TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIVID DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE, ATTEMPTED MURDER

TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIVID DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE, ATTEMPTED MURDER

TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIVID DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE, ATTEMPTED MURDER


Giggles rang out through the salty air as two children chased after one another.

From a distance, the children looked identical but up close, there were differences.

Eyes filled with the blues of the ocean and eyes brimming with the greens of the sea, hair that was as dark as squid ink flew around their heads in waves, tanned skin as if Hêlios cradled them in his arms through every drive across the sky. They were too ethereal to be mere mortals as their eyes were charged with divinity when the solar and lunar aureole gleaned over them.

They were both much like the water in front of them.

Beautiful.

Wild.

Unpredictable.

Free.

Pontos and Thalassa would watch over them, curious of the two that held the power of the ocean within their hearts. Twins that they were, gazing upon the sea as if they wanted to get lost within the waves.


The children were back though they came back different.

There was a darkness in their hearts, something that kept them anchored to the shore.

Their eyes were deep, dark, and cold, but never empty. The rage of the sea burned in their gazes as they looked upon the ocean. There was a vengeful spirit that resided in them that beat alongside the crashing waves. Sparkling greens and blues restrained by the humanity that chained them down as longing clung to them the longer they stayed by the sea.

The sea did not like to be restrained.

The sea was beautiful.

The sea was wild.

The sea was unpredictable.

The sea was free.

Nêreus and Doris watched them, suspicious of the two that held the power of the ocean within their hearts. Twins that they were, gazing upon the sea as if they wanted to sink their enemies within the waves.


The twins were back though they came back unnerved.

The mist swirled around them teasingly, anticipation crowding the air around them.

The green eyes were dark as the owner of them seemed troubled, the call of the ocean flowed through them erratically. The blue eyes roamed over the water uncaringly before eyeing their counterpart in concern. The darkness within had seemingly only left one of them. The blue eyed one was the kind of sea that battered relentlessly at the coastline until it crumbled away or carried the innocents from shore and let them drown, or smashed ships and killed entire crews without mercy. But it was the green eyes that seemed chained firmly with the surface dwellers. Warm and welcoming as they gaze upon their counterpart and the mortal that could only be their mother.

They were beautiful.

They were wild.

They were unpredictable.

But they were not free.

Ôkeanos and Têthys watched them, grieving for the two that held the power of the ocean within their hearts. Twins that they were, gazing upon the sea with the eyes of Rheia and Krónos.


Perseus and Ariadnê were back.

They had grown over the years as the wrath of the sea had flowed through them.

The twins differed in so many ways, but their similarities were endless. He who had impenetrable skin and she who had regenerating skin. Their swords hung at their waists. Eyes filled with the blues of the ocean and eyes brimming with the greens of the sea, hair that was as dark as squid ink flew around their heads in waves, tanned skin as if Hêlios cradled them in his arms through every drive across the sky. Their eyes which had once been open and free for everyone to see the emotions that lingered within were now dark and guarded. Their eyes were deep, dark, and cold, but never empty. There was a darkness that clung to them like a cloak that was matched by a thin layer of mist. A darkness that kept them anchored to the shore. The rage of the sea burned in their gazes as they looked upon the ocean. There was a vengeful spirit that resided in them that beat alongside the crashing waves. Sparkling greens and blues restrained by the humanity that chained them down as longing clung to them the longer they stayed by the sea.

They were both much like the water in front of them.

Beautiful and Deadly.

Wild and Wrathful.

Unpredictable and Calming.

Unrestrained and Free.

Poseidón and Amphitrítē watched, overjoyed about the two that held the power of the ocean within their hearts. Twins that they were, gazing upon the sea as they were the Most Holy Destroyer Twin Swords of the Sea.


The sea is a jealous mistress, many answer her call. Her beauty lures us, some are destined to fall.

The sea was unforgiving, as it pulled life deep within the hands of infinite laughter of the waves of Pontos. The sea was as dark as dreams and as deep as sleep.

It was not merciful or kind.

It took and took, and it oh so rarely gave. There were wonders within the depths of the sea that no mortal mind could fully articulate.

The sea was merciless, and everyone knew that.

For those that did not—

They learned.

