Part 2: Fogged Moon
Ok, so this is in Thalia's point of view, at the time when she's a pine tree. There are a lot of fics in Luke's perspective when Thalia became a tree, and in Thalia's perspective when she woke up. I figured there were too little of these fics - in Thalia's perspective when she was a tree - around. Please read and review!
I didn't really know what to make of the second movement of the Moonlight Sonata. It was a little less emotional than the first and third, and seemed a little uncertain. So, here it is!
Disclaimer: If I owned PJO, I'll probably die of happiness. So seeing as I'm still perfectly alive...
She blinked.
Something shone blue overhead, like a forget-me-not canvas of sky on a cloudless day. Then there was green; little patches of grass melting into lawns; distant fields smelling of those little red fruits... What were they called again? Oh yes, strawberries. Those bunches of tiny berries that bathed in the sunlight were called strawberries. There were buildings too. Roofs and blended colours poked above the grass, vague and fuzzy. She could make out something red... No, blue. Silver, even, and gold.
She stretched upward, feeling the sunlight caress her branches and leaves. She reached up to embrace it, basking in the warmth and glow that filled her with a sort of calm and content. She stood tall and firm, the throb of life beating through her with every breath. She was contentedly, blissfully alive.
Alive.
Something strange tingled at the back of her mind, something that told her that this shouldn't be. Doubt flickered through her.
Monsters. Pouring rain. Dying.
She shook herself. She was just thinking too much. She wasn't dying. She was alive and well on this little hilltop.
She heard the distant murmur of voices and the faraway sounds of people laughing from downhill. When she tried, she even saw the indistinct figures of them walking about, weaving between the cluster of roofs that peeked above the grass, tiny and blur in the background.
She wondered where she was. Well, this wasn't a bad place, after all. Flowers bloomed at her roots. A gentle breeze played through her leaves like music. But how had she ended up here? She tried to think. Where had she been before this? Where on earth was this place? But try as she might, she could not remember. All that remained was a distant grey blur of fogged images that did not make sense to her: something that might have been... been black asphalt zipping by and... a full moon that... hung silver above her and... And...
Blue eyes.
She almost gasped. She grasped at the memory, trying desperately to hold on to it, cling on to its frayed edges. She did not know how, but she was sure it was something important. She wanted to know. She needed to know.
But just as she thought she could form a coherent thought, the memory slipped away as quickly as it had come.
She sighed, disappointed.
Well, she thought, someday, I will figure it out.
Sunset dyed the sky in a rueful orange, staining the clouds before slipping beneath the horizon. Soon, evening fell. Night closed in on the little hill like a blanket that fell over it, gently wrapping it in its little cocoon. Crickets chirped. Bugs hummed and a chorus of frogs croaked at the lake. The sky was inky and dark.
Blue eyes, she thought. Crystalline and true, a lifeline she clung onto.
She needed to find out.
She did not see him coming toward her until he was right before her: the boy making his way up the hill. His outline was pale against the blue-black sky. She could see the blurred silhouette of hunched shoulders and long, almost pained footsteps. Something shone pale and silver in the moonlight - his hair, perhaps.
She tried to make out his face, yet through the dark, it was impossible. All she could see was the paleness of his skin in the faint light of the stars, and the white-blonde gleam of his hair.
She watched as he approached her, staring up at her leaves. He drew closer, reaching out his arms as though to embrace her. He pressed his hands into her trunk. She could feel his movements, slow and shaky, almost excruciating. His hands quivered, uncertain and disbelieving. She felt them against her, pressing with almost a violent need, like a drowning man reaching for land. Then, as fast as he had come, he snapped his hands away as though scorched.
He hovered uncertainly before her, like a bewildered insect, then crouched down and slowly ran his fingers across her roots and the base of her trunk, as though drinking her in with every second, feeling everything.
And then he spoke. His voice was rough and hollow, filled with pain.
"You're... You're... You're really..."
She did not understand what he was saying, yet she could feel the pain and disbelief in him, swirling in a black vortex of agony. He was tortured from within. By what? She did not know.
Her heart broke. What had caused him to be like this?
"Oh, Thalia," he whispered.
She could taste the pain, the confusion squeezed out of him like bitter, slow-acting poison.
"Thalia. Thalia. Thalia..."
Thalia. The name struck a chord in the back of her mind, yet it was faint, as though only heard from across an ocean. It was something that she was certain she should know, yet didn't; and insistent tingle at the back of her mind. The harder she tried to put her finger on it, the swifter it evaded her. What was Thalia? A name. It was someone's name. She racked her brain, yet came up with nothing this time. Who was Thalia? Who was this boy? And whose were those blue eyes that haunted her thoughts... Blue, blue eyes that looked like melting sapphires in the firelight...
She did not know.
How she wished she did.
Days flowed past, stretching into weeks and months. Soon, time no longer mattered. The sun rose and set in the same rhythmic routine for her. The moon delicately thinned into just a small streak of silver, then slowly expanded into its full, rounded glory. It was calm on the top of the hill, nothing but sunlight warmth and moon radiance and distant voices from downhill.
