references to chapter: 16
Cabin 11 — Fight
OC (16) - Travis (11) - Connor (11)
Early June 2005
She stares up at Half Blood Hill with her bags in hand, the Grey Sister Taxi speeding off to who knows where behind her. Year 4. She sucks in a breath. This is the year. It has to be. She's 16 and that's an important milestone for many cultures.
But walking towards and standing on top of Thalia's Pine, there's no sign. No flashing lights. No appearing symbols. Nothing at all. Nothing except for Luke who greets her with a small smile and an open hand.
"Hey, Chevette. Welcome back," Luke says, "Want me to help with the bags?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
So no sign when she arrived. That's alright. There's the rest of the day.
But come lunch, dinner, free time, and then curfew as she lays on her sleeping bag, staring at the ceiling, she concedes to the fact she's not getting claimed.
Another year. Another disappointment.
She digs her nails in her fist and blinks back the tears. Whatever. It's not like it's important to her or anything. Her god dad or god mom can suck it for all she cares. And she doesn't care. Not a single bit.
Not much has changed while she was in school. Nearly everything is still the same. They are missing a few members from Hermes Cabin. Maybe they were eaten by monsters. None of them will ever know. But those missing members are replaced by 8 more, the already cramped building now almost untraversable. It's definitely a fire hazard at this point.
"Can't you do something about this?" she sighs, grumbling as every step she takes either lands on a stuffed animal, a sleeping bag, or a body themselves, "Demeter and Aphrodite Cabins have plenty of space."
Luke shakes his head. "Sorry. No can do. The gods have strict rules about who's allowed. They get kind of snappy if they have to share for any extended period of time for no good reason."
"But there's not even room to walk."
"Not if we all roll the sleeping bags up and stuff them in the closet."
Ugh.
Luke smiles tightly and puts on a mask of excitement. "Aw. Come on. I know what will cheer you up and turn that frown upside down. We have sparring class next."
Not that it means much. They fight with dummy swords, a piece of plastic that bends too easily. Real swords would have a different balance, would feel heavier.
And it also doesn't help that her opponent is a literal child who much rather go bother Annabeth than pay attention to her.
"I'm going to show you again. The maneuver is really simple. I will lunge at you with the tip of my sword. Then you'll use the flat side to deflect."
"Okay, okay," Travis Stoll says, making faces towards the other side of the field where his identical brother is.
"You ready?" she says with doubt.
"Yup. All the time!" is Travis's response, eyes not even coming back to her. She grips her sword tighter. Whatever. Not her problem if Travis becomes a laughing stock or gets hurt.
When she lunges with her fake sword, Travis does the complete opposite of today's lesson and hops to the side, skating the edge of the plastic against the side of hers. It's a move to disarm the opponent by disrupting the center of gravity thereby opening a path to knock the weapon clean out of their hand. A trick Luke showed them all last year. She angles her sword just slightly, pushing back with her weight, and Travis stumbles back.
"Do it properly this time," she asks but all she gets is a groan and a roll of the eyes.
"But we already did this last year. It's getting boring."
"Doesn't matter. Luke ordered us to so we have to."
Travis groans again, whining about being too sleepy. She clicks her tongue in annoyance. Why is she even bothering with him? He's clearly not invested, fooling around if anything.
They rotate through partners, something about learning how to fight against every body type. It would be good in practice if people take it seriously, but they're all joking around.
She figured Connor would be the same as his older brother. After all, they share the same face. Why not in personality? Look, he's even doing the same thing Travis did earlier, making stupid faces to his brother on the other side.
It really gets on her nerves just how nonchalant they are. How carefree. How casual. So these are the children the gods are willing to claim? She's embarrassed to even be in the same cabin as them.
"Ready?" she says coldly.
Connor blinks, head tilting in question, eyes meeting hers. They narrow a fraction, flickering briefly with something unreadable, something dangerous.
"Yup. All the time," is Connor's response, words stilted and frigid.