The wrathful grief that filled Percy could wipe out the entire Ellada continent. He was blind to everything, but the sight of his sister falling to the ground almost in slow motion. He could only hear the thump of her body as it hit the earth. Her age drew backwards as her eyes fluttered close. He could still taste her name on his tongue as he yelled out for her. The comforting buzz of her power that he usually felt on his skin as her power receded within herself.

The slight remembrance brought his rage back to the forefront of his mind. The image of that rat of a failure prince's smug smirk, making off with his sister. The sight of the other half to his soul being carried away on a ship that his power could not destroy.

He could do nothing.

Their neutrality was forced upon them through the loyalty to inevitability. Castellan had nothing to do with the destruction of Troy.

As if she were not his sister.

[He wanted to yell and scream of how Apollo broke who knows how many ancient laws for them to save his sister.]

Why did Menelaus get to wage war for his wife when he could not do the same for his sister? Why was Kádmos allowed to create a kingdom when he searched for his sister but Percy could not do the same?

This was like Annabeth being kidnapped all over again. He had felt like someone was squeezing his heat, pouring all their rage into his being the longer that Annabeth had been away from him. But his sister—his sister in whom he shared a womb with... his sister who he had nearly lost once to the gods' interference in their lives as Apollo and Hermes had charmed her away with sweet talk... his sister whom neither the heavens, the seas, or the shadowed realm below would keep him from her again.

He would not lose her.

He would get her back just as he did when Annabeth had been stolen away from him.

Percy took a deep breath. The only thing that could soothe his nerves was the thought that his sister would not sit by idly and would make moves to get her own revenge. Ariadnê, when properly angered, could be scarily creative and relentless when she desired. She was no stranger to avenge any slights to her and his honor.

She would not let this be brushed aside. No, she'd be crafty in her revenge. A quick overturn that would strike out against the deathless gods and Troy— no, Ilion alike. She could be batshit fucking crazy. A genuine manifestation of chaos in a 5'6 frame with an interest in psychology. She'd rip them to shreds, and Percy would be at her side to lend his sword to wherever she wanted him.

He could almost see it now as the two of them ripped into Ilion and Sparta alike. No one touched what belonged to him. No one.

He'd rip that wall down brick by brick if he had to.

His Dad, Uncle and Aunt did their best to contain their anger even if their own was reaching new heights. Apóllōn did his best to soothe their worries also. They could not interfere too much as Ζεύς was watching over them, eyes sharp just as his symbolic animal. Percy could admit that his father and uncle did their best to keep them all calmed. Athênê was in his ear, telling of how too much care for Castellan would encourage their thirst for revenge.

[To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world.]

[As if the sea needed more reasons to hate her.]

The stakes were much higher than the original timeline and the gods may find themselves at war with each other sooner than later.

Even Hermês was buzzing with anger, uncaring for the consequences of spending so much time with them, and while they knew he had supported Achaeans and Argives originally, his support became even more personal since Ariadnê was stolen from him by a coward. He appeared in Gleeson's Grove now that he had been granted access whenever his wrath grew too strongly. He would stare blankly at her seat as if she would appear there by his gaze alone.

Percy glanced at her seat, taking in the sight. He could almost imagine that she was still around. Her weapons' cleaning kit still laid open from where she had been carefully cleaning her spear. A book of songs that she, Will, and Rachel had written out sat on the arm as she had been deciding what song of the future-past to sing at Silena's Eatery. A pack of nectar-covered seaweed that she loved to munch on as if it were cheese jerky peeked out from under the blanket that Annabeth had woven for her.

He could understand how the god was feeling. It had been startling when he descended from the heavens to rage against her callous fate. He had let himself into her cubicle and cried beautiful tears in front of the painting of him and her.

He had lost his best friend. [He did. The love the two shared transgressed space and time.]

Percy understood it so intimately. He had not felt this sort of grief since Annabeth had been taken from his side. He didn't like it then and he doesn't like it now. Annabeth had been balm to his anger though. His mind did not like the parallels between losing the two girls closest to him. There were times in dreams that it was his sister falling from that cliff or it was Annabeth that was falling to the ground. Annabeth would curl up to his side, speaking of how she was weaving a blanket to resemble the sky and if she could make it mimic the weight of the sky. Sometimes even Clarisse would come by and the two would exchange stories about Ariadnê.

