Been a while, huh?

Trigger warning: Eris


For some reason, Annabeth could never keep the people that she loved by her side.

Her dad. Thalia. Luke. Thalia again. How did they always find a way to leave her?

It began when she was a child.

She still has nightmares. They came at night. Crawling on the walls, on her bed sheets, over her skin. They bit her. Nipped the sensitive flesh of her neck and ears. Annabeth screamed almost every night in his house when she turned six.

The first time he had come rushing in. His hair was a mess. His eyes wild. They were already gone by then. She remembers him sweeping her up into a hug. Tight and protective. As if he would protect her from the world.

"It's just your mind playing tricks on you, sweetheart," he had said after her tears had stopped, "There aren't any spiders here. You're safe."

Her heart broke apart that night. He didn't believe her. How could he? He never saw them. The bite marks always seemed to fade as soon as he got there.

Her father was a brilliant and intelligent man. His mind was sharp enough to capture Athena's heart, but when it came to interacting with people… well Annabeth blames his genetics for some of her worst moments. Frederick Chase was a logical and rational man to a fault. Her father needed proof. Evidence. Without it, he made a conclusion based on what he did know: his daughter was screaming at night for seemingly no reason and that he had been spending less time with her because of how much he'd been doting on her younger brothers.

He had reached the answer that his daughter was acting out of jealousy.

Annabeth ran away after a particularly bad argument. She remembers screaming at her stepmother. She remembers throwing something at her brothers. She remembers being sent to her room without dinner. She remembers too much of it and it still hurts years later.

They came that night, but Annabeth had decided that they would never touch her again. She rummaged frantically through the toolbox that her father had left in her closet. The hammer was too big to be swung properly by someone as young and clumsy as her. But she didn't need accuracy.

Annabeth just needed to break the window.

The glass cut her skin, but that was nothing compared to spider bites.

Her father screamed her name.

She hid in the woods.

He called after her for hours.

There was a moment when he passed right by the tree that she had climbed.

He never looked up, too frantic to think rationally this time.

Annabeth remembers seeing him falling to his knees and sobbing into his hands.

She almost believed that he cared. Almost.

She was a brilliant and intelligent young girl. Her sharp mind came from both her father and Athena's own. And her faults… all theirs as well. Annabeth was a logical and rational girl to a fault. She needed proof. Evidence. Without it, she made a conclusion based on what she did know: her father never believed her no matter how many nights she cried herself to sleep.

Annabeth had reached the answer that her father never truly loved her.

That was fine by her. Really.

If they didn't want her, then that was that. She wouldn't burden them with her presence anymore. Nobody would care if she left.

So why did he did feel the need to pretend?

Annabeth stopped asking that question when she found a new family.

Thalia was the sister she never had. Confident. Powerful. Unstoppable. She never thought anyone shone as brightly as Thalia. Not even Percy, who came ever so close.

She would have been the greatest hero had she been born during the age of Heracles, Perseus, and Bellerophon. But Thalia was born too late. She was never meant to be born at all. And that was her bane. Zeus broke his oath and Thalia had to pay the price.

Annabeth believed that her sister could've overcome it too, had Hades not been the one who came to collect.

Thalia shone brightly on that hill. Lightning streaking across that black sky. Aegis' glare protecting the three of them. Her spear striking vitals like a viper. They would have written ballads about her that day had she lived and had the chance to celebrate her glory.

Thalia must've killed a hundred monster that night, but she wasn't unstoppable, no matter how much Annabeth had convinced herself otherwise.

If only she had lived.

Her death drove Luke to insanity. Annabeth just wished she realized how truly broken he was.

She lost her brother that night as well. Her real brother. The one she chose for herself. Because despite what he's done and who he became, Luke is the reason why she even managed to make it to camp. Luke, who was reliable and dependable. Luke, who lied with every passing day and cloaked himself in deceit. Even if they were enemies now, they were still family.

Luke had promised her that they would always be one.

And then he plotted against camp.

He sold them out.

He gave them cursed shoes that flew into Tartarus.

He poisoned Percy and would have killed him too if they didn't find him time.

He did the same to Thalia's tree, to Thalia.

He tricked her into taking the sky for him.

He used her as a hostage.

He apologized for everything when nobody was looking, barely a whisper, but he always insisted that it had to be done.

He looked so tired and worn down that she could only feel pity at the husk that could be called Luke.

Annabeth was willing to forgive him despite it all. The moment he came to his senses, she would have accepted him without hesitation. She already had her sister back. All she needed was her brother.

But Thalia is once again his undoing. Annabeth is helpless as she watches her sister push her brother off the mountaintop. The family she chose for herself unravels at the seams and she's a little girl again. Weak. Pathetic. Alone.

Nobody is by her side.

Thalia leaves her. Again. And a smile masks itself onto her features. Annabeth pretends she understands her decision. But she wants to scream at her, to cry, to throw a tantrum like a child. Annabeth wants to give into irrationality, to be selfish. To beg, grab, and never let go. She gives Thalia a hug instead that lasts for too long.