The tonal shift is what clues her off.
She lunges forward the same as before and Connor actually does today's move, executing it perfectly.
He was supposed to step back when he's done. Not surging forward further, fake weapon directed at her eyes. It's by experience and her height alone that she manages to twist her own sword in time to offshoot the trajectory. Not deterred, Connor fixes his grip on the weapon and swings it back. It would have hit the back of her head, possibly life-ending if it was a real weapon, if she hadn't ducked and sweeped Connor's legs out underneath him.
"Stick to the routine," Luke calls out to everyone, but with his sharp eyes on them two. Clearly a directed message for them. Connor huffs derisively, pouting as he scuffs his shoe against the ground.
They rotate partners.
Connor gives her one last final glare and raspberry before moving forward. It irks her and she almost scowls back, her dignity the only thing stopping her from stooping to his level.
"Don't worry about it. Connor has an attitude with almost everybody," Chris tries to placate her with an apologetic chuckle.
"I wasn't bothered at all," she snaps, "I don't need comforting."
The rest of the session is uneventful. As the class ends and leads to free time, Travis and Connor are the first to leave, bolting out of the arena and out of her mind.
It's out of obligation as one of the oldest that she stays behind to help Luke clean up the area.
And because Luke pities her like he pities all of the unclaimed, he sows seeds of hope that will never sprout.
"With your battle prowess, I think you could be a daughter of Ares," Luke tells her with fake cheer in his voice, the two of them along with three others picking up the training swords and dummies to put away.
She scoffs at Luke's statement, stabbing the straw dummy with her celestial weapon, twisting and turning until pieces of hay unpack from the stuffed form.
They both know better.
"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean it's from my godly parent. And children of Nike, Athena, Apollo plus many others all have an aptitude for weaponry."
"I guess so. But hey, at least we kind of narrow it down. Maybe they're—"
"It's fine." She slices a head off, kicking it into the storage closet. "You don't have to cheer me up like you do the others. I accepted my fate of never getting claimed."
A minute of awkward silence as Luke grapples for the words. She stabs the dummy again with a frustrated sigh and a whisper only meant for herself.
"I'm sick of this."
Just a passing vent. A throwaway line. A small complaint amongst all the other problems in her life. But Luke gives her a solution the very next year.
A revolution. A coup d'etat.
Freedom through a war.
Recognition with a betrayal.
Acknowledgement by a threat.
"You want in?" Luke asks her
She doesn't even need a moment to think.
"What do you want me to do?"
OC (19) - Travis (14) - Connor (14)
Late May 2008
In those two years she deflected, she killed dozens. She maimed hundreds. She lied and manipulated thousands.
She's not a good person and she's not tricking herself by stating it's for the greater good. She knows it's not. For her, this is revenge. Selfish, self-centered, self-motivated revenge and she knows it's the same for Luke too. As much as Luke likes to say it's for all the unclaimed, it's not. At least, not mostly. Maybe a small part is for the unclaimed but Luke is doing mostly this for himself and she is fine with that. As long as she gets what she wants. They're just lucky it'll also benefit the others.
So until their plans come to fruition, she'll do what she has to do.
No matter who she has to end. No matter what crime she must do.
She'll do it all.
Even if it means ending old friends. Even if it means splitting families apart.
People — two of them and demigods if their unnaturally quick footsteps are anything to go by — have been following her in the dead empty streets of the city. At 3 am in the morning, no less. For the past 30 minutes, all her attempts to lose them go without success. So she walks into a narrow alley, shrouded with overhanging AC units and dumpsters, to draw them out from hiding.
At the first crunch of a stray bag just a few feet behind her, she spins and jabs her sword at her lurker.
"Holy cr—"
The person jumps to the side with ample time despite that moment of panic.
So they're fast. She clicks her tongue. That's always a hassle to deal with.
She brings her sword back and prepares another swing.
But the stalker, unfortunately familiar, is quickly hopping back from her range, hands raised.