(They stopped eventually. It felt too much like writing her off. It was almost like they were already declaring her dead when she was deathless.)

Percy turned to the god, desperately, "How is she doing?" He needed to know that she was okay. He didn't want to even think of the alternative. Because—because—well he was thankful that he was in Gleeson's Grove because it was the only place that he could truly be vulnerable.

Hermês blinked before turning to look at Percy. He was sure he made a funny sight, wrapped in vines and shadows and threads as sat in his chair with the closest thing to a game that the sea had to offer.

He couldn't wait for them to invent the internet. He was so bored. This boy needed a play station.

(Wait, didn't Chris say that Hermês was the one to invent the internet?)

[It would make it easier to not think of his sister being carried away. It would make it easier to exhaust himself so that he could not dream because his dreams showed him scenes that he did not want to acknowledge.]

Hermês breathed slowly, turning back in the direction of Ilion. "She has mainly been asleep," his brow furrowed as he watched someone enter the room to give her another dose of the draught. "They fear her power and her rage."

One that the god mirrored himself, knowing that he could not use his children as distractions as the three of them were infuriated themselves. Tension notwithstanding, Apóllōn had only been able to do so much for Connor as the boy swore to never forgive the slight.

"As they should," Percy replied darkly. His sister would do whatever it took to get back to their side. He sat up straighter as he thought of something. "They haven't touched her, have they?"

Neutrality be damned, he would rip the entire kingdom up from the top of the mountain down to the valley and sink it under the Aigaío Pélagos.

Hermês was quiet as he looked towards the soldiers watching over Ariadnê as she slept. Handmaidens had discarded her armor in which the forgers were trying to replicate while changing her into more culturally appropriate clothing. Her hair had been shortened from the length that touched the bottom of her back as envy had surrounded the women in waves. It fell behind her ears, still thick and wavy, but the women laughed and jeered as if it stole away her beauty.

And though Aléxandros lusted over her openly, he had not come too close to her except to administer the draught the few times she gained consciousness. No, the prince spent much of his time being scolded by his brothers and rejected by Helénē.

Percy took the gods' silence as the worst of his fears as the earth began to shake with his rage. His chair could not siphon out all his power at the speed his wrath was growing.

Hermês blinked, using his own power to keep the items that his children and Ariadnê kept within their cubicles from falling as the sound of glass breaking echoed from within the caves.

He looked at the demigod in surprise, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "My apologies, little one. I was checking over her," he stated, fascinated as the chair began to drain away his wrath as he calmed. "She is fine. No one has attempted to rape her."

Percy looked at the god, boldly and surely declaring, "I will get her back."

"Of that I have no doubt," Hermês smiled. "You remind me very much of Apóllōn as he spares no care for anything else in regards to his sister and mother."

Percy blinked, not sure of the topic change but— "Is it because of my name? I always thought that Ariadnê was the one more like Apollôn. She has always been so bright."

The god's smile turned softer as he thought of two of his favored people. "They do share many similarities, and probably more so than normal as she held his essence within, but like you and she, they are not a mirror of each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Their thirst for vengeance is similar and different. Apóllōn is quicker to anger, and blind to consequences in the midst of his wrath."

"As he did with Korōnís and Asklēpiós."

The god inclined his head, thinking of Apóllōn serving Admetus for that entire year. He had adored the king. And now Admetus' son, Eumelus, would be called to war as he was one of the "suitors of Helénē". The sea was a jealous mistress, and if Ariadnê caught sight of him, she would no doubt slay him where he stood.

"As he did with them and the raven whose snow-white feathers are now black, charred as the body in which Asklēpiós was born."

Percy blanched at the blunt way the god worded that.

"Ariadnê, however, seems to be the type to stew in her anger. She did not seem to be the type to scream and throw tantrums nor does she seem like someone that would allow anyone to see her break down and be vulnerable. She seemed cold, vengeful, with cutting words that were crafted to gain the maximum amount of pain. She was like the sea that pushed its anger down to the ocean bed before being raised to batter and smash ships and kill entire crews without mercy."