There was no word as grotesque or as dreadful as 'goodbye.'

Annabeth hated goodbyes.

Grover doesn't stick around either. The satyr is gone before the night is even over. He's chasing a dead god's trail and Annabeth doesn't have the heart to tell him that it's useless. She doesn't though because it would make her into a hypocrite. She's chasing after a person that she doesn't even know exists anymore. Instead, she wishes him luck and says nothing else. Grover would know if she lied.

And Percy… where the fuck was Percy?

Annabeth thought he'd be the first person she'd see when she got back to camp. He's not in his cabin. She tries Iris messaging him and it's the first time she's ever been told that there's 'no signal.' She just wanted to see her friend. Someone who'd be happy to see her. Instead, she's gotten an, "Oh, you're back," from Malcom. Her 'brother' was as aloof as the rest of her cabin.

She shoulders past him and slumps into her chair and rummages through her desk. Top drawer, hidden between the pages of her building sketches. It's a picture of the three of them. Percy's got his arm around her and Grover. Just after their first quest together, right before summer ended. It was the best and worst summer of her life, but Annabeth wouldn't have given it up for the world.

Annabeth just stares at it and hopes that Percy hasn't decided to leave her either. She's running out of people to lose, and she doesn't know what will happen if another one slips through her hands. She's home but it feels so hollow and lifeless. There's only blood connecting her and her siblings, but she feels nothing for them. Blood has only disappointed her time and time again and even if her father has begun to change her mind, she's been burned far too many times not to be cautious.

But it's not like the Athena cabin was close. They took after their mother far too much to be open with each other. Instead, it was more like an alliance between peers. Professional. Distant. Cold. There was no family for her here. Not one that she's chosen.

"Here," a plate of perfectly triangular sandwiches settles on her desk. Malcom places glass of water next to them.

Annabeth blinks once. Twice. "What is this?"

"It's for you," Malcom shifts slightly before deciding he'd rather pull up a chair and sit.

"Why?"

"You missed dinner. I figured you weren't fed much as a P.O.W."

"Why?" Annabeth's voice comes out strained this time around.

Malcom instead starts tapping a finger against his knee. Three taps. Pause. One tap. Pause. Four taps. Pause. One tap. Pause. It's Pi, Annabeth realizes. Malcom doesn't speak for thirty seconds and instead taps out the digits of Pi. He doesn't answer her question and instead says, "There were two quests. Percy's on the other one."

"What?"

"He would've been here if could've. He wanted to be on the quest to save you."

Annabeth just looks at Malcom and her reasoning fails to help her. Because this, whatever this was, it didn't happen in the Athena cabin.

Malcom taps out another string of digits before speaking, "You should eat." He tilts his head towards the sandwiches. "Malnutrition can cause serious problems later."

"What are you doing?" She just doesn't understand.

"Doing what?"

"This," Annabeth stresses the word. "Acting like you care at all about me."

Malcom's grey eyes investigate her own. He blinks once. Twice. "But I do care." He looks away and begins to tap again. He resets the digits and starts over. Three taps. Pause. One tap. Pause. Four taps. Pause. One tap. Pause. "I'm just… really bad at showing it."

This interaction was alien. An anomaly. It adheres nothing with logic or rational thinking and Annabeth cannot make sense of it. It is a language not spoken in her cabin and it confuses her. They talk in strategy, in war plans, with numbers and statistics. They don't speak in comfort and care.

It's unbearably awkward as the two of them stare at one another. Annabeth searches for ulterior motives or signs of deceit. And what she finds is that the person across from her is a stranger. She knows next to nothing about him aside from the fact that his eyes are grey and that the two of them share a mother and a cabin.

Eventually, Malcom just stands up and pulls his chair back to where it belongs. "You know that I'm your brother too, right?"

"Yes," Annabeth says. It's a fact but there's no emotion attached to it. She already has a brother. His name is Luke and he's a dumbass. He's convinced himself that what he's doing is the right thing. But she loves him regardless. Malcom Pace is… he's there, a presence. Not necessarily an unwelcome one, but not one that she would miss terribly if that presence were to disappear one day.

Malcom nods before walking to the door, "I'm sorry that I'm not the one you want but I'm… well, I'm here." There's no elaboration to his words. He doesn't know either, what it is that he's trying to do. Just that there's an obligation that he feels the need to act on. "I'm glad you're safe." He's out and gone before she can respond, not once looking at her as the words slip from his mouth.

And just like that, Annabeth is left alone with her thoughts and a plate of sandwiches. She's alone, a little girl dressing up as the head counselor of the Athena cabin. She's lost her brother and sister once again in the span of a single night. She's been saved but there's no happiness in her heart.

Instead, she places the picture back within its home besides her drawings.

It's just like when she lived in her father's house.

Annabeth cries herself to sleep that night.


Thalia's spear splintered as a knife bit through the wood.