"Woah, woah, woah. Wait. Wait! It's me! Don't attack, Chevette!"
Ah. It's one of the Stoll brothers. She squints her eyes, the dark not helping her distinguish any features. Not that it matters. She can't tell them apart by look anyway. She hasn't come across them since the day she left. But not much has changed other than height. A couple inches taller now. A little more muscle. But still lean and scrawny.
"You're not on Luke's side," she states, eyes skirting up and down the body. Unbelievable. He's wearing the camp shirt, standing out like a sore thumb in the gray monochrome that is their surroundings. He couldn't have possibly picked a worse attire. "Are you here to put in a request?"
The boy chuckles, blue eyes drift off to the side as shoulders droop. She's talking to Travis then. Only Travis can look away from an enemy, nonchalant and free in the face of battle. "Well, no. I'm still firmly with the gods. But! I am willing to put those differences aside and have a nice, violent-free conversation with an old friend of mine."
"Then you're not a friend. Just another obstacle in my way." And she charges forward.
Travis yelps and jumps back, dodging each of her attacks with ease. He's gotten faster, she notices. Way faster. Almost inhumanely so. Not even Luke or Chris is as fast as Travis. I'm not going to win in this battle of speed.
So she pulls out a Glock 19.
It's shortly knocked out of her hands from a second person beside her, a dagger embedding itself into the barrel of her gun.
There he is , she thinks, whirling around with a switchblade. Where there's one, there's usually the other. And this brother is nowhere near as fast as the other. Connor's surprised squeak confirmed it for her. He's too close to dodge, not fast enough to react. Then the resulting injury will incite Travis to come closer with a panicked, unclear mind thus leaving him more open. She can take both of them down within seconds if it goes well. What a sound plan.
If only Travis didn't ruin it with his abnormal speed.
His hand grabs her by the wrist and stops her, blade inches from Connor's eye.
"Who the heck brings a gun to a sword fight!" Travis screeches, hand shaking with effort as she does her best to push just those extra few inches. No luck. Connor is already stepping out of her range and Travis is quick to back off once his brother is free from the danger zone.
"And what kind of person stalks a young woman in the middle of the night?" she responds as she shakes her wrist, muscles tingling from the tight grip.
"We weren't stalking you," Connor huffs, almost pouting, "We were on our way to meet a friend and came across you. We were trying to find a way to start a conversation."
"You know I'm with Luke. Why bother me at all?"
"Well…" Travis chuckles and shrugs as he scratches the back of his head. "We—"
"Just Travis," Connor mutters under his breath as he glares at her, eyes following her hand as she reaches into her pocket.
" We, " Travis stresses, "Were hoping you'd change your mind and come back to camp. I heard Luke is actually hosting the titan full time now. Or about to? Close to? In preparation? Either way, isn't that scary? Don't you miss camp and how it's not run by a dictator or about-to-be-dictator who will kill you if he's in the wrong mood?"
"Not really. If you stay in line, the titan won't look at you and Luke protects those who do from his wrath." Most of the time .
"And if you question him? If you don't want to do a suicidal mission?" Connor challenges.
She doesn't falter. "Change won't happen if you just sit on your ass. If the goal was to maintain the status quo, then they should have stayed home."
Connor sneers. "Told you so, Travis. Chevette was never going to change her mind."
"Okay, but things changed! I mean, Luke isn't the same person anymore and—"
She throws her switchblade at Connor. As expected, Travis steps in and catches the weapon by the handle. Goddamn sons of Hermes and their reaction time.
"I don't want to fight—" Travis starts as Connor narrows his eyes and grips his dagger tighter.
"Then you shouldn't have followed after me," she snaps, pulling her snap bracelet off her wrist. It straightens and enlarges into a wooden bo staff. "If I get rid of you two here, then it'll be easier for us later."
"Wait! Wait! Can't we just talk this out?"
"No."