Percy thought to the night of their claiming; how she had reacted when he explained to her whispers of how Annabeth had used him and how Clarisse and her siblings teamed up against him. When Luke began to "train" Percy into an early grave, Ariadnê put her focus into wielding the power of the sea.

The night before the quest, the girls' showers had turned flooded with water that burned like fire against skin while Annabeth had been inside. The next morning the water had stopped working completely.

Ariadnê had been adamant that it was neither of their doings since Percy still did not have control of his powers and she wouldn't waste her time on something so unimportant. He had then learned that the water had stayed off for an additional two days after they left.

He thought of when she learned about the assault that most children of the Tenth Cabin went through as they were all too beautiful and sexualized from a young age; she and Clarisse and Gleeson had gone through decimating family members and assaults. She would come back drenched in blood, a wildness to her eyes that he had only seen when she looked at the sea.

He thought of the moment she had one of the traitors from the Sixth Cabin on their backs, eyes dark with fury after they had tried to kill him. She swore to make him pay and she hid away with him. No one knew where, but it was almost a month later when they fought his body, tortured and drained of blood.

The god shrugged, humming as he sat at the base of her chair. "That is not to say that Apóllōn is not crafty, but he does not believe in drawing it out either. He is a being of healing and destruction after all. Father Ζεύς' most favored son."

Percy was quiet as he looked at the second youngest Olympian. "You are really close to both of them, huh." He knew that intellectually. He knew that even in the midst of war preparations, the gods were the only reason that she was still in school and keeping good grades. She had his luck, and he saw all the expulsion letters that were mailed to the apartment before another letter returned stating that they couldn't wait to see her again for the next year.

Hermês beamed, eyes lighting up in happiness. "They are my dearest friends, especially Apóllōn."

(Then wise Ζεύς was glad and made them both friends. And Hermês loved the son of Lētṓ continually, even as he does now, when he had given the lyre as token to the Far-shooter) (But Apóllō , son of Lētṓ, swore to be fellow and friend to Hermês, vowing that he would love no other among the immortals, neither god nor man sprung from Ζεύς, better than Hermês: and the Father sent forth an eagle in confirmation)

Percy hummed once more. "Well, I know that Ariadnê and your kids have told some things about the future, but let me tell you my side and what I know of it. You see, I didn't want to be half blood..."


The world was covered in a haze of white-hot anger. There was no balm around that could soothe the sheer rage that poured from Clarisse.


Plato, Phaedrus 255 (trans. Fowler) (Greek philosopher C4th B.C.) :

"The attendants and companions of Árēs [i.e. those possessing a violent nature], when under the influence of love (eros), if they fancy that they have been at all wronged, are ready to kill and put an end to themselves and their beloved."


She had already gone through this once before. She had already lost Silena to the enemy once. She would not— she could not lose Ariadnê too. Her sister in all but blood. At one point in life, the younger girl had been her lover, drawing sweet sounds from her and laughing in delight as she turned to punish the wicked.

Ariadnê who looked at her as if she were the most beautiful person that she had ever seen even when Clarisse stood with the likes of Silena and Drew. Ariadnê who had strolled over to her and Chris and Silena and Beckendorf after they had begun dating and threatened the boy thoroughly that if he broke her friend's heart then she would show him a madness that even Lord Dionysos couldn't tame.

"Hurt her, I dare you. I will shatter your pelvis and fracture your skull. I will rip out your spine with my teeth and use it as a back scratcher. Hurt her, and you wouldn't even need your dick after I slice it off and feed it to Ennea. It'll be less work for the Seventh Cabin to give you sponge baths with you hooked up to a ventilator and catheter sticking out of your belly. Hurt her, and you will beg and plead and whimper for death. And when the Kêres come to collect your soul and feast on your blood, I will be the one to have the first sip. Remember that before you do anything stupid. I will be in the wedding, you might not be."

She was her best friend and Clarisse failed her. She and Silena had made a promise after their first quest to look after Ariadnê and protect her. Life was short, and the life of a demigod was shorter. For all of the posturing that Ariadnê did, the two of them knew that she was desperate for love and affection within her. Desperate for the need to be something more than just the twin sister of Percy Jackson.