Before she can react, her attacker slips back into the woods, too fast to be human. The daughter of Zeus could only catch the gleaming red eyes that burned in the night. Thalia raises Aegis as she crouches to snatch up the remnant of her broken weapon. The spearhead is intact, but what's left of the shaft can barely be called a dagger.

"Shit," Thalia mutters in between deep breaths. She wants to stand tall, but she's in an open clearing with no sign of where her attacker was. It's a moonless night, too dark for her to see properly. The wind howls hungrily, as if it too were hunting her. There's too many things preying on her senses for her to feel confident in her abilities. Thalia knew that in a straight fight, there was almost no demigod or monster that could challenge her. If only things could always be that simple.

The whistling is high-pitched and comes straight from behind her. Instinctively Thalia spins, leading with her shield to crash against whatever is coming. It clangs off of Aegis and time seems to slow as Thalia sees the very same knife that tore through her spear. As it twirls in the air, fractions of a second go by as it rotates, she spots red eyes peeking out from behind her own reflection in the metal. Panic infects her mind and time resumes its normal pace. She does everything to turn around as quickly as possible, lasing out recklessly with her spearhead.

"Sloppy," her attacker smirks. The bronze cuts the air just in front of their exposed throat.

Thalia's eyes widen at the realization that her balance is unstable. She can't stop the momentum of her swing and her body follows through. She can't bring her shield up fast enough, already thrown off from defending against the thrown dagger. She's completely exposed, there was nothing protecting her vitals.

A sharp kick lands itself into Thalia's gut. And it becomes startlingly obvious the difference in strength between her and her opponent. She feels something inside of her give, but it isn't enough. Bones crack as she is sent spinning. Rolling across the forest, the mud and leaves coating her formerly pristine silver jacket. She's on the ground, dazed, helpless, and coughing up spit and bile. Blood fills her mouth and iron taints her tongue. She can't feel anything except for a dull throb in her stomach that quickly begins to blossom into something much more painful.

A pair of black boots dance towards her. Their owner twirls and skips with each step, growing giddier and more energetic one after the other. They stop in front of her, so close that Thalia can smell the leather, mud, and blood.

Her own blood.

She summons what strength she has left and grips tightly against the spearhead. Thalia has one chance, and she takes it. She goes for the ankles and—one of the boots stomps on her wrist and the bones snap like twigs. A gloved hand covers her mouth, muting her screams.

The other grabs her by the hair, jerking and twisting Thalia around until they're facing each other. Red eyes meet blue. And the girl's face splits wide with a vicious mocking grin, "Hey there, Kiddo."

She's older than Thalia is physically. Looks to be seventeen, maybe eighteen. She's taller and judging from how her kick broke bones, stronger too. Her hair was pitch-black but there's a sheen to it at certain angles, like the rainbow in an oil slick.

But all Thalia can focus on are her wings. Darker than night and dotted with specks of stardust that sprout from between her shoulder blades. They complement her bloodstained smock oddly enough, but Thalia thinks that the butcher's apron is a bit too much. The daughter of Zeus felt like cattle in front of her.

"Thalia Grace," the pale girl drawls out. "It's nice to meet you." Her breath tickles the inside of Thalia's ear, sending shivers running up her spine. Even the way she speaks unsettles every atom within her. The hand over her mouth is removed and instead begins to stroke her cheek gently, almost fondly. Almost.

"You sure have a way of—" Thalia is stopped mid-sentence as agony rips through her abdomen. She can feel it. The shards of bone sinking into flesh as she speaks. There's a silent scream that escapes her lips as Thalia tries to ease her breathing, to stop anymore of her insides from brushing against the fractured ribs that threaten to gut her from within.

"Shhh," her attacker soothes. Her voice is sweeter than wine laced with lead. "You mustn't tempt me like that." Sharp nails caress her jugular, just above her carotid artery. "I'm trying to control myself."

She's behind her now, resting her head on Thalia's shoulder. There's a false intimacy in her actions that disguise the absolute violation of autonomy. Pretending as if all this was saccharine and tender. As if they were old friends or lovers reuniting with one another. Her skin is flushed, burning to the touch, every breath hitches erratically.

"Imagine what your father would do once he saw your corpse strewn across Olympus," she inhales deeply. Ravenously. "I'd flay you wide open and drape your skin over mine. Wear your intestines like scarf. Make a crown from your bones. I'll bathe in your blood and entrails until—" A shudder runs through the deviant's body and Thalia can't stand it anymore.

"S-sick freak!" she bites out. Electricity crackles and sings as the two of them are thrown apart. Smoke flits from her skin and tinges the cold night air.

The sensations come all at once.

Something irrevocably twists inside of Thalia this time. Spasms of pain shoot through her body as she screams. But those are silenced by blood as she begins to cough a litany of red. Her heartbeat goes from erratic to eerily slow. It's too warm and too cold all at once. Thalia's vision flees, she can barely see anymore.

The world around her begins to shift ever so slightly.

She can hear the rushing of water.

A skiff bobs up and down to her left.

