAY! Yes, I plan to practice in the US, but I'm considering studying in London as well, since they're very highly praised for law. I'm a fan of international corporate law, have been for a while, but I'm also considering intellectual property and JAG law. I'm in loveeee with the Ivy Leagues obviously, particularly Yale, but I'm also a fan of some other Ivies like Columbia, etc. But in reality, Ivies are hella expensive, so I will probably end up in-state. That's okay, though, because one university very close to me (I won't safety purposes of course), is like 7th or 8th in law I believe, which is kind of crazy considering it's not an Ivy. It's one of those schools people say is like an Ivy, but not actually one, like UChicago (which is another one I'm looking at). I do have lots of time to choose though. I'm only going to be a sophomore in high school next year XD
Nine: I liked this long review!
Ten: Yes, I agree, let's move to PMs and quite bothering the rest of the readers haha. Since you're on a Guest account, go ahead and shoot me a PM, since I can't send you one :)
Whatsup: Welp. They kinda made up in this chapter, so I hope that's good enough? Lol. Yep, that hydra is just the beginning of an unraveling series of strange events. Idk if I can fit the Oracle of Delphi into my plot, but I never really know till I get to that point in my story. Also, idk if you caught it or not, but Clarisse is already a royal guard for Epresh. Percy referred to the guard by the name of "La Rue," which referred to Clarisse La Rue. I'm not sure about Apollo, but Artemis will definitely be showing up soon. Yep, Grover exists. You'll meet him very very soon, actually! Idk if I'm going to tie him and Juniper together, but that would be nice. I haven't thought about Magnus at all, actually, so don't bet on it, but like I said earlier, I'll cross that bridge when I get there. For Nico, ig you'll just have to wait and see haha. That's an interesting theory, but that doesn't really make sense considering that both Reyna and Hylla aren't affiliated with the Canadians (except for the fact that their organization allied itself with Canada), but instead as two separate Generals of different squads for the Amazons (though neither are the Amazon Queen- someone who is yet to be revealed). Though I definitely do like the idea of Jason being a stowaway, I'm afraid it's a bit too late for that. No, it's okay! I always like hearing from my readers, no matter how they choose to share their thoughts. If you're just a suggestion kinda person, that's coolio~ :)
Mitsuha Miyamizi: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like Annabeth; I always fear I make her rather unlikeable by trying to keep in touch with her stubborn, prideful roots from the canon series. I'm hoping that we can continue to see her grow, but maybe see a bit more growth from the other characters as well. I know Nico's growth is coming, he's just going through a rough patch right now, but I know I definitely need to invest some time in furthering everyone else. You're wonderful too, and I always adore your reviews!
Vanilla: I'm flattered, really, but for future reference, I typically upload on Saturdays, usually before noon (even though I didn't this time lol). :) I have indeed read The Dark Artifices (The Emma-centric series), and yes, it was very sad, but Cassandra writes so well that even if I should ideally be angry, I feel like her eloquent writing helps soften the blow. Not to mention, coping with fellow fans always helps. Oh yes, The Eldest Curses (featuring our favorite Malec :D). Yesss, I read it, and I loved it. I'm a huge Malec shipper, so that was totally my thing. (No problemo; I tend to do the same~)