Yet through the calm and predictable peace, something constantly nagged at the back of her mind, a small insistent voice whispering urgently everyday so that she could never be at peace.
Thalia. Blue eyes. And those distorted images that came to her, of running down icy pavements and deserted roads, hiding among trees, and the indistinct form of a little girl with hair the colour of sunlight trailing after her.
They were connected somehow, she was sure, to form something important, but she just could not figure it out. It was confusing and so frustrating, she wanted to scream. It was as though someone had placed a square of black right in the centre of her memories, preventing her from knowing even about herself.
And who was that silver-blonde boy who came to her every night?
Almost inadvertently, she found herself looking forward to his visits. As the moon rose every night, she would start to expect him, gazing across the meadows to find the small shape of him moving up the hill. There he would be, striding up the gentle slope toward her, and she would watch him, her eyes never leaving him as he came to her. She liked it so much better when he was there. Somehow, nights were always warmer with him beside her.
She was always disappointed when he didn't come.
Sometimes, he would merely sit, leaning against her. Together, they would watch the shades of night play past in peaceful silence. Other times, his hands would run down her trunk, caressing her leaves, as though feverishly trying to take her all in. Again and again, he would repeat that name: Thalia, Thalia, Thalia.
She would try hard, oh, so hard, to make out his face, yet it was always too dark, her vision too blurred to see anything clear.
All she could do was just stand there and absorb his presence beside her that kept her from loneliness.
Well, maybe that was good enough.
Sometimes, he would leave a few hours later, when the moon was high and the stars glittered above. Those always left her disappointed. She wished he could stay. Other times, he would stay until it was dawn, when the faint orange smudge appeared on the horizon. Then he would stand, reluctantly brushing away the leaves on his clothes, and head back down into the valley.
She would watch him go, following his every step with her gaze until the vague shadow of him melted into the distance.
She wished he could stay longer.
Luke.
The name was on everyone's lips.
Luke. Luke. Luke.
It buzzed through the people downhill. It rippled through the voices of nearby tree spirits.
Luke.
It bothered her, even more than all the other things she had been preoccupied with. She did not recognize this name, but like Thalia, she was sure she knew it. Somewhere inside her, buried deep and frustratingly irretrievable, she knew lay the knowledge and overflowing memories of who this name belonged to.
Yet she just could not remember.
It was just so frustrating! Why could she not recall? Why must her vision be so blurred? Why could she just not simply enjoy the peace of the hilltop? Why?
Vague images formed in her mind, though they did nothing but increase her confusion. A rainy day. A triumphant laugh ringing through the air. A twenty-dollar bill held proudly aloft. The tiny figure of a little blonde girl beside her.
What did these all mean?
Luke.
She found herself thinking of it so much it became an obsession.
Luke. Thalia. Thalia. Luke.
The sky was soft and inky, as though if she reached out, she would be able to touch its wavering edges. There might be stars; she did not know. Little glimmers of tiny lights above darted in and out of her focus. She could see the moon, fogged and smudged against the dark sky.
The night was quiet. She stared up into the watery moon, her mind wandering.
She had not seen the silver-blonde-haired boy for a while now. She wished he would visit her again. He had always come. Why had he stopped? Where had he gone to? Did he not care about her anymore? She tried to recall his last visits. He had seemed different; more agitated perhaps, even angry. He had spoken a lot; words she could not understand tumbling out of his mouth, fast and furious, like showers of pebbles she could not pick up.
I'll make them pay, he had repeated over and over again. Don't worry.
What did he mean? She was not worried about anything in particular. She just wanted to see him again. Was that too much to ask?
Her gaze roved across the skies, before sliding down the valley and the opposite side of the sleeping hill.
Then she gasped. The world seemed to stop.
Because -
Because -
There he was.
His hair gleamed in the starlight, and it struck he how different he looked. Older, perhaps, and stronger. Her heart swelled. He was here, back for her.
Then she noticed that he held something in his hand; something long and silvery, glinting in the foggy light of the moon. A sword, perhaps? He had never carried it before. What was he going to do with it? Nervousness crept into her, fluttering like moths. He wouldn't hurt her, would he?
The moon shone, half hidden in cloud. She could see him better now, yet his face was still hidden in layers of shadow. Frustration coursed through her. Why could she not see clearly for once? At that moment, she would give anything, anything to just have a proper look at the beautiful mystery who came to her.
Then the moon slid out from behind the cloud. Moonlight streamed down, silver and bright. It illuminated the sleeping grass before her, pouring across the meadows. It caught the reflective edge of the boy's sword and almost delicately, reflected upward.
The light, pale and white, fell on his face, bathing it in silver.
Her heart seemed to stop. Everything froze over. She could not breathe. She could not speak. At that moment, nothing else mattered as she stared into his eyes.
Eyes that shone the bright, electric blue that had haunted her thoughts for so, so long.
Just like that, it all hit her.
She gasped as the flood of memories and images washed over her like a tidelwave.