"Coin, please," someone says.

A hand grabs her own and she's pulled back into reality.

"Not yet," the winged girl says. She looks like an angel of death standing above Thalia. The daughter of Zeus feels her head get tilted back and the flavor of sweet apples replaces that of blood. There's an intensity to the flavor. Emotions.

Rage.

Envy.

Hate.

Disgust.

Fear.

Thalia is overwhelmed by contempt for everyone and no one. Her mind is a maelstrom that simmers and boils. Each memory of a slight was exacerbated, intensified into an attack against her very being. The affection she feels for people spoils into something bitter and vile. Murder flows through her veins and her hands twitch with the desire to strangle. She can taste the kill.

She would enjoy crushing Percy's skull. Splattering what little grey matter floated within his waterlogged head against the curb. Thalia always thought he was missing gills. She could carve out a set for him with ease. He couldn't be trusted. Thalia had been wrong; he couldn't handle the prophecy. It should've been her. Only she could save the world.

Artemis had tricked her. Whispered sweet lies into her head. Swayed Thalia from her destiny. Sister dearest was a traitor, a snake rather than a wolf. That goddess would have her chained in servitude for eternity. An animal leashed and muzzled. Thalia would wrap a noose made from Apollo's sinew around her neck. She'd pull it tighter than a bowstring and watch the moonlight leave those silver eyes forever.

And Annabeth… Thalia would show that ungrateful little bitch how much she owes her. Everything Annabeth has is because of Thalia. From the day they met, the daughter of Athena had been a burden. If it weren't for her, she never would have died! Thalia would—would never hurt her little sister.

These thoughts weren't her own. They couldn't be… right?

The emotions flee her, and Thalia comes to, exhausted. Red swirls of insanity stare into her own electric blue eyes. The winged girl straddles her, pinning her arms by the wrist with a grip that no demigod could break. Her unnaturally beautiful face splits wide open once more with a grin that made knives seem dull.

"W-who," Thalia grits out. She feels no pain, but the injuries are there. A stained rib peaks out from her silver jacket. Her broken hand swells. But for now, Thalia is alive. And there must've been a reason for it.

Those gleaming red eyes sparkle.

The grip loosens on Thalia's wrists and her attacker rises to their full height; wings spread wide behind them. She stands with the assuredness and grace only afforded to divinity. And something inside Thalia wishes that she'd been killed instead.

"Little ol' me?" her left hand sits right above her heart. She extends her right, screams and chaotic colored light fill the air, a golden apple sits in the palm of her hand. "Eris, goddess of strife and discord."

"Fuck," her head slumps back to the ground, dirt matting more of her hair. In a top ten list of worst gods and goddesses to piss off, Eris took up all ten spots. And this was knowing that Hades both wanted to kill her and had been successful in it. "What do you want?"

"Me? You're asking me, what I want?" Eris' points both of her palms at her chest and her wings follow suit. "A lot of things honestly. I want a cheeseburger from Five Guys, but you know how expensive those things are. I could do with some new clothes, but I'm kinda banned from… well, everywhere! Oh, and you know the old bitch that runs England?"

"The Queen?"

"I really want to kill her," the goddess twirls in a sort of girlish glee before pulling out a thin stiletto from her boot. "But right now, I really want to get to know you more." All sense of revelry fades from Eris' eyes, and a seriousness overtakes the crimson.

She's pinning Thalia again in an instant. The knife digs into her jacket and bites the flesh of her shoulder. Thalia can taste her breath. Apples, ashes, and iron. The goddess smells like an orchard that had been repurposed into a slaughterhouse. Eris leans in and whispers into Thalia's ear, "There is only one person I cherish in this entire world. I never imagined anyone would want me around, but I guess even the goddess of strife can find someone willing to accept them. He's the only friend I've ever had. And for the past month, he's been miserable."

Thalia flinches at the undertones of the goddess' voice. Aggression. Desire. Possessiveness. She's being truthful. The goddess truly only has this singular friend, just one genuine connection. And there's no telling what would happen if she lost it.

"You did something," Eris snarls. "You hurt him. I've held myself back for so long because he wouldn't want me to cause another world war. But then one day, he gives me something." The goddess is so close now that her lips brush against Thalia's ear, "Can you guess what?"

It chills her to her soul, the malice that radiates from Eris is unlike anything the daughter of Zeus has ever experienced. It triggers something within her. Flight or fight. But in this instance, Thalia learns of the often forgotten third option: freeze.

She doesn't say or do anything and just takes shallow, uneven breaths.

"He gave me a target," The goddess says. "As long as I don't kill anyone, or permanently maim them, I can do whatever I want to the Hunters of Artemis. At first, I was overjoyed. Isn't it so thoughtful of him to let me just… express myself without having to do it in secret? After all, I love the chase, turning hunters into hunted. But then I had a thought. Why was he so depressed? And then I thought about what happened recently."