They had to protect her— it was a shame that she was only one to live up to that promise.

Clarisse stood in the middle of the wreckage that was once a training ground; the men who had been drawn to the field looked on in fear and shock, but she cared not. Her gaze settled onto the sea, remembering the sight of her sister being stolen away.

Darkness flowed into her heart as the vengeful spirit that resided within her beat alongside the crashing waves.

She would get her sister back, and that she swore on the River Styx.


Her awakening was slow, drugs clouding her mind as exhaustion clung to her.

Memories flitted in and out of her reach.

There was a weight pushing down on her, bare skin touching her own. Her wrists were caught into a hold as she brought her hands to massage her aching head. She blinked slowly before groaning as someone pushed themselves into her.

"Hermês," she questioned. The body paused for a brief moment before sinking deeper within her. One of the hands holding hers moved to grip at her waist. She could feel something smooth against her skin. Satin? Silk?

Lips pressed against hers and her eyes flew open. They felt nothing like Hermês.

The memories slammed into her like a crashing wave. She had been kidnapped. And now—she was being raped.

Ariadnê lashed out, the power of the sea rumbling under her skin angrily. The man–Paris–flew off of her as she sat up.

She was going to wipe this country from the map.

She was going to drag him to the bottom of the sea, and use the poisonous spines of a puffer fish to perform acupuncture. She would feast on his heart and leave him in the mercy of laughter loving Pontos. She would make him obsolete.

How dare he touch her?

She was the first divine-blessed daughter of Poseidôn. She was the slayer of Kêtos Aithiopios. She was one of the infamous Twin Swords; The Half-Divine Twins of Poseidón. Ariadnê Ennosigaios in which she was worshiped when they invoked her Father's name.

She was a being of nature, a force uncontrollable by the will of man.

How dare he touch her?

Him, a mere mortal when she has lain with gods.

How dare he!

God-like Paris mayhaps have been attractive but Ariadnê was not some prize that he had won.

He backed away from her as she stood from the bed. Her bracelet was gone so was her armor. She was dressed in some silk peplos, and her hair—her beautiful wavy hair that hung almost to her knees that gave her name Ariadnê Intonsa.

Bruises littered her skin. "Hickies," her mind supplied, noting that they looked nothing like the aesthetically pleasing love bites that decorated her skin after Hermês and Apóllōn loved her.

Piloctetes wouldn't make it to him.

"I am going to break you," she swore. Her cheek emits a smile mingled with wrath; keen is the glance of her eyes as it follows her uplifted hands. She didn't need a weapon to be a weapon.

The man stumbled away, but she grabbed him before he got too far.

The people of the palace froze in shock as Paris' body flew through the walls to land heavily on the ground of the throne room. Their heart beat furiously in their chest as she walked casually out of the room where he was assaulting her.

How dare he!

The ground shook and the rivers churned. The sky opened, rain poured down as if Ζεύς poured the cups of heaven.

Paris screamed, and oh how beautiful his screams were. His Mother and Father rushed to his side, cradling him in their arms as his brothers and cousins looked around for the assailant.

"Aléxandros," she called, voice sweet rage. Hektōr and Aineías startled at the sound. She emerged from the shadows like a demoness, blue eyes lit with fury. "How dare you," she hissed. Swords were drawn at the sight of her, but her keen eyes focused solely on Paris. "You were born cloaked in death! Malakas! How dare you touch me as if you have any right! Eeleetheeos! I will kill you and spare Ilion the Fate of destruction that you have brought to their doors."

"Plese," Hekábē pleads for her child. "Spare him please."

Ariadnê sneered. "Do you remember Hekábē, the flaming torch that you dreamed of his birth that foretold the downfall of Troy?" She gazes down at them from the top of the stairs. "King Priamos, do you recall his day of birth? The seer had told you that you must destroy she, the royal woman, who had given birth and her child to spare the kingdom. Aléxandros had been born before nightfall, yes. And instead of killing him, you spare him, choosing to instead to murder Lady Cilla and Munippus."

"You know too much," the King stated gravely. The demigoddess smiled cruelly, "I know everything. Give him to me, and I will spare your kingdom. Stand in my way and I will salt the earth with your blood."