Luke... Luke was this boy, the one right in front of her, the one who came to keep her company every night, the one with the blue eyes. Luke, the one who had single-handedly defended her against legions of hellhounds. Luke, who had been there every time she needed someone. Luke, her friend, her companion, her love. Luke and that little blonde girl Annabeth, for whom she had given her life for - and became this... this tree.
Thalia... Her heart fluttered. Thalia had been her. Punk-garb-wearing, lightning-bolt-throwing her.
Luke and Thalia. Thalia and Luke.
She wanted to cry out to him. Luke, she desperately wanted to scream. You came! You came back to me!
Yet trapped in the husk of the silent tree, she could not make a sound. She struggled, fighting to speak, to simply move, yet it was like trying to move a boulder. How had she ever been at peace with this form? She could only watch as he stood there, staring into her with those startling blue eyes, pools of liquid sapphire and melting diamonds gazing into her.
But something was wrong. She sensed it before actually seeing what it was.
He had cut his hair, so it was no longer that beautiful windswept mob that swept over his head, but instead an angular, unfamiliar style that just wasn't him. his clothes had changed too; no longer the shorts and sandals of the scruffy boy she loved, but long trousers and a clean shirt. A long, pale scar ran down one side of his face. It looked almost unearthly, jagged and cold in the moonlight. It didn't belong on his face. Chills tingled down her spine. Luke had never had such a scar. Surely it was just a trick of her fogged vision? Luke's face was smooth, proud and handsome, unmarked and scar-less... wasn't it?
Then he spoke to her, and his voice brought her to a whole new level of reality.
"I'm sorry, Thalia."
She felt the heat of his palm against her trunk again. Her heart fluttered.
"I'm doing this for you. You'll understand."
His voice was low, full of emotion. It was not until then did she realize how much she wanted to hear it again. This was why she had been so lonely as this tree. This was why she had, without fully understanding herself, yearned so much for his visits. This was what it was meant to be. Luke and Thalia. Thalia and Luke.
But... what had he meant? I'm sorry. I'm doing this for you. What was he going to do?
As if in slow motion, he raised his sword.
Her befuddled mind reeled. What was going on? What -
He drew his sword back. She could see his muscles working as he pulled the weapon back to strike, slowly... slowly...
No! What was he- he wouldn't - he would never -
She could not move. She could not speak. She was frozen in time and space, watching, horror-struck as the weapon was raised. This was just a nightmare, was it not? This was no reality. She would wake up from this terrible dream and they would still be on the run, hiding out in darkened woods...
The poisoned blade pierced into her.
Pain.
Terrible, blinding, searing pain.
Her body felt like it was dissolving, torn apart over and over again. White hot knives pierced every inch of her skin. Her head was going to burst with the agony. Every nerve in her body screamed in torment. Her vision darkened. Her thoughts swirled into a black vortex of chaos. Make the pain stop, she wanted to scream. Make it go away. Please!
Luke. The thought flashed through her like a knife, filling her being with horror. A new kind of torture started inside her, right from where her heart should be. Luke. Why had he done this? Why had he... had he... stabbed her? She had loved him! He had promised! He promised he wouldn't hurt her! He...
The pain died a little, dimming to a dull ache that racked her body. Her vision was dissolving into blackness. She could feel her mind crumble, her thoughts and memories fading into the black, agonized background. Chaos filled her in a amalgam of swirling, dimming colours. She felt herself sinking, dissolving, wiped away. Luke... He... Who was Luke? She could not recall. Who was she? She did not care anymore.
She was dying, and that was all she knew.
Overhead, the moon glimmered and the stars twinkled. And Thalia Grace was in pain, fading into poisoned sickness.
Thalia awoke on a grassy hilltop. She lay there for a while, not moving. She did not have the strength. Her body throbbed with a dull ache. She felt as though if she tried to stand, she would just collapse, face-first back onto the ground. Her mind spun in slow, disoriented circles.
She heard footsteps; voices calling out in a babble of sound. A bubble of confusion rose inside her. Weren't they camping out in a patch of quiet woods? Leave me alone, she thought groggily. Go away. Yet the voices swirled around her, a mixture of confusion, chaos and wonder.
Luke, she thought, Annabeth.
Her eyelids felt so heavy, she fought against the overwhelming desire to just lie back down and sleep forever. She opened them.
A wash of faces stared back at her, unfamiliar and strange. A boy with green eyes and black hair. A blonde girl with stormy grey eyes. She could not make out the others; just a sea of faces staring at her from above.
She tried to reach for the blonde girl, but her arms were too heavy. Annabeth, she wanted to say. Where...?
She looked to the boy. Disappointment welled up inside her. This wasn't Luke. But Annabeth was here. Where was Luke?
Luke. A strange chill rippled through her.
This hilltop, she remembered. Poisoned blade. Dying.
"Strangest dream," she muttered. "Dying..."
"It's alright," the boy told her, his voice calm. "Who are you?"
His eyes were a startling green. No, it was wrong! They should be blue, shouldn't they?
Thalia and Luke. Luke and Thalia.
"I am Thalia," she said. "Daughter of Zeus."
Reviews make my day! Not my best work, I know, but please tell me how you felt about it!