Oh, Thalia realizes. That explained why for the past few weeks the Hunt has been glitter bombed to Hades and back. It explained why some of the hunters were getting hurt more often. Why their traps were misfiring all the time. Why all of their rations had been poisoned. Why there was so much infighting recently. And why Artemis was unable to find any tracks from the culprit. (Although Thalia did overhear her talking about potential suspects.)

The stiletto tore deeper and banished Thalia's thoughts.

"Even though I am permanently barred from Olympus, that doesn't stop the rumors from flowing down the grapevine. I heard that the daughter of Zeus recently joined the Hunt. I put two and two together and well, maybe the new lieutenant is responsible for it. Does that make sense?"

Spittle flew from Thalia's mouth as the knife sank through the bone of her shoulder and out into the ground beneath. Her body twitched and shook from the force of the goddess' stab. Its exit is no more gentle than its entrance and Eris rips it back out, this time pointing it towards Thalia's stomach.

"W-who are you talking about?" she pants. Whatever dulled the pain earlier has slowly worn off and the intensity of the returning sensation is growing much too fast for comfort.

Eris' crimson eyes narrow at the question and the goddess of strife forcibly rolls Thalia's head to the side, so that she can only see her from the edges of her vision. She speaks directly into the girl's ear, "Put these things to good use before I find a more cosmetic purpose for them." The stiletto splits her skin and digs into the flesh beneath, carving a canyon into meat and bone. "Hermes. What the fuck did you do to Hermes?" The knife is tossed aside, and the goddess excavates with nails instead.

Eris' hand tightens around something vital, necessary to sustain life. Her body jerks involuntarily, legs kicking and hands clenching. The daughter of Zeus is a cadaver in all but function.

But Thalia can't feel any of it.

Because guilt hurts far more than anything could be inflicted physically. It wraps itself tight around Thalia's mind and constricts. Branding her thoughts with memories and flashes of what happened. She never held up the sky, but she imagines it weighed just as much.

"Luke," Thalia says, staring past the goddess and at the empty sky. "I couldn't save him."

The person she saw on that mountain wasn't her friend. Luke was honest, kind, and genuine. The person who wore his face was… defeated. Drained of all reason. A monster amongst its own kind. Because Luke, her Luke would never have stooped to fighting alongside the beasts that hunted them down. Luke wouldn't have hurt Annabeth. Luke wouldn't have sacrificed Thalia for revenge. It couldn't have been Luke.

Annabeth had begged her to stop.

But why wouldn't Thalia put him out of his misery? Couldn't she see exactly what he became? She couldn't save him, but she could give him mercy.

"I killed his son," Thalia admits it freely. Annabeth argued otherwise that he survived the fall. But Thalia knows better than anyone that Luke was long dead before the two of them met again on that mountaintop.

Luke had reached for her spear, to disarm her. She saw her friend, hidden behind those dead blue eyes, and he was begging for help. He was already halfway into the grave. Thalia let's him slip through her fingers, like sand. She says goodbye with a shove from Aegis.

Goodbyes were easy so long as you never looked back.

She joins the Hunt, not for a family, but for herself. To busy her mind with routine and meaningless interactions with people she cares nothing for. To serve a goddess for eternity because that is kinder than death. With immortality, eventually the guilt would fade from her memory, she would forget her past in the thousands of years to follow, and she wouldn't have to remember how many people she failed to save.

The mortal mind could only hold so much information after all.

But she's only barely begun a microscopically small fraction of eternity. And Thalia remembers it all with vivid clarity. And now that the dam is broken, the tears flow without stop.

"I couldn't save him."

She had let down her dearest friend. Thalia wasn't around to save him and because of her actions, he became a monster.

"I'm sorry."

Annabeth was kidnapped in front of her, and Thalia wants to run herself through. It happened again! Another one of her siblings snatched away from her.

"I'm weak."

She couldn't even save herself. Thalia Grace has ruined every life she's touched. She's dragged them down with her.

"I can't do it."

She knows Percy will succeed where she cannot. Thalia has known him for a few months but she doesn't see her own weaknesses in him. She sees someone willing to let the world burn for his loved ones. And that brings her solace. At least he'll save someone.

"Why isn't anything I do enough!"

Eris' hand slinks out, covered in blood and viscera. She releases her grip on Thalia and stands up, her wings fold against her back. There is an unreadable expression plastered on her pale face as she paces around Thalia. The goddess holds her chin, smearing blood across her features, and mutters as she walks.

Thalia expects to be killed. Either for the goddess' pleasure or out of revenge for Hermes. She doesn't doubt why the god would want her dead. They've only met once before the summit, but even then, she could tell how genuine his love for Luke was. He may have never forgiven his father, but Thalia saw what he didn't: an all-powerful god that was powerless to even hold his child. It was more of an apology than Thalia ever received from her own mother. A woman so self-serving and callous as to give her son away because Hera demanded it. But Thalia has grown tired of thinking of her mother. Of remembering what she did to Jason. Thalia is so tired of falling short of being enough.

She's just so tired of everything.