"Isn't this a sight to see," a musical voice sounded behind her. Ariadnê positioned herself to keep the people on the ground floor in her line of sight while also placing the other from behind her.

Breath was stolen away from the lungs of Ariadnê. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Alluring. Charming. Heavenly.

Auburn colored curls softly framed her face as eyes bluer than Ariadnê's own gaze at her. An amused smile was on her lips as her chiton fitted around her evenly. She leaned in closer, drawing Ariadnê's gaze to her breasts that were adorned in gold.

Cheeks flushing red, Ariadnê hurriedly looked away. "Who are you," she demanded, turning her gaze back onto the royals. The girl laughed in delight, voice almost a purr as she stated, "I think you may already know."

She did, and from her looks alone, she could understand why a war was fought over her.

(Nevermind that her Father and Husband had both been cursed by Aphrodítē and she was paying the price.)

Still—

Ariadnê swallowed thickly, "Helénē. Queen Helénē of Sparta."

"'Tis seems that I am to be Helénē of Ilion. From a Queen to a mere Princess, one far from the throne. Oh, how the tables have turned and my beauty which has granted me blessings leave me cursed. I can see the sonnets of the rhapsodes now, weaving dastardly words of my humiliation." The queen frowned minutely before her expression cleared away for a mocking smile. "And yet, even aside from Aria of Dardania, the most beautiful woman after I... even aside from Laodice, the most beautiful of Priamos' daughters... I have never met anyone more interesting than thee. For your shorn hair, a sign of shame for such a beautiful woman, frames your face and gives beauty that could not be hidden."

Ariadnê flushed, grimacing lightly. "Please. Stop flirting with me. Your Father is my Uncle. I am not interested in sleeping with my family members."

But if she did— oh, if she did, she would show her the kind of pleasure that would make her scorn even Menelaos.

Helénē scoffed, head tilting to the side. Her auburn curls moved swiftly, like a setting sun. "All across the kingdoms of Ellada have heard the tale of the deathless warrior that fell for the sun. The love affair between thee and Lord Apóllōn is no secret amongst the people."

The princess of the sea narrowed her eyes, straightening as she turned to look at her cousin full on. "There is no love affair, skropha. I suppose you would not understand being a D-List Spoil of War. Only the half-divine children of the Kronidês do I claim as kin. Any deity is not one."

The princess of the sky expression darkened, eyes flickering with power that Ariadnê had only seen within Thalia. "Tis that your excuse to continue your foolish chase after Lord Apóllōn?"

Ariadnê sneered, "I moved on to better things, darling. Lord Hermês fills me with his love greatly since I no longer chase after it. I attract it as you can tell by Aléxandros' pitiful, cowardly and whimpering form. What belongs to me will find me."

"How arrogant you must be to believe that you own a god."

"How arrogant you must be to twist my words so. My body is a temple, and the only one that I grant access is Lord Hermês. He belongs to me as there is no other worthy to touch me. And it is partially for that reason that I am going to tear every bone from Aléxandros and use them as a toothpick."

Aléxandros and Hekábē cried out at her words, but she cared not. "Step away, Helénē, or you can join him."

"Oh?"

Ariadnê smiled sharply, fangs glinting under the light. "I'm a derelict cargo of treasure on the shore of the nuptial sea. For good men are scarce, but fools there are plenty. He will rue the day he chose to take me as his bride."

Helénē smiled just as cruelly as she, stepping away from Ariadnê. "This shall be a sight to see."


Word Count: 5,250

WORDS TO KNOW:

Aigaío Pélagos - The Aegean Sea

Ariadnê Ennosigaios - Ariadnê, the earth-shaker

Kêtos Aithiopios - The Eithiopian Sea-Serpent

Ariadnê Intonsa - unshorn Ariadnê. the feminine form of Intonsus: a surname of Apóllōn and Dionysos, alluding to the eternal youth of these gods, as the Greek youths allowed their hair to grow until they attained the age of manhood. So bascially stating that Ariadnê had long hair that she didn't cut.

Eeleetheeos - Idiot

Malakas - Jerk/Asshole etc.