She charges forward and Connor pushes Travis behind him, eyes tormented but determined, far different from Travis's own panic and unwillingness.
Connor got better at fighting since the last they met two years ago. More precise. More skilled. A bit faster. That's to be expected. But so did she and the more she presses, the more she understands where Connor's weak points lay. Even with Travis in the picture — who's strikes are half-hearted at best, but his shielding is incredible — she can see victory.
A fast upward sweep from her staff against the edge of the dagger. Connor losing his balance. A click and the hidden knife pops out. A jab then one will be down and all she has to worry about is the fast one.
But a full-body shove by Travis and her knife enters the wrong person, blade cutting through fabric and into the abdominal cavity. Did he plan it or was it pure luck that she hit no vital organ?
No matter. A simple twist and upwards tilt will tear the fragile organ walls then Travis will bleed out quick enough.
In that one second of thought she had, Connor moves — face dark with wrath and rage, horror and fear — a dagger flying towards her face at inhumane speed.
She recalls now, a thought from years ago, as she could only watch the blade come closer and closer.
Travis fights to defend.
Connor fights to destroy.
A dagger to the forehead is not a bad way to go. She barely felt the pain, just a sharp sting before the lights went out. And mess-wise, it's actually pretty clean. That is, until Connor pulls his dagger out.
She watches as a floating spirit as blood gushes from her forehead. It's weird to view this from a third person point of view. But focusing on herself is better than listening to the wailing beneath her, the cries coming more from Connor rather than Travis who whimpers behind a closed fist.
Eventually the noise calms down to just Connor's cursing and Travis's whining.
"Why did you do that?! You could have died! You're so fucking stupid!"
"Well, you could have died too if I hadn't done that! That would be even more stupid."
She peeks over her shoulder at the duo, Connor clutching his wrist close to his body and Travis sipping on a nectar bottle. Looks like they're both gonna make it, the stab wound closing nicely without a hint of scar tissue.
"I didn't need you to protect me."
"I mean, I'm not going to die. You're not going to die. All's well that ends well, right? A win-win situation?"
She clenches her fist, the sensation real. She can even grab her shirt.
"It's not a win-win. You were stabbed."
"And you tore half the muscles in your body to save me. Guess we're even."
But her staff that lays abandoned on the ground, her gun too, her hands phase through those objects like air.
"It's nowhere near the same thing. You don't die from tearing muscles, idiot."
"I think I'm going to be fine. Here! You can drink the rest."
Guess this is where her story ends. Unclaimed. And uneventful. Ended by two brats rather than a god or powerful enemy.
Pathetic.
"No. Save it in case you do more. We don't know what kind of internal injuries you might have."
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Stop worrying. It was a clean in and out stab. And we can't have you already out of the count. Malcolm needs both of us for this quest, you know?"
Connor holds his ground and so does Travis. The half-full bottle of nectar suspends in the air between them for several minutes before Connor relents with a scowl and Travis with a beaming smile.
And as Connor sips on the godly food, Travis's eyes wander to her body on the ground. It makes her sick to see his eyes fill with regret.
"Did you have to kill her?"
For a second, Travis's eyes meet hers before quickly shooting back to her actual body.
He can see me , she realizes. Both of them can.
But they're clearly playing pretend and she'll play along, not willing to make this more awkward than it needs to be.
Connor steels his face, burying the same regret under a lie of indifference and somehow that makes her feel worse.
"I only care about you. As long as you and I survive, then I'll do whatever I have to do."
Author's Notes:
Thank you for reading! I am currently in the process of finding all the koroks in TOTK. They're so small. They're so cute. I like their little phrases. Yahaha! And I'll see you guys later.
Also, to the reviewer "Pearl" sorry for the late response T^T Because you're reviewing as a guest, I couldn't PM you directly. Please feel free to contact me at my Tumblr 'MiracleSnail' or Twitter 'JustALilSnail' I'm okay with any use of the OCs and would love to see them! Thank you!