"I might have made a mistake," Eris announces. Her bloody fist slams into her palm with a resolute thud. "I thought you actually did something; I don't know… bad? I mean I thought you killed one of his snakes, but it was just a demigod. Speaking of which, George and Martha have been out of the office for a while now…"

Anger sparks within Thalia's heart, "His name was Luke!" she breaks into a coughing fit as blood sprays into the midnight air.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the goddess reaches behind her and pulls out a foiled wrapped cube. "Jeez, this is worse than the time I created a religion. Fucking Luke this, May that! Ugh! Can't a girl get a guy's attention without any of that shitting baggage? Why does he have to be such a damn baby!"

The cube hits Thalia on the head and plops down sadly next to her.

"Oh, who am I kidding?" Eris huffs. "I like that about him. He's cute when he cries."

Thalia snarls weakly, "Luke was his son—"

"Huh?" Eris suddenly snaps her eyes down towards Thalia. "So sorry about that misunderstanding. Anyways, you should eat that ambrosia before Charon actually ends up ferrying you across the Styx. This is so embarrassing. I had this whole plan of killing your brother and force-feeding him to you too. I mean I still could, but now it just feels like I'm kicking a corpse for no reason, y'know?"

Deep within her, at the mercy of strife and discord, Thalia feels a spark of hope bloom. Her eyes lock onto the goddess' red orbs. And what stares back is conflict, the dancing of demons in flames, the first murder and every single one that succeeds it. Then they turn gold and Thalia sees everything she could ever want. She sees her baby brother on the picnic blanket. Annabeth and Luke smile and wave on that hill. There are no monsters, no more fighting, there is just… happiness. All she has to do is kill anyone and everyone that would get in her way. The gold returns to scarlet and Thalia is drawn out of her stupor.

The goddess smiles.

It is kind and fond.

And it is terrifying.

"Oh!" Eris kneels down, dirtying her clothes to cradle Thalia in her arms. "But you didn't know, did you? Of course not, why would they tell you?" Her laughter is a battlefield. Weapons ring against armor and a choir of screams echo beneath her cackle. "You poor thing! Did you truly believe he was dead?"

"H-he's gone," Thalia says. But it's too late, the spark has become a storm and Thalia craves to be wrong. "Hera took him. She's been trying to kill me for years."

"Why throw away a tool," Eris undoes the foil wrapping with one hand and pushes the ambrosia past Thalia's lips. "When you could make use of it instead?"

The food of the gods tasted like apples this time.

Thalia didn't like apples.

The goddess sets her back down gently. Her flesh begins to mend, stitching itself together with threads of muscular tissue. It isn't enough for her to be standing, but she'll live. She has a reason now.

"Where—"

"Now, isn't that a great question?" Eris' wings unfurl and she spins through the air above. "I'll tell you when you've earned it. You know about Troy, right?"

"Who doesn't?" Thalia grits her teeth. She doesn't care for what the goddess has to say, but this is the first time in years that Thalia has a lead on where her brother is.

"It was my magnum opus: a war amongst the gods." The golden apple shimmers into existence just above Thalia, suspended in the air. "I don't create conflict, Thalia Grace. Every being holds within their heart the capacity to steal, maim, and kill. I simply allow for it to… flower, to bloom. But sometimes, the perfect piece just falls into my hands."

Reflected on the surface of the Apple of Discord was a woman, so very similar to Thalia in appearance but far more elegant and refined.

"Helen of Sparta," Eris sighs. "Helen of 'Troy.' Another daughter of Zeus. Aphrodite made her into a bargaining chip against her will, sold her to Paris in exchange for poisoned fruit. The Olympians thought she was a pawn when she was just as much a player as they were. Only the two of us played our own game."

Helen's smile sharpened in the apple.

"Of all the Greeks that sailed to Troy, I would say Helen had the happiest ending. All it cost her was the lives of thousands of innocent families. But why would she lose sleep over people she never knew? All that mattered was that she came out on top, right?"

The image of Helen faded into the flickering of flames. A once mighty palace crumbled as the great city of Troy was ransacked by the Greek forces. And just like that, ashes wash over the image and the apple's surface is smooth and cold once more.

Eris snatches the forbidden fruit mid-flight, "But that leaves us with a question, Thalia Grace." The goddess twirls out of the air and lands, holding the apple aloft. "Will you take a bite?"

Thalia sees herself reflected on the surface.

Stronger.

Capable.

Happy.

"I won't be your friend," Eris grins. "But I'll be your savior if you let me. The Olympians wouldn't help you, but I would. All you have to do, is listen to your instincts."

Thalia swallows nervously, and reaches a hand out. She doesn't think about the consequences because Thalia Grace has never given those any consideration. She's thinking about her little brother who was spirited away by a vengeful goddess. He was her greatest joy before everything went to shit. Thalia wants to do right by him, to hold him tight, and tell him sorry for letting him down.

The Apple of Discord is pulled back, just out of grasp.

