I'M BACK!
Sorry it took me so long. This fic isn't hard, but I didn't see all the favs. Sor-we!
Shout out to Unknown010, my beta for this fic (starting now, so don't blame her for the last one!)
Her hands looked so normal. It was hard to imagine they belonged to someone like her.
Piper McLean stared at her in the mirror. As a daughter of Aphrodite, beauty was practically her birthright. But what was the point of beauty, if it was nothing but a mask?
She dropped her hands and sighed. She didn't deserve her looks. Any of them. Because under her pretty exterior, she was a monster.
Yeah. That's right. A monster. Because what kind of sick person would rather save her father, one solitary person, one individual, and give up the whole world? What twisted philosophy allowed her to endanger seven billion people, just for a naive hope that Enceladus would keep his promise (fat chance) and spare her father after she was dead? What crooked reasoning meant it was okay to drag the Hunters straight into their quest, making them risk their lives, while knowing they stood no chance against the giant king?
Her twisted philosophy, her crooked reasoning. She was sick.
She faced herself in the mirror again. She didn't deserve her heredity as a daughter of Aphrodite. She had no place in the seven, among Jason, Leo, Percy, Annabeth, Hazel, and Frank, or even Nico. She had no right to be on this ship, questing to save a world she had no qualms against tossing into a proverbial trash can.
Heck, she barely had the right to call herself a monster.
But lucky her, right?
Her hands looked so normal. It was hard to imagine they had killed so many.
Reyna stared at herself in the mirror. It was rare when she had time to herself, and even rarer that she decided to spend it staring at a mirror.
Because, why would she want to look at the monstrosity she had become?
Not on the outside, though. She still looked as prim and neat as she had always been, though admittedly more weary and tired. These days, she always looked tired. Back on Circe's island, it had been so different. Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano never had to worry about her camp, her people, or upholding the legacy of Rome. Reyna of Camp Jupiter did. Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano never had to deal with Octavian, or worry about Gaea, or plan battles. Reyna did.
Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano didn't have blood on her hands. Reyna did.
It was Reyna that had led the troops into battle, that had slaughtered so many enemies. It was Reyna that killed people, enemy and sometimes her own comrages.
It was Reyna that was the monster.
Some people called her job duty. (Hello, Octavian!) Some people called it self-defense. Some people called it honor. Some people called it upholding legacy.
Some people called it mass murder in cold blood.
That was what war was, wasn't it? Plan, charge, kill, repeat. And guess who was at the helm of this mass macrasse? Reyna. Who hadhad earned her way up the ranks by stepping over dead bodies? Reyna. Who was a monster? Reyna.
Reyna. Not Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano.
Sometimes, when she lay awake at night, she missed Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano. She missed the girl before the monster
Her hands looked so normal. Except for the fact they were drenched in proverbial blood.
Annabeth stared at the mirror. She'd always wondered how the whole bags under eyes thing worked. How could she wake up in cold sweat, and stay up for nights on end, but still look refreshed in the morning?
Still, she supposed it was for the best. She couldnt let any of them know about the nightmares. She was the daughter of Athena. She was a leader. She was born to retrieve the Athena Parthenon.
She wasn't supposed to be responsible for the deaths of so many people.
Murders, yes. Like you! His blood is on your hands! There should have been another way. You murdered him! Jump in and share his punishment!
No. He chose his own path. Luke was doomed to die the minute he betrayed Camp Half-Blood. His death isn't my fault. It can't be.
It was your fault! It was his blood on your dagger. His death in your hands. You are no better than the rest of us.
It isn't my fault. It was my duty to give him my knife. It saved millions of others.
What about the deaths of all those others? Everyone who died in the Battle of Manhattan? Were they traitors? Did they have to die?
No. They were innocent. Loyal to the very end. But their deaths weren't my fault.
You could have killed Luke before. When he came to your house, he bore no weapons. Why didn't you kill him, since his death did not matter? Why did you have to kill so many, and injure more?
How could I have killed him?
You did, in the end. Why did you wait so long, Annabeth? Wait so long, and destroy so many more lives?
I―I―
What happened to the life Beckendorf and Silena could have had?
No, no. I didn't know―
Not to mention all those who died prior to the Battle. And the Hunters who perished on the quest to find and save you. All those who died in the Battles, the people you've never even tried to talk to, all those years at camp.
No, they were saving-
Bianca di Angelo. Such a bright future ahead of her. Her life was cut short because of you.
No―
Zoe Nightshade. Her blood drenches your hands, and still she has to watch over you from there stars.
But―
Castor. Poor kid, you didn't even know his last name. Left his entire cabin, and his twin in particular, mourning.
Ho―
Lee Fletcher. Daedalus. Michael Yew. Charles Beckendorf. Silena Beauregard. Leneus. Ethan Nakamura.
B―
Luke Castellan.
All these people. Dead because of your decisions. Because you were selfish. Because of who you are. What you are. You're a―
No, no, no. She didn't need a voice in her head, or the voices in Acheron to tell her, what she was.
A monster.
No. Please.
Yes, Annabeth. A monster.
No! You're the river of Wailing. You're supposed to make me feel guilty.
If that's what you think, Annabeth, you are a fool. I am nothing but a voice in your head. I am you.
And sadly, because I am you, I am also a monster. Because you are a monster.