"But will you be my Helen?" Strife and discord tilts her head to the side. She looks over Thalia once more and turns around, there is a whoosh as black feathers bristle, ready to fly.

"W-wait!" It takes her everything, but Thalia manages to pick herself up despite her body's protest. She's breathing heavily and her legs wobble from the exertion. But Thalia has never felt more alive.

The goddess does not look at her, but she tosses the apple behind her. It sparkles in its flight and becomes a golden locket with a tiny copy of the fruit as the centerpiece. It lands in front of Thalia, and it is oh so tantalizing.

"July 1st," Eris glances over her shoulder at Thalia, a single red eye winks at her and it becomes a dazzling gold as it opens. "Wouldn't that make such a nice birthday present? I'll be in touch, Kiddo."

The pitch-black wings spread for the last time and goddess soars off into the night.

Thalia takes a step forwards and crashes into the ground.

She's not close enough to grab it, but that doesn't matter. Thalia has no room for pride in this moment and drags herself forwards inch by inch. It is slow, but for once in her life she's making progress.

Her hand closes around the ice-cold locket and gingerly opens it.

Jason Grace, son of Jupiter.

The label rests on a picture of a much older Jason but she recognizes him, the little scar on his mouth from when the dumbass tried to eat a stapler. It's her brother and Thalia can't help but laugh and cry. She doesn't care that they wrote Jupiter instead of Zeus. She's been given another chance and she won't fail this time.

"Thalia!" someone shouts.

That's Phoebe's voice.

She snaps the locket shut; instantly miniature chains wrap themselves around it. Thalia slides the jewelry over her neck and takes a moment to finally rest her eyes.

"Thalia!" the daughter of Apollo shakes her vigorously, tilting a flask of nectar to her lips. "Are you okay? What happened?"

It tastes like cherries this time.

Thalia peaks open one eye. Phoebe has a black eye and a broken nose. No doubt from when the Hunters were beating the shit out of each other.

"Fell down the stairs," she murmurs and her head slumps, finally drifting off to sleep. "This time will be different…"

Phoebe screams her name, but the lull is irresistible.

Thalia Grace's life has been marred by failure.

Never strong enough. Never smart enough. Never clever enough.

Just never enough.

But for the first time in a long time, Thalia Grace goes to sleep smiling. She's back to where she started. An older sister looking for her little brother. Her first mistake was leaving him alone. But she has a chance to succeed, to do things differently. To pick up the pieces and salvage her family.

Her body is broken, a mess of blood and wounds. But she's happy. She's feels alive. And she'll make it count.

This time, Thalia Grace will be enough.


Lou Ellen's hands itch and she can't stand it anymore.

It's been hours and she can't sleep a wink because every little movement sets off pinpricks and tingles throughout her fingers, palm, and wrist.

She claws at the fabric, digs her teeth into them until she finds purchase and yanks with all her might. All it does is tighten the bindings.

A pathetic whimper comes from her.

"Here, let me help." Bianca is crouching down next to her. Eyes full of worry.

"Did I wake you?" Lou Ellen whispers, an apology on the tip of her tongue.

"No, it's… nightmares." The unclaimed girl's hands are shaky at first. She's trying not to hurt her, but Lou Ellen doesn't care, so long as she can get these stupid bindings off!

It is slow, but Bianca manages to undo the knot that Lee had tied.

Lou Ellen turns to the Son of Apollo, bloody, bandaged, but alive. His chest rises and falls in a gentle, even rhythm. Travis and Connor are asleep next to him, bruised but in fighting shape. They had set up Alarm traps around the little cave that the Labyrinth had blessed (cursed?) them with. Percy is slumped by the back of the cave; his pen sits squarely in his hand.

They managed to survive so far. But Lou Ellen wants to leave, because the Maze isn't just some shifting hallways and trapped corridors. It's a living ecosystem fueled by magic. It doesn't keep monsters trapped in it like the legends say, those are just its… digestive system. It's like a venus fly trap. For one reason or another, it lures in a victim. And then it feeds on them.

It was brought to life by magic, Lou Ellen can tell that much. Something old and powerful filled these halls with a malevolent spirit. One that only desires to eat and grow.

And that was why there were so many ghosts wandering the halls of the Labyrinth.

A little girl waves at her, before running through the wall. A few moments later a transparent dog follows her through. She's too young, her spirit looks too healthy to have died from disease. How did she wander into this hell?

Another ghost flies into the room, but well, Lou Ellen thinks it's more like a very slow drift. An old-timey policeman rolls in on an equally ghastly wheelchair. Apparently, physics works somewhat realistically for ghosts because he has to stop his momentum, which is hard when you wear roller skates on your hands.

It's so ridiculous and nonsensical that Lou Ellen questions if this place was really or haunted or if something in her head finally snapped.

"You can see them too, can't you?" Bianca asked, her eyes flicked between Lou Ellen and the spot that the daughter of Hecate was staring at.

Lou Ellen blinked owlishly. She already thought that she was going insane. It was the ghosts that cemented the thought in her mind. But if Bianca saw it... then what did that mean?

"Little girl? She's dressed for winter but is missing a glove? There's a dog sitting next to her but only half its face is there?"

Bianca swallowed nervously. "Behind them is a policeman, he's in a wheelchair. But for some reason he's got roller skates on his hands."

"Okay, we're definitely seeing the same thing."

"What's that mean?"

"We're both crazy."

"I'm not crazy," Bianca mutters before turning back to the bindings.

Lou Ellen looks at the girl in front of her, really looks at her, and takes in her features. Dark hair. Fits. Pale complexion. Fits. Dark eyes. Not green like hers, but that isn't a deal breaker. She has—had siblings with different eye colors. But it's the gift that Bianca has that gives Lou Ellen pause.

Bianca di Angelo was capable of doing magic.

It's subconscious, instinctual, but it's magic all the same.

She's unknowingly been wrapping herself in shadows. Bianca has such a natural talent for cloaking herself in darkness that Lou Ellen thought the girl was just really good at sneaking around. But it's more than that, she's been pulling and bending the absence of light with unpracticed ease. With a bit of practice, she could probably shadow travel.

"Do you know if it could be your mother or father that's the god?" her voice comes out hoarse. She doesn't dare hope.

"No," Bianca's reply is terse and bitter.

"There is a possibility that we could be sisters," she tries to squash any excitement that arises. Assumptions can only lead to disappointment. The daughter of Hecate had no siblings, not anymore. And it might be for the best, she's already betrayed the only family she's had. She didn't need to hurt another person. "My mother is—was Hecate. Goddess of magic and necromancy."

Bianca doesn't say anything, doesn't react at all.

"Sorry," Lou Ellen blurts out quietly.

"It's not you," she murmurs. "I just… don't think they—whoever they are—I don't think they care about me. And I don't want to spend time thinking about someone that doesn't want me. I spent my whole life believing that they were dead and they—they just left me to take care of my brother by myself. And Nico, he just… doesn't get it. I'm so scared. I don't know what I did to deserve this or why my stupid little brother thinks any of this is fun! I just don't want to die and they're out there doing nothing to help…"

Bianca blinks her eye quickly, fighting back from crying.

Lou Ellen catches the obsidian shards and holds her gaze.

"My mother turned my magic against me," she says. "She burned me for abandoning her. My mother isn't a goddess, she's a Titaness. Neither me nor my siblings are demigods, but Camp accepted us anyways. Things aren't perfect there, but they're good enough. And I didn't feel as if they were purposely disrespecting us, nobody's been outright nasty to me or anything, well, besides the Ares cabin but nobody cares what they think. But Alabaster he—"

A lump forms in her throat and Lou Ellen stumbles over her words.

"He has a strong sense of justice," she manages to get out. "He has an idea of what's right and wrong in his head. And he… he hates that the world goes against that idea. He hates it when people with power step on those beneath them. He's a good person, but he's stubborn. He's so fucking stubborn. Some of the things that the gods do isn't right. But that doesn't mean we have to burn down the world to make something good from the ashes."

Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

"He told me of their plans weeks before Luke betrayed Camp. I didn't say anything to anyone because I didn't believe he would really do it. He begged me to come. And I-I… I ran!" A hiccup rips through her voice. "He begged me to do right by our mother and I just ran away! I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to betray him, but I already did! He was my brother, and I chose my morals over his."

"There's, nothing wrong with that," Bianca squeezes her hand as she unravels the bandages. "Seems like the damage is gone."

Lou Ellen marvels at how fast the burns have faded. Perfectly smooth skin catches the light of the fire. The only sign of damage is that they shake just ever so slightly, as if her nerves were shot. Apollo's draft was truly the work of the god of medicine.

Bianca gets started on the other arm, "Nico yelled at me before we left. I don't really remember what he said. Probably that I wasn't letting him have any fun. But I'm glad he isn't here. Nico isn't… he just hasn't grown up yet and I just worry about him."

She finishes unraveling the last of the bindings.

"I'm not the best sister," she speaks softly, as if the quieter she said them made it more likely that the opposite was true. "But I'm trying to make it work. It's just the two of us and even if he shouts and screams, I'll be okay so long as he's safe."

Lou Ellen flexes her fingers and feels a tingle, a slight numbness. She can't move them exactly how she wants them to and it's bothering her. But she sets her worries aside.

"Sounds like he's a brat," the daughter of magic whispered.

Bianca lets out a short chuckle, "Yeah, he really is. But I wouldn't have anyone else as my brother."

They sit in silent comfort for a while.

Bianca is the first to be claimed by Hypnos.

Lou Ellen thinks of her former brother.

What expression would cross Alabaster's face when he saw her?

Through the murky realm of sleep, of visions and dreams, Hypnos shows her one of sorrow.


And you guys thought Kym was bad?

Been super busy recently and I rewrote this like twenty times.

Went through different perspectives until I settled on these three. I wanted a bit more of an 'interlude' chapter to show a little of what happened to the